The Magic Between Us Page 12

  She stilled in his arms and blew a lock of hair from her eyes. Her face grew rosy and she tried to roll into herself for modesty’s sake, but he’d seen everything now. “No,” he warned as he settled back between her thighs and pressed against her heat.

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” she said, somewhat chagrined.

  “Now you know how I felt,” he said with a laugh.

  “What’s good for the goose and all that,” she warned.

  But then he pressed into her softness and she stilled, but she parted her thighs more, allowing him to settle more firmly. He slid inside her heat, watching her face as she took him into her body. He pushed in slowly, afraid he would hurt her. But she didn’t complain. His arms shook under his weight as he impaled her, and she just pushed him on, lifting her hips to take him inside. Good God, this woman was his. She stilled suddenly when he hit a barrier.

  But then he pushed past it with one quick thrust. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she turned her head into his arm. He moved to pull back, but she wrapped her legs around his hips to keep him there. “Don’t go,” she said. “The pain has passed.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She nodded. Her blue eyes met his, and he couldn’t have retreated if he wanted to.

  He pushed until he was seated fully inside her, and it felt like a piece of his heart broke apart and it was hers. He moved inside her, tilting her hips by grabbing her bottom so he could go deeper. She cried out, but this time she was clutching his forearms and kissed the side of his wrist where it rested by her head. They were wicked little nips of teeth and tongue, and he felt the need building within him again.

  “Yes,” she cried.

  And this time, when he topped that peak, he took her with him. They crashed together like waves upon the seashore. They moved together like one, and he poured himself into her, taking part of her in return. It was a part he would never give back. Never. Ever. He stilled, softening inside her, and then he withdrew and rolled to the side, taking her with him to lie on his chest.

  ***

  Cecelia settled the side of her face on the springy hair that matted his chest. But part of her was broken. Where she’d been whole, she now was in pieces. Tears formed in her eyes, and she tried to blink them back, but she couldn’t. And then suddenly, a sob erupted from her throat, and she buried her face in Marcus’s chest, trying to take his strength inside her. He would give it to her, she was sure, if he knew how much she needed it. And she dearly needed it. She needed it so badly.

  “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you,” he said, his voice rough and abraded as she sobbed into his chest.

  “You didn’t,” she gasped out. But the sobs hadn’t stopped. He pulled her to lie on his chest, and she straddled his hips like she would her favorite horse. She settled into him, letting him support her weight. She let him do this for this one day, this one hour, and this one minute. She let him hold her. She let him carry her. She let him have her as no one else ever had. And no one else ever would.

  He held her until the tears subsided, stroking her naked back as he crooned to her. Until finally she stopped. Then he pulled the counterpane over them both, and she fell asleep on top of him. And he let her. She burrowed into the space where his neck met his shoulder and put her hand above his heart, and to the rhythm of his heartbeat, she fell asleep.

  Fourteen

  Marcus rolled to the side, lowering Cecelia gently to the bed, and she burrowed into him, even in her sleep. God, he loved this woman. She’d cried until she’d exhausted herself, great sobs heaving from her tiny frame until she’d finally stilled on top of him and rested.

  She rolled toward him, looking for the heat of his body like it had always been hers to claim. And he supposed it had. He was hers. She was his. He’d been an idiot for the space of six months, but things were well now. Things were as they should be. Now she just needed to marry him and everything would be perfect.

  He placed his lips tenderly against her forehead and pulled back, sliding from beneath the counterpane. He pulled on a robe that hung on the edge of the bed and walked out to the kitchen. He hoped he could find something in the kitchen to eat. It had been a while since anyone had been in the cabin, but surely there were some supplies. He stopped in the threshold of the kitchen when he heard whistling.

  “You’re at the wrong place at the wrong time, Ronald,” Marcus warned. Ronald stepped from behind the counter, an apple clenched between his teeth.

  “Never a wrong place. Not when you need help.” The gnome winked. “Who do you think left the fresh water for you?”

  The sorry little sot.

  Ronald brushed a hand through the air, dismissing Marcus with a simple gesture. “There are always consequences for your actions,” the gnome warned, talking around a bite of apple. He nodded toward a basket on the table. “I brought sustenance for you.”

  “Thank you,” Marcus grunted, not yet willing to be as appreciative as he should.

  “I had to tie Millicent up and put her in the closet to keep her away from here.”

  Marcus’s head jerked up. “You did not.”

  “Truthfully, I just sent her on a wild-goose chase. Said I’d seen the two of you down by the shore.” He shot Marcus a telling glance. “It won’t be long before she shows up here.”

  “Keep her away. I promised Cecelia one day.” He riffled through the basket, pulling out cheese and meat and some warm shepherd’s pie. “Who baked?”

  “I stole it from Millicent’s house,” the gnome said with a shrug. “She won’t mind once she realizes it’s for her girl. She’ll get over the fact that you’ll be partaking of it, too.” He snickered.

  “What were you doing at Milly’s house?” Marcus asked.

  “Stealing shepherd’s pie,” Ronald said crisply.

  “And?” Marcus smiled. The thought of a romance between Milly and Ronald made him want to laugh out loud. Those two had been at one another’s throats for years and years.

  “And it’s none of your concern,” Ronald growled. “Who knows? We might plant a seed in the ground and see if we can grow any little garden gnomes.”

  The idea whirled like a tornado in Marcus’s head. “That’s how…” At Ronald’s scorching glance, he didn’t finish his thought. But he still wondered. “How long have you known Milly?”

  “Forever,” Ronald said, tossing his apple core into the rubbish bin.

  “And you two have never…” He let his thought trail off again.

  “Again, mind your own matters,” Ronald chided.

  “And you should do the same.” Ronald knew what they’d been doing. He probably knew that Cecelia was naked in Marcus’s bed right now.

  “Milly and I married centuries ago,” Ronald said quietly. “She’s mine. I’m hers. End of story.”

  Married? They were married. “What?” Marcus gasped out.

  The gnome shrugged. “I love her. She loves me, most of the time. We each have obligations. We see one another as time permits. The life of a gnome is a solitary existence. But we make do.”

  “But you rarely get to see her.”

  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that,” the gnome said. He started to sift through the basket, looking for more to eat. Marcus jerked it from his reach.

  “But Milly hates you,” Marcus wondered aloud.

  “Hello Pot. My name is Kettle,” Ronald said drolly. Then he sobered. “So, Cecelia must not hate you anymore.”

  “Not right this moment,” Marcus said, tensing at the thought of Cecelia ever hating him.

  “She came right out with it and told you she loves you.” Ronald narrowed his eyes at Marcus.

  “Not yet.” She hadn’t. He’d said it multiple times that day, but she hadn’t said it yet. But she would. She couldn’t avoid it. “She asked me not to ask her for anything today.”

  “T
hat makes a lot of sense, seeing how much you love her.” Ronald snorted. Marcus really loved the little garden gnome at times. And really despised him at others.

  “She’s had a tough go of it,” Marcus said. “She asked me for one day. Then we’ll marry and set things to rights.”

  “She said she’ll marry you?”

  “Not in so many words.” She had never really agreed, had she? She hadn’t.

  “I think that she had her way with you, and now she’ll dispense with you and go back to her sorry life.” Ronald hitched up his breeches and glared at Marcus.

  “Her life’s not sorry, you little…” He reached for the gnome, but Ronald had always been too fast for him.

  “Her life is sorry, and if you knew anything about her, you would know how hard she’s had it since you left.” He shook a finger at Marcus. “I’m warning you, lad, take great care with how you go about this.” He gestured to the cabin. “All this is fine and good, but real life will rear its ugly head before you know it.”

  “This is real life,” Marcus grumbled.

  “No, it’s the life you want. It’s not real life. There’s a difference.”

  Ronald crossed to the window and threw open the sash.

  “There’s a perfectly good door, you know,” Marcus said.

  “Why use a door when there’s a perfectly good window?” The gnome glared at him for a moment and then turned and flung himself out the window.

  Good riddance.

  Ronald had no idea what he was talking about. This wasn’t a storybook life. This was real life. This was his life with Cecelia. This was real. Wasn’t it?

  ***

  Cecelia stood beside a frozen lake, her arms flung out to the sides as she looked up at the night sky. Her father stood on one side of the lake, beckoning her to come to him. Instead, she fell back into the icy waters. She let them slide over her skin and suck her under the lake’s surface, until there was no air left to breathe.

  Cecelia awoke with a start. There was coldness all around her, but she was safe beneath the comfort of Marcus’s warm counterpane. Yet an icy, cold something pressed against her back. She leaned back to look up at Marcus’s face, where he rested on his elbow, looking down at her. “You’re freezing,” she complained, pulling the counterpane closer about her naked shoulders. She looked down and realized she was completely naked. Then she looked over at him, and so was he. The only heat in the room was what crept up her face, apparently. “Where have you been?” she asked, looking everywhere but at his smiling face.

  “I went to find food,” he said, snuggling his cold body closer to her. He flung one leg over her thighs and nudged her hip with… that couldn’t be…

  “And took a dip in an icy loch, did you?” she asked. “You’re freezing.”

  “I lit a fire in the kitchen and one in here,” he said, cupping his hand over a yawn. Then he looked down at her. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  She nodded. She’d slept better than she had in a very long time. She looked toward the window. The light was waning. Hadn’t it been morning just a short time ago? “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Dusk,” he said. His voice sounded like it had been dragged down a gravel road.

  She sat up, and the counterpane fell below her chest. She snatched it back up with a gasp. “I slept that long!” She flung her feet over the side of the bed and started to get up. But he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and drew her back to him. She didn’t protest. Not really. She wanted to stay with him forever, never to go home. But reality would intervene before long.

  Cecelia lay back against his arm, which had slipped beneath her head somehow. She turned to face him, their noses no more than inches apart. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

  “Not as well as you, I’m afraid.” He picked up a lock of her hair and toyed with it. “I love you, you know,” he said softly.

  “Not today, Marcus.” She held up one finger. “One day. You promised,” she reminded him.

  “I’ll never stop telling you, Cece,” he declared, and a lump formed in her throat.

  Her stomach grumbled and she laid a hand upon it. “Oh, dear,” she said with a laugh. This was Marcus. He wouldn’t care if her stomach grumbled in a very unladylike way.

  Marcus jerked the counterpane from around her shoulders and shoved it down so he could trail a finger over her belly. “Hungry, are you?” he asked softly. Then he bent and pressed his soft lips to the tender skin just above her hip.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured. Though she was not thinking about food at the moment. “Unless you had something else in mind,” she teased.

  “I have a lot of things in mind,” he said with a laugh. She covered her breasts with her hands, and he looked up at her and rolled his eyes. “I think we’re past that point, don’t you?” He climbed up her body and whispered in her ear, “I’ve been inside you, Cece.”

  Her heart leaped and a throbbing began between her thighs. “Yes, you have.”

  “And I plan to do it again,” he murmured, kissing across the sensitive skin of her belly, until he could come up and kiss her lips quickly.

  “Thank goodness,” she breathed.

  He looked at her askance. “Do you want to eat first?”

  “I want to do that and then eat and then do it again,” she said with a giggle. He wouldn’t hate her audacity, would he? If the way his eyes smoldered at her suggestion was any indication, he didn’t dislike it at all.

  “I do like it when you take me by the hand and lead me,” he whispered, his fiery lips kissing just above the spring of hair between her thighs.

  “Marcus,” she complained.

  “What’s good for the goose and all that,” he said, mocking her earlier words. He slid his fingertips into her heat and began to stroke her from top to bottom. He slid a finger inside her quickly, rimming her entrance, and that brought her wetness up to that pulse point at the top of her sex. “I think I know how to please you,” he whispered with a smile, his touch growing more insistent.

  “Yes, you do…” she gasped out.

  Her breath hitched in her throat, and she was no longer able to respond to him, aside from a moan and a squeeze of his arm.

  “I do like exploring you,” he said, as he bent and drew her nipple into his mouth.

  “I like your exploration,” she managed to squeak out.

  “I can tell,” he said. But he pulled his hand back and moved to lie between her thighs. “But I can’t wait one more moment to be inside you.”

  “Please don’t wait,” she said, although she already missed his touch. He spread her thighs wide and looked down at her, licking his lips in a most carnal manner. He left a little space between them when he entered her. This time was still slow and soft, but he filled her fully and completely, rotating his hips around as he was seated fully inside.

  “God, that’s pretty,” he groaned as he looked down at the place where they were joined. She flung an arm over her eyes to keep from seeing him, and he just chuckled. But then one hand snaked between them, and he began to rub that pulse point he’d discovered as he moved inside her. He took her slowly, building in speed as she urged him on.

  “Don’t stop,” she said, her hips arching to meet his thrusts.

  ***

  Marcus watched her face as he brought her higher and higher. He had to bite his lip and think about ices at Gunter’s and the cold water in the morning that he poured from the pitcher in his chambers. It wasn’t working. His balls ached with the need to spend inside her. Every thrust was pure heaven, and the way she arched to meet him nearly undid him.

  But he continued, rolling his fingers over her pleasure center as he moved in and out, in and out, in and out, and then with a cry, she reached out, and he caught her hand in his. She spasmed on his manhood like a tight fist, and he rode out the storm with her squeezing
him, her body quaking in his arms. He came inside her, soaking her walls with his release. And he’d never felt so at peace as he did in that moment when he collapsed on top of her and pushed her damp hair from her face. He’d made love to her twice. He’d taken her innocence, and she’d taken his, just as it should be.

  He rolled off her and flopped onto his back. “Did you know Ronald and Milly are married?”

  She lifted her arm from her eyes and looked over at him, her blue eyes clear in the waning light. “No,” she said, and she laughed. “I knew she had an odd obsession with his whereabouts. They don’t spend much time together.” She nodded her head. “That makes sense, now that you mention it.”

  “Do you think they’re faithful to one another?” Marcus couldn’t help but ask.

  “I think I don’t want to think about Milly and Ronald doing what we just did,” she said with a shudder.

  “He said they might plant a seed in the ground and see what grows of it.”

  He leaned over Cecelia and laid his face on her stomach, looking up over the swell of her breasts to see her face. She didn’t stop him, and she twined her fingers with his. He kissed the soft skin of her belly tenderly.

  “Milly and Ronald with a child. I shudder to think,” she said, laughing.

  He kissed her stomach again, imagining the swell of unborn life that could be theirs, and he smiled. “I want a child. Or two. Or ten.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t respond except to say, “You always did.”

  The fingers of her free hand toyed with his unbound hair. “You don’t?” he probed.

  She held up a single finger. “One day,” she groaned. “You promised me one day.”

  “One day,” he agreed. He would give her one day. And then he would ask her all the questions he needed to ask her. And he needed some answers from her. But they could wait as long as her one day. “I’m hungry,” he said, reaching for the basket he’d set beside the bed. “And I might just use you for the plate.”