Read Online The Magic Between Us (Faerie) by Tammy Falkner - Free Book Online Page B

here to talk anytime you need me,” his father offered.
    Marcus knew that. He did. But what Marcus wished for more than anything was to have his grandfather to talk to. His grandfather had taught him everything he’d known, and Marcus had been destined to follow in his footsteps, all the way to his place with the Trusted Few.
    “I miss Grandfather,” Marcus admitted.
    He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. He didn’t intend to make his father feel inadequate. “I’m sorry,” he rushed to say. But his father held up a hand.
    “It’s all right,” he soothed. “He raised you. He helped to form you into the man you are now. Things didn’t get fouled up for you until I came along.”
    “Fouled up.” Marcus snorted. “That’s a good way to describe it.” He inhaled deeply. “She says she’s obligated to another,” he told his father quietly, glancing at Cecelia where she was seated at the other end of the table. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and then looked away quickly when he saw her watching him.
    His father’s brows drew together. “Do you know this person?”
    “She hasn’t said who he is. But she’s promised to stay in the land of the fae for him.” He took a sip of his wine.
    “Hmm,” his father said quietly. “Do you think she loves another?”
    Marcus shook his head. He couldn’t be certain. When he’d kissed her, she didn’t act as though she loved another. But then again, she’d always been the one for him. The only one. So, he had no comparison to make. “I think she loves me. But she’s angry.”
    “At least you’re aware of it.” His father chuckled. “Most men are without a clue. We walk around as if we’re on top of the world, while the ladies want to remove our stones with a dull knife.”
    Marcus choked on a piece of bread. “Beg your pardon?” he gasped out.
    “Don’t ever assume your stones are safe, son,” his father said as he clapped Marcus on the shoulder. “Not when a woman has been scorned.”
    ***
    Ainsley leaned toward Cecelia and whispered, “What happened between the two of you today? I’ve been dying to ask you.”
    “Nothing,” Cecelia lied. It may as well have been nothing. Because nothing was what could come of it. But heat crept up her cheeks as she remembered that kiss.
    “You don’t flush when ‘nothing’ has happened, Cece,” Ainsley scolded. “Tell me. You know you want to.”
    “I told him,” Cecelia muttered.
    “Told him what?” Ainsley’s brow puckered.
    “Told him that I can’t accept him. Because I’m not free to do so.”
    “Since when?” Ainsley’s silverware clattered to the tabletop.
    “Since my mother died and my father fell apart,” Cecelia hissed back.
    “So you lied.”
    “I didn’t lie. Not really. I told him I’m not free.”
    “But you are.”
    “My father needs me right now.”
    “You can’t give up your life for your father,” Ainsley groaned. “I can’t believe you let Marcus think that.” She stabbed at the air with the tines of her fork, punctuating what she would say next. “You”—stab—“shouldn’t”—stab—“have”—stab—“lied.”
    Cecelia heaved a sigh. “It’s the only way.”
    “Sometimes the truth is the only way, Cece,” Ainsley said quietly.

Eight
    Cecelia sat down on the garden bench and tugged her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The night air was chilly, and her heart felt even colder. She’d made a mistake in letting Marcus kiss her. She should have soundly trounced him, rather than ever letting his lips touch hers.
    She’d dreamed of another kiss for as long as she could remember. And it had been all she’d expected it to be. It was all she could think about. After dinner, she’d made her excuses, claiming to be tired. But she really just needed some time alone. She’d put a candle in her window to summon Milly and walked into the garden to wait for her to appear.
    Cecelia sat back and looked up at the stars. They