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***
Marcus had her thrown over his shoulder like a sack of feed, and she hadn’t had enough fight in her to protest.
“You’re certain you want her to go?” Claire asked.
He nodded. “It’s the only way.”
“We’ll all go,” Sophia said.
Claire nodded. “We’ll all go.”
“We have to get the children,” Claire and Sophia said at the same time.
“Do you have the painting, Claire?” he asked, growing impatient.
She reached behind a heavy curtain. “It’s been here all along.”
Marcus took her hand in his and prepared to step into the painting with her. “Me first,” his mother said. “You can’t just thrust her in the human world with no one there.”
She took his hand from Claire’s and replaced it with her own, and then she walked into the painting and was gone. “Your turn,” Claire said. “We’ll follow in a very short time.”
She patted the back of Cecelia’s leg, and Cecelia laughed at the absurdity of it. “I’m glad you find this amusing,” Marcus groused at her.
“I feel like a sack of grain, Marcus,” she said, laughing louder. “I can’t help it.”
“She’s delirious,” Marcus grumbled. But he took Claire’s hand and walked into the painting. When he got to the other side, he dropped Cecelia to her feet. She swayed for a moment as the pinkness receded from her cheeks. “Did I hurt your face?” he asked, taking her face in his gentle hands. Marcus had such gentle hands. He always had.
“I’m fine.” She straightened her skirts. She was still dressed as a faerie. She would have to remedy that.
He turned to go back, but she jerked his arm and pulled him to her. His mother turned her back, thank goodness. Because she planned to kiss this man. And she planned to kiss him thoroughly. Her lips met his, and it wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a wild clash of teeth and tongues.
“I love you, Marcus,” she said, pressing her forehead against his. His breathing was heavy and thick. Claire’s hand was still extended through the painting, and she snapped her fingers to bring him back.
Ainsley popped her head into the painting next and said, “I’ll be along shortly. I have to notify my father.”
“All right,” Cecelia laughed.
“I’ll see you as soon as I can,” Marcus said, his voice tight.
“Take care of yourself,” Cecelia said.
He hugged her to him, his embrace tight enough to make her squeak. And then he left her standing there in his mother’s entryway. Cecelia turned to Lady Ramsdale, who drew her into her arms.
“I think I forgot my daughters in the land of the fae,” she said with a laugh.
“I’m so sorry to put you through this,” Cecelia said.
Lady Ramsdale squeezed her. “You’re a daughter to me, too,” she said. “I can never take your mother’s place, but I love you just as much as if I’d given birth to you, Cecelia.”
Tears pricked at the backs of Cecelia’s lashes. “I hope you do, because I plan to marry that man.”
The rest of the ladies made it through the painting, all in good time, including Lady Ramsdale’s daughters.
“Let’s have some Madeira in my private sitting room, shall we?” Lady Ramsdale asked all the adults.
Cecelia nodded. If this was to be her new family, she couldn’t have chosen a better one for herself.
***
