Both Mama and Papa were dressed in Victorian fashions. Tessa
decided they’d updated their medieval attire with spells, as she noted the
silvery threads embroidering their newly conjured garments. Papa looked rather
dashing in his gray waistcoat, which really looked silver to her awakened eye.
Mama had quickly embraced the modern designs of fashion, looking exquisite in
her sapphire gown that was trimmed in lace and ribbons.
Christian had just set his teacup down and reached for the
last fairy cake. As a true gentleman, he offered it to her instead of taking it
for himself. Knowing by the look in his eyes that he wanted it, she hesitated
in her response. Clearly, Christian knew her all too well because he smiled,
chuckled under his breath, and placed the fairy cake upon her plate beside the
scone. “But—” she began.
Instead of letting her speak, Christian silenced her with
the touch of his finger to her lips. “Hush, darling, you know I live to spoil
you.”
Squaring her shoulders with determination, Tessa decided she
wouldn’t let him always be the hero of lemon-filled fairy cakes, and as easy as
painting with sunlight, she conjured another upon his plate. While she was at
it, she refilled his cup with tea.
None of the words needed to be spoken aloud, within her mind
was enough. Tessa marveled in wonder as threads of fey magic twirled in curling
designs over the porcelain surface of his teacup. So beautiful, it almost took
her breath away.
Her gaze touched upon his mother and father to see if they’d
noticed what she’d done. They wouldn’t be able to see the magic as she could,
but they might have noticed the fairy cake magically appear upon Christian’s
plate. They’d responded quite well to the news about her being a fey princess,
but she and Christian had agreed that perhaps they shouldn’t overwhelm his
parents by performing magic in front of them. A sigh of relief escaped her. It
was very clear that the marchioness and marquess were entirely distracted with
conversation and hadn’t noticed what she’d done. Her papa, however, had a
twinkling smile pinned on her. When he knew he’d been caught watching her, he
winked.
Tessa bit her lip and then returned the smile as her cheeks
burned crimson. When Christian’s sire asked Papa another question, and his gaze
left her, her attention returned to Christian. Tipping her head to the side,
she watched him closely to see his reaction to her magic. She took in the way
his brown hair became messier and messier every time he dragged his fingers
through it, the way his dark brown eyes reflected intelligence, and the way his
clothes fit his muscular frame. To her he was so very handsome, and she was
quite pleased that he was hers. Making sure that he had another fairy cake too
was one simple way she could show him how she cared about him.
Her husband hadn’t noticed the cake just yet because he was
engaged in a conversation with his mother about the ball to be held a fortnight
from now. Christian cringed when his mother commanded, “Our theme is to be a
Midsummer Night’s Eve, and you
will
dress as a fairy.” The comment drew
soft chuckles from those around the table.
“Mother, you can’t possibly be—” he began.
“We’ll transform the ballroom into a rustic woodland scene
with moss, vines, and wildflowers,” continued Lady Sparks as though Christian
hadn’t tried to speak at all.
“How extremely creative of you, Mother,” commented Christian
dryly.
“Wouldn’t it be divine if the ladies came with their hair
and gowns adorned by handmade roses and butterflies? The gentlemen’s coattails
simply must be embellished with brown and black feathers.” An impish glimmer
flickered to life in her eyes when she added, “And Father will do readings from
Shakespeare’s enchanting work dressed as a donkey!”
Lord Sparks choked on his cake.
Was that a small pixyish smile gracing Lady Spark’s mouth as
she patted her husband on the back? As Lord Sparks franticly reached for his
tea to quiet his cough, she went on describing her ideas for the event. “We
shall have honey mead instead of punch, and strawberry meringues, and mustard-encrusted—”
“Will this also be a masked ball, Mother?” Christian asked,
sounding far too eager to hide his face during the event.
“Heavens no!” Lady Sparks tapped her spoon upon the edge of
her teacup perhaps a little too sharply. “That is for Emma’s coming out event.”
“But, darling,” piped up Lord Sparks, “a donkey? I think I’d
rather wear wings.”
Patting her husband’s arm as if to console him, she replied,
“Only a pair of ears, darling, do not fret. They’ll be made of velvet, in a
lovely dove gray which will match your waistcoat, to be sure.”
“Are you truly set upon this theme, then?” asked, Christian.
This time Tessa detected a note of desperation in his tone.
A stubborn look overtook Lady Sparks’ face, her lips
puckering in disapproval. “I do insist,” she finally announced. “It shall be a
lovely event. The talk of the ton, I suspect.”
Tessa watched the muscles in Christian’s jaw tighten when he
clamped his teeth together and fell silent. She’d learned from past experience
that he knew better than to argue with his mother. She could also understand
his resistance to donning wings. But when Lady Sparks had learned of her being
fey, she’d become quite fixated on this theme for the ball to celebrate their
union. Her parents thought it was a charming and whimsical idea, if not a bit
silly as well.
Dropping his head, Christian groaned so quietly Tessa
suspected she was the only one to hear it. He froze when his eyes landed on the
fairy cake that was right in the middle of his previously empty plate. Almost
as quickly, his eyes shot to hers likely to see if the cake he’d just given to
her was still there, and she giggled at the funny look on his face when he
discovered that it was. His gaze lifted just as his eyebrow did.
As he stammered out quiet sounds of bewilderment, she
whispered, “Please, do not make a fuss.”
A grin deepened his dimple as it tugged at her heart. “Up to
no good, I see,” he whispered back as he reached for the teapot to refill his
cup, which, little did he know, was already full.
Tessa barely smothered her laugh when he nearly dropped the
pot as his tea came dangerously close to spilling over the edge much sooner
than he’d expected and he jerked the pot upright to stop the flow. Another
raised eyebrow was aimed her way. Tessa smiled as innocently as she could,
wishing she had a dimple like his to flash at him.
As she looked into those smiling brown eyes of his, she
realized she didn’t just have fond feelings for him; she truly, entirely, and
deeply loved him. Her breath caught at that thought. Of course she’d known she
cared for the man, but she hadn’t realized that she’d known it, and now she
knew
for certain. She’d loved Christian Sparks from the very beginning.
All of her dreams had come true. She wasn’t dead, she was
loved, and she’d married a wonderful man who fawned over every silly whim of
her heart.
As their eyes met and held, she was quickly drawn into the
almost black depths of his. Memories of the first time he’d kissed her came
rushing back. The shock of being touched after having lost the sensation for so
long would always linger with her. But it was a delightfully pleasant sort of
shock. As though having gone through a famine, the taste of touch was much
sweeter for her now. Tessa also recalled their second kiss, and their third,
and their honeymoon in Venice.
Kissing him again became her only thought and she leaned
closer. Despite the onlookers surrounding them, Christian gathered her chin
gently between his fingers and matched his mouth to hers.
Epilogue
Part
Two: Enchanted Future
A peal of giggles bubbled from Emma as the king murmured fey
spells to her. The words, which sounded French to Christian, conjured figures
of light in the forms of butterflies and fairies to appear. Leaving trails of
glittering dust behind, they began dancing around his sister. Christian knew
his human eyes couldn’t normally see the spells, but the man had somehow made them
visible anyway. King James was putting on quite the show and had apparently
become enchanted by the girl, just as many who met her did. Secretly
entertaining her with his talents seemed like a rather mischievous thing to be
doing for her, but Christian wouldn’t deny his little sister the delight it was
bringing her.
With more sounds of joy coming from Emma, King James lifted
a finger to his lips and whispered, “Shhh, my blue-eyed little darling, we
mustn’t alert the queen to our naughty mischief.”
The comment simply brought more giggles from her lips, the
dimple in her cheek deepened, and the king smiled impishly, his eyes alive with
twinkles of amusement.
Drawn by the happy and intrigued sounds coming from his
little sister, Christian moved forward and took a seat next to her as she
allowed a magical light-fairy to land upon her extended finger. The glowing
figure bathed her smiling face in blue. A catchlight danced in her eyes.
“Look, Chris, isn’t she lovely?”
“Indeed, she is.” Christian touched a finger to the floral
wreath adorning his sister’s head. “Did Peter make this for you?”
“Yes,” Emma said without taking her gaze from the gleaming creature
now performing a pirouette upon her upturned palm. The flowers were likely
stolen from a centerpiece. Christian was a bit disappointed he hadn’t thought
of it himself. The blushing roses were fully opened, which made this wreath a
bit larger then what they’d spoiled their sister with during their childhood.
Because of that, it almost sagged down over her left eye.
This only slightly hidden location prompted Christian to
cast a cautious glance over his shoulder to make sure the other guests hadn’t
noticed the rich display of fey magic barely concealed by a swath of thick
drapery.
Dancing to a waltz, the guests who’d come to celebrate their
union swept about the ballroom in twirls of black coattails and vibrant ball
gowns. Mother had been right; she had conjured, without the use of magic, an
enchanting scene befitting Shakespeare’s play. Much to Christian and his
father’s chagrin, the theme had been a smashing hit. Christian resisted the
urge to scratch at the straps of ribbon holding his wings to his back. Wings of
all things! The dreadful contraptions were very awkward to wear, and, even
worse, they sparkled as though they’d been dusted with pixie dust. He’d be
plucking the horrible substance out of his hair for weeks! Bloody—mentally he
bit the curse off short because he’d turned over a new leaf when it came to
swearing, and returned his attention to Emma.
Even though she still smiled, the same expression would not
return to his face so easily. She’d just turned thirteen, and in five years
hence she would attend her coming out ball. It wasn’t really that idea that
troubled him, but the
gentlemen
who would be interested in her dowry
perhaps more than her. Christian knew it would be a significant amount. He also
knew how men would wish to make it their own in the usual dishonest ways—entrapment,
deception, or other devious ploys. He’d overheard the cunning plotting that
went on at his club, especially amongst the second sons who would not inherit.
They were the ones who typically stalked innocent and naive young ladies with
money. The idea of any number of knaves wishing to wed sweet Emma for her
wealth made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Christian adjusted the knot of his
cravat because it had unexpectedly become much too tight.
A lump of panic in his throat made it even worse when he
realized something else, and he gave the knot a stern yank. With his other
hand, Christian shoved the circlet of black feathers he’d been forced to wear
for this ball from his suddenly sweating forehead. Tessa had told him about
Dominic’s brother. She’d said his name was Tristan and he was just a few years
older than Emma. Another corrupt fey royal was out there, but Tessa didn’t feel
like he would be a problem. Christian wasn’t so sure about that. It was true,
that the lad was too young, probably only seventeen, to be a problem now. And
it was true that if he was anything like his brother, he wouldn’t likely mourn
the loss of Dominic any more than they had. Tessa had also insisted that she
had never once made his acquaintance, so why would he have any interest in them
at all? But what if they were wrong about the boy? What if King Tristan did
wish to avenge his brother’s death? What if, to hurt Christian, the boy took it
out on Emma instead? Feeling protective, his fingers moved over her smooth
ringlets of brown hair as she played with a fey-conjured butterfly. While
Dominic was deceased, Christian couldn’t guarantee that meant his family would
remain safe. He did agree with Tessa about the lad not being a threat just yet,
but with him being so close in age to Emma...what if this second son caught her
in his sights as well?
Feeling like he needed more information, his gaze lifted to
King James’. “Your Majesty?”
The king’s eyebrows lifted momentarily when he took in the
look of horror probably overtaking his face. He was simply too worried to hide
it. “What is it, my boy?” While King James addressed him, he kept Emma’s
magical entertainment going. Christian was grateful for that bit of
thoughtfulness. He didn’t want Emma troubled with the same things tormenting
his thoughts.
“What do you know about Tristan?” Christian asked,
intentionally being vague.
The king appeared confused as to whom he was talking about
for a moment, then blinked in surprise. “Are you referring to Prince—or rather—King
Tristan?”
“Yes.”
King James’ frown deepened. “Little is known of the lad.”
“How is that possible?” Because of Emma, Christian withheld,
He is royalty!