Mr. Hewitt said clearly, “If you ever hurt my daughter, I will hurt you.”
Marcus’s eyebrows lifted. He choked on his next words. But then he had to remind himself that when he and Cecelia had a daughter, he would feel exactly the same. “If I do, I’ll deserve it.”
Marcus held his arm out to Cecelia. “Shall we go and get married?” he asked.
But her father knocked his arm out of the way and threaded Cecelia’s arm through his. “She’s still mine until the vicar pronounces you husband and wife,” he said. But he winked at Cecelia, and she beamed under his attention. She needed this. She needed for her father to make amends.
Marcus followed behind the two of them, all the way back to where the family was assembled. Ainsley’s hand was in Allen’s, and they would be next to get married, Marcus was certain. Allen had already spoken to Ainsley’s father, and he almost had the man’s blessing.
Ronald and Milly sat in the back row, and Milly had her hand settled within Ronald’s. Marcus would never get used to that. He’d always assumed Ronald was a solitary individual. But even Ronald deserved someone to love.
Claire and Lord Phineas, and the Duke of Robinsworth and Sophia, along with the duke’s daughter, Lady Anne, took up the second row. The babies were snug in the nursery, thank goodness.
Marcus stepped into place in front of the vicar and held his hand out to Cecelia. She nestled her hand in his, her palms damp and warm. He pulled her close to his side and finally felt like he could take a deep breath. He’d almost missed this. He’d almost given up his chance for a happily-ever-after with this woman.
The vicar’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Cecelia squeezed his hand gently, but he needed no prodding. “I will,” he said. He would. He would. He would again and again and again.
The vicar asked Cecelia the same question as she looked up at Marcus and said, “I will.”
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring Mr. Hewitt had given him the day before. He slipped it onto her fourth finger, and she looked up at him, a question in her eyes. It was obvious the moment she realized it was her mother’s ring, because tears filled her eyes. Marcus swallowed past the lump in his own throat when Cecelia turned to her father and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
He smiled back, wiping a tear from beneath his eye.
“With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow,” Marcus said. “I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
And it was done. Cecelia was his. She would be his forever and a day. Nothing would ever separate them, save death, and Marcus would fight that with his last breath. Cecelia looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. He picked up her ring and kissed the purple moonstone in its platinum band. “Mine,” he said.
She nodded and stepped up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.
His father coughed into his fist. “Shall we have some cake?” he asked.
Mr. Hewitt chuckled, clapped Marcus on the back with a heavy hand, and said, “I think we should.”
***
Marcus was watching her from across the room. She could feel his gaze on her, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up, as did the fine little hairs on her wings. It wasn’t often she wore her wings in public, but His Grace’s house was apparently fae friendly. The butler didn’t even blink when he walked into the room to find it full of faeries, as Sophia, Claire, Ainsley, and her mother all had their wings on display that day. It was a special day, after all. And they all were safe in the walled garden that was the duke’s sanctuary and in the house.
“Your husband looks like he wants to come over here and steal you away,” Claire murmured, laughing at her.
“Do you have a painting you can shove us into?” Cecelia asked.
“I doubt that would work right now,” Claire admitted, “although I wouldn’t be surprised if he were to come and sling you over his shoulder.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so. The last time, it was to get her away from her father. To keep her safe. He would keep her safe always, of that she had no doubts. She never had to worry about him harming her or about him allowing anyone else to do so. Marcus loved her. He’d chased the dream of a family for six months, but he’d realized she was his family and the only one who truly mattered, or so he’d told her. His family would be there later. And now, so would she.
“I wouldn’t complain if he tossed me over his shoulder,” Cecelia admitted.
“Eww,” Sophia complained.
“I want to spend some time alone with him before the celebration.”
“Are you at all afraid that Mayden is going to show up?” Sophia asked both of them.
“Terribly afraid,” Claire admitted. She heaved a sigh. “The man is mad. And he needs to be stopped.”
“Perhaps it was a mistake to invite him to such a gathering,” Sophia mused. “I’m not certain I want him in this house at all.” She shivered uncontrollably, and the hair on Cecelia’s arms stood up.