uncontrollable sensual allure, she couldn’t let them down and shame herself—again. The price she’d paid the one time she defied them still haunted her night and day. Cordelia tightened her arms around Tamsy, shielding herself. The poor creature squeaked and Cordelia hastily loosened her grip.
“This is no time for joking. It’s a matter of urgency.” Someone chose that moment to reduce the volume of the music. Her final word came out rather louder than she intended. A few anxious glances shot her way.
She smiled reassuringly. The last thing she wanted was panic.
With a nod toward the exit she said, “Come upstairs where we can talk in private.” She ignored the wicked sparkle in Michael’s eyes.
“ Your wish is my command, darlin’.”
In the two years since she’d met Michael, Cordelia could count on one hand the times they’d exchanged more than a polite greeting. Yet the way he called her darling with that deep Irish lilt to his voice was exactly the way he spoke to the women she watched him take to bed. She reached the door and ascended the first few steps, then paused and looked back at him. “I’d rather you didn’t call me…darling. I don’t feel the name’s appropriate.” And if he kept speaking to her in that tone of voice, she was likely to muddle fantasy with reality.
He grinned up at her, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
With a sigh of exasperation, mostly at her own ludicrous reaction to him, she hurried up the stairs, promising herself she was strong enough to ignore his glamour.
He grinned as he stopped in the doorway at the top and rested his shoulder against the frame. “Maybe I should call you sugarplum? You have the sweet ripe fullness of fruit ready to be—”
“Michael!”
In the silence that followed her explosive retort, all she could think was ready to be what? A small part of her wished she hadn’t interrupted him.
And she hated that she fell for his suggestive banter.
Anger bubbled up, giving her words a harsh edge. “Just call me Cordelia in a normal tone of voice like everyone else.”
He flicked up his eyebrows, unabashed.
“Enough nonsense.” Cordelia smoothed her skirt, reluctant to admit she needed his help. “While I was foretelling in the library, darkness invaded my divination mirror. I also heard someone whisper the given name of the Welsh King of the Underworld.”
The mischievous half smile that always hovered on Michael’s lips dropped away. He pushed off the door frame and straightened, his expression serious.
“When did this happen, lass?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, turned, and glanced up the stairs. “Ruddy Badba,” he cursed. “I hope the babies are safe.”
Before she could reassure him that she’d just visited the nursery and the boys were fine, he took off, running up the stairs two at a time. She stared up at the landing while he put his head in the nursery door.
Thirty seconds later, he closed the door quietly and descended more slowly, a look of relief on his face.
“The babies are still there. When we tried to put them to bed, I half expected them to disappear and reappear somewhere else.” At Cordelia’s raised eyebrows he continued. “The rascals have just discovered they can walk unseen like me father.”
Cordelia shook her head in disbelief. Rose had told her the children took after their air elemental grandfather. But it had never occurred to her the children would exhibit the rare air elemental gift of walking unseen: disappearing and reappearing in another place.
“What sort of threat do you think Gwyn ap Nudd could be?” Michael asked.
“We’ve had no dealings with him during my life, but it’s possible he holds an ancient grudge against the piskies. You know what long memories these immortals have.”
He nodded and something dark passed behind his eyes. “Aye, I know.”
When Michael and Niall had lived in the Irish fairy court, Niall had apparently had
“This is no time for joking. It’s a matter of urgency.” Someone chose that moment to reduce the volume of the music. Her final word came out rather louder than she intended. A few anxious glances shot her way.
She smiled reassuringly. The last thing she wanted was panic.
With a nod toward the exit she said, “Come upstairs where we can talk in private.” She ignored the wicked sparkle in Michael’s eyes.
“ Your wish is my command, darlin’.”
In the two years since she’d met Michael, Cordelia could count on one hand the times they’d exchanged more than a polite greeting. Yet the way he called her darling with that deep Irish lilt to his voice was exactly the way he spoke to the women she watched him take to bed. She reached the door and ascended the first few steps, then paused and looked back at him. “I’d rather you didn’t call me…darling. I don’t feel the name’s appropriate.” And if he kept speaking to her in that tone of voice, she was likely to muddle fantasy with reality.
He grinned up at her, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
With a sigh of exasperation, mostly at her own ludicrous reaction to him, she hurried up the stairs, promising herself she was strong enough to ignore his glamour.
He grinned as he stopped in the doorway at the top and rested his shoulder against the frame. “Maybe I should call you sugarplum? You have the sweet ripe fullness of fruit ready to be—”
“Michael!”
In the silence that followed her explosive retort, all she could think was ready to be what? A small part of her wished she hadn’t interrupted him.
And she hated that she fell for his suggestive banter.
Anger bubbled up, giving her words a harsh edge. “Just call me Cordelia in a normal tone of voice like everyone else.”
He flicked up his eyebrows, unabashed.
“Enough nonsense.” Cordelia smoothed her skirt, reluctant to admit she needed his help. “While I was foretelling in the library, darkness invaded my divination mirror. I also heard someone whisper the given name of the Welsh King of the Underworld.”
The mischievous half smile that always hovered on Michael’s lips dropped away. He pushed off the door frame and straightened, his expression serious.
“When did this happen, lass?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, turned, and glanced up the stairs. “Ruddy Badba,” he cursed. “I hope the babies are safe.”
Before she could reassure him that she’d just visited the nursery and the boys were fine, he took off, running up the stairs two at a time. She stared up at the landing while he put his head in the nursery door.
Thirty seconds later, he closed the door quietly and descended more slowly, a look of relief on his face.
“The babies are still there. When we tried to put them to bed, I half expected them to disappear and reappear somewhere else.” At Cordelia’s raised eyebrows he continued. “The rascals have just discovered they can walk unseen like me father.”
Cordelia shook her head in disbelief. Rose had told her the children took after their air elemental grandfather. But it had never occurred to her the children would exhibit the rare air elemental gift of walking unseen: disappearing and reappearing in another place.
“What sort of threat do you think Gwyn ap Nudd could be?” Michael asked.
“We’ve had no dealings with him during my life, but it’s possible he holds an ancient grudge against the piskies. You know what long memories these immortals have.”
He nodded and something dark passed behind his eyes. “Aye, I know.”
When Michael and Niall had lived in the Irish fairy court, Niall had apparently had
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