a measure of both amusement and curiosity. “Oh, you are my little lady.” He chuckled as he pulled the knitted fabric over the dimpled hand that trapped Fern. Katy’s grip loosened and Fern found herself rolling, dragged along by the nappy knit, up, up, until she was lodged in the crook of the child’s elbow.
Fern felt herself being hoisted up into the air. Her heart was hammering, but she was pinned, good and firm, between the sweater sleeve and Katy’s downy skin.
“Me and my little lady are off to the airport,” Paul said. “We’ll be back in America before you can say lickety-split.”
“Icky-spit!” Katy gleefully parroted.
Fern could hear her pixie friends buzzing fran tically outside the nursery window, and she could only imagine their horrified expressions as she was whisked away.
Chapter One
Trapped!
For what seemed an eternity, Fern squirmed and wriggled in an attempt to free herself, but it had soon become clear that there was no escape. So, like any good pixie, she settled on the notion of relaxing and simply savoring the adventure…the supreme of all fairy mottos.
Adventure was what she was headed for, that was for sure.
The first leg of the journey had been made in what she’d assumed was an automobile. She’d never been inside of one, but the gentle rocking had lulled Katy to sleep, and Fern had simply enjoyed the soft music that had filled the air and the soft sound of Paul humming along.
Then things had gotten a bit more bumpy as Paul had carried his daughter—and her pixie tag-along—through what Fern could only envision as a huge crowd of humans. There had been some waiting, and then they’d been on the move again. Bumping and jostling down what felt like a narrow corridor…and the clamor of all those voices! Why, Fern easily imagined a thousand different conversations taking place at once.
Finally they’d settled into a seat, and someone helped Paul with something called an extension seat belt meant to fit around both father and daughter.
Fern had suffered a moment or two of anxiety when a din the likes of which she’d never heard set Katy to crying. Whatever it was that surrounded them began to shudder as it shot forward in a flash. Paul’s rich voice murmured comforting words that settled Fern—if not Katy—right down. If he wasn’t alarmed, she needn’t be. Soon the violent vibrating ceased. Fern’s ears began to pop, and she knew they were airborne. She and the other pixies had often marveled at those shiny crafts that soared through the sky over Sidhe, and she was awed to think that she was now inside one of them. Yes, she was most definitely going to savor this exciting escapade.
But as time passed, her muscles began to grow stiff. A crick pained her neck and her left foot fell asleep. Katy had been fidgeting for some time, despite Paul’s efforts to entertain her. The more the toddler squirmed, the higher her body temperature rose, and Fern became overheated herself. Her wings felt limp and her head was woozy.
Salvation came when Katy shrugged her shoulders, tugged at her sweater and whined, “Me hot, Da-da.”
Sweeter words had never been spoken. But Fern hadn’t anticipated the force with which she’d be thrust from her cottony trap. She was sent rolling and tumbling, and then she was freefalling. Disoriented, she relaxed into the plummet and then shook out her wings by sheer instinct. She landed with a double skip on Paul’s knee. Stretching this way and that, she worked the kinks from her aching muscles.
Katy began to whimper.
“How about a drink of apple juice?” Paul asked.
The child’s snivels progressed to chin-trembling tears. He pulled out the lidded cup, his arm jerked, and a drip of juice sloshed onto his hand. Realizing that she was parched herself, Fern zipped into the air high enough that she could bend over and sip the sweet nectar from his skin.
Sensing Paul’s sudden stillness, Fern turned to look up at him. His dark eyes seemed to be directed right at her, and every inch of her neck and arms sparkled as though pointed stars rolled end over end along her flesh. Her lips formed a silent oh. Did he see her?
But the question barely had time to form in her mind before he blinked a couple of times, then picked up his crying daughter. “You’re tired, sweetie. Let’s go change your diaper and then you can take a nap.”
Fern followed close behind them. In the tiny cubicle, Paul changed Katy’s diaper, but the toddler continued to fuss. He tried to soothe her, but Fern could see that, tired himself, he was becoming flustered.
Hoping to cause a diversion, Fern lit into the air and whooshed back and forth in front of Katy’s face. But to no avail.
“Come on,” Paul murmured. “You need a rest.”
He left the rest room, and the door latched shut before Fern could escape. She was trapped once again.
Landing on a small ledge by the entrance, she waited. Someone would come in soon enough and she’d be free.
She frowned when she thought of how her attempt to distract the toddler from her sobs had been unsuccessful. Fern didn’t like to fail. Paul had been tense. How she wished she could help.
If she were human she could help.
What a scandalous thought. Talk about breaking the rules! Human transformation was the most prohibited of all pixie policies. Why, she could be tossed out of Sidhe altogether.
Paul’s exhausted face floated into her mind, his dark gaze weary with frustration.
She’d heard of rebel fairies turning into foxes or hares for a short time so they could race and play with their forest friends. But to turn human? She’d be the shame of every pixie in Ireland.
But she wasn’t in Ireland any longer, was she?
Closing her eyes, she pictured herself rocking wee Katy to sleep. Then the image softened and she was smoothing the frown from Paul’s troubled brow. She sighed. She could be of help to him…she could…
Fern lifted her eyelids and found herself staring into the mirror—at her own human reflection!
Paul had done everything he could think of to calm his daughter. He’d allowed her to grow overly tired, and if there was one thing he’d learned over the past twenty-four months of being Katy’s daddy, of raising her single-handedly, it was that that was never a good thing.
He’d plied her with every toy he’d brought along, terribly grateful for the empty seats on either side of him that the partially filled flight had provided and on which were now strewn an array of stuffed animals, rattles and playthings. Now, though, he hummed and rocked, but it seemed that all Katy wanted to do was fight him and the slumber she so desperately needed. Why did return transatlantic flights always seem longer than the ones that whisked you away from home?
The question barely had time to fade from his thoughts when the most peculiar pair of shiny satin slippers came into his view. The toes were turned up just slightly, lending them an almost enchanted charm. Paul smiled in spite of himself.
His gaze lifted to a pair of delicate ankles, then further over shapely calves and twin creamy, firm thighs that disappeared beneath the hem
