Read the book: «Because of Baby»

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 of a royal blue dress. With hips that had just the right swell, a waist narrow enough for him to span with both his hands and breasts that were nicely rounded, the woman standing before him was…well, Paul estimated, she was a perfect example of the female persuasion.

When he looked into her face, things only got better. Vibrant blue-green eyes flashed with liveliness, her pert nose was cute and her hair was a mass of coppery curls that just brushed the tops of her sun-kissed shoulders.

It was crazy, but it seemed as if she radiated a muted glow…a humming energy just waiting to spring from its boundaries the first chance it got. He was momentarily spellbound.

Her bronzed shoulders rounded rather coyly. “I’m here ta help.”

The quiet resonance of her voice was comforting, and her soft brogue clearly pegged her as Irish.

Evidence of the gratitude washing through him showed in the small smile he offered her. “Thanks,” he said, “but my Katy’s too cranky for anyone to have to deal with at the moment. Even I can’t make her happy, it seems.”

However, rather than nodding and backing away as he’d expected her to do, the woman began clearing the aisle seat of the teddy bear and plastic stacking toys that riddled it.

“Nonsense.” In a move that could only be described as graceful, she eased down beside him.

The fabric of her dress made a slight brushing sound as her fanny slid against the cushion, and the fact that he was aware of her enough to notice shocked him.

“Give her here,” she ordered. “I just love babes.”

Obviously, the woman didn’t have a clue about children. There was no way Katy was going to allow herself to be held by a stranger, not when irritability and exhaustion had her so cantankerous.

“But you don’t understand—”

Ignoring him, the woman reached out and tenderly touched his daughter’s arm. “How’s me pretty Katy?”

Paul expected his daughter to howl, but Katy left him stupefied when she looked at the woman through bleary eyes, and said through hiccupping sobs, “My wady,” as if an angelic savior had appeared right out of the clouds.

Katy scrambled from his lap, shoving herself away from him and launching herself into the arms of the stranger.

The woman’s light laughter rang like musical notes as she pulled the toddler to her. She didn’t seem the least bit fazed when Katy decided to get right up in her face, smooth both hands down her cheeks and gaze deeply into her eyes. It seemed Katy was mesmerized, and Paul grinned, thinking that he’d had the same initial reaction to the woman.

“Wady,” Katy whispered in wonder. Her small mouth pulled into a smile even as the last of her fat tears were rolling from her big dark eyes.

Paul’s amazement only grew when his daughter snuggled down into the cradle provided by the woman’s arms. Katy’s eyelids immediately fluttered closed, and she went still.

“I don’t believe it,” he murmured. “I just don’t believe it.”

The woman only smiled.

“I’m Paul,” he introduced himself. It was simply out of habit that he didn’t offer his last name. When people discovered his identity, they all too often tended to act a little strange. Effusive and fussy. Paul avoided that as much as possible, just as he avoided the pretensions of limos and first-class accommodations. He liked to think of himself as a regular Joe, just like 99.9 percent of everyone else on earth.

“I’m Fern,” she supplied.

Nice name. The opinion whispered through his head from somewhere in the back of his brain. And completely appropriate, he determined. She had the same litheness and grace as the flowing branches of a fern.

He blinked. It had been a long while since his thinking had taken such a whimsical turn. When he composed his stories, that kind of habitual imagery and quirky reflection had been imperative to his work, but it had been two long years since he’d put a single creative thought to paper. He’d been too busy with real life.

“So, Fern—” suddenly he felt tongue-tied, like an awkward teen trying to break the ice “—you’re on your way to the States?”

“I’m going to America.”

The inflection in her voice almost gave the impression she didn’t know that the two places were one and the same, but that would be rather silly. Everyone knew…

He shoved the notion out of his head and asked, “Is this your first trip abroad?”

She nodded. “It is.”

“So, you’re excited.” It wasn’t a question. He could clearly see the thrill gleaming in her turquoise gaze, and it only made her more beautiful.

If that were possible.

Her smile widened, and that’s when he learned that the concept of her becoming more beautiful was possible, and all it had taken was a smile.

“I am that.”

The words came out sounding like, I yem, and Paul suppressed the pleasurable smile that threatened to curl his lips. He liked her accent.

Then she added, “I’ve never been so excited in me life.”

He chuckled. “I can understand. The first time I visited Ireland, I wanted to see and do everything.”

“That’s the spirit. Savor the adventure.” Her head bobbed twice, the movement sending her curls bouncing. “Now, those words are good ones to live by.”

“They are,” he agreed. “Is this trip for pleasure? Or are you going for a job?”

“I don’t do anything unless there’s pleasure involved.”

Her pointed expression had him going still. For an instant he thought she might be flirting with him, teasing him with a subtle sensual innuendo. But he realized quickly enough that there was no guile in her expression, just as there was none intended in her declaration. In fact, he realized, she was expressing herself simply and honestly, and that was refreshing, indeed.

“I have no idea about a job.” One of her shoulders raised a fraction. “But finding one would probably be important, I would expect. And the experience might be fun.”

“Are you staying with family? Or friends?” He shouldn’t be poking his nose in her business, but he couldn’t help himself. Curiosity simmered in him like a pot of water on a burner.

“No. I know no one in America.” She paused. “Except you and Katy, that is.”

Something stirred inside him, spiraling and twisting to life.

Her gaze dipped. “Sounds like you’re thinkin’ I have a plan. I have to admit, I don’t have one. It’s impossible to plan an adventure, you know.”

The warmth that had curled deep in his belly was completely forgotten. No plan? She was just going to step off the plane in New York and walk out into the unknown? He was hit with what felt like a dozen questions that needed asking. Did she have hotel reservations? Did she have enough money? Did she know it wasn’t safe for a woman traveling alone? Did she have an emergency contact? How would she—

“I’ll be fine. I always am.”

The concern that rushed at him must have shown itself on his face if she felt the need to assure him. But her sweet innocence ignited in him a powerful urge to protect.

Her blue-green eyes leveled on his face. “I think it’s time you told me a little something about you.”

So that ingenuous charm was balanced with a touch of brass. He liked that.

“All you’ve said was that you were eager to see everything in Ireland the first time you visited. So…have you? Seen everythin’, I mean?”

He couldn’t get over the way her brilliant eyes sparkled, seeming to draw him in, luring him to reveal all his secrets. He shook the ridiculous idea out of his head.

He pondered her question for only a moment before all the implications of it had him wincing slightly. “The circumstances between my first visits to your beautiful country and this one were…well, quite different, to say the least.”

She remained silent, evidently waiting for him to expound further.

“I honeymooned in Ireland during my first visit,” he told her. Memories of Maire threatened, but he held them at bay. Now wasn’t the time to be swallowed up by those shadows.

“How lovely. You must have had a grand time of it.”

“We did. And our second trip was just as wonderful. Maire and I had the pleasure of announcing to her parents that we were going to have a baby. Well, we didn’t really have to announce the fact, all they had to do was take one look at her.”

Memories loomed and threatened to swamp him. He took a head-clearing breath. Leaving the past in the past, he rushed ahead to the present. “But this trip, it was just me and Katy. You see, my wife, Maire, died giving birth to our daughter. She experienced some unexpected complications that the doctors hadn’t foreseen. That they hadn’t been prepared for. None of us were prepared.” He was vaguely aware of the far-off inflection his voice had taken on. He cleared his throat. “That was two years ago.”

But the void inside stubbornly remains, the words echoed silently.

With nothing short of brute force, he pulled himself back to the conversation at hand. “Anyway, with Katy being a baby and all, it had been impossible for me to take her back to Ireland until now.” Paul wondered why he was being so free with such personal information. This was so unlike him, yet it just felt right. “Her grandparents had come to visit her, of course, but I want Katy to be familiar with the place where her mother grew up—”

His gaze latched on to Fern’s face, the sight of her mournful gaze cutting his thought clean in two. Sadness seemed to pulse from her, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Warmth permeated every nook and cranny in his being. She was a person of great compassion, a woman with an empathetic heart.

“Hey, now, stop that.” He reached over and smoothed his palm along her forearm. The instant his fingertips contacted her flesh, the intention of comforting the woe she was experiencing on his behalf left his mind as if it had never been there.

Her skin was smooth, the heat of her startling.

Paul pulled his hand away, the topic of the discussion and the delight shooting through him being so at odds that it set off a twinge of guilt that filled him with confusion.

Clearly, what he’d revealed had affected Fern. Careful not to touch her the way his subconscious was willing him to do, he murmured, “That all happened a long time ago. Katy and I are doing okay. Really. We are.”

She didn’t look convinced. But then, Paul didn’t see how his pronouncement should persuade her one way or the other when it hadn’t done much to influence him over these many long and lonely months.

Verbal affirmations were great, but how did you go about filling up the holes that were left after tragedy plundered your soul?

Since glancing into that mirror and seeing herself in real flesh-and-blood human form, Fern felt as if every sensation, every emotion, had been magnified a hundredfold.

She couldn’t say just how she’d transformed into a human. The experience was brand new to her. She was aware, however, that she was breaking a major pixie rule, and if she let herself dwell on that fact, she’d go into a panic for sure. So…Fern simply decided not to dwell on the hard truth. At least, not right now. Not when she was so focused on Paul.

She’d already admitted that Paul was as comely a creature as had ever had the fortune to live; however, when she’d walked the length of the aisle to where he sat and gazed down upon him, why, every inch of her skin had seemed to come alive with an awareness she’d never experienced before. And when he’d cast those mahogany eyes on her, she’d thought her knees would give way then and there.

What she might say to him had never entered her head until she was facing him. It was too late then to ponder in depth the follies of telling him the truth about herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was some crazy pixie—insane person, in his view—who had come to vex him. It had only taken a fraction of an instant to make her mind up that acting a stranger was for the best. Besides, she hadn’t formally made his acquaintance before that moment, now, had she?

Fern had had to practically bully her way into the seat beside him, which had been quite rude, she knew, even by pixie standards. But if she hadn’t sat down she’d have risked succumbing to the faintness that had been swimming in her head.

Her heart had nearly ripped in two with tenderness when she’d held Katy for the first time. Oh, the affection she’d felt for the bairn when they had laughed together in the nursery back in Ireland had been great. But something about holding the toddler in her arms filled her with overwhelming feelings that were both unimaginable and breathtaking.

But the most jarring commotion she’d had to endure had been the impact of learning that Maire had died. Grief had walloped her from all sides. Anguish had scalded her eye sockets and burned the back of her throat.