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