do it again.”
Oh, she could. Marcus walked the length of Fisher’s Cove, spellbound, watching wiggly lips blowing one raspberry after the other, interspersed with drooly grins.
“You keep looking down like that, both of you are going to wind up in the ocean.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. Once upon a time, the remote location of Fisher’s Cove had actually prevented tourist witches from dropping by for tea.
Nell fell in beside him and smiled at the baby’s tricks. “She’s young to be doing that-don’t think any of mine mastered it for another couple of months yet.”
Marcus felt a strange sense of pride. “Perhaps she had a better teacher.”
Morgan blew a particularly noisy raspberry and Nell laughed. “I don’t think she agrees with you.”
He ran his finger down Morgan’s nose, just another one of those little things he’d been unable to prevent himself from doing lately.
“Lots of drooling,” said Nell, tickling the toes Morgan insisted on hanging out of every carrier. “Is she getting teeth?”
Teeth? “I have no earthly idea.” And no clue how to check. The Fairy Godfather Manual had made no mention of teeth.
“Just stick a clean finger in her mouth at some point and feel her gums.” Nell bent over to pick up something glittery on the side of the road. “It’s the ones in the front that come in first.”
Why was it that every time he thought he was getting the hang of this baby business, some new wrinkle showed up? “Sounds like a good way to lose a finger.”
Nell laughed. “Just be glad you aren’t nursing.”
Ye gods and little fishes. Marcus wished desperately for brain bleach to erase the images that sprang unbidden into his head. He’d learned about diapers and burping and how to make it through the day without using up his entire shirt collection. But he refused to traumatize his bachelor brain with considerations of baby milk in any form.
A man had to have his standards.
And dammit, now both his companions were clearly laughing at him. He turned down the path to the beach, somewhat annoyed when Nell stayed casually at his side. “Don’t you have things to do?”
“Yup.” She held out her hand, several shiny pebbles on her palm. “Jamie wants sparkly rocks for his next training session with Aervyn. I promised to collect some.”
Sadly, the beach tended to run to an excellent supply of pebbles. “There are no rocks in California?”
“When you get bigger,” Nell addressed herself to the happy girl in his arms, “perhaps you can teach your guardian here some social skills.”
The insult, he ignored. It was the “when you get bigger” part that sent pangs through Marcus’s heart. The fear lurked so damn close, every hour of every day.
“Sorry.” Nell spoke softly, voice full of empathy. “I know how hard it is.”
No one could know. And then Marcus realized, grudgingly, that of all the witches, on all the beaches, she might be the one who did. Mama to the mightiest witch in generations. “How do you live with it?” He hated the tremor in his voice-but for Morgan, he would ask.
“One day at a time.” Nell gazed out at the dancing waves. “And when that’s too much, one smile, or one minute, or one cookie at a time.” She reached down for a handful of sand, letting it run through her fingers. “Or in the words of my husband, ‘choose life unafraid.’”
“It hurts.” Marcus blanched, horrified those two words were his.
“Yup.” Nell picked up another shiny pebble. “And the more in love you fall, the more you let their sweetness tuck into all the dark, hidden corners of your heart, the more it hurts.”
He sighed. “She burps like a trucker.”
Nell’s chuckle rolled out over the water. “The reasons we fall in love never make sense.” She looked over, quiet for a moment. “You have to love a lot to do this.”
Naked honesty. Not what he’d expected. He looked down at his raspberry-blowing girl. “I thought you’d feed me some line about joy and happiness and finding the shiny, sparkly moments.”
“I will.” Nell’s smile held sadness-and challenge. “When you’re ready.”
He watched Morgan’s naked toes play with the wind. And thought that perhaps he might be closer than she thought.
Chapter 15
Marcus contemplated the long, skinny box in his hands. The contents were no mystery. And given the village grapevine, the fact that the UPS truck had pulled up in front of his cottage was likely to have Lizzie on his doorstep before the tea kettle whistled.
He looked over at Morgan, lying on a floor blanket doing her best imitation of a flipped-over crab. “You ready for sword-fighting lessons, baby girl?”
Happily flailing arms suggested it might be a long process. Marcus watched her bat at random bits of air above her head. Moira said babies played with the faeries. Dust motes, more likely-the cottage came complete with plenty of those. Housekeeping was a bit more of a challenge when you only had one arm available most of the day. And so far, he’d managed to resist offers from neighbors wielding mops and brooms-he had enough invaders as it was.
Running footsteps outside warned that the next one was about to arrive. Marcus pulled the door open. It wasn’t hospitality-the last time Lizzie had bolted through his door, she’d nearly given him a concussion.
“They’re here, they’re here!” She bounced off the walls like a dizzy human tornado.
He wondered briefly if a helmet might have been a good idea as well. “Slow down, girl-child. Swords come with rules. Let’s review them, shall we?”
She stopped, hands on hips and disgust plain on her face. “You never make Sean and Kevin do the rules.”
“That’s because boys’ ears aren’t attached to their brains.” Marcus tapped on the box. “First rule-swords are for outside only.”
Lizzie crossed her arms and glared. “Outside, no whacking, no leaving them on the floor for someone to trip on, and don’t poke anybody’s eye out.”
That seemed like a fairly complete list. “Well then, let’s unpack them and find the instructions, shall we?”
“Instructions?” Lizzie looked like he was speaking Mandarin Chinese. “They’re light sabers, Uncle Marcus. You hold them in your hands and fight.”
Marcus reached for a pair of scissors. “Ah, but these ones have sound effects.”
He was pretty sure Lizzie could make a career out of eye rolling. “
He winced, pretty sure he was losing control of the conversation yet again. If Lizzie used a sword half as well as she used words, Sean and Kevin were in deep trouble.
When he opened the box, he expected the high-pitched squeal from the child bouncing beside him. What he didn’t expect was the pang of little-boy desire in his own heart. Even in plastic wrap, the sabers were… awesome.
Damn
And to hell with the instructions. With hands far too reverent for his own comfort, he lifted one of the sabers out of the box. And felt the handle accidentally slip into his hands. “En garde, evil invader!”
The witchling under attack looked at the sword tip three inches from the end of her nose and giggled. “That’s
That kind of challenge to his manhood really couldn’t be tolerated. Marcus swiftly unwrapped both sabers and handed one over, hilt first. “To the back yard, miscreant!”
“I don’t know what a ’creant is.” Lizzie clutched her sword with maniacal glee. “But I won’t attack until you
