Donna Clayton - Because of Baby

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.