Jazmine Decker threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him, and a wave of happiness flooded his senses. He had never felt such pleasure. He had never before felt such satisfaction. She, his little Fios, was pleased with him. His agreeing to care for the little one had found approval in her eyes, and he found himself absurdly thrilled by this.
Without thinking he hugged her back and put his chin on the top of her head. “Very well, then,” he said. It occurred to him he could not, must not, become attached to his beautiful Fios.
She was mortal, and that was that.
* * *
A rush of emotion swept through Jazz. The child was a seer. It was fate! Fate had sent her and Trev back in time. They were supposed to save the girl from the horrible brute and keep her safe.
Jazz knew there were others of her kind but had never encountered one before, and now … here was this lovely little girl, and all her protective instincts kicked in.
And then Trevor, for all his show of ‘unconcern’, was, in fact, concerned. She was so thrown off kilter by everything Trevor, Royal Prince of Lugh, was proving himself to be. He was a complicated being with so much more heart than he wanted to let on.
Before she knew what she was doing, she dove at him. Locking her arms around him as though holding on for life, she whispered, “Thank you.”
He set her apart and gruffly answered, “We must get her bathed and fed.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. Fae were so not cold-blooded, or at least this one wasn’t. He had thought of it all on his own—getting the child safely away, cleaning her, and feeding her.
She turned back to the girl and asked, “How old are you, Francine?”
“I like to be called Frankie, if you please,” the dirty-faced girl said, still not smiling.
“Frankie, then, how old are you?”
“Eleven, but I’ll be twelve next month.”
Jazz grabbed her in a wave of sympathy and held her tightly until Frankie remarked with a groan, “Ye be crushing me …”
Jazz laughed and loosened her hold as she turned back to Trevor. “Yes, you are right, she needs a bath, some food, and some clothing.”
He rolled his eyes, but the next thing she knew he had blinked, and Frankie was clean and wearing a simple but pretty dress of pale green. Her hair was brushed and, though short, had a matching ribbon worked into the strands.
Frankie looked down at her dress and new shoes and at her arms where the dirt had been removed. Then she looked at Trevor, openly and with a warm glint in her eyes. “’Tis a lovely dress, it is,” she said simply, and Jazz thought she would burst into tears.
Jazz looked at Frankie’s face and said, “Huh? That bruise you had on your cheek seems to have faded.”
Frankie lowered her eyes and said, “I heal fast, I do.”
Jazz hugged her again and said, “Now, we need food.”
A sudden swoosh of air enveloped her; she looked at herself and realized Frankie was not the only one who had gotten a makeover.
She pulled at the pretty muslin gown of blue and laughed when she realized she was still in her comfortable hiking boots. A warm knit shawl of cream covered her shoulders, and her hair was a pile of curls at the top of her head. She touched the small pin box hat angled on top of her curls and wished she could see what she looked like.
She turned and found her Royal Fae had donned human Glamour. His blonde hair was slicked back, braided and tied at the nape of his neck. He wore a fashionable superfine of dark navy, breeches, and gleaming hessian boots. His cravat was tied intricately, and his pale blue silk waistcoat fitted his hard, muscular body in a way that made Jazz lick her lips. This was crazy, she told herself. She had to stop looking at him like he was something to explo
re. No exploring. He was Fae. She was Fios. That was that.
It all seemed too fantastical, and she thought she was going to have a fit of the giggles again. She got control, regarded him with an appreciative smile, and said, “So, then, we are mingling with the locals?”
“I suppose eventually we must.” He sighed heavily. “In the meantime, if we must be seen, we should don the clothing of the time.” He suddenly reached for her hand and murmured, “Take the child’s hand. We need a place to stay.”
She took up Frankie’s hand and gave the girl a reassuring smile as Frankie clung to her, a desperate look in her eyes. Jazz said reassuringly, “It will be okay, honey.”
“Ye won’t leave me, will ye?”
“No, you and I—friends for life—and I won’t leave you till you are ready for me to go.”