“So maybe when I’m visiting, we can go look around? Oxford, I mean?”
“Well, I…”
“So that’s what I want from Santa. A free ride to Oxford and no student loans! Oh, Mom, Jules is doing some kind of frantic motioning thing. I guess I should go. I could call you back?”
“That’s okay. Take care. We’ll talk in a couple of days.”
When I’d moved to Hallow Hill, I’d told Lochlan there was zero chance that my daughter would move to England. I should have known better than to talk in absolutes. That’s not the part that concerned me most. Obviously. The part that concerned me most would be managing my magical life with a mundie daughter popping in from time to time.
Reminding myself to breathe, I looked at the dogs. “Another fine mess I’ve gotten myself into.” Frey’s left ear twitched like hearing that was offensive. “I don’t mean you. You’re a joy. I mean,” I waved at the air, “everything else.”
That was when I chose to confront how much I hadn’t shared. Maybe I didn’t know about two boyfriends since Harrison. But Evie didn’t know about Keir, my dogs, or my job magistrating magical disputes.
“Talking to the hounds again?” Keir appeared at my door and sounded amused.
“I have extremely valid reasons to go off the deep end. If you find me wandering in the snow in my moose slippers mumbling about Santa, it’s because my daughter is going to drive me to drink.”
“What happened?”
After retelling the conversation, word for word, to the best of my recollection, he said, “Coffee with Baileys?”
I was so tempted.
“I’d like to spend the rest of December joyfully juiced, but I’m a big girl and have to face the fact that Bailey’s is a temporary solution at best.”
He pulled me up to a standing position. “Hug then?”
I grinned as I slipped into an embrace that always felt like we were two puzzle pieces locking securely into place. “You give the best hugs.”
He chuckled as he lowered his head and nuzzled my neck. “I was thinking the same thing about you.” Nip. Kiss. Nuzzle some more. “You know everybody in Hallow Hill loves you. If we all must pretend when she visits, even if it’s often, we will. All the world’s a stage you know.”
I sighed and pulled back. “That’s a lovely thought and very much appreciated, but it does nothing to account for what goes on at court meets. Or the time I spend preparing for them.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He smiled. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“Um.”
“Um?”
“She doesn’t know about you.” His smile fell away. “Yet! I mean, yet.”
“You haven’t told her you’re in a relationship? A serious, live-together relationship? Or you haven’t told her about me at all?”
“Haven’t told her about you at all,” I said sheepishly.
His face went void of emotion, which meant he’d shut down all display of emotion and was not allowing me to get a read.
Uh oh.
“Please don’t have your feelings hurt. I’m going to correct it. She doesn’t know about my dogs either!”
His stone face faltered and he gaped. “You’re comparing me to the dogs?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying that, when I talk to her, she’s always in the middle of something or on the way from here to there. And rushed. There just hasn’t been an ideal time to introduce sensitive subjects.”
“Rita.”
“I know! I’ll make sure she’s up to speed before she gets here. Promise. I wouldn’t subject us to the chaos of that many surprises all at once. I’m much more mature than that.”
It didn’t escape me that he looked dubious. I wasn’t sure if that was about my promise to come clean or my declaration of maturity, but I wasn’t thrilled about having either of those things viewed as doubtful. Recognizing that it wasn’t a good time to chase rabbits, I let it go while silently giving myself kudos for maturity.
Three days later I had another opportunity to relish a bit of “alone time” in the house, dogs excepted, of course. I’d made myself a ginger tea and indulged in the peace of watching big fluffy snowflakes drift to earth and settle with their brethren to make visual magic. The quiet in the house was delicious.
Awareness of the one unread brief left on the table nagged at me until I diverted my attention from staring out the window and picked up the brown folder. I’d just opened it when my front door alerted me not to turn around. Oh. Oh.
The dogs were at the front door first and the fact that they were wagging their tails made me assume the visitor was someone they knew and approved of.
I swung open the door expecting to see Lochlan and was instead blindsided by the appearance of the alleged new king of Irish fae. None other than Diarmuid, himself, stood on my porch wearing a red and purple tartan scarf and snow in his hair. After acknowledging me with a curt nod and a smile, his eyes dropped to the dogs who’d stepped over the threshold in welcome and were wiggling joyfully.
“Greetin’s, pups,” he said cheerfully as he bent to give each of them a rousing petting, which appeared to make them ecstatic. “A very fine brace of fraighounds you have here. How old?”
“Eight weeks,” I answered dumbly. “They, um, grow fast,” I said, like he wouldn’t know that.
Rising to his full height, which meant that he was towering over me, he said, “Well, Magistrate. Will you have me in or no’?”
I hesitated. For one thing it didn’t seem fitting to entertain someone of Diarmuid’s royal stature while in my moose slippers. On the other hand, he hadn’t called ahead.
I couldn’t deny that his smile was both charming and disarming.
I couldn’t deny that my dogs liked him. A lot.
I knew it might not be the most prudent decision of my life, but I also thought turning Diarmuid away from my door might be political suicide. The snow was falling harder so that it almost looked like a curtain beyond the covered porch and I was sure the open door was cooling the entire house. All this was probably playing out on my face while he waited patiently.
“Of course. Come in.” I stepped back, opened the door to its full width and invited him in. “Let me light the fires.” Since I’d been in the study, the living room fire hadn’t been lit all day and the kitchen fire had gone cold after Olivia finished up. “And start the kettle. A hot cup will warm you right up.”
He seemed amused by the suggestion that he needed warming up. I supposed he could control his temperature, but my hospitality chops were pure human and set in their ways.
“’Twould be nice. Thank you.” He looked around. “A nice house, Magistrate. Very… Very.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to ‘very, very’, but said, “Thank you. You know the builder well.”
“Do I?” He asked with a slight cock of his head.
“Your mother.”
“Ah.” He laughed then took a closer look as he followed me toward the kitchen. “Then this is the house of your heart.”