She nodded.
“Of course. But not a betrothal ring. I’d just get paint all over it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Moira~
She let Quinn bundle her into his truck, seeing as she had walked to work this morning. She covertly admired her ring. It was lovely. His great-aunt had left good energy on the ring. Was that a good omen? He had asked her to wear it in true romantic style. Now if only he had mentioned love.
She was going to relax and enjoy a little courtship. Dinner at the inn sounded marvelous, although Quinn was hardly dressed for it. But she could work a little fairy magic to transform him into a respectable diner. And some feminine wiles to turn lust into love.
He drove his truck with the same power and grace as he did everything. Not that much of either was required to go the three blocks to the inn. Wally Babcock was on duty. He waved to the kid doing valet parking and Quinn’s truck was whisked away. Quinn clasped her left hand, hiding her ring and nodded courteously to Wally.
“Evening, Babcock,” he said.
Walter Babcock’s nose was small and pink and it twitched. He squared his narrow chest and turned his small, watery eyes to Moira’s. He put a hand on a truncheon that was almost as big as he was and stepped directly into their path.
“Evening.” Wally displayed his buck teeth menacingly. His belt bristled with gadgets and his deputy’s badge shone bright and clear.
“You okay, Moira?” Wally asked. He was quivering but he faced Quinn unflinchingly. “You don’t have to go anyplace you don’t want to. Step away from the fairy, Dragon.”
Quinn was suppressing laughter. But Walter Babcock was deadly serious. He sensed a threat from Quinn, and he was prepared to defend her.
“It’s okay, Wally,” she assured him gently. “Quinn won’t hurt me.”
“If you’re sure, Moira?” Deputy Babcock glared harder at Quinn.
“I’m sure.”
“There’s no hunting on West Haven,” he told Quinn. “And that includes maidens.”
“Understood,” Quinn said.
Walter let them past. “You sing out if you need me,” he called after them.
Quinn was chuckling softly. He wasn’t embarrassed. “A fierce, bad rabbit,” he murmured.
“Don’t you make fun of Wally. He saw his duty and he did it,” she hissed.
Quinn patted her arm. “He’s nothing but a trembler.”
“Don’t you call him that. Deputy Babcock is a rabbit and a decent man.” The boneheaded dragon. She was mortified to be the object of speculation and gossip.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Act like you don’t know anyone is watching.”
Easy for him to say. She felt like a vibrating sack of unfamiliar emotions about to explode from mingled frustration, heartache and fury. She marched up the steps to her front door. Robin opened the door before she could get out her key.
“Ah, there you are,” her aunt said. “At last.”
Quinn closed the door behind them and looked around curiously. “What are you doing here?” he murmured to Robin, as Moira said, “At last?”
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Robin explained. “Sully, take Quinn into the spare room. I’ll help Moira.”
Sully strode out of the living room wearing his spruce new jacket and pants. He looked barbered and he sported a white rosebud on his lapel. Lloyd and Martha Furlong peeped into the crowded hall. Lloyd was wearing his dress blues and medals. Martha had on her best dress and real shoes. Her braid had been secured in a bun at her nape. What the heck was up?
“Can we do anything?” Martha asked.
“Just give us a minute or so to get these two ready,” Robin said.
Moira watched as Quinn let himself be led off to her second bedroom. “What is this?” she asked Robin’s back.
“We can’t leave you two alone a moment longer without making it legal,” Robin said. She looked around at Moira’s room with dismay. “Is that bed big enough for Quinn?”
Her double was condo-sized. Just a sleek platform with concealed storage in the base. A black and white quilt and a pile of satin pillows made it look luxurious and maintained the modern edge of the room. It was plenty roomy enough for her, but Moira had a vision of Quinn’s arms and legs dangling off the sides.
“Probably not. Not that it’s any of your business,” she returned.
“Nonsense. He deserves to be comfortable.” Robin waved a hand. The bed grew in length and width, crowding the small room. “It’s only temporary,” she apologized. “But a permanent change takes too much time. Can you fix the bedding?”
Moira waved a hand and the sheets and quilt grew to fit the expanded bed. “This is all very well and good.” She felt herself turning redder. “But Quinn and I plan to wait until we’re married.” She held up her ring.
Robin placed both hands over her left one, covering the ring. “It’s a good ring,” she pronounced. Lots of good energy. Beautiful as well. “I hope he has a matching wedding band, because we are going to get you two married this evening.”
Moira gulped. “Now?” She swallowed again. “No.”
“No? You don’t want to marry Quinn? Or, no, you don’t want to marry him tonight?”
“The last.”
Robin shook her head. “The Council has been lulled into thinking this is just a flash in the pan. I don’t think we should wait.”
“How will that help?” What could Robin be thinking? If they got married, for sure the Council would exile her and Quinn. Or take away the Drake land. Maybe both.
“Better to ask forgiveness than permission. We’ll keep your marriage a secret for a bit. Lloyd won’t tell anyone that Quinn has transformed you. And when everyone has seen that your relationship hasn’t turned either of you into monsters, you can reveal all. Before the baby comes.”
Robin was going too fast. “What baby?”
“There will be babies,” her aunt said serenely. Her voice turned steely. “And they are going to be legitimate.”
“Huh?”
“Of course, if you don’t love him, there is nothing more to be said. Sully and Lloyd will get rid of him.”
“It’s not, if I love him, it’s whether or not he will ever love me,” Moira tried to explain. “What if my virginity is all that he really cares about?”
Silvery bells tinkled. Robin smiled. “Your auras resonate,” she said. “It is not in Quinn’s power not to love you, or yours not to love him.” She waved a hand. “I thought white.”
Moira looked down. Her skirt and blouse had vanished and been replaced by a full-length white gown of some diaphanous fabric. She glanced in her mirror. The bodice pushed her breasts up to her chin. Her legs glowed pinkly through the almost transparent fabric. “Too revealing.”
“My, goodness. Sorry. I forget how well-endowed you are.” Robin waved her hand again. The gown was replaced by satin and lace. “Better.”
“Much.”
She was a vision in white. The waist nipped in, the bodice crossed under her bust. She was covered, but her curves were evident. Crystals sparkled on the full lace over-skirts and on the satin sash at her waist. At least she hoped they were crystals, they refracted the light into a thousand dazzling rainbows as if they were diamonds.
“You look beautiful.” Robin smiled happily. She conjured a gauzy veil and a waterfall of white roses. Shook her head. Replaced the white roses with pink rosebuds and green ferns. Another wave and Moira’s veil was secured with a glittering tiara. “Shoes?”
“I’ll do those.” Moira replaced her sandals with pink leather pumps with rhinestone stilettos. “Too much?”
“Not at all. They modernize the traditional dress. Will I do?”
It was a foolish question. Robin was always immaculate. She always looked appropriate. In her sky-blue sheath and Chanel jacket she looked like the mother of the bride. Her corsage was made of baby’s breath and pink rosebuds to match the bouquet.
“You look lovely,” Moira whispered.
“Thank you for taking Mom’s place.”
“Shall we join the gentlemen?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Quinn~
He was too startled to protest when Sully took him into the bedroom. He looked around. Moira’s spare room looked more like a home office than a boudoir. Under its plain gray coverlet the double bed looked kind of skimpy and austere. In fact the decor he had seen so far in Rosewood was the polar opposite of what he had expected.
Sully shut the door. “Let’s see what we have to work with,” he said. “For a start, that smock has to go.”
Quinn obediently pulled it over his head revealing a skin-tight black T-shirt and blue jeans. “I take it you guys are hoping to force Moira to get married this evening?”
“No force required,” Sully said pleasantly. He stroked his pointed beard thoughtfully. “A suit, I think, rather than a tux.”
“I won’t let you bully Moira.” Quinn eyed the sorcerer coldly. “She has to make a free choice.”
“Bully?” Sully snorted. “That’s good. Coming from a dragon. Well, we don’t plan to let you knock her up and leave her high and dry.”
“If that’s your opinion, I wonder why you want her to marry a no-good piece of trash like me?”
“It’s my opinion of hunters,” Sully growled. “If I had my way – “
“Dragons take care of their mates,” Quinn informed him curtly. “Even unto death.”
“It might come to that if you don’t treat her right.” Sully waved a hand and Quinn found himself clothed in a white shirt, and silver and navy striped tie, and a navy suit. It fit almost as well as the ones his tailor made for him.
“There is still no reason to rush things,” Quinn protested.
“You want her, you marry her. I’ve always heard that you dragons are bound by marriage.”
“We are. And I do want to marry Moira. I’m just not sure she’s ready yet.” She had gone from certainty to uncertainty even after he had sealed her ring to her hand.
“She’s ready,” Sully said heavily. He cocked an ear. “Hear that? The girls are done. You only need to cut your hair and get rid of the face fungus. Oh, yeah. Shoes.”
Shiny black oxfords laced themselves onto Quinn’s feet. He passed his hands over his face and hair and emerged as close-cropped and clean-shaven as if he had come from the barber’s chair. He stroked his eyebrows and converted their rampant growth into sleek arches.
“I have to admit, you clean up well. You look like a groom.” Sully touched his boutonniere and snapped his fingers twice. His white rose was replaced by a pink rosebud. Like the one that appeared on Quinn’s lapel. “Let’s get this marriage under sail.”
“How long does the spell last?” Quinn asked. “Am I going to turn back into a hobo at midnight?”
Sully leered at him. “You won’t need those clothes anywhere near that long, son.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Moira~
Quinn was waiting in the front room. He looked completely different in a suit and tie. For that matter they all looked a little stiff and strange in their unaccustomed costumes. Maybe that was why people dressed up for weddings. The unfamiliar garb made it very clear that this was no ordinary occasion.
Sully stepped forward and offered her his arm. “You have your choice of celebrant,” he said. “Martha or Robin.”
It wasn’t even a choice. “Robin.”
“Good choice.”
Robin moved to stand before the fireplace. She motioned Quinn to stand in front of her. Lloyd and Martha drifted into place behind him. Lloyd was still wearing his expression of bemused humor. She was glad someone thought this situation was amusing. Her feet were cold in her soft pink leather shoes. She was scared to death.
Sully led her to stand beside Quinn and put her right hand in his. “You look after our girl,” he growled in Quinn’s ear.
“Yes, sir.” He looked down at her and her heart turned over. She had not realized how handsome he was. Without his beard he looked like a stranger. “Do you want to do this now?” he asked loud enough to be heard by the entire room.
“I do.” Her voice wasn’t even squeaky.
A certain stiff sternness vanished from his features. He looked even more handsome and his eyes sparkled. “Let’s do this,” he said to Robin.
Her aunt smiled serenely and began the short ceremony. It was over before Moira quite realized. It was very short for something so life-altering. Quinn took her engagement ring off and replaced it with the wedding band, before putting the other ring over that. He kissed her hand and handed her a larger matching band and she set that on his finger.
They signed a register and a marriage license. So did Robin, Sully and Martha. What had she done? She was married to a dragon.
Robin said, “You may kiss.” Her husband lifted her to his lips and kissed her with flamboyant passion. Moira was vaguely aware of gentle laughter. The room fell away. When Quinn set her down, they were swarmed.
Sully lifted her off her feet in a bear hug. “Be happy, niece.” He kissed both her cheeks and wrung Quinn’s hand.
Lloyd and Martha were just as effusive. Robin kissed them both and hoped they would have a long and happy marriage. Sully opened a bottle of champagne and toasted the bride. Lloyd reciprocated with a toast to the groom. The bottle empty, there was another round of happy kisses, and then they were alone in her narrow hallway, watching their guests depart.
Quinn shut the door. “Hello, Mrs. Drake,” he rumbled.
A brisk rapping interrupted their kiss. Quinn put her down and looked out the peephole. “Catering,” he announced.
Moira whisked herself into the kitchen. She heard Quinn thanking the waiter and the rattle of china and cutlery. The door shut.
“You can come out,” he called. “Robin sent us a wedding supper.”
Quinn was holding an enormous tray covered in domed silver dishes. “Where shall I put this?”
“Kitchen. It’s the only place with a table.”
He strode into the kitchen and set the tray on her glass tabletop. His shoulders were heaving.
“What’s so funny?” She didn’t see the joke. Unless it was the way he sucked all the space out of the kitchen and made her feel claustrophobic. Her chest felt tight and it was suddenly hard to breathe. He was just too big. He was going to squash her like a bug. Not on purpose, but just because they were so mismatched.
She was so caught up in her dire imaginings that she jumped when he said, “This place. I expected the furnishings to match the outside.”
“It usually does. This is my stuff. Don’t you like it?” Just her luck. She should have known better after Shoreside Cottage. She was doomed to life with Victoriana.
“Looks like the things I had in my condo – they’re all in storage in Seattle.”
“What happened to your condo?”
“I rented it out.”
“Oh.” His safety net, in case things didn’t work out on West Haven. Her nervousness increased a thousandfold.
He lifted the lid of the biggest platter. A cold lobster salad was surrounded by a mountain of greens. She cleared her throat. “Are you hungry?” Please, yes.
His eyes were locked on hers. “Ravenous. But I can wait until you’ve had supper. Where are your plates?”
She pointed to the dish cupboard and lifted the lid on the other two platters. A cheese and fruit plate lay under one dome, and chocolate mousse with a lavish swirl of whipped cream under the other. “I’ll stick the dessert in the fridge.”
Quinn laid the table. Opened the bottle of champagne on the tray and poured her another glass. He pulled out a chair. “Won’t you sit down?”
She sat. He pushed in her chair and moved own closer to hers. Scooped up lobster salad and placed her plate before her with a flourish. He gave himself a serving, shook out his napkin and took a forkful of lobster. And brought it to her lips. Bemused, she opened her mouth and found herself eating a perfectly moist and tender morsel of
lobster while Quinn’s hot eyes rested on her flushed face.
She chewed but her throat was too dry to swallow. All the amusement left his face. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “Becoming a dragon is marvelous. I promise. You’ll be able to soar above the earth. It’s like sailing, only better.” His face was rapt.
Dear heaven, she hadn’t even remembered that she was about to become a scaly monster. The lobster was suddenly twice the size she had taken off his fork.
CHAPTER FORTY
Robin~
“That went well,” Robin said as she and the others walked back to the inn.
They were silent.
“Didn’t it?”
“Sure,” drawled Lloyd. But he didn’t sound convinced.
“Who’s going to meet the ferry?” she asked when the silence lengthened.
“I think it would be best if it was Martha and me,” Lloyd said. “We’ll gave the judges a friendly West Haven welcome and then bring them directly to the inn. You and Sully can play host while Martha and I make ourselves scarce. Not like we know anything about art.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Sully. “I could use a beer. Trapping hunters is thirsty work.”
“So is trapping fairies,” said Lloyd, but only Robin heard him.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Quinn~
Moira looked adorable, angelic, and utterly desirable in her wedding gown. And she was scared to death. He had known it was too soon. What on earth was he going to do? He had tried reassuring her, and she had only grown more rigid. She kept chewing her first mouthful of lobster as though it was cardboard and rubber.
He tried a bite. Rich and tangy dressing, tender flesh, melt-in-your-mouth perfection. He handed Moira her glass of champagne. “Have a sip.”
She gulped. Swallowed. “Thank you,” she croaked. Her eyes were huge pools of gray in her white face.
“You think Deputy Babcock is going to come and try to throw me out?” he asked.
“I hope not,” she spluttered. Her face went from white to red. She groaned. “This is such a stupid idea. How did I get sucked into this?”
Desired by the Dragon_A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance Page 14