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?”