Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(41)

There was no castle in the living room. This had to be a product of her imagination. The odd person/not-person was a Lalaloopsy—

Grace interrupted. “Wait, your doll is called a Lalaloopsy?”

“Uh-huh,” Chloe said.

Grace muttered, “I thought it was Lala Whoopsie.”

Well, that explained that. Sort of.

And Chloe took off again. She very much needed and wanted a big bed now, and waiting was terribly hard even for big people, and would Khalil read…she meant, would he help her read another book after supper?

“Yes,” he said. He exchanged an amused glance with Grace as Chloe bounced in her seat with excitement.

He honored the gift of the apple slices on his plate by eating them. They were crisp, crunchy and tart. Then he drank the brown liquid. He discovered that it was iced tea, refreshing and cold. Max dribbled goop out of his mouth and giggled. Every once in a while, Grace looked at Khalil. She did so surreptitiously, out of the corner of her eye, as if she didn’t want to be caught showing any kind of interest.

Each glance reminded him of how entertaining it had been to flirt with her, tease her and indulge his sense of mischief. He could sense feathery, delicate touches as she reached out psychically to touch his presence. She always withdrew again almost immediately. She didn’t appear to realize that he could sense every time she did it, and she couldn’t possibly know how erotic that was. It was as if she trailed her fingers very lightly along his bare skin. Aroused, he clenched down hard on himself, and his self-control turned fierce.

And he loved all of it.

Somehow the evening slipped away. He was not quite sure how it happened. At one point he looked down to discover his small serving of supper had disappeared from his plate. Max accidentally knocked over his bowl of food. The expression of openmouthed surprise on the baby’s face was so comical, the rest of them burst out laughing. Grace cleaned up the mess. There wasn’t much to clean up, since Max had been close to the end of his meal anyway.

Then supper dishes were washed, children bathed, the toys picked up. Chloe did not forget about her story. Khalil settled back in the armchair to read to her about an irritable boy who had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Khalil quite liked that boy. He was sorry when the story ended. Grace stretched out on the couch, and Max lay on top of her, kicking a foot lazily in the air as he sucked his thumb and his eyelids drooped.

Through the open windows and screen door, the evening shadows grew long, while the sunlight turned a heavy gold and the green of the foliage darkened. Khalil could hear traffic sounds, but they were distant and muted. The place was rich with tranquility. He was bewildered at the intense surge of his response. He had already promised his protection a couple of times, first to the children and then to Grace.

Now he actually felt the need to protect them. Whatever quality this quiet, shabby place held, it was more precious than the treasure of kings. He said to Grace, his telepathic voice edged, You will call me whenever you need someone to look after the children, do you understand?

Grace stirred. She had been looking relaxed and sleepy, but now she stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. I can’t expect you to be available every time I might need a babysitter.

He set his teeth. I want you to burn that roster.

I can’t. She sighed. But I need to go over the list again. I think I should ask for references too. I just thought everybody who was on the roster would be all right.

Her relaxed, sleepy expression had vanished, and she looked troubled again. He said, more gently, Checking references will take time. In the meantime, I will be careful. I will not do anything with the children you would not wish. And I want you to call me. Please.

Her expression softened, and there it was, luminous on her skin, that quality more precious than the treasure of kings. She nodded to him then said aloud, “Bedtime.”

Chloe said, “No.”

“Baby girl, you must,” Grace said, with the kind of tiredness that seemed to indicate there had been many repetitions of the same conversation. “If you don’t go to bed, tomorrow can’t happen.”

Chloe clutched the library book. “We have to keep reading. We can’t stop.” She sounded close to tears.

Maybe the child didn’t want to let go of this precious thing either, Khalil thought. Chloe had already suffered more loss than many children would ever know. He patted her delicate back. “May I come back to help you read another time?”

Chloe turned to look at him. Her wide gaze searched his face. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

Khalil looked at Grace over the girl’s head. Grace had eased upright carefully, so as not to jostle Max, who was almost asleep. Grace met his gaze easily enough, but her expression was guarded, and her energy withdrawn. In that moment, he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, or if she welcomed the idea of his returning so soon or becoming so actively involved in their lives.

But she had made a bargain. His face hardened. It was of no importance how she felt about the bargain after the fact. Now she must live with it.

He turned his attention back to Chloe and told her, “I will come tomorrow.”

With a sudden lurch forward, Chloe flung her arms around his neck. She hugged him so tightly, he could feel her small body straining. He put his arms around her and carefully, carefully hugged her back. First it started as a reassurance for Chloe. Then it turned into something else, something about him, and it was good but it also hurt. He let the little girl go then discovered Grace standing by the armchair, Max in her arms. She was watching him and Chloe, her brows drawn.