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As predicted, before we learned what dessert would be, John David brought out Jean Etienne La Rouse, whom he’d flown in from New Orleans. A surprising, but delightful and innovative, choice.

After a respectable round of applause, Diarmuid stood, holding his Lismore tall claret glass, and said, “My wife and I would like to offer a toast to our host and the cooks. There’s been no finer dinner in memory. To warm company and hot food!”

With laughter, we all shouted, “Warm company and hot food!”

Proud of my son-in-law for putting everyone at ease with the best toast ever, I clinked glasses with Fie and Jeff, then caught Keir’s eye before I drank.

I raised my glass to him. He mirrored my gesture, but added the sexiest wink a married woman was ever lucky enough to catch.

How could I have ever thought I might not tell the difference between Keir and Kagan?

Even if Kagan had ratcheted unpleasantness down a couple of notches, he was no Keir.

When I heard oohs and ahs, I knew dessert had arrived.

The five sous chefs arrived tableside carrying round trays laden with choices. What would I have? Key lime pie? Seven-layer chocolate cake? A trio of sorbets? Crème br?lée cheesecake? Or fruit tart?

Gods. Why did I eat too much? Just when I was about to curse my host who’d just become my tormentor-in-chief, he announced, “Don’t worry if you want more than one or want a wee-hour snack. Tonight’s party favor is a dessert selection box to go. Merry Yule!”

I got to my feet to lead a standing ovation. “Bravo!” I shouted. “Merry Yule!”

I would’ve appeared ridiculous except for Evie and Esme, who proved they were crew with the Good Rita seal of solidarity.

Even though they were laughing at me, they stood (with difficulty in Evie’s case) and applauded.

Every girl should have peeps so loyal they’ll volunteer to save your dignity by sacrificing their own.

Providing further confirmation that I’m so lucky to live in Hallow Hill, within seconds, all the guests were enjoying taking a break from the most civilized of dining experiences to participate in a rowdy show of appreciation.

When we’d all settled down and reseated ourselves, John David said, “You’re most welcome. I knew that dessert has a devoted following, but this reaction has exceeded expectations by kilometers.”

We lingered for a quarter hour to top off our conversations with coffee or brandy or both.

I refused coffee from the pot, but left the server confused when I insisted on keeping the cup.

When I caught Evie’s attention, I pointed at the empty vessel.

Her face lit up like she was the one who’d enjoy the pleasure of conjuring a custom-made Americano in my cup.

When I looked down, the cup was full and steaming. I put my hands together as a silent expression of thanks and added a head bow. Probably not much of a thrill for her now that she’s used to bowing. By almost everyone.

Filtering out, on the way to the grand staircase, I passed Diarmuid locked in conversation with Fie over some aspect of small city government.

I’d just placed a heel on the bottom step when Esme locked arms with me.

As we climbed to the second-floor ballroom, Keir and Kagan followed a couple of steps behind.

“So,” I said. “The two of you look happy as two peas in a pod.”

It would take a while to get used to seeing that smile on Esme’s face. It was open, sincere, hiding nothing.

“It’s good,” she replied.

We talked about food, clothes, and Yule decorations, but stopped statue-still when we heard the sounds of a full-blown, live stage band. Exchanging a look of disbelief, we walked a bit faster.

Yes. Indeed. For our dancing pleasure, John David had provided a thirty-piece ensemble. There were more musicians than the sum of guests and staff.

With a quiet laugh of disbelief, I said, “You gotta hand it to John David. He’ll spare no effort to show us a good time.”

“Oh no.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’ve never asked Kagan if he can dance, but if I was a gambler…”

“You’d wager the answer is no.”

“Exactly.”

“You look worried. You don’t have to dance, you know.”

“I just don’t…”

“Want Kagan to feel embarrassed?” She nodded. “Like he’s letting you down?” She nodded again, glancing back at him in spite of herself.

“Esme!”

She almost jumped. “What?”

“I’ve had the most brilliant idea.” Knowing me as she did, she looked dubious. “Dimes to dollars that Kagan isn’t the only one who doesn’t know ballroom dancing.”

Looking at the faces entering the ballroom, she seemed to concur. “Why is that guess brilliant, Rita?”

“Get everyone in here. Hurry. Before people start to feel uncomfortable.”

When everyone was gathered, I noticed Evie wasn’t there. “Is Evie okay?” I asked Keir.

“She was feeling a little warm and decided to sit for a minute before coming up,” he said. “It was probably the red wine.”

Red wine? “She’s not supposed to be drinking alcohol!”

“Why not?” He looked confused.

“Because, you know. Pregnant?”

His brow smoothed. “Ah. Well. Pregnant humans can’t drink. But it would take a lot more than wine to hurt fae offspring.”

“You’re sure she’s okay.”

“Positive.”

I advanced to the middle of the room then waved at the conductor to stop the music. Gods bless him, he understood me and did.

“Okay, everybody. Listen up. If you know basic ballroom dancing, come stand with me. If you don’t, just stay where you are.

” Keir, Esme, Fie, and John David came to stand by me.

Everyone else stood in place, looking awkward and uneasy.

“This is going to be fun. Keir and I will show you thirty seconds of how it looks. Then we’re going to teach you!

” I could see by their faces that I might be losing them.

“Don’t worry. It’s not hard. Promise.” I turned to the conductor.

“Thirty seconds of slow foxtrot, maestro.”

He smiled. I supposed nobody had used the word “maestro” in fifty years. I imagined nobody had used their orchestra for dance lessons either. Everybody likes a change of pace, so to speak.

Keir danced me around the room until the music stopped.

I knew that the brothers had different lives and different experiences.

But Keir was a really good dancer, and Kagan didn’t know how to dance at all.

Or at least that was what Esme suspected.

I’d have to remember to ask my spouse where and how he’d acquired his mad skills.

“Now you!” I announced. “Grab a partner and find a place where you can see what we’re doing,” I told the onlookers. To Esme, Fie, and John David, I said, “You’re my helpers. Be super patient.” To Keir, I said, “We’re going to strip it down to a snail’s pace.”

“Gotcha, Captain.” You gotta love a man who’s comfortable turning the reins over to a woman now and then.

It was slow going at first, but within half an hour, everybody was laughing and having fun.

Kagan was as much an athlete as his brother.

There’s no disguising built-in rhythm. He picked it up super-fast and was twirling Esme around like a pro.

It was delightful to hear her laughter from across the room and, when I caught her eye, I thought I saw gratitude on her face. Another first for Esmerelda.

I was basking in the ego-stroking confirmation that my ballroom dance class really was nothing less than brilliant! Until I heard a scream from the floor below.

My maternal instinct went Code Red. I’d never heard Evie scream before. Not in her entire life. Yet I knew instantly that my child was in grave distress. My body was heading for the staircase before my mind was fully engaged. I was being slowed by the damn ballgown. And heels.

After three steps, I stopped, kicked the shoes off, and gathered the dress around my waist so I could run.

Keir, having a miraculous ability to go from one place to another, was already there when I reached the first floor.

I hadn’t seen him pass me, but I’d learned that, when a creature is traveling fast enough, they become invisible to the human, or essentially human, eye.

Evie was lying back on a white linen chaise lounge, her beautiful face a mask contorted by pain. The entrance to the drawing room was an exaggerated archway. No doors to close. I looked around for the butler.

“Jarvis! Bring those Chinese screens from the dining room and set them up here.” I pointed to the threshold. “For privacy. Quickly, please.”

As he darted away I could see that John David was standing transfixed as if he couldn’t move, eyes glazed over.

“John David…” I began, but didn’t finish my original thought. I looked from him to Evie. The white linen chaise lounge wasn’t covered in blood, but close enough to qualify as a horror show. Oh, no. “Keir!” He looked my way and saw the panic in my eyes. “Get John David out of here.”

Keir immediately registered the cause of my alarm. Without a word, he grabbed John David and disappeared. Being married to the enforcer has undeniable advantages.

Jarvis had enlisted Fie’s help to set the screens in the doorway. At least there’d be no gawking at my daughter. I rushed to her side and took her hand.

Calling on every bit of self-discipline in me, I tried to sound calm. “Evie. Should we call an ambulance?” Granted. It was a stupid question, but in a moment of crisis, my brain does a factory reset and I think in human terms.

She was panting. “No. I… No.”

“What should we do?”

“We’ve called the midwife,” Evie managed to grit out.

The midwife?

I looked at Diarmuid, who was on her other side. He was extraordinarily pale and looked scared, unable to do anything except stare at Evie. “Diarmuid?” Nothing. “DIARMUID!!!”

“What do you need?” Keir materialized by my side, which meant he’d been moving very, very fast. I was glad to have him close by and without John David.

“Evie says there’s a midwife. Hopefully on the way.”