“I have never seen such a young fairy godmother. No wrinkles, no white hair.” Leonard grinned back.

Sophia patted her nose and then her chin, frowning. “Well, I don’t have warts and I hate brooms,” she replied quickly, “so you’ll have to revise your image of witches.”

Gabriela giggled, her breath tickling Sophia’s throat. Leonard, motioning to a couple, said, “Now, my little sister, Domitila, and Andrew,” he turned to Sophia and murmured in her ear, “her boyfriend.”

Sophia giggled, amused.

Domitila was glamorous and certainly a mixture of her parents’ DNA. She carried herself proudly, like her mother, although not as tall or as slender as Elena. Domitila had the same long dark brown hair that fell past her shoulders in soft waves. Her blue eyes, so much like Leonard’s, where shadowed by long thick lashes that made a stark contrast against her fair skin. She wore an ankle-length red wool dress, with a big black belt at her hips. Her boyfriend, Andrew, had a sharp sense of humor, a teasing smile, and a keen mind. He was an average-size man with a shaved head, probably to disguise his balding.

“I’m not little anymore, Sophia, just younger. Leo says it to taunt me.”

“You will always be the little sister, Domi,” Alexander retorted.

“Brothers are infuriating, aren’t they?”

Sophia laughed, remembering the kind way Felipe has always treated her.

“Want to exchange brothers?” Andrew asked Sophia, making a face at Alexander and Leonard. And Domitila finished the thought, “These two suck.”

“Careful! I wouldn’t mind having Sophia as my sister, Domi. And it would be quite easy. You’re the same age and look alike. Of course, it is quite noticeable that Sophia uses her brain.”

“Stop, Leonard! What is your sister going to think?”

“That you’re crazy to like this pain in the ass, Sophia,” Andrew explained.

She smiled at the banter. Leonard put his hands on her shoulders and whirled her to the end of the two-story library.

In a darker corner, sat a tall, large man looking directly at her.

“And that one sulking in the dark is Alice’s brother, Alistair MacCraig. Alistair, meet my nemesis, Sophia.”

No! Alistair MacCraig? Alistair Connor MacCraig is Leonard’s brother-in-law? Please let this be a coincidence and there is another Alistair MacCraig. She squinted.

His frame occupied the big, gilded armchair he sat in, his long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at his ankles. He stood with a feline grace, incongruous to his size.

Oh, my. It’s him! She forgot how to breathe. Again. This man does things to me.

She remembered well those broad, strong shoulders and that vast chest. His intense green eyes on his rugged face. Silky, long hair her fingers itched to touch.

Sophia stood in the middle of the room fascinated by the sheer sexual power he exuded. It seemed she turned into an idiot when it came to him. The scene was repeating itself. Her thoughts spun wildly in her head. Suddenly, a fear gripped Sophia. Is this destiny?

Leonard watched her intently and when she gazed up at him, he jutted his chin in his brother-in-law’s direction, his hands leaving her.

She stared back at the man, not quite certain of what to do, when she noticed him brushing aside a lock of that midnight-black hair that had fallen over his eyes in an absentminded way that had so enchanted her. That did it. An unconditionally delighted grin spread slowly over her face and she let her feet lead her to him.

She tilted her head back when she reached him and his emerald eyes burned into her soul.

He dipped his head and his hair fell again in his eyes. “Sophia,” his deep voice low, intimate, her name a caress on his lips, “thus we meet again.” Despite your refusal to answer my numerous calls and flowers and cards, I still fucking desire you.

So it seems. But she could not find her voice to say a word. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel her blood coursing through her veins. Damn. This is becoming an annoyance.

His grin grew, as if he knew her heart had quickened.

“I believe in witches, Sophia,” his deep voice hypnotized her.

Gabriela moved from her hiding place, shaking Sophia from her spellbound state. “I hope you don’t burn me at the stake,” Sophia murmured to him.

“I don’t burn witches. I set them on fire,” Alistair whispered so low Sophia thought she had heard wrong.

Gabriela raised her head to study him, unsure if she should defend her mother or not.

Alistair looked at the child’s face and, startled, his heart stopped in his chest. Christ! “Your daughter?” he breathed and his hand trailed an inevitable road to the girl’s hair.

Sophia nodded.

“May I pick her up?”

“She doesn’t-”

As if bewitched by the same spell he had cast over the mother, the timid and reserved daughter extended her chubby arms to him, with an open smile on her face. Alistair’s face, simultaneously shimmering with many different emotions, captivated Sophia. He watched the little girl for a few seconds mesmerized, before he sat down again with Gabriela on his lap.

Sophia kneeled on one knee in front of his armchair. The room vanished from behind her and a cocoon enveloped the three of them. Gabriela seemed as enraptured by this handsome stranger as he was by her. She ran her small hands over his hair and fingered the jagged ends.

“Aren’t you charming? How old are you?”

Instead of answering his question, Gabriela countered with one of hers.

“Shouldn’t you cut your hair? It’s kinda weird. Only girls have long hair and…” She cocked her head to the side, studying him, “you’re not a girl, are you?”

“Gabriela!” Sophia tried to maintain a stern face but a giggle escaped.

He joined in and laughed, throwing his head back. A deep, rich laugh. The kind that made one want to laugh too. His green eyes twinkled with mirth and he winked at Sophia.

“No, I’m not a girl.” His smile was infectious. “So, you don’t like my hair, little one?”

“I didn’t say that. Your hair is, hmm, silky, just like my uncle Felipe’s.” Then she shook her head. “But it’s like a girl’s isn’t it, Mama?”

“Hey, don’t you drag me into this. You started it, you finish it.”

Her little fingers delved in the richness of his hair again, toying with it. Alistair felt such peace fill his soul that he wanted to close his eyes and revel in it. He took a deep breath, struggling with his feelings.

“So, you like fashion, Gabriela?”

“Yes, can’t you tell? You just have to look at my dress and shoes,” she said in a fancy way. “I picked them myself. But, I also like Mama’s style. She likes clothes too, and she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Don’t you think?”

Sophia blushed slightly.

“Aye, I do.” His green eyes pierced Sophia’s hazel ones and he chuckled. “And you’re very beautiful, too.” He caressed Gabriela’s hair with a pensive air and sighed. A deep, profound sigh. “If you ask me nicely again and give me a kiss, I’ll cut my hair for you, little lady.”

Gabriela cocked her head slightly to one side, as if hearing something in his promise that only she could. She put a hand on his cheek. After a moment, she asked bluntly, “And why don’t you do this for your own kids?”

He paled and turned to stone, shutting his eyes as if in deep pain. Slowly, so very slowly, he opened his eyes, the green now almost black. He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, his windpipe working convulsively.

“Because my daughter isn’t here anymore,” he answered, enfolding Gabriela’s small hand in his larger one.

“And where is she?”

Alistair looked at Sophia, as if he didn’t know what to say, asking for her help. She covered his hand with hers, squeezing it softly, trying to infuse into him the strength he needed.

“She’s- She’s in heaven,” he murmured.

Sophia gave a small, low gasp. He looked at her as if to apologize. The intense pain he felt prevented him from saying more, even if he had wanted to.

He felt a soft hand caressing his cheek and gently stroking his eyes, drying the tears he refused to recognize.

“Don’t cry. She wouldn’t like it. When I missed my father, I used to cry. Mama taught me when I cry, he is sad and will cry, too. I don’t want my daddy sad. I’m sure you don’t want your daughter sad, too.” Gabriela sat there, caressing his face, as if she knew him from eons ago. “What’s her name?”

In a barely audible whisper, Alistair answered. “Nathalie. Her name was Nathalie.”

“I’m going to ask my father to look for her and say that you’re not sad anymore, okay?”

Sophia put her other hand under Alistair’s, enveloping both his and her daughter’s. She stayed there, kneeled beside his long legs. She couldn’t move. An overpowering need to hug and comfort that confident and proud man and to help him mourn the loss of his child sprang from deep inside her. Sophia leaned in his direction, her hand running over his hand and his arm, resting on his shoulder. Her eyes bore into his and his head slanted a little in her direction.

She startled, as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and gripped it, causing her pain. She winced.

A dry, unsympathetic voice ordered, “We’d better see to our room, darling.” Ethan stressed the word, as if he meant it as a curse. You said you were faithful, baby. Are you already scattering your charms in the wind?

Sophia rose, trembling a little. “God, you scared me,” she whispered.

“I could see you were engaged in a private talk with MacCraig,” Ethan hissed between clenched teeth, glaring at Alistair, Ethan’s azure eyes blistered with an undefined emotion. She is mine!