Page 96 of Her Magic Touch

He went to his daughter, tossing her up into the air. "Where have you been wandering, treasure mine? Off battling dragons?"

"I've been searching and searching, Da, for the door to where the fairies live so when Mama gives me the pretty brooch to keep I'll be able to find it." She cast her brothers the haughty smirk that had gained her more than one black eye. "Ciaran of the Mist belongs to me now."

Her father chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Mama told me all about the magic, and how I get to call him back if things get dreadful. But I don't think I want to call him back. I think I'll go find him instead."

"You're daft!" Hugh groused.

"Maybe. But someday, I'll be the best hurler in all Ireland. So fine that the fairy king himself will carry me away, and I'll beat Ciaran of the Mist himself."

Ciaran turned to his wife with a grin. "What do you say, Fallon-my-heart? Shall we surrender her to the magic?"

Fallon scooped up the baby, and came toward them, her face shining. "Someday, the magic will find her. It found me."

Ciaran leaned down and kissed his wife, his face glowing with love, with happiness, with dreams more beautiful than any legend could be.

Maeve sighed. "It is a happy ending they've found, isn't it, my love? How can you have any regrets when you see—" Maeve caught a glimpse of her husband and stopped. A crease appeared between her winged brows. "I mislike the look in yer eyes, ye rogue. What are ye thinking?"

"Just wonderin'..."

"Wonderin' what?"

Jarlath's eyes sparkled with ages-old mischief. "Do ye think that wee Fiona likes cherries?"