“It‟s hard for him to accept another man in his place.”
Morgan‟s eyes glinted. “To accept me.”
“I . . . Yes.”
“I am not a substitute for your dead husband, Elizabeth.”
She flushed. Ben was never so blunt. “I never said you were.”
“Only that you wanted me to be.”
That gleam must be mockery. It could not be pain. But in her rush to get rid of Morgan last night, she had been rude, too.
She owed him. If not an apology, then an explanation.
“I miss the closeness I shared with Ben,” she admitted carefully. “When you‟re married to someone for fourteen years,
when you raise two children together, you develop a certain familiarity. Intimacy. Trust. But I chose to be with you last night.
I wanted . . .” She sucked in her breath. “I want you. I‟m just saying it‟s an adjustment.”
“For all of you.” His tone was dry.
“The past few years, there‟s only been the three of us. Under the circumstances, is it any wonder we‟re a little—”
The oars checked. “Possessive?”
She firmed her mouth. “Protective.”
He dipped the paddles back into the water. “Zachary is almost a man. It is natural for him to want to protect you.”
“And I‟m his mother. I need to protect him.”
He turned his head, his gaze colliding with hers. “You cannot. He is different, Elizabeth. More different than you can
imagine.”
The intensity in his voice alarmed her. “You mean, he‟s growing up.”
“Growing up. Changing.”
What was he getting at?
She searched his face, his eyes, for a clue, unease constricting her throat and roiling her stomach. She knew that feeling.
Every mother in the world knew that feeling. “Are you talking about puberty?”
“I am talking about the Change in Zachary.” He expelled a harsh breath, letting the oars trail in the water. “This would be
easier if you still believed.”
“Believed what?”
“You have a story you tell in your churches.” He didn‟t move, but she felt the coiled tension in him, the energy bunching
under his skin. “About the Creation.”
Her anxiety spiked. “Is this a religious thing? Is Zack involved in some kind of cult?”
He shot her a look, flat and sharp as a scalpel.
She held up both hands. “Sorry.” Though why she should apologize she had no idea. He was the one who had changed the
subject. “Go on.”
“In the time before time, the elements were formed from the void. And as each element took shape, its people were called
into being—the children of earth, the children of the sea, the children of air, and the children of fire.”
His voice was deep and lulling as the waves that lapped the boat. Liz folded her hands together, forcing herself to focus on
his words.
“Then the Creator made humankind, breathing His immortal soul into mortal clay. Not a popular decision,” Morgan said,
“with any but the angels. The children of fire—you would call them demons—rebelled, declaring war on the children of the air
and humankind.”
“I‟m sure Emily would enjoy this story,” Liz said. “But what does it have to do with Zack?”
“More than I imagined. More than you could dream. Forced to share their territories with this upstart creation, the children
of earth and sea retreated, the fair folk to the mountains and wild places of earth and the merfolk to the depths of the sea.
Generally, the elementals avoid contact with humankind.”
“Okay,” Liz said cautiously. Where was he going with this?
“But some encounters are inevitable,” Morgan said. “Some are sought. And such meetings always have consequences.”
For no reason at all, her heart began to pound. “What kind of consequences?”
“Art. War. Rumors. Legends.” His eyes, deep black with rims of gold, locked with hers. “Children.”
Her mouth was dry, her mind blank. She stared at him, wetting her lips. “I don‟t see . . .”