Free Reaper's Vow by Sarah McCarty Page A

shook her head. “He thinks it does, I think.”
    She said it as if that was a good thing. Cole couldn’t imagine spanking a little girl. He couldn’t imagine tolerating anyone making the attempt. Especially this little girl. There was something so . . . familiar about her energy.
    He stood and tucked the cup in his coat pocket. “Well, it might be time to head on home, honey. It’s raining, and your mom will be worried. Does she know where you hide?”
    â€œNo. This is my new spot.”
    So her other one had been found. He put the cup in his pocket.
    â€œHow ’bout I give you a ride.”
    Silence.
    â€œThe longer you wait, the more trouble you’ll be in.”
    This time the response was a snort. “Me and Dolly aren’t afraid.”
    â€œBut I bet your mom is worried though.”
    The snort faded to a sigh. “I don’t want to sleep with Jenny Hastings.”
    â€œWe all have to do things we don’t want to. Besides, maybe Jenny has outgrown that problem.”
    â€œI’m never that lucky.”
    It was such an adult thing to say it made him smile. “Neither am I. Now, do you want a lift or not?”
    There was a shuffling of feet, a sound of something skimming wood, her hand as she came around the corner of the stall. He couldn’t see much at first in the gloom beyond that she was tiny.
    He lit a match, giving her light, and when she came around the corner of the box, he almost dropped it. A tiny, delicate, fae little creature with big brown eyes, long lashes, a round face framed by fat brown ringlets, and a cherub’s mouth came toward him. She was dressed in a faded blue smock that did nothing to diminish her impact. Fairy child, that was all he could think. At first. After the shock, came anger.
    Damn. She shouldn’t be five feet from the front door without a guard, let alone out in the barn by herself at dark. Her mother should know better.
    As she got close enough to touch, he saw she clutched a rag doll in her arms. The doll sported an equally faded but pretty blue dress and a fancy painted face. Dolly, he presumed.
    Cole’s first impulse was to scoop her up and away from the dirt of the barn floor. She looked too angelic to be real. She frowned up at him.
    â€œYou’re going to burn your fingers.”
    In the next instant he did. He quickly snuffed the match, not dropping it on the floor, but wetting it to make sure it was extinguished before putting it in his pocket.
    He struck another one. The impression of a tiny fairy child lasted into the next flame. Her mother had to be worried to death.
    â€œYou ready to go home?”
    She shook her head and took a step back. And another. “You’re the bad man.”
    â€œYep, I’m the one that took your bed. But that doesn’t mean I would have done it had I known.”
    She didn’t look soothed. “You’re Miss Addy’s cousin?”
    He nodded.
    She scowled at him. “You’ve come to take her away from us.”
    He shrugged. “I came to see that she was happy.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause she’s my cousin and it’s my job to look out for her.”
    â€œI don’t have cousins.”
    What could he say to that? “I’m sorry.”
    She cocked her head to the side. Her pigtail slid across her face. She blew at it. “You don’t seem bad.”
    â€œNo one’s all bad, honey.”
    â€œMiss Addy says you love her.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œShe says sometimes you do wrong things in the name of love. And when people do, you have to forgive them.”
    She didn’t look on the verge of forgiveness. If a fairy could look hostile, he was seeing it.
    He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I suppose you do.”
    The little fairy child stood there as the match burned closer to his fingertips, studying his expression, not answering. And not the least bit rushed by the flame’s