“Papa, the stars have chosen our lady Darcy an Elysian Mate,” Geraldine cooed. “Well bless my salty crackers on a bed of kale. Twist my dough balls and call me Uncle Dunberry. Tickle my turnip and bury me in a pile of battered beetroots.” Hamish reached towards my eyes like he was close to the sun and couldn’t resist a feel of it, but before he could touch me, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. I snorted a laugh, serving me a glare from Geraldine as she ushered Max forward to help her pull her father to his feet.
