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Alistair soon proved him correct.
“Malory, please leave the book in the car. You know your papa gets upset when you forget his
books at other people’s houses. Do you want to lose your book privileges? No, I didn’t think
so.” One boy ran back to the Range Rover and handed the book he carried to the female driver
standing beside the vehicle. “Abelard, you get one piece of cake. One! Do you understand?”
The boy walking beside Alistair pouted, but he nodded. “Good. I’d hate for a repeat of what
happened at your grandsire’s house last Christmas.” The dragon looked around. “Where’s
Chaucer?”
Ignatius looked startled and a little panicky as he took a large parcel out of the back of the
vehicle. It was the size of a hatbox, only more rectangular in shape, and tied with twine to keep
it safely shut. Was it a present, perhaps? “He was just here, Alistair! Like, a minute ago, at
least. I barely took my eyes off him.”
“Chaucer, no!”
There was a resounding splash, then a small boy stood up in the ornamental koi pond, the
water coming up to his chest. He had a lily pad on his head. “I’m okay!” he shouted. He hopped
about, splashing and likely giving the koi nervous breakdowns. “I’m a frog, Daddy! I’m a frog!”
Ignatius sighed and seemed to say to himself, “One day he’ll get the right lizard.”
“Good lord,” Hugh murmured.
“Sir?” Finch turned to him. Hugh’s eyes were wide, and he stood absolutely still. Perhaps he
hadn’t realized how chaotic children could be. Even dragon children. Especially dragon
children. “Children can sometimes be a bit noisy, and clumsy—”
“I want a dozen just like him,” Hugh said with a sigh.
Finch shifted gears. “Just like Chaucer?” The child, having been scooped out of the pond by
Alistair, wriggled free and took off running, his father right behind him.
“Be careful what you wish for,” came Ignatius’s voice from much closer than Finch was
prepared for. Startled, he jumped and spun around to discover Alistair’s mate had come to join
them near the door. Ignatius quirked a brow at him, then shrugged. “You might just get it.”
“Ignatius!” Hugh exclaimed. The marijuana had to be improving his mood, for he didn’t sound
crestfallen in the least. “Have you met Finch? He’s my secretary. Couldn’t do a thing without
him.”
