His gaze came to mine, did a quick circuit down my length, then rose again. The smile teasing his lips was polite, but his eyes gleamed with appreciation.

Which made me even gladder I’d taken Darby’s advice and worn a dress—albeit a heavyweight winter one. First impressions counted.

“Bethany Aodhán?” he said, in a voice that was accented just enough to be sexy. “I’m Eljin Lavigne. It is a great pleasure to meet you.”

“Same.” I shook the offered hand. His fingers warm against mine and held just the right amount of pressure. “Do you have much in the way of baggage?”

“A suitcase, nothing more. The rest will follow once I’ve sorted permanent accommodation.”

“Ah, good. This way, then.”

He fell in step beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body while still respecting the boundaries of personal space. “Do you also work at the museum?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No, though I am helping Lugh track down some relics at the moment.”

“Unofficially and unpaid, I take it?”

The amusement in his tone had my gaze rising. His golden eyes—which held deeper flecks of buttery brown—glinted with understanding. “Yes. Why?”

His soft laugh ran across my skin like a caress, and while it didn’t have the same fierce impact of Cynwrig’s, it was nevertheless a pleasant sensation. “I have a sister gifted with foresight and used to drag her into my searches all the time. Unpaid, of course.”

I raised my eyebrows. “It’s rare for Tàileach pixies to hold second sight.”

“There’s Aodhán in our bloodline.”

Meaning Lugh was right. The French lines didn’t hold the same animosity.

“She no longer helps you now, I take it?”

He shook his head. “She married ten years ago and has three young children. I’ll not place her in any sort of danger, even if her foresight rarely leads to a dangerous situation.”

I couldn’t help wishing mine didn’t. “She your only sibling?”

He nodded and lightly touched my back, guiding me around a luggage cart that erupted out of a corridor. He removed his fingers almost immediately, but my spine seemed to retain the heat of them for a little longer than was usual.

There were definite possibilities here... and yet something within wasn’t entirely convinced. Of course, it was probably the same something that was still very much in lust with all things Cynwrig and wasn’t currently interested in other possibilities.

“My mother wanted more children but was never blessed,” he was saying. “My father was much older than her. It happens.”

It did, especially in both the Aodhán and Tàileach lines. It was the price we’d apparently paid for our height and our longer-than-pixie-norm lifespan, and the reason why there were eleven years between me and Lugh.

“Is your brother off on a hunt now? Is that the reason you’ve been tasked with picking me up?” He paused, a mischievous glint entering his eyes. “Though I am in no way complaining. The photo Monsieur Rogan sent me of you was pretty, but in person, you are exquisite.”