Myriah Fire (35 page)

Robby seemed to become flustered as he blushed and said, “Ah, yes—well, just so …”

Jewelene cocked a quizzical look his way, but his cousin Ryker stuck in quietly, “Yes, Lady Lyndhurst is quite a woman. How nice that she was able to regale you with stories of your mother …”

“We had a wonderful time with her.” She eyed the plump marquis and frowned. “You do not favor her, though, at all. No doubt you look like your father.” Jewelene sat back with a sweet cake and plopped it into her mouth, saying, “Oh, I haven’t eaten a thing all day, and this is quite good.”

Ryker looked at his cousin and eyed him for a long moment, as Robby was blushing profusely. He turned away and smiled at Jewelene. “Busy in the stables I take it? May I ask what sort of blood you are schooling?”

“Lightning is a pure Arabian. My father made the purchase … just before his death,” she said turning away slightly. She recovered herself and added, “He is fast, really fast. I know what they say about Arabs—Jack of all trades, master of none—but it isn’t true … at least not with Lightning. We hope to enter him at Derby this month.”

“Arabian, eh? They make good show horses, strong in the work, but I’d not pit an Arabian against a thoroughbred,” Robby answered, entering the conversation.

Jewelene smiled wickedly. “Good … I shall take your wager next month, my lord.”

“Ah, a betting girl …” Ryker chuckled.

“This is most unseemly … honestly, gentlemen …” Aunt Dora objected half-heartedly, looking at her daughter to enter the conversation.

Elizabeth, though, remained quiet until Jewelene started to move off her chair. Then she put out a hand. “Oh, Jewels, do take my wishes to Mrs. Clay and Lyla … and, of course, to Ben.”

Jewel walked over to her, bent, and whispered something in Elizabeth’s ear, who then blushed profusely before Jewelene laughed and stood straight. “Come on, Jimmy …”

The gentlemen got to their feet as brother and sister started to depart and Aunt Dora began a series of objections. Caesar jumped up and padded after his most favorite people in the world without a backward glance at the company he was leaving behind.

Outside, however, he received a tremendous let down as Jewelene commanded heartlessly, “No, boy, you are not coming this time.
S
tay
 … that’s right … down and stay!”

Caesar sat, was petted by brother and sister and much pitied, but left behind to sprawl out on the grass and in the shade to watch his adored humans depart.

What happens when Claudy tells a paranormal romance

in a Regency setting? Find out in

Prince Prelude—Legend

~ Prologue ~

ACCORDING TO THE humans’
Encyclopedia Britannica
, Fairy is a race of supernatural beings who have magic powers and sometimes meddle in human affairs.

(I must agree, and I meddle more than my brethren.)

It goes on to explain that we are well known in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales and that we are very powerful and sometimes dangerous beings who can be friendly, mischievous, or cruel, depending on our whim. Sadly, it is true.

The human reference advises that we occasionally take human lovers, as the Fae find human sexuality inviting and are drawn to the passion humans possess. However, it cautions, Fae, unlike humans, are immortal. True again.

History has called us the Tuatha Dé Danaan, and we’re also known as the Seelie Fae. I should like you to know more about who we are. You see, the truth is we came long before the written word put us in Ireland at 1000 BC, and we are so much greater than the written word can describe. We are, to a one, quite stunning—and I am even more captivating than my peers. In fact, let me describe myself. I am, Prince Breslyn, last male of the Dagda line, which is one of the four Royal Houses of the Seelie Fae.

If you have read the Legend books, or my first novella, then I need no introduction, but for those of you who haven’t yet read the series, I will give you a brief description of who and what I am.

As I mentioned, I am a Royal Fae Prince of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. I am a Council member (although I rarely attend the boring meetings). I am well over six feet six inches and taller than most male Fae, who are as a race quite unusually tall and warrior built.

My dark blonde hair is long, and I usually slick it back and keep it tethered at the back of my neck with leathers. My eyes are silver, my face chiseled, and I have been described by Fae and human alike as much more than handsome.

I wear a gold torque with the etchings of my Royal House—Dagda—and I like tattoos and wear a band of Celtic knots and ancient runes around my biceps.

What is really important is this: I adore humans, especially female humans.

That gets me into all kinds of trouble with my Queen Aaibhe, who feels that my interactions with humans are a break from our treaty and an infringement on the rules of Fate.

Five hundred years ago I fell in love for the first time with a human. Her name was Chartelle, and we were happy for a time.

When human life and immortal life meet, there is only one conclusion, and when it happens, the one left behind will find himself or herself heartbroken.

We Fae are rumored to lack the equivalent of a human heart. Untrue—I know, because my heart broke, and I grieved and went on missing my Chartelle for centuries.

Those centuries—just about five—were a blur, and had it not been for my young sister and charge, Aida, and her friend Ete, who in later years was appointed to sit on the Council, I think that first depression I felt would not have lifted.

A human friend, one of the MacCleans in fact, said something once to me about ‘time healing’. For me that is totally incorrect: time doesn’t heal per say, but it does dull the pain of loss, a pain that returns in quiet moments when one least expects it to. I was suffering just such a discomfort when visiting the MacCleans in the year 1814 in their home in Scotland. They were entertaining… hosting a thing they called a ‘cotillion’, and I looked across the room and saw
her…

Her name, I was told, was Destinee, and she was exquisite.

In fact, I could not look away. Her long black hair, black as the velvet night sky, was piled in dangling curls around her angelic face. Stars twinkled through the curls. Her heart-shaped countenance was classically beautiful, her eyes almond-shaped and bright blue, her neck long.
By Danu
, I started walking in her direction, thinking that the silk of her form-fitting Regency gown of blue needed to come off—and I was just the one to accomplish the feat.

She looked up, and our eyes met. I can tell you that I saw her catch her breath; I know I was breathing in short spurts of desire. I bent and took her white-gloved hand and brought it up even as I opened the buttons of the glove, found her flesh, and pressed it to my lips.

She blushed, and her lashes lowered. “Sir! I must object…”

“Must you?” I quipped as I started to introduce myself. “My beauty…allow me to intro—”

She cut me off. “Oh, I know who you are, you are Lord Dagda…Breslyn, in fact. Lady MacClean spoke of you to me only this morning.”

“Did she?” I frowned, for although her ladyship and I have been friends for all her life (the MacCleans all know the truth of who I am), I was not sure just what she would tell her female acquaintances.

“Oh, yes…she says that you are the best of all good men.”

As one can imagine, I was much relieved, as I had decided that this beauty and I must get to know one another. “And you have the advantage of me—you know who I am, but I do not know who you are.”

“I am Destinee LaBlanc…”

I must have frowned, for she blushed. I realized she saw I had heard the gossip; I hurriedly tried to put her at ease. “That is a lovely name and suits you.”

“Lady MacClean has been very kind and has offered me a situation here. She, in fact, provided me with the clothes upon my back, for just before my father shot himself to death, he had lost everything…and had even gambled…” She broke off and looked away.

“I know—you needn’t speak of it. Yours is not the shame. It is on him. How a father can offer up his daughter…but Lord MacClean put a stop to it and brought you here to his wife, proving once again the worth of the MacClean clan.”

“Yes, and I am so happy to be able to assist with the children. They are all wonderful…”

I wanted to take her into my arms right at that moment. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, seduce her, and tear the clothing from her delectable body so tat I could ram the hard-on beating in my pants inside her.

I saw at once, however, that she was a delicate flower, and thus, I made up my mind to do something else entirely. I decided to court Destinee LaBlanc.

* * *

The Regency time was an era of fashion, art, culture, and extreme social etiquette. It was also headed for war with Napoleon.

There seemed to be an urgency about the business of hedonism, especially in Brussels, where balls were being given nearly every night in spite of the pending war. And at those balls and soirees, hushed whispers centered on what Wellington was about to do or what information had just escaped the Home Office.

We were removed from the main hub of gossip in Scotland but peripherally interested all the same. I found myself more and more attracted to Destinee as time flew by during my courtship. For the first time in a long time, I wanted the woman, not just the bedding of her. You may ask at some point if I loved her, and to this day, I cannot tell you that I did. I most certainly wanted her…

You may recognize the name Gaiscioch. He plays a major role in the Legend series, and he and I were always at opposite ends of the Council, very much in each other’s way. He was a dear friend of the queen’s, and yet, I had for centuries sensed an evil in him.

I should have known. I should have realized that day when I walked with Destinee in the village and he appeared and bent over her hand demanding an introduction. She seemed…taken with him.

He had not used compulsion on her, and still she seemed to like him. It troubled me. As I drove her home in the MacClean carriage, she said, “He is very striking with that white streak in his hair…and so very handsome.”

“Do you think so?” I felt myself stiffen and wondered how it was that both Fae and human females did not see past Gais’s good looks. He wasn’t even a royal, but even in Faery, he captured Fae hearts. It annoyed the hell out of me.

She laughed, held my arm, and looked up into my eyes. “Not, by any means, as attractive as you, my big handsome Lord Dagda.”

“Why do you never call me Breslyn?” It was a sticking point between us.

“It would not be seemly. I work for the MacCleans.”

“Whatever I wish is seemly,” I answered. “Say my name, Destinee…for I have a desire to hear it on your lips.”

“No, I shall not cross that line.”

“You will say it before this day is done,” I answered, much annoyed with her. I clicked the horses forward and into a faster pace.

But I did not see her the remainder of the day, as she stayed with the children in the schoolroom and then later retired to her own chambers, not even emerging for dinner.

I went to Casey—Lady MacClean—and took her hand. “Walk with me, Cass.”

She fell into step with me as we took a tour of the halls of MacClean and said, “Ah, has she rejected your offer?”

“My offer? No…I didn’t think she was ready, so I did not offer,” I answered, a bit taken aback. “Would she reject it if I were to offer?”

“Yes.” She touched my cheek. “She loves you and thinks you the most handsome man in all of Scotland, but she is
not in love
with you.”

Oddly enough, I was not hurt. I was taken with her and I wanted her, but love? I don’t think I was in love. “I see…”

She laughed and said, “Yes, you do, don’t you…this is not the one, my darling Breslyn. She is but a diversion for you. She intrigues you more than any other female of your acquaintance, but you and I…we both know, she is not the one.”

I grinned; Casey always made me grin. She was full with child and was due any day, and I found her absolutely lovely. “Aye then, but you are, my sweet…”