Myriah Fire Read online

  She lay staring in utter disbelief

  at the stranger she was still holding in her arms

  Lantern in hand, Kit moved upstairs to his bedchamber. He was surprised the drapes in his room had been pulled tight but was too tired to contemplate the mystery. He set the lit lantern on a side table and shrugged out of his clothes. He then picked up the lantern and made his way to his bed, setting the lantern on the nightstand. However, there he stopped short.

  Someone with long, flaming ringlets of hair was lying face down, covered only to her waist—in his bed!

  His first thought made him grin. His puppy of a brother had no doubt brought her home with him, but why would the rascal send her off to his bedchamber?

  Drape mystery solved, and another one to contemplate.

  “Now what to do with you, sweet,” he murmured. Grinning, as he thought, One shouldn’t infringe on one’s brother’s property—but really, Billy, why the devil did you put her in my bed? This question repeated itself, and still grinning, his lordship decided the only thing to do in such a situation was to wake her—his way!

  He nibbled at her delicate ears and placed a warm kiss on her throat. She groaned pleasurably. The sound stimulated him, and he leaned over her and took her mouth with his.

  * * *

  Myriah felt the sweet pressure, and her dream took on a new force, one that sent a fire bolt racing through her veins. Her arms went around the virile, muscular body, the source of her dream’s acute burning.

  All at once Myriah was awake. Unable to speak in spite of the fact that her lips were now quite free, she lay staring in utter disbelief at the stranger she was still holding in her arms. She lay for a moment in quiet astonishment, trying to collect her thoughts as she stared at the stranger’s face.

  He was smiling provocatively, and she noted the ruggedness of his features. Somehow, they seemed familiar. But he was a stranger nonetheless—and he was in her bed, taking advantage of her.

  This notion was followed by the next, that being it was no doubt time to drop her arms and pull out of range, which she did speedily, wondering all the while how the deuce this situation had come to pass.

  The gasp that had been stuck in her throat finally escaped. The words of outrage got mingled with fear, and she jumped up to a sitting position. Pulling the covers around herself, she pointed towards the door as she blubbered, “How dare you! Get out of my room!”

  His voice was low, husky, and full with a sensually lined amusement. “Well, little bird, for one thing … this is my room. And for another, although I should be throwing you out, I think I’ll keep you in spite of your offense to my person.”

  Other books by Claudy Conn

  Legend Series

  Spellbound—Legend

  Shee Willow—Legend

  Trapped—Legend

  Free Falling—Legend

  Catch & Hold—Legend

  Prince in the Mist (Novella)

  Aaibhe—Shee Queen (Novelette)

  Prince Prelude—Legend

  ~

  Shadow Series

  ShadowLove—Stalkers

  ShadowHeart—Slayer

  ShadowLife—Hybrid

  ~

  Risqué Regencies

  Oh, Cherry Ripe

  Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

  Taffeta & Hotspur

  ~

  DarkLove (published by Wild Rose Press)

  Rave reviews for the Shadow series

  ShadowLove—Stalkers is hot, Hot, HOT

  Avid vampire and paranormal romance enthusiasts are in for a darkly delicious thrill when they sink their teeth into Claudy Conn’s newest series, ShadowLove—Stalkers. Conn has a gift for character and plot development that sets her work apart from other romance novelists.

  ShadowLove—Stalkers is filled with steaming action and dramatic tension … Claudy delicately plants the seeds for future development and characters without distracting from the excitement and romance of Stalkers. The result is that she has a paranormal, vampire series, of romance novels, which carries her own unique and spicy aroma.

  Claudy fills her stories with enough passion to make the pages spark, sizzle, and steam. She doesn’t skimp when it comes to building sexy into her characters. The women are luscious and the men … well, the action doesn’t stop with the plot. She really knows how to make us tingle with anticipation for her next book.

  ShadowLove—Stalkers is hot, Hot, HOT … and yes, I am blushing.

  ~ Vonnie Faroqui, Ink Slinger’s Whimsey

  Five Cups and a CTTR (Coffee Time Reviewer’s Recommend) Award

  ShadowLove—Stalkers is a story that immediately hooks the reader. It reminds me of a roller coaster just beginning, only to plunge into speed, drawing the reader into non-stop action. Intense and spellbinding, this paranormal romance kept this reader engrossed until the conclusion. I loved the passion and chemistry between the main characters. With tremendous action and well thought out characters, this fantastic read sizzles and sparks like a firecracker.

  ~ Coffee Time Romance & More

  Five Stars for ShadowHeart—Slayer

  This second in Conn’s Shadow series is filled with vampires, a vampire slayer, demons, wizards, a Fae prince and an unlikely romance. Claudy Conn does an excellent job of making this a standalone story while incorporating some of the characters from the first book and introducing us to several new characters. The war is still brewing and now the fae are becoming involved. Can’t wait for the next book in the series.

  This is another one I couldn’t put down and read in a single sitting. I got so caught up in the action I was sad to see it end. Fans of the paranormal romance, urban fantasy and vampire genres should enjoy this as well.

  ~ Wild About Bones

  Acclaim for the Legend Series

  Spellbound—Legend: One hot and thrilling book

  I fell for all three of the main characters, fun loving Maxie, dark and brooding Julian, and one hot Fae, Breslyn. However, it wasn’t just the characters that kept me on the edge of my seat, it was the entire involved plot that included jealously, betrayal, magic, murder, and, of course, hot passion … Like all good thrillers, it seemed as one problem was solved another would spring up. The last few pages had me hoping that this is the first of a new series that will be worth each torturous wait for the next book. The well-written out mixture of myth and legend, not to mention the characters, all in today’s world has me Joyfully Recommending Spellbound—Legend as one book you won’t want to miss.

  ~ Jo, Joyfully Reviewed

  Shee Willow—Legend:

  A great combination of paranormal, scorching romance, and suspense!

  Ms. Conn again brings readers a different side of lore and allure surrounding the Fae. Willow and Shayne’s storyline was magical, in the sense that you knew something greater, deeper was in store for them. Then add Breslyn, the Dagda Prince, childhood crush of Willow, into the mix … just get comfy, because you are in for a heck of a rollercoaster … Thankfully, another title will be released soon. I cannot wait until the simmering conflict between the Seelie Fae and Unseelie Fae reaches its boiling point!

  ~ Monica Solomon, The Romance Readers Connection

  Free Falling—Legend: I loved this story!

  There is so much chemistry between Z and Dante and Chancemont just oozes sex appeal. I am chomping at the bit to read the second and third books in this series.

  ~ Wild About Bones

  Myriah Fire

  By

  Claudy Conn

  Myriah Fire

  By Claudy Conn

  http://claudyconn.embarqspace.com

  Copyright © 2011, 2012 by Claudy Conn

  Edited by: Karen Babcock

  Cover Artist: Kendra Egert

  All rights
reserved

  Published in the United States of America

  First edition published 2011

  Second edition published 2012

  July 2012

  Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Excerpt of Taffeta & Hotspur

  Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

  Excerpt of Oh, Cherry Ripe

  Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

  Excerpt of Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

  Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

  Excerpt of Prince Prelude—Legend

  Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

  Excerpt of ShadowHeart—Slayer

  Copyright © 2011 by Claudy Conn

  Preface

  Thirty years ago, back before I “met” Breslyn and Ete, Shawna and Chad, and all the others of my Legend and Shadow series, I wrote historical romances, mostly Regency romances. They were “sweet romances” with young, innocent heroines. My Fae and vampire novels are definitely more sensual; the heroes are a bit hotter, and the heroines bolder.

  What would happen, I wondered, if I were to revisit one of my favorite early novels, retell it with more spice? What would fiery, rule-breaking Myriah Whitney and charismatic, mysterious Kit Wimborne do if I gave them more freedom to explore their desires?

  I had fun getting to know Myriah and Kit all over again—and I definitely had fun adding heat to the story. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  Claudy Conn

  December 2011

  Dedication

  This is for my dear friend and laughing buddy in the World of Make Believe,

  Candice Stauffer

  Contents

  Myriah Fire

  Preview: Taffeta & Hotspur

  Preview: Oh Cherry Ripe

  Preview: Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

  Preview: Prince Prelude—Legend

  Preview: ShadowHeart—Slayer

  About Claudy Conn

  Myriah Fire

  ~ One ~

  LONDON, 1813

  CASCADING RINGLETS OF fire framed an elf-like countenance of peaches and cream. Dark brows and curling lashes accentuated the almond shape of the blue-green eyes. Champagne organza fell alluringly about a form as delicate as it was provocative, yet the owner of these enviable attributes gazed at her reflection in the gilt-edged looking glass and sighed deeply.

  A maid popped her linen-covered head into Lady Myriah’s dressing room and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Tch tch, m’lady, here you be, idling your time away with your papa that anxious for you down in the ballroom! Why, gracious, the music is sweet to hear, and the dancers looking fine as five pence … and here you be, looking that sad! Why, it fair sets me in a huff, it does!” said the middle-aged woman, taking all the liberty that years of faithful service had won her.

  Lady Myriah raised an eyebrow, and there was warning in her look though her tone was light. “Now, now, love, don’t be hipped with me. ’Twould never do! I don’t see why I must go down just yet, especially when I feel disinclined.” She stopped abruptly and noted the troubled look on the older woman’s face. “Oh, very well, don’t worry yourself over me, I’ll go,” Myriah said with one of her spontaneous smiles.

  “Good girl—’tis that much those fine bucks below be wanting a look at yer sweet face!” her maid said, nodding and returning Myriah’s smile.

  “Nonsense, Nelly, love. They have seen it all this season and last! All right, all right, don’t get yourself all puckered up again. I’m going!”

  Myriah made her way down the red-carpeted, circular staircase, a slight frown between her eyes. The music floated up and enfolded her gently. Usually its mesmerizing effects lifted her spirits, but now she only sighed.

  Whatever is the matter? This one question haunted, irritated, and left her burdened. She did not know the answer, but she did know that she had no wish to hear the music she loved and no need to join the merrily waltzing ton in the ballroom below.

  About to embark upon the glorious age of one and twenty, Myriah had already enjoyed two London Seasons and was about to take on her third. Yet the young lady was bored—bored and totally disenchanted with the beau monde, London, and all its frivolous activities.

  She was Lady Myriah, the only child of Lord Whitney, and he was well able to indulge her many whims, and he had always seen fit to do so in the past. Lately, however, her worthy father had begun to lose patience with his headstrong darling. She lived in an age where women were supposed to be demure and submissive—which did not work for Myriah.

  Beautiful, wealthy, and socially prominent, still Myriah was completely unattached and unspoken for. This last and somewhat astounding fact had not been achieved without some exertion on her part, to be sure, for Myriah had received no less than a dozen offers. Her papa and numerous interested relatives had spent much time and effort in their attempts to convince her that at least four of those offers were most exceptional, but Myriah had held out and refused them all. Perhaps it was because of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels—or her own imagination. She had often heard her aunts pompously deplore her father’s leniency in allowing her to read such material. Perhaps it was Tom Moore’s provocative poems or Sir Walter Scott’s gallants. Regardless of the reason, by the time Myriah had reached her eighteenth year she had become most regrettably romantic. During an age when people of her class married for many excellent reasons, none of them having anything to do with love, she had the very odd notion that love was the most important prerequisite to matrimony. But, strangely, Myriah had never been in love.

  She did not pretend her heart, which was as passionate as it was gregarious, had not yet been stirred. Several fine young bucks, in fact, had stirred it very well. However, it had not yet received its coup de grace. Thus it was that Myriah’s heart remained intact, albeit restless and seemingly fickle.

  Myriah’s father, however, was not concerned with frivolous notions of romantic love; he had to contend with his sisters, who nagged him non-stop about her behavior. But though the dowagers frowned, though Lady Jersey chastised gently, though Myriah’s relatives wagged their fingers, Lady Myriah’s weighty family name and its accompanying fortune allowed much. So, in spite of her wayward nature, Myriah was as popular as ever with the fawning ton. Amused with her mild indiscretions, they called her ‘naughty puss’ and chuckled over her whimsies.

  Myriah accepted their adoration as her due. Still, though she laughed at her aunts’ admonishing, she was aware her father would not tolerate her caprices much longer. He told her he had to get her married and soon. If she didn’t pick out a husband for herself, he was going to damn well do it for her!

  Sighing at the thought she had little time before her father would press her to decide, Myriah gazed at the ballroom that lay before her gleaming with hundreds of candles in wall sconces and chandeliers. The marble floor could scarcely be seen as the waltzing feet of fashionable dancers glided around in time to the music.

  Beautiful, delicate, and commanding in style, Myriah stood a moment at the entrance before she was surrounded and heralded into the room. Her name was on all their lips. Where had she been? Why hadn’t she come sooner? Promise a dance, Myriah. One for me, Myriah!

  Suddenly she felt suffocated. She broke loose with a laugh and caught her father’s eye. He smiled warmly across at her, and she composed herself and blew him a gentle kiss.

  “Sweet Myriah, have you a smile for me?” asked a quiet male voice.

  She looked up into the face of Sir Roland Keyes, and a twinkle crept into her eyes. Now here wa
s a diversion. “You, sir, have no need of such wispy things,” she said coyly.

  “Although I don’t wish to declare you wrong, I need that and much more,” he said, taking her hand and leading her firmly onto the dance floor. They moved in rhythm to the music of the violins, and many eyes glanced curiously at them.

  Sir Roland, a bachelor of nine and twenty, had many attractive qualities, and more than one of Lady Myriah’s suitors had noticed her apparent preference for the dratted fellow’s company. Sir Roland’s height was good, and his frame was such as to catch any maid’s eye. His thick, curling locks were auburn with a hint of gold. He always seemed to entertain Lady Myriah with an adroitness that kept her amused.

  As the waltz ended, Myriah gazed quizzically up into his bright eyes. “Sweet Myriah, shall we continue our play on the dance floor, or shall we seek privacy?” he teased, kissing the wrist of her gloved hand.

  “I think, Sir Roland, we had better remain here. I have already found that playing alone with you can be quite dangerous!” countered the lady.

  “Dangerous for whom, sweet beauty?”

  She laughed amicably, for as always his forwardness excited her. He had skill, and there was no denying it.

  “You know very well for whom! Never say you fear for yourself?” she said.

  “For myself, never—ah, but for my heart, that is something altogether different. I have not attained my years and remained unshackled by toying with danger.”

  Her eyes flickered. “Well, there certainly is no danger of your becoming … how did you put it? … shackled to me? No, Sir Roland, you need have no fear on that score with me, as I have already told you I cannot marry you.” The teasing quality of her voice had begun to ebb.