Blurb:
Lucian
Willshire is plagued by thoughts of a fey world and the disappearance of his
aunt some nineteen years past, but when his friend drags him back to Hamingjur
Castle, he stumbles into Alfheim Haven once more where mystical beings become
more than a distant memory.
Lyerra
Ahdia is baffled by the sudden emotional changes she’s experiencing until she
discovers she’s the only witch to suffer “the change” since her mother stole
the Rose, a special talisman with the power to perpetuate life among those in
her coven. Tasked with finding and bringing the Rose home, she begs Lucian’s
help in navigating the human realm. Against his better judgement, he agrees.
Though
neither set out to find anything except the Rose, fate has other plans. Will
love be more elusive than hunting the Rose?
Excerpt:
Lyerra’s mouth gaped. She scanned
the contents again. Surely he was wrong, but as she reread the letter from the
new viewpoint, she had to agree. “Even so, he still claims he laid a trail to
the Temple Church in Bristol.”
“If I had possession of a
treasure as valuable as the Rose, and I had to hide it in a safe place, I’d
leave clues perhaps, but I wouldn’t just blurt out its location. The
probability of thieves and unscrupulous folks getting a hold of it would be too
great to chance with such a missive.” He tapped the parchment. “Gareth paving a
path to the Temple Church only means danger follows in that direction.”
“Oh, he’s trying to be clever.”
“Quite right. Your father was a
smart man, one who must have loved you and your mother very much. I think we’ll
find answers in Somerset.”
“Isn’t that where your friend,
John, resides?”
“Pretty convenient but yes, we’ll
pay him a visit in the morning and beg a few nights stay at his summer home at
Runsford Hill. Perhaps he’ll have some books regarding the history of the
area.”
She stared at the letter in
wonder, and her eyes misted with tears. Brushing them aside, she tried to make
light of her emotional reaction. “The smoke is making my eyes water. Perhaps we
best take our rest.”
“There’s nothing wrong with
crying.”
“Unless you’re an elfin …”
“Damn it, Lyerra, you’re half
...” He lowered his voice. “You’re half human. The fact you can cry gives me
hope.”
“Hope for what?”
“Hope that should I succumb to
your charms, it won’t be because of some magic you possess. It will be because
your humanity speaks to mine.”
She slipped a hand across the
surface of the letter, transforming it once again into a piece of antique jewelry.
“I no longer wish to seduce you, Lucian. I see now that consorting with you in
such a manner would be wrong.”
“Wrong for whom?”
“For both of us.” She latched the
locket back into place. “The change forced me to make undue advances for which
I humbly beg your pardon. That you were a gentleman of strong morals saved us
both from sure heartache.”
“Lyerra, I …” The deep timbre of
his voice sent tingles down her spine.
“No, let me finish.” She pushed
her chair back and stood. When he’d done the same, she continued. “The strength
of the physical attraction we seem to share frightens me. I know I tempt you
each time I’ve need of your kisses or even your touch, but Lucian, you tempt me
as well. And each time you walk away without taking more, you give me strength
to resist my desires. For that I’m deeply in your debt.”
She had no idea what demons
she’d stirred when Lucian pulled her into his arms. “Perhaps, I’m tired of
resisting.”
