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He’s had enough…
Harry Wyatt, Earl of Hartley has enough problems trying to keep his estate solvent. What he does not need is yet another lost child showing up on his land looking for the Hartley Fairy Diamond made famous by a recent film. A fairy diamond that is no more than myth handed down by delusional ancestors and responsible for the perilous state of his finances. And yet there is something about this latest visitor, something beside her delicate beauty and troubling familiarity. Something that is compelling him to go against everything he believes to help her. To want her.
She’s on a quest…
Sorcha, daughter of Mab Queen of Fairies is on a quest. Dropped into a cold, alien world, it is her task to recover the great fairy stone that has been lost to the land of mortals, a stone whose absence has upended the balance of nature. If she doesn’t get the stone back, spring will not come. But there is a handsome mortal standing in her way. A mortal she is drawn to like no other man, fairy or mortal. A mortal who claims he doesn’t believe in her, but whose memories and fears say otherwise. A mortal with green fairy eyes. A mortal she could love, if only he weren’t mortal and she fairy.
Note: This title was previously published as Dark Seduction
Read an Excerpt
“Here! What are you doing? Get up!”
Startled, Sorcha looked up to see long legs in front of her. Thick boots, sturdy pants, long, sleek limbs. Tall limbs. She kept looking up and then up and still he went on.
A man.
A mortal, dark and fierce and glowering at her.
Sorcha stumbled to her feet, her instinct that of flight. This man was her enemy, surely, in this terrifying place.
“I—I... Forgive me...” she gasped and stumbled. Her feet were too numb from the cold to hold her up, her senses still in too much upheaval.
She reached out for balance and ended up crashing into the mortal’s chest. He grunted, struggling to stay upright. He reached for her, but it was too late. In a tangle of limbs, the two of them tumbled over and their momentum carried them rolling all the way down the long hill into the rocks at the bottom.
“Ooomph!” he grunted, coming to a halt right on top of her.
“Please...” She shoved at him, but it was like trying to move granite. “I... can’t... breathe...”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He lurched up, a hand on either side of her head, until he balanced himself over her, lifting his weight but not his control. “I...” But then he stopped and stared. Sorcha couldn’t help it. She stared back. A mortal he might be, but he was magnificent. Taller than even the Tuatha, stronger than the elven guards, fiercer than the Dubhlainn Sidhe. Dark and sharp-edged, with high cheeks and a taut jaw and a rapier of a nose. A face on which even a scowl was a thing of beauty. And Sorcha revered beauty.
But that wasn’t what silenced her. It was his eyes. Dark-fringed, wide, crystal-bright. And green.
Fairy green.
Sorcha’s heart leapt in her breast. She felt joy bubble up in her, the relief of a saved life, the delight of finding that she’d been wrong. There was another familiar face in this alien place.
“Ah, how lovely,” she said, lifting her hand to his face. “You’re the one I’m to be looking for, then.”
“The one you’re looking for?” he asked, his voice oddly hushed, his eyes still deep and dark.
She laughed. “Of course. Didn’t the queen herself tell me to look for the one who is us? And who would be quicker to recognize the mark of a fairy than I? Your sister thanks you for her welcome, mo dearthair’”
“What?”
She gave him an even larger smile. “Ah, pardon. I forget it’s the mortal tongue I need. I merely called you my brother. I thank you, my brother, for my welcome.”
For a second the stranger stared at her. Then, shaking his head, he dragged her to her feet. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m calling the police.”
About the Author:
A former trauma nurse, Eileen lives in St. Louis with her husband, children and large and noisy Irish family, of which she is the reluctant matriarch. A seasoned conference speaker, Dreyer travels to research, and uses research as an excuse to travel. Oh, who's she kidding? She doesn't need an excuse. She has the Irish wanderlust and satisfies it as often as she can to the point that she has sung traditional Irish music on four continents. She also had the incredible chance to research Drake’s Rakes by attending the 200th anniversary of not only the Battle of Waterloo, but the Duchess of Richmond ball (in period attire). She has animals, but refuses to subject them to the limelight.
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