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A Siren Adult Fairy Tale

The Merman

Is she just lonely or does Lady Cynthia Lucas really hear a phantom voice calling to her in the night? True, the Cornish coast is infamous for stories of the supernatural, but this seems different somehow…and so real.

Or is this a game, waiting to drown her in watery empire where she would find a hollow-hung ocean green, and moss beds under the sea…and the virile lover who waits for her in a hazy, splendid dream?

Prince Armand has no use for poetic words, but he does need a human bride. Destiny has stepped in and he is helpless against the rush of the tide. If he can pull off acting the gentleman and lure the lady into his arms—and the sea—the prophecy will be fulfilled and the merman will find his one true love…

Sensuality Rating: SIZZLING
Genre: Erotic Fairy Tale
Length: Novella (10,400 words)

THE MERMAN

A Siren Adult Fairy Tale

Emma Wildes

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

ABOUT THIS E-BOOK: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.

THE MERMAN

Copyright © 2007 by Emma Wildes

ISBN: 1-933563-87-7

First E-book Publication: June 2007

Cover design by Jinger Heaston

All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

THE MERMAN

A Siren Adult Fairy Tale

EMMA WILDES

Copyright © 2007

Chapter 1

The sound rose, as soft and beckoning as the seductive whisper of the restless sea. Lady Cynthia Lucas sat up in bed, listening, not certain she wasn’t still dreaming.

As odd as it seemed in the middle of the night, it sounded like someone outside was singing.

“Come to me, my love…”

Bright moonlight spilled in blocks across the floor and illuminated the room. She slid out from under the coverlet and went to the window, pushing it open a little more. Curious, she stared out over the shadowed formal gardens below. Beyond that the grounds gave to a grassy knoll and the cliffs above the water. Nothing moved, but that melodic song continued, fading and then swelling, the words unintelligible. It was beautiful, if a little haunting, and she felt an almost unwilling fascination.

“…across oceans blue and deep silver seas…”

It was a male voice, and so resonant she could not help but feel the echo.

On impulse, she slid over the sill like she had so many times as a mischievous child and began to climb down. The ivy had grown on the walls on the manor house for well over a century and some of the vines were as thick around as her arm, making for an easy descent. Even hampered by her long nightdress, she reached the ground quickly. A little breathless, she glanced around. It was a lovely night, warm and still, and the deserted gardens were fragrant with the scent of overblown roses and moist soil.

And always, always, the ever present tang of the sea.

“…you lure me in…”

In fact, she discerned, the sound seemed to be coming from that direction. Lifting her skirts, she hurried through the formal paths until she reached the gate and quietly opened it. With the familiarity of a lifetime, she skirted the edge of a small wood and sought the path to the cove below, following the sound.

It grew louder, she thought triumphantly, though an inward glimmer of trepidation told her she was being extraordinarily reckless. Somehow she doubted her parents would approve of her dashing off, clad in nothing but a thin gown, to investigate a mysterious noise, no matter how lovely.

Yes, reckless definitely described it, she decided wryly as she ran, but it was a gorgeous night, she loved the sea, and somehow she felt she had to find out who was singing so beautifully to her.

To her? Where had that notion come from?

With in inward shake of her head at that romantic flight of fancy, she descended the steep, well-worn way, aided by the brilliant light of the full moon. The cove was a sheltered inlet, cradled by rocky outcroppings on either side, with a small sandy beach and clear deep water. It was a perfect place to swim, and she had learned there at her father’s insistence. It might be unfashionable for young ladies to have that particular skill, but early on he had come to the resigned conclusion that in her case it was prudent. She adored the water, and almost from the time she could walk, had escaped—rather like at this moment—to play on the beach and in the waves.

To her dismay, even as she felt the cool sand beneath her bare feet and ran out onto the beach, the singing stopped. In fact, she realized as she looked around, maybe she was dreaming. Or sleepwalking, for the cove appeared to be utterly deserted. Besides, it was a ludicrous assumption that she could hear in her bedroom the sound of a person’s voice from this far away.

A night bird’s call, she wondered, inexplicably disappointed, feeling the light breeze off the glimmering water tug at her loose hair. Or even just the sighing wind whistling through the rocks. It was possible, of course, no, more than that, much more probable than some musical human voice in the middle of the night.

Well, that was that.

Feeling a little foolish, Cynthia turned to climb back up to the cliff and the way to the house, when she spied something white sitting a on small jumble of rock near the edge of the water. She picked her way toward it, realizing that it was a man’s linen shirt. A pair of boots sat there also, and some dark breeches, the clothing folded into a neat pile.

It was natural to turn and look at the water. She saw nothing break the shimmering surface of the sea and wondered uneasily if the owner of the garments next to her had somehow drowned in such a short amount of time. Surely he would have made some sort of cry if he was in distress? Walking to the very edge, so close she had to lift her skirts as the water lapped around her bare ankles, Cynthia scanned the entire cove for any sign of movement.

A small gasp escaped her lips as suddenly a figure rose from the water not but a few yards away. Waves lapped around his waist, and the moonlit glow reflected from the water gleamed off a muscular torso. More than a little startled at such an abrupt materialization of her quarry, she stumbled a little as she stepped backwards and retreated out of the water.

“Hello,” she stammered stupidly.

Though she had expected to see someone, presumably he had not. Still, he didn’t seem to be terribly astonished to find some strange young woman in a nightdress on the beach in the middle of the night.

“Hello,” he said in obvious amusement, for there was a brief gleam of white teeth and she heard a small laugh.

As usual, she had not thoroughly thought things through. Unfortunately, she had an adventurous nature that her father often pointed out sternly, landed her in trouble now and again. A flush grew in her cheeks as she wondered what on earth to say next to this naked stranger. “I heard singing.”

That sounds more stupid than hello. Oh, Lord.

“Did you?” His voice was smooth, cultured, with a singular unique richness recognizable even in just those two words.

In that instant, she knew with full certainty in had been him. Her lips parted in surprise as she stared. Dark hair, sleek and long, streamed over his wide shoulders, and his features were aristocratic: straight nose, high elegant cheekbones, and a beautifully modeled mouth that curved upward just slightly in a mesmerizing smile.

The man bowed, which was a little ridiculous under the circumstances and considering he was half in the ocean, but it somehow managed to be a very courtly gesture. “I am Prince Armand, Lady Cynthia, and I believe I am trespassing on your father’s property. However, when it was explained to me that this was the best place to swim for miles, I could not resist. Please forgive me.”

“You know who I am?” Not certain she had ever been so flustered, Cynthia was hard pressed to be equally polite, all social graces apparently have flown away when he appeared like some mythical creature.

“Slender, with beautiful auburn hair, and exceptionally fair of face. My hostess, Lady Fry, described you very well.”

Well, that explained part of it anyway. Lord and Lady Fry resided on the next estate, only a few miles away, and yes, now that she thought of it, there had been some sort of local furor over the fact that an exalted foreign prince would be their guest.

Finally finding some of shred of dignity, she murmured, “Thank you. I believe I heard you were coming, Your Highness. My father and Lord Fry are very good friends. And you need not apologize, for I believe I am the one intruding on your swim.”

“No, indeed you are not. In fact, the water is marvelous. Would you care to join me?”

If she had thought she was flustered before, that invitation left her utterly speechless. Did he honestly think she would agree? When she did find her voice, she mumbled, “I couldn’t.”

“Ah, a pity, but maybe another time. In that case I hope you do not mind if I get dressed?” Without waiting for a reply, he waded out of the water in two long strides.

Entirely nude and apparently indifferent to it.

Though she was certainly stricken with horrified embarrassment, Cynthia found that it didn’t override her overt fascination. Rivulets of seawater streamed over the bulge of impressive muscles, his belly was flat and tight, and his legs long and sinewy. He was very tall, she realized, and so beautifully male she suddenly could not breathe. Most certainly she had seen sketches of Greek statues, but that was closest she had ever come to being able to imagine a naked man.

Beyond her will, she let her gaze drop to below his waist. Riveted, she felt her lips part in surprise as she stared.

Good God. Are all men so large?

He stopped in front of her, staring down with an enigmatic expression on his face. With one long finger he caught her chin and tipped it up, so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. They were unusually clear, almost crystalline—she couldn’t tell exactly the color in the moonlight—and thickly framed by dark wet lashes. He said softly, “I have traveled a long way to find you.”

* * * *

Her skin felt so infinitely smooth, so warm and alive under the very slight pressure of his fingers. Armand could see the wild beat of her pulse in the column of her slim throat, and the almost panicked reaction to his words in her lovely face. A halo of gleaming reddish brown hair framed her delicate features in alluring disarray, the contrast of the vibrant color and her pale skin striking. The drape of white fabric of what was obviously a sleeping gown did little to conceal her graceful feminine figure.

Lady Cynthia said breathlessly, “I…I beg your pardon?”

Arousal tightened his lower body and she had been shocked enough for one evening. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her. On the contrary, he had come halfway across the world to seduce her. Dropping his hand, he quickly reached for his breeches and slid them on over his growing erection, pleased she had come to him so easily. He gave her a quixotic smile, having no intention of explaining anything quite yet. “I insist upon escorting you home safely.”

It was almost amusing how relieved she looked over the fact he had covered himself, but he was worldly and knew she had been more intrigued than affronted. In fact, she had seemed delightfully curious. Lady Cynthia shook her head. “I am quite capable of going alone. There is no need.”

“My honor requires I insist.” He put on his shirt and fastened it, tucking it into his breeches. His boots he would carry for he refused to fill them with the sand from his wet feet. He offered his arm and lifted a brow ironically. “Unless you have changed your mind about a swim?”

“No,” she said hastily and placed her hand tentatively in the crook of his arm. There were two splotches of high color on her cheekbones.

“Very well.” He found her chagrin amusing, and even more than that, her innocent but instinctive interest in his body very promising.

The path was a little steep and he led the way with care, relishing the supple sway of her full breasts under the thin gown, and the hesitant and curious glances she sent him under her long lashes. She finally asked him formally, “Will you be staying in Cornwall long, Your Highness?”

“That depends,” he answered truthfully. On you, he added silently. How long will it take until you fall into my arms and my bed?

“Oh.”

His evasive reply seemed to rob her of the desire to stir him into further polite conversation, and he sensed she was belatedly realizing that their unorthodox meeting was completely lacking in propriety. From what he’d heard about the very lovely Lady Cynthia—and he had subtly questioned his hostess at every opportunity—she was somewhat impetuous in nature. Certainly running around in the middle of the night in one’s nightdress qualified, but then again, he had beckoned her deliberately.

There was a gate in an ornate fence, unlatched and still ajar. Beyond it he could see the looming outline of the big house, all the windows dark at this very late—or very early—hour. His companion slipped her hand from his arm and murmured, “Thank you very much for the escort, I—”

“I must see you inside the house, my lady. I will not be satisfied until I am sure you are safe.” He said it firmly, looking into her eyes. They were dark and wide and her cheeks still held a telltale flush.

She shook her head, her long hair moving sensuously across her slender shoulders. “I do not know the customs of your country, Your Highness, but here if we were seen together as we are…it...” she faltered slightly, “…it would be quite a scandal. I am not sure what prompted me to be so impulsive as to leave the house dressed like this.”

Dryly he said, “In my country also, Lady Cynthia, a barely dressed woman and a man together in the middle of the night usually has a singular easily guessed implication. In our case however, we are so far completely innocent.”

Her mouth was soft and enticingly pink, and her lips parted as she registered exactly what he said. “So far?” she repeated faintly.

Armand reached down and took her hand, gently entwining their fingers. “Come, there is no one about. Let me see you to the house. Tomorrow, I believe, we will be properly introduced, for there is to be a grand dinner party given by Lady Fry. I vow to do my utmost as a gentleman to pretend we have never met and protect your reputation. How is that?”

The warmth of her hand, so dainty and small compared to his, felt delightful. It was easy to see she did not know exactly how to handle his insistence, and when he led her through the gate, she went without any further protest. When they reached the house, she pointed upward and said in a resigned and embarrassed tone, “You will think this most unladylike, but I climbed out my window. I cannot imagine what kind of impression I have made on you.”

“I think it is a very resourceful way to come and go as long as you do not break your pretty neck on the return trip.” Armand fought a smile.

His beautiful companion tugged her hand free and he felt a small sense of loss. “It’s quite easy, actually.”

She certainly made it look like it was easy, climbing up the ivy-covered wall with athletic grace. It was his pleasure to watch also, for that activity showed him enticing glimpses of her shapely ankles and calves, and molded the thin material of her gown to her delectable bottom.

Inside his breeches, his cock stiffened, desire swirling through him and centering between his legs. In just the short time it took for her to shimmy over the windowsill in a flurry of lustrous hair and pale cloth, he had a full throbbing erection. For a long moment, he stood there, staring upward, rewarded when she leaned out slightly. He’d felt the unanswered question and wondered if she could contain asking it.

In fact, he wanted her to ask it.

“Was it you singing?” It was a light whisper, barely audible.

Inwardly he smiled and said just as quietly, “Yes.”

Chapter 2

The formal parlor tended to get stuffy in late summer, and Cynthia was grateful that her mother had instead chosen the back terrace for afternoon tea. This way she could at least gaze out over the glittering ocean if the conversation bored her, which happened often enough. She really did not have the slightest use for tidbits about the latest fashions. Oh yes, she liked pretty gowns, but having in-depth discussions over them seemed superficial and a waste of intellect.

Though, she was agonizing over what to wear later. The prince had been correct. They were indeed invited to the neighboring estate for a celebration dinner given in his honor, and while normally she would have been only mildly enthusiastic, she felt an unusual delicious sense of anticipation.

“…from some place in the Aegean, I believe. It’s an island principality and Vivian Fry says she can’t even begin to pronounce the name.”

Cynthia glanced up, suddenly interested. “Are we discussing their royal visitor?”

Her older sister, Camille, made a small face. She sat primly in a small chair at the glass-topped table, sipping from a porcelain cup. “I take it you were daydreaming again, Cyn. Yes, we were talking about Prince Armand. Word is he is almost too handsome, and a bit mysterious to add to his allure. One of their maids told one of ours that he has the most unusual eyes, the color hard to describe.”

He certainly did have unusual eyes. Cynthia well remembered the startling intensity of his clear gaze.

She remembered other things, too. That very male, hard-sculpted body, the beauty of his deep voice, the clasp of his long-fingered hand, which had made her entire body tingle in a very odd way she had never felt before. Cynthia reached for a small lemon tart in what she hoped was an entirely casual movement. “How can a man be too handsome?”

Camille smiled, her pretty face lighting as she dimpled. “I am not sure I know the answer to that, but I am interested to find out.”

Their mother lifted a brow, picking up the teapot from the trolley. “From what I have heard, Lord Fry met the Prince while on the Continent on business. I think they have the same banker, or something such as that. When his Highness expressed that he’d always had an interest in seeing Cornwall, Lord Fry immediately invited him. As I understand it, he is well-educated, beautifully polite, and besides his reputed good looks, immensely rich.”

“He sounds like something from a mythic fable then,” Cynthia interjected, feeling entirely unsettled. If her mother and sister knew that she had seen him completely naked, they would both faint dead away. If her mother knew she had actually stared at his cock instead of immediately looking away, she would stay in a permanent swoon. Yes, Cynthia had been embarrassed, but it hadn’t overridden her curiosity. “No man is all those things.”

Predictably, her mother ignored that somewhat petulant statement, stirring sugar into her cup with a thoughtful expression on her face. “He does have some peculiarities though. He always travels by water, even if it means days more, and has a self-confessed loathing for certain foods. I only know this because Vivian mentioned it. She said he imparted it in the most charming, diffident way possible, but it is a little odd just the same to not eat beefsteak.”

“He’s foreign,” Camille said with a small languid wave of one pale hand, as if it explained everything and excused the prince his idiosyncrasies.

“Maybe there are no cows in the middle of Aegean,” Cynthia remarked dryly.

Her mother looked comically horrified. “Do you think that’s true?”

“No.” She elevated her brows in patent exasperation. “Remember Crete and the Minoans? The legend of the Minotaur? He was half-bull, half man, so there must be…oh never mind,” she broke off, both her sister and mother giving her the same blank look. “I was merely joking anyway.”

“Hmm,” Camille said as she took a third pastry. “Crete? Legends? You read too much, Cyn. Whatever are you talking about?”

Maybe it was true, for certainly she had some fairly odd notions when it came to the beautiful prince. For one thing, how had he lured her to the cove and why? That evocative song, in a language she had never heard, and his dramatic appearance straight out of the sea, both certainly reverberated with fictional elements. “Nothing,” she muttered.

“Well, I for one, am looking forward to this evening,” her mother said succinctly. “Vivian gives wonderful parties anyway and the prince will be a nice addition. He sounds fascinating.”

Fascinating.

Uneasily, Cynthia wondered if that wasn’t just too apt a word.

* * * *

The crowded room made him ill at ease and he hoped it didn’t show. Armand was used to open vistas and clear crystal seas, not overdressed aristocrats and simpering young misses hanging all over him.

Where is she?

His gaze went to the doorway, spotted the gleam of lustrous reddish brown hair, and honed in as his eyes narrowed.

Oh, yes.

Absolutely stunning in pale rose silk, her creamy shoulders set off by the low cut bodice of her gown, Lady Cynthia’s radiant beauty was unmistakable. Her shining hair was caught in a chignon at her nape, the simple style suiting her vibrant coloring. The older couple she arrived with must be her parents; her father distinguished, her mother still holding a fading loveliness. Another young woman, maybe her sister from the resemblance, chatted in her ear, but he had eyes only for the woman he had waited for all evening.

She was ravishing.

She was his.

“Excuse me,” he said politely to the small crowd around him, probably interrupting the conversation for they all looked vaguely surprised. With a small bow, he left, making his way toward the arriving guests. Lady Fry, seeing him shoulder his way through the throng, gave a small enthusiastic wave. “Oh, Prince, please meet the earl, his wife, and lovely daughters.”

Now that would be his pleasure.

Cynthia was introduced last, and when he took her proffered hand and bent over it, he noticed she blushed vividly. Apparently, the impetuous circumstances of their midnight meeting were also fresh in her mind. That was perfect, he thought as his mouth grazed her delicate fingers, for he wanted her to remember every moment. Luckily, the harried Lady Fry immediately had to hurry off to greet another arrival, and they were left relatively alone, even though they were surrounded by a sea of guests.

When Armand straightened, he gave her a lazy, teasing smile. “I am enchanted, my lady.”

“To meet me, or just in general?” Auburn brows arched slightly over dark blue eyes, and she asked the question with a tart edge to her voice, though she said it quietly so only he would hear.

Armand could not help it, he laughed out loud. Not only was she strikingly beautiful, but also intelligent. He had wondered how she would feel once she realized that she had been lured out her window by his song on purpose. “Perhaps both,” he responded, still retaining his hold on her hand though he should have released it. “But most definitely I am delighted to be formally introduced to such a charming and lovely lady.”

She stared up at him, her cheeks still pink. “I think any credit for being charming is all yours, Prince.”

“If you find me such, that pleases me.”

“I am not sure what I find you.” There was a slight stammer in her words. “But for now, perhaps you should let go of my hand. People will notice.”

He didn’t oblige her, but kept his fingers clasped around hers. “I have very little regard for what others think, Lady Cynthia. For instance, if they come to the conclusion this evening that I find you irresistibly attractive in the way a man wants a woman, it will not bother me.”

Her eyes widened at that frank declaration.

Armand went on in the same almost conversational tone, kept to a level so that only she could hear the words. “As I told you last night, I have traveled a long way to find you.”

“You…you don’t even know me.”

“Ah, but there you are wrong, my lady. I know you in every single way but physically and that will come soon.”

“That isn’t possible. We just met last night.” She looked slightly shocked he would say such a thing, but he also caught a glimmer of excitement in the depths of her lovely eyes.

“It is possible,” he informed her gently. “Our world is a complex place and none of us understand it completely. Take last evening, for instance. I know you have thought about it and now wonder exactly who and what I am.”

Her fingers trembled suddenly in his grasp.

“I could not wait to see you, for I am impatient by nature,” he admitted. “A personal failing, I’m afraid, as you will discover. Come, let me get you a glass of champagne. You look a bit flushed and I accept total blame. Allow me to rectify it.”

* * * *

The evening had a surreal feel to it, as if she were having a peculiar dream. Cynthia took a small bite of fish and automatically chewed and swallowed. Directly across from her, Prince Armand listened very politely to Lady Chadwick’s tedious description of her grandchildren, the candlelight playing over his perfect features.

Yes, a man could be unnaturally handsome, she thought as she sipped her wine, covertly studying him. In formal evening clothes, he was more than striking; he was unforgettable. Glossy dark hair fell to his shoulders unconstrained, the thick ebony strands emphasizing the stark masculine beauty of his features. He had absolutely superb bone structure, downy arched dark brows, and those glorious eyes which were the clear hue of a turquoise sea. The color was pure, so vivid, that she had never seen anything like it before, and she was most certainly not the only captivated female at the table. In fact, the prince seemed to have a similar impact on every woman in the room.

I know you in every single way but physically and that will come soon.

For about the hundredth time that evening, Cynthia could feel heat rising into her neck and face as she recalled that very frank declaration. It had been said with complete assurance that shook her a little. She was not unaware that men found her beautiful, and was very much looking forward to her debut in society, when she was expected to choose a husband. However, no one had prepared her for someone like the man across the table.

Instinctively, she knew she would not be able to resist him if he meant it. It wasn’t a guess. It was a certainty, and it both frightened and exhilarated her.

Next to her, Mr. Dodds, the local vicar, waited politely for Lady Chadwick’s list of progeny to run out, and asked in a lull, “So tell us, Your Highness, about your country. I am a bit of a historian and most curious about it.”

Prince Armand looked a little relieved at the change in subject and he toyed with his wine glass, his long fingers graceful and as masculine as the rest of him. “It is small,” he began with a deprecating smile on his well-shaped mouth, “but very ancient. The island is populated by the descendants of my ancestors. We live mostly from the bounty of the sea. She is our goddess, and we worship her.”

“Interesting,” the vicar murmured. “In a true Pagan sense?”

The prince laughed lightly, the melodic sound ringing out. “Well, no. There is no formal religion, actually. Our proximity to Greece, and also to the influences of places such as Constantinople, has left us with an abundance of mixed beliefs. Ships from all over the world pass by, and for time out of mind, it has been that way.”

“You have no accent,” Cynthia couldn’t resist interjecting, for it was something she had noticed, “and speak perfect English.”

“No accent?” He looked at her with that crystal gaze she found so disconcerting. “Perhaps that is because I studied both in Paris and at Cambridge in my youth.”

Lady Chadwick gave him a playful look. “In your youth? You are still young as far as I can tell.”

“I am over thirty,” he murmured, still looking at Cynthia. “The men of my kind wait until they are fully mature to take a wife.”

It wasn’t fair how with just a look, she could react so drastically. Her breasts actually tightened, and between her legs she felt warm. It was both embarrassing and pleasurable.

“Are you married?” she asked bluntly, both because she wanted to know and she was rattled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother’s dismayed reaction at the way she blurted out such a personal question.

“Not yet,” he answered softly, not looking offended in the least.

The subtle meaning in his voice and the way he looked at her did not go unnoticed. Cynthia saw her father shoot a glance at the prince and then look at her. She had an immediate interest in her wine glass, taking an unladylike gulp.

Thankfully, Mr. Dodds was still intent on finding out more about the history of the mysterious faraway island. “You come from an area of our world steeped in mythology, Your Highness. Do you have any particular legends you would care to share? I have been working here and there on a book about the subject. Old stories, fairy tales, and folklore fascinate me. Luckily, Cornwall has a wealth of such myths, but I want to include tales from all over the world.”

The Prince smiled. “We have a unique one, actually, or at least I believe it to be so. Perhaps it came about because of where we live, perhaps because of our love of the sea, but it is a sort of variation of the legend of the lost city that sank so many centuries ago.”

“Atlantis?” Cynthia asked, riveted by that compelling smile.

“Yes, indeed.” Armand inclined his dark head. “Only in our version, though the city has still sunk beneath the water, it is occupied.”

By this time, anyone at the table who could hear him speak was interested. Camille asked, “How is that possible?”

“The notion isn’t new,” he responded mildly. “For centuries—no even more than that—there have been tales of men and women who are both human and creatures of the sea. Mermaids have ever been in the dreams of sailors, have they not?”

Cynthia had seen the fanciful illustrations in books. “An underwater kingdom?”

“So the story goes.” He quoted softly, “Who would be A merman bold, Sitting alone, Singing alone, Under the sea, With a crown of gold, On a throne.”

Singing.

Vicar Dodds looked intrigued. “It sounds like poetry.”

“It is.” Armand picked up his glass and took a small drink.

“I confess I don’t know it. Who wrote it?”

“It hasn’t been written yet.”

Nonplussed, the vicar seemed stymied. Cynthia felt again that almost magical thrill, the sense of touching something unknown and wonderful. “Then how can you recite it?” she asked carefully.

Armand didn’t answer but instead merely looked at her, his unique azure gaze amused and challenging.

It was the vicar who finally broke through again. “Prince, I simply must ask you more questions. Would you mind if we met one day during your stay? I need the details of the legend for my book, and to hear it from you is above any research I could possibly do from books. Atlantis! Mermaids! This is wonderful. How long will you be here?”

The night before, Cynthia had asked the same question, she realized with a small quiver. He answered it the same way, not looking at the man who asked it, but at her.

“That depends,” he said meaningfully and finished his wine.

Chapter 3

The time had come. It was not just that he felt it either, because despite the late hour, there was still a light in Lady Cynthia’s window.

She waited for him and Armand felt a rush of exhilaration coupled with the more intense and complex emotion that was desire. For the past week, he had courted her in all the traditional ways, calling each afternoon, politely conversing with her mother and sister, taking short strolls in the garden, and not so much as stealing a chaste kiss for they were dutifully chaperoned the entire time.

It was killing him, actually.

He simply could not wait any longer and it both intrigued and amused him to sense in her a similar impatience under that ladylike exterior. Cynthia might have been raised as any well-bred young lady, but under the polish of genteel manners and drawing room decorum, a real woman existed, sexually curious and eager to discover the world of passion. One of the things he admired most about her was the adventurous streak that she simply could not keep hidden, and he counted on it to bring her to him.

She also loved the sea. This had been a somewhat shy confession during one of their walks along the shore, and he’d seen the way she gazed out over the dancing waves, as if entranced by the majestic beauty of the scene. The ocean breeze had been brisk that day, and she lifted her face to it as if breathing the salty essence into her soul.

At that moment, he had been tempted to tell her he loved her but worried she wasn’t ready to hear it yet. Besides, they had not been alone.

Tonight would be a much better time.

He stood in the garden path, gazing upward, and very softly began to sing in a language long forgotten by ordinary men. In a moment a shadow hovered by the window, and then the drapes were pulled back and he could see the gleam of her rich hair and the pale oval of her face. She listened, motionless, staring downward, until he finished and the last note faded away. For a moment, they simply gazed at each other and then Armand lifted a hand, beckoning her.

Without hesitation, she slipped over the sill and began to climb down. He held his breath until she was close enough he could grasp her slender waist and set her down safely on the ground. Luminous dark blue eyes framed by lush lashes looked up at him in open question, and he smiled and began to lead her toward the gate without saying a word.

It was not very far but it seemed a lifetime before they reached the cove. Armand could feel the beating of his heart in time with the roll of the waves against the rocks, and he already swelled in arousal, his cock filling his breeches uncomfortably. When Cynthia saw the blanket spread out on the sand, she faltered for a moment, for certainly it was a clear symbol of his intentions.

He turned, touching her smooth cheek, running his fingertips along her jaw and down the graceful curve of her throat. “Lie with me.”

That persuasive whisper made her tremble slightly, but she said in a hushed voice, “I am ashamed to admit it, but I want to, though I certainly shouldn’t.” Her soft mouth twisted a little, and she added wryly, “But I have a feeling, Your Highness, you know that quite well. Obviously, you have high hopes of a successful seduction.”

He did, but he had the advantage of both experience and foreknowledge. “There is a powerful attraction between us, I cannot deny that. It brought me a very long distance.”

“How can that be?” The night sky was speckled with diamond stars and her fragile features were cast in glimmering light. “You have said it before, and I admit I don’t understand. There is quite a lot about you I don’t understand for that matter. Tell me this, do I have any hope of resisting you?”

Armand looked back at her steadily, noting how the pulse beat fast in her throat. She was more than ethereally lovely with her lustrous hair tumbled to her waist and her voluptuous body gilded by the thin illumination.

“No,” he answered truthfully, reaching out to catch an errant auburn curl teased by the wind. He rubbed it between his fingers, feeling the fine silken texture. “But why would you wish to resist me? Do not worry about what is about to happen. Making love is a matter of trust, Cynthia, especially for a female. I vow that you will experience pleasure like you never have imagined when I am inside you.” He smiled wickedly and released the lock of hair. “It is a gift of my kind that we are all superior lovers.”

“That is a rather arrogant statement.” Her voice sounded a little shaky.

“On the contrary, it is simple truth.”

“Your kind.” she repeated slowly. “I have heard you say it before and always attributed it to the different speech patterns of someone for whom English is not the first language. Most would say, my people, or my countrymen, but you do not.”

She was just as bright as she was beautiful and he had anticipated having to explain himself, but he was just so aroused that his preference would be that they talk afterwards. His hands spanned her slim waist, feeling the womanly curve on her hips, and he pulled her into his arms with a small groan. The ache between his legs was incessant and desire rolled over him like the rippling tide. He needed to mate with her now.

“My kind,” he whispered against her smooth temple, inhaling her fragrance. “That is what I said, and it is what I meant.”

Cynthia rested willingly against him, her arms curling around his neck. As he lowered his head, she asked tremulously, “Armand…tell me, are you human?”

“Not entirely,” he admitted, and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

* * * *

His lips were as she had imagined, warm, firm, and the glide of his tongue in her mouth felt both deliciously forbidden and wonderful. It was beguiling, the taste and pleasure of his kiss almost overwhelming.

Lashes drifting lower, Cynthia sank into his embrace as if he hadn’t just admitted such a shocking thing, for truthfully, she had come to that same conclusion herself in the past week. It wasn’t that she thought he was precisely inhuman—that sounded awful and he was anything but awful—but there was an almost magical aura about the mysterious prince that was both unmistakable and gave the impression of another world.

Was she under a spell? she wondered when he broke the kiss and tugged free the ribbon on the bodice of her nightdress, smoothing the material over her shoulders so it pooled at her feet and left her nude. The way he stared at her bared breasts made her blush, but it also made her feel warm between her legs and a small thrill of excitement curled in her stomach.

One graceful long-fingered hand cupped her flesh, lifting it slightly. His thumb glided over the nipple, making it harden. “Beautiful,” he said in a voice that sounded so thick she knew he was as affected as she was by the caress. “So firm, yet satin smooth, look how it fills my hand. Lie down,” he commanded, indicating the blanket. “While I undress I want to look at you. My dreams did not do you justice.”

She did as she was bid, reclining on her back and feeling the soft embrace of the sand through the wool. Armand undressed in swift efficient movements, taking off his shirt to expose his well-muscled chest and taut abdomen, then his boots, and lastly his breeches. She had seen him naked that first night, but this was different entirely. His cock rose stiffly against the flat plane of his stomach, blatantly announcing his full sexual arousal. She had thought it looked big before but never imagined such a transformation. A little alarmed by the sheer size of his erection, Cynthia tried to move away when he joined her, but laughing, he caught her and moved fluidly so he was on top of her body. Those unusual beautiful eyes held a tender, heavy light that took her breath away. “Do not ever be afraid of me. There is no need. I love you and would never cause you harm or pain.”

Why was she so drawn to him? Cynthia reached up and touched his cheek, very aware of the hot, hard length of his swollen penis pressed against her stomach and her furiously beating heart. “Why do I believe you? Why am I here now?”

“Because it is meant to be.”

Perhaps that simple explanation was true, for certainly it felt wondrous when he kissed her again, and the way his hands began to touch and caress her breasts made her sigh in unconcealed enjoyment as any resistance melted away. Midnight black hair, as soft as ebony satin, spilled across her skin as he trailed his warm mouth lower in a seductive slide that made her cry out when he took one nipple in his mouth, the sensation beyond anything she had ever experienced. Pleasure coursed in waves, small laps of exquisite enjoyment that made her feel almost dazed. He suckled gently, the adhesion of his mouth sparking a divine burst of blissful joy.

Everywhere he touched, her skin tingled, and Cynthia could not stifle the low moans coming from her throat. His hand drifted across her thigh, touching, exploring, and finding the wetness between her legs with deft skill.

“So hot, so womanly, so perfumed with your scent,” he whispered in her ear as he began to stroke her sex, parting her labia. “You are ready for our joining, and so am I. My heart races and I am so hard it is almost painful. Can you feel how much I want you, my beautiful lady? I have waited almost two decades for this, most of my life. You have waited for me too, even if you did not realize it. Now, spread your legs and welcome me.”

Mindless now, her quivering body needing something she didn’t quite understand, Cynthia complied without shame, opening her thighs wide as he positioned himself between them, her hands imploring on his hard shoulders. “Armand,” she breathed out in a gasp.

“An ordinary man would cause you pain your first time,” he said, staring into her eyes intently. “I will not. Just enjoy, my love, for I am surely going to give as well as take. Pleasure for pleasure, and just the beginning for us.”

My love.

He was right too, for as she felt the penetration of his rigid cock stretch her vaginal passage, there was no pain, but instead an almost excruciatingly wonderful sense of possession and physical joy. The loss of her virginity was nothing but a small twinge as he pushed past the barrier and the flooding bliss that held her entire body prisoner seemed to escalate into something completely beyond her control the instant he was embedded inside her. Cynthia arched wildly and gave a low scream of both surprise and ecstasy.

She clung to him as the force of her orgasm made the world go blank, the feeling so intensely marvelous that she couldn’t breathe. Armand did nothing but simply hold her, lightly kissing her mouth in soft, tender touches of his lips until her body relaxed slightly.

“That was fast, my passionate lady. You like having me inside you,” he said teasingly, his breath warm against her ear as he began to move slowly, sliding backwards until she feared he would slip free, and thrusting back inside so deep she could feel the swollen tip of his hard shaft against her womb.

Of course she liked it, for she never dreamed that sexual pleasure would be so wonderful. “Yes,” she admitted, running her hands over the bunched muscles of his back, feeling his power and strength. “You feel…” she searched for the words that would suffice, intoxicated with the rapture of what he was doing to her body. Finally, she gasped out, “Like something from beyond my imagination. Nothing this wonderful can be real, Armand.”

In the starlight, his clear eyes looked almost fierce. “It is real, and I am real.” He spoke tersely, thrusting faster, holding her gaze. “I am your lover, Cynthia, not an imaginary creature from some fable, and you are mine.”

The possessive note in his voice somehow escalated her blissful pleasure, and almost as if he willed it, she felt that peaking burst rise again, to crash over her like a towering wave. He rode this one with her, and as she felt the ripples of her inner muscles tighten around his glorious invasion, he went entirely still. As he climaxed, he whispered something in a language she did not recognize, the words beautiful as they echoed out, and she felt the liquid warm rush of his seed.

Slowly the stars came back into focus, and she could once again hear the low wash of the waves on the beach. Armand held her close, stroking her skin with one long-fingered hand, his face serene and a small smile hovering on his lips. He had shifted slightly to the side, but they were still nestled together intimately, their damp bodies entwined. “If you have questions for me,” he said after a long silence in which they regained their breath after such a glorious moment, “I will do my best to answer them now. Before, I was a bit distracted.” A low laugh punctuated the last statement. “And as I intend to become distracted again very soon, now seems the right time.”

Cynthia wasn’t even sure where to start. She rested her cheek against one hard shoulder and waited a moment before she murmured, “Do you really come from a small kingdom on an island in a distant sea?”

“Yes, indeed. I have never lied to you. There are not many of us any longer, but what there are live there together. It is a beautiful place, and you will love it.”

She lifted up a little so she could see his expression. “You plan to take me there?”

“Of course. You are my mate.” His smile glimmered. “Would I travel all this way to seduce you and then leave without you?”

His mate?

He answered the unspoken question in her eyes, apparently understanding. “Centuries ago my ancestors began to realize we were in danger as men became more bold and sailed to the corners of the world. There has always been a certain mutual fascination between us and humans, but we were different, and there are just so many more of you. Our females were prized by sailors, and the males hunted, we diminished and were in danger of ceasing to exist altogether.”

As always, the magnetic power of his voice held her spellbound. Cynthia stared at him in disbelief, but then again, the entire evening—her life actually, since his arrival—had held that same surreal impression. “Are you saying you are—”

“Part human, part sea creature, yes.” Propped on one elbow, nude and glorious in his sleek male beauty, he lifted a brow ironically. “But obviously since I look like a normal human male in almost every way, we have succeeded in breeding out one part of us almost entirely. It began when a merman prince fell in love with a beautiful human, rescuing her from a violent shipwreck. As he held her in his arms, he was entranced and determined to keep her. He carried her to our island and married her. It has become a tradition that every one of us take a human bride.” For a moment, his expression became distant. “Eventually one side of us will disappear altogether, but for now, we still hold some of the traits of our kind. For instance, I cannot be away from the water or I would sicken and die. I can stay underwater for hours, and spend a great deal of time in the sea, which feels like home to me. Some foods also, that you find entirely palatable, I cannot stomach, such as the flesh of animals that eat grass, for it is simply not part of my natural diet, which comes from the ocean.”

Surely he wasn’t serious, but on the other hand, she had always felt something different in him, right from the very moment she heard his lilting song. She said faintly, “It is an unbelievable tale.”

“Yet I sense you don’t doubt it.”

“I think maybe I am just losing my mind.” She shook her head, not certain how to feel.

“Think of how easily I seduced you,” he said in a low voice that made a shiver of longing run up her spine. “And how much you enjoyed it, my lady. My seed is inside you, and even now perhaps we have created a child to share.”

That her life had suddenly turned upside down was not in doubt. Armand kissed her throat, and she shivered against him at that light, persuasive caress. Just the touch of his lips against her skin made all doubts over what he had just told her fade into oblivion, banished by potent desire.

“Love me again,” she whispered, threading her fingers into his soft hair.

Crystalline eyes gleamed like the stars as he rose above her. “I plan on it, my beautiful lady.”

* * * *

The sea whispered her eternal lullaby, the tune familiar and as old as time. Armand rose from the water and walked slowly across the sandy beach, feeling more content than ever before in his life. On the blanket, Cynthia slept peacefully on her side, her nude body both breathtaking and inviting. Her beautiful breasts, so full, and tipped with delicious pink nipples, lifted in a gentle rhythm as she breathed. Tangled auburn curls spilled over her ivory shoulders and down the graceful curve of her back, and the entrancing triangle at the juncture of her slim thighs promised paradise. It would be dawn soon, and he needed to see her safely home, but for a moment, he just stood there and took in her matchless beauty.

Soon, he promised himself, he would mate with her in the tradition of the ancient rite, in the water. Once he entered her in the sea, she was bound to him forever. There was no legal marriage ceremony for his kind but sexual intercourse between a male and female, usually done in the gentle embrace of waist-deep surf, more meaningful than any words or formal procedure could be in his opinion. It was a vow of the most primal kind, and if this evening was any indication, it would be infinitely pleasurable.

His English lady was as passionate as she was beautiful, innocent in the ways of love, but also eager and easily aroused. Standing there and gazing down at her slumbering form, he smiled, remembering how readily she had climaxed the moment he had penetrated her. Human females were susceptible sexually; he’d been taught that from the first time it had been made clear to him that it was his duty to take one as his bride. However, he felt a communion with the lovely Cynthia that wasn’t just on the physical level, and for that he was grateful and happy. Like any healthy male, he craved sex, but sharing his life meant more than coupling with his mate for enjoyment and breeding. Luckily, the woman chosen for him was also charming and intelligent.

As he stood there, she murmured something in her sleep, shifting a little with a small sigh. Entranced, he heard her say his name.

Was she dreaming of him even now? That was only fair, considering he had been dreaming of her since the day she was born. It had come to him the first time then, a vision of the woman she would become, and he had waited what felt like a lifetime for her to mature to the point he could claim her.

He dreamed of how it would feel to move between those pale thighs, to thrust his rigid cock fully inside her wet, tight heat, to find that pinnacle of the ultimate pleasure and spill his semen against her womb.

As if they were in tune even as she slept, she rolled to her back and her thighs parted sweetly.

She would take him again, he knew that, and so did his unruly body.

It was almost dawn, he argued with his rising erection, and he shouldn’t be greedy. She had already given him exquisite satisfaction several times.

Her lashes, lush and dark, fluttered and lifted. Dark blue eyes stared up at him and for a moment a flash of confusion crossed her face. Then she whispered, “Armand.”

He sank down next to her, he could no more help it than breathing air when he was out of the water. “Yes, my love.”

“Uhm…I was dreaming.”

“I know.” He lightly touched her cheek. “Tell me what it was about.”

“I was in the water,” she murmured, still looking adorably sleepy and tousled. “It was lovely and warm, and the sun was shining.” She added huskily, “You were there.”

She’d seen the ancient rite.

An indescribable sensation filled his chest. “What were we doing?”

“Making love.” Even in the near dawn gloom, he could see her cheeks flush. “And people were cheering. What an odd notion.”

“Not odd at all,” he argued gently, but did not explain. Instead he eased over her so that he rested between her legs. His erection prodded her vaginal entrance with slight pressure as he kissed her. “Come for me quickly,” he whispered against her lips, “for we don’t have much time to get you home without the scandal you so fear.”

“Is that a royal command?” Cynthia asked in an amused but breathless tone, and she ran her hands over his back.

“Absolutely.” He pushed fully inside and closed his eyes in sheer pleasure.

“Oh, God.” She arched back and took his whole length. “Then, I promise to obey.”

She did, he found to his ultimate satisfaction, very swiftly. So did he.

In that moment of perfect sexual fulfillment he saw crystal blue waters in a hollow hung ocean, moss beds under the sea, and felt a joy he’d never known existed.

Chapter 4

Taking a deep breath, Cynthia knocked lightly on her father’s study door and heard him bid her to enter. “You wanted to see me about…” she started to ask, but then trailed off when she saw Armand rise politely to his feet at her entrance.

God help her, she couldn’t help but blush.

And so she should. She had done the most outrageous things with the man.

Well, no, not man.

Merman. That sounded ridiculous, but as she took in his handsome, perfect features and superb, athletic build, she felt once again the tremor of disbelief the average human could be so beautiful. Even dressed immaculately in a tailored jacket, fitted dark breeches, and polished Hessians, he did not look at all like a proper Englishman. The night before could have been a dream it was so wonderful, but she was sure it hadn’t been, and in her heart, that wasn’t what she wanted anyway. If her life had dissolved into some sort of bizarre fairy tale, at least it was one of the most pleasurable sort imaginable.

It was true. She had fallen in love with a magical prince.

Her father had also stood, and he motioned her to a chair. His face was a little stiff, and he looked decidedly disconcerted. “Hello, my dear. There is something apparently we need to discuss.”

Oh Lord, did he know about her indiscretion? Well, she should face it. It was several indiscretions. Wonderful, erotic indiscretions, but nonetheless she knew her proper father would not understand.

Taking a seat, she said faintly, “Oh?”

“The Prince,” he murmured as he also sat, “has petitioned me for your hand in marriage. I pointed out, of course, that you have known each other little more than a week, but he was adamant we should ask you how you would feel about such an arrangement. I decided to bow to his confidence.”

She gazed into Armand’s clear azure eyes and felt her mouth curve into a soft smile. “The Prince has a great deal of self-assurance, but then again, he is unusual in every way.”

Armand inclined his dark head, his mouth twitching in amusement. “One needs a bit of daring to court a spirited woman.”

“One needs a bit of daring to contemplate marrying a foreign prince and going halfway around the world,” she countered quietly, though they both knew her answer would be yes.

“I understand that.” His expression softened. “It is a matter of trust.”

That was exactly what he had said to her about their lovemaking. “But some things are meant to be,” Cynthia murmured, remembering rapturous pleasure and tenderness.

“Exactly.”

Her father cleared his throat. “My enthusiasm over having my daughter live so far away is limited, Your Highness. I am sure you understand that.”

“Yes, Lord Hughes, I do understand.” Armand cocked a brow. “When my own children leave, I am certain I will feel the loss very keenly, but it happens, doesn’t it? Eventually, they mature and find their destiny.”

Was this her destiny? A life more fable than reality? Cynthia wasn’t sure, but she was certain of one thing, if she were to never see Armand again, she would be utterly desolate and lost. She was also sure that never would she find such pleasure, such fulfillment, in the arms of any other man.

Well, any man, she acknowledged with an inner grimace. Good heavens, the whole idea was so hard to get used to, but he didn’t exactly fit into that neat category.

Mermaids? Beautiful half-women who swam in the sea? Gloriously good-looking half-men who were also part of another world and traveled great distances to claim human brides?

Preposterous.

Or was it?

“Yes, I want to marry him.” The words came out almost involuntarily because truthfully, she had made her decision the night before when she had lain beneath him on the beach. Or maybe it had never even been up to her, but if that was the case, she wasn’t arguing with the outcome.

Her father looked resigned. He muttered, “I had the oddest feeling you would say that after this past week of watching the way the two of you look at each other. I suppose, then, I should offer my congratulations to you both. Denying my blessing seems like a futile cause.”

“Thank you.” Armand smiled, but looked only at her.

Warmth shot through her body, centering between her thighs. She’d seen that provocative look before.

“Is the legend true?” she asked, forgetting her father for a moment and looking at her lover. “Is the city under the sea inhabited?”

“I will show it to you and you can judge the legend for yourself.”

Cynthia felt flushed at once, but he had that predictable effect on her. “I cannot wait to see it.”

Her prince lifted his brows, and his voice was full of meaning. “We will swim in the clear water together…and everyone will cheer, knowing I have brought home my bride.”

Her dream. Soft gentle waves, and his body joining with hers, pleasure flooding her senses as they became one…

“Cheer?” she repeated with a tremor in her voice.

“It is our custom,” he explained, lounging in his chair with cultured royal nonchalance, looking relaxed and impossibly handsome.

“I suppose my new life will take some getting used to,” she managed to say in a reasonable tone, the idea of sexual consummation in front of a crowd more than a little daunting.

“I will do my very best to make sure every moment is memorable.” He rose and came over to take her hand. The moment his lips brushed her knuckles, she felt a small thrill of physical pleasure.

Mythical sunken cities, sunlit islands…and Armand. Yes, she was sure it would be memorable.

THE MERMAN

A Siren Adult Fairy Tale

THE END

WWW.EMMAWILDES.COM

AUTHOR’S BIO

Emma Wildes is the author of numerous erotic novels and short stories. Reading has always been her passion and she finds that vibrant characters with strong personalities have a tendency to draw her straight into the story. History is her passion, and it reflects in her choice of wickedly dashing heroes and willful heroines. She lives in rural Indiana and is working on her next romance. Please stop by and visit at www.emmawildes.com. She would love to hear from you.

Books by Emma Wildes

SAVAGE SHORES [The Improper Ladies 1]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical / Multiple Partners] Jenna Hayward is grateful to defy death. Finding herself on a deserted island with three of her other shipmates, she discovers having so many attractive men around can be intriguing… EPPIE Winner for 2007 Best Historical Erotic Romance.

ARABIAN PEARL [Brothers of the Absinthe Club 1]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical] The guest of a foreign prince, Lord Grayson finds an English jewel dropped in his lap when he is gifted a beautiful bedmate. Celia Davenport discovers that perhaps sexual servitude isn't the prison she imagined. A plaything of an Infidel lord, she has a chance of escape if only she pleases him... "edgy and erotic, enough heat to warm you on the coldest of nights. 5 Kisses"—Two Lips Reviews, "very poignant, remarkably breathtaking. 5 Angels"—Fallen Angel Reviews, "WOW!! I was simply enthralled; a beautiful, graphic and erotic love story. 5 Hearts"—The Romance Studio, "Superbly written! This book has become one of my favorites. 5 Roses" —My Book Cravings.

THE BLOODSTONE AFFAIR [Brothers of the Absinthe Club 2]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical Paranormal] An infamous ghost hunter travels to the most haunted house in England to rescue the woman of his dreams and encounters an evil secret that refuses to die… "Masterfully written, the plot is chillingly delicious with some surprise elements and lots of twists and turns. 5 Hearts" —The Romance Studio, "I was intrigued and fascinated ...eagerly awaiting each new addition to this thrilling series. 5 Blue Ribbons" —Romance Junkies.

DANGEROUS BEAUTIES [Print Collection]
Mortal Melody : Bedding a Traitor
by Emma Wildes

[Historical] A war hero and an aristocratic man with a dark gift. Both are jaded, wary, and think they aren't susceptible to the dangerous beauties that captivate them… "5 Kisses/Recommended Read" —Two Lips Reviews, "5 Stars" —Just Erotic Romance Reviews, "5 Flags" —Euro-Reviews, "5 Angels" —Fallen Angel Reviews.

BEDDING A TRAITOR [Dangerous Beauties 2]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical / Light BDSM] A beautiful widow and a war hero with a tarnished reputation find the ultimate passion in a desperate game of deceit…  "This is not your average historical ...a fresh and exciting read. 5 Stars/ Orgasmic" —Just Erotic Romance Reviews, "numerous plot twists that kept me turning the pages as quickly as I could. 5 Kisses" —Two Lips Reviews, "4.5 Blue Ribbons" —Romance Junkies

MORTAL MELODY  [Dangerous Beauties 1]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical/ Paranormal] Can a man who denies his magical destiny find incredible rapture in the arms of a beautiful, but dangerous, young woman? "5 Kisses. Recommended Read" —Two Lips Reviews, "5 Stars" —Just Erotic Romance Reviews. "5 Angels" —Fallen Angel Reviews. "5 Flags" —Euro-Reviews, "4 Stars. Nominee 2006 Reviewers' Choice Award" —Ecataromance

Print Book

THE SINFUL GENTLEMEN [Print Collection]
The Manuscript : Midnight Without a Moon
by Emma Wildes

[Historical] A reclusive, wounded scientist. A seasoned rakehell. Both have no faith in love, but that just might change. "5 Stars" —Euro Reviews, "5 Blue Ribbons" —Romance Junkies, "5 Stars" —Just Erotic Romance Reviews, "5 Angels!" —Fallen Angel Reviews, "4 Stars" —Romantic Times BOOKreviews.

MIDNIGHT WITHOUT A MOON [The Sinful Gentlemen 2]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical] An aristocratic rogue and a determined young woman find danger and heated romance in the darkness of midnight without a moon. "delicious ...carnally passionate and delightfully descriptive. 5 Stars/Hot" —Just Erotic Romance Reviews, "a charming page-turner. 4.5 Kisses" —Two Lips Reviews, "4 Stars" —Romantic Times BOOKreviews.

THE MANUSCRIPT [The Sinful Gentlemen 1]
by Emma Wildes

[Historical] A desperate ingénue and a reclusive scientist find love matters more than scandal and some more than intriguing ideas for everlasting passion in The Manuscript.  "5 Stars/ Excellent" —Euro Reviews, "5 Blue Ribbons" —Romance Junkies, "5 Stars/ Hot" —Just Erotic Romance Reviews, "5 Angels!" —Fallen Angel Reviews, "4 Stars" —Romantic Times BOOKreviews.

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com