Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

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 i

s 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.