Myriah Fire by Claudy Conn Read Free Book Online

body, the source of her dream’s acute burning. Dreaming … she had to be dreaming—how else would she be holding a rock-hard, muscular body in her arms?
    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.
    Her blue-green eyes glittered angrily as she sought words; a scream seeded itself in her throat and surely would have been emitted had not the stranger had the foresight to put his powerful hand over her parting lips.
    This quite naturally did little to inspire trust, and yet his friendly grin seemed to suggest he meant no harm. “Hush there, sweetings … I don’t mean to take any more than you are willing to give,” said the handsome man above her.
    Outrage surged through Myriah, and she managed to work the skin between his thumb and forefinger into her dainty mouth, whereupon she latched her teeth onto her target and bit down hard. This produced the required result: he jumped away. With an oath, he was out of the bed and standing in all his glory—and that glory was still at full mast.
    Myriah could not help but stare. It was the first time she had ever actually seen a man’s cock. She and her friends had often discussed and giggled about sex and the naked stone statues they had secretly glanced at, but this … this, she found momentarily diverting.
    His lordship was not diverted or self-conscious about his state of undress. As he sucked his wounded finger, he stared hard at her, noting that she seemed transfixed on his privates.
    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.”
    “Keep me? Keep me!” Myriah couldn’t understand what was happening and who this could possibly be.
    “Aye then, my brother no doubt brought you home with him, but since he has set you up in my bed, I suppose he means to share.”
    “Your brother … share …?” Myriah put up her chin. “For your information, I brought your brother home, and he was in a very bad way—wounded, in fact—and my groom, your Fletcher, and I have been tending to him!”
    All at once, the muscular and tall gentleman frowned darkly. He crossed the room and retrieved a long black brocade dressing gown, threw it on, and demanded of her, “Now … explain yourself!”
    “Explain myself?”
    “My brother, you say …” he returned impatiently.
    Myriah could not help but note the size and breadth of the man and the fact that he was extraordinarily gorgeous, with his dark blonde hair and glittering gray eyes.
    “Yes, we found him by the side of the road. He had been shot … we brought him here …”
    He was out of the room like a charging bull, taking long, hard strides. Myriah shot out of bed and dug in her portmanteau for the sky-blue velvet robe she had packed. She quickly slid into it and tied it at her small waist before barefoot she padded after him.
    * * *
    Lord Wimborne stood for a moment over his brother’s still form. William looked