Lord of Legends

Lord of Legends
Susan Krinard

Forbidden Desire…Powerful and seductive, shapeshifter Arion could possess any female he desired – until now. Cursed to live as a man, Arion’s only hope for freedom is the enchanting Lady Mariah Donnington’s innocence. Abandoned on her wedding night, frightened of her hidden, otherworldly heritage, Mariah is instinctively drawn to the mysterious stranger she discovers imprisoned on her husband’s estate.But as the secret of Arion’s magical identity unfolds, their friendship burns into a passion that cannot, must not, be consummated. For to do so would destroy them both…

Praise for the novels ofNew York Timesbestselling author Susan Krinard

“Animal lovers as well as romance readers and those who enjoy stories about mystical creatures and what happens when their world collides with ours will all find Krinard’s book impossible to put down.”

—Booklist on Lord of the Beasts

“A poignant tale of redemption.”

—Booklist on To Tame a Wolf

“A master of atmosphere and description.”

—Library Journal

“Susan Krinard was born to write romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author Amanda Quick

“Magical, mystical, and moving … fans will be delighted.”

—Booklist on The Forest Lord

“A darkly magical story of love, betrayal, and redemption …

Krinard is a bestselling, highly regarded writer who is deservedly carving out a niche in the romance arena.”

—Library Journal on The Forest Lord

“With riveting dialogue and passionate characters, Ms Krinard exemplifies her exceptional knack for creating an extraordinary story of love, strength, courage and compassion.”

—RT Book Reviews on Secret of the Wolf

Also available from Susan Krinard

COME THE NIGHT

DARK OF THE MOON

CHASING MIDNIGHT

LORD OF THE BEASTS

LORD OF SIN

Lord of Legends

Susan Krinard

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Now I will believe

That there are unicorns …

—William Shakespeare,

The Tempest

PROLOGUE

New York City, 1883

“MAMA? Mama!”

Portia Marron looked at Mariah the same way she had for the past week, her eyes slightly glazed and unfocused, as if she could no longer see the real world.

But the world as Mariah knew it hadn’t been real to her mother for many years. Portia saw one much more beautiful, inhabited by wondrous creatures who sometimes crossed the barriers in her mind to whisper in her ear.

“Mama,” Mariah said again, squeezing the frail hand. “Please come back.”

Briefly, the faded blue eyes cleared. “Is that my little girl?” Portia asked in the croak of a voice seldom used. “Now, now. Don’t you fret none.”

Mariah looked away. Mama had relapsed so far that she was living in the distant past, when Papa had still been working on the railroad with his own hands and muscle, and Mama had been a rancher’s daughter.

Papa had tried to put that past far behind him. He’d done his best to buy his way into New York society, but his efforts had proved largely futile. Wealthy as he was, he was still one of the nouveau riche, without an ancient family name to open the gates.

Not that Mama had cared. In fact, it had always seemed that the harder Papa pushed his family to enter a society that rejected them, the deeper Mama retreated into her realms of fantasy.

Mariah patted the withered flesh stretched over the hills of blue veins. “Yes, Mama,” she said. “Everything will be all right.”

The brief moment of coherence left Mama’s eyes. “Do you hear them?” she asked dreamily. “They’re louder now. They’re calling me.”

It took all Mariah’s control not to squeeze too tight before she released Mama’s hand. “Not yet, Mama. They don’t want you yet.”

“But they sing so beautifully. Can’t you hear?” Mrs. Marron rolled her head on the down pillow. “So sweet. You must hear them, my darling. They will be coming for you, too.”

Mariah shuddered, knowing her mother wouldn’t see. “Perhaps someday, Mama.”

“Someday,” Portia sighed, releasing her breath too slowly. Then she turned her head toward Mariah, and a strange ferocity took hold of her gaunt face.

“Don’t let those doctors take me back,” she said. “Promise me, Merry. Promise me you won’t let them take me.”

Sickness surged in Mariah’s throat. “No, Mama. I won’t.”

“Promise!”