The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  Giles broke the kiss, rolled her over, and then went to work on the buttons of her gown. As each patch of flesh became exposed, Giles dug his fingers deep into Lilly’s muscles, alternating with his lips until she was breathless with want. He touched her skin lavishly and made her crave him in ways she did not believe possible.

  As Lilly melted into the mattress, she prayed that this time Giles would not stop. That he would not be proper anymore. She liked the wicked man as he was. She knew exactly what she was getting herself into. A lifetime of pleasure at his hands.

  She helped raise herself, and her gown and chemise were stripped from her in a moment. His fingers pushed under her stockings and he massaged her out of them with long, languid strokes, pausing to rub the arch of her foot and out to her toes. Lips pressed to her foot and she flexed in response.

  This was what she wanted from him. This drugging pleasure bound by trust, warmth, and friendship.

  From there, he kissed up the back of her leg, kissing every inch of her skin until he reached the source of her most recent pain.

  “You’ll have a bruise,” he told her before pressing his lips gently to the tender spot. She shuddered as pleasure washed over her.

  Reaching behind her back, she struggled to touch any part of him she could find. He pressed his lips into the crease of her thigh, and her hips arched upwards to meet him.

  He kissed her back, buried his lips into her neck, and suckled hard. Cloth scraped against her bottom and she wriggled into Giles. He settled beside her and pulled the pins from her hair, smoothing out the strands along her back and tickling her skin with the ends.

  Lilly shuddered and turned over.

  Giles watched Lilly move onto him in breathless fascination. She was every bit as aroused as he. Dear God, the shudder that went through her when he had kissed her bottom defied description. As she attacked his clothing, he let himself be lulled by her movements, attempting to regain some control. As her lips settled on his neck, he started counting the number of plain women he had danced with.

  When his shirt was gone, he had moved on to the number of grim looking men in parliament. That certainly cooled him. But when she had his trousers at his knees and took him in her hand, he lost all the benefits of those disturbing images. He rolled her over to her back and removed her hand from his cock. If she kept that up, he would lose control completely.

  The bounce of her breasts distracted him, and he took a hard nipple into his mouth and drew on it, shaping her breasts with his hands. He switched to her other breast and ran his tongue around the nipple as she pressed her chest upwards. He took in the hard peak with less finesse than he liked. Her painful grip on his hair assured him she welcomed his rougher play.

  He raised himself to kiss her again, watching her as they kissed, seeing her grey eyes glowing in the candlelight. He kissed down the length of her body, settled between her bent knees and ran his hand over her thighs, upward into her blonde curls. He liked that she did not flinch from his close scrutiny, because he found himself fascinated by her pale curls and the pink lips beneath.

  As his fingertips teased and parted her lower lips, they became slick with her moisture and his pulse raced, hungry for her around him. He lowered his mouth and tasted her, careful to keep his cock from touching anything. He did not want to come on the sheets tonight. He would break every rule he had for Lilly.

  A low moan from her told him that she would be ready when the time came. Giles removed his mouth and pushed a finger inside her, pressing until his knuckles touched her springy curls and could go no further. Lilly’s back arched and she thrashed upon the bed as he worked inside her, feeling the soft passage tighten around his finger.

  When he thought her ready, he added another, pushing in slowly, preparing her as much as he could. He wanted as little pain for her as possible.

  Lilly gasped at the thicker intrusion and, as her juices coated his fingers, he sped up his movements. The sounds her body made were unbearable and so erotic his legs started to quake.

  When her hips were rising to meet his thrusts, he removed his fingers and rose to his knees to look down upon her. Her eyes were wild and just on the edge of the ultimate pleasure. She was breathing in rough pants, breasts jiggling deliciously in the candlelight. He wanted to slow things down, and tried to let her calm a bit before he went further, fearful that his entry was going to hurt if he rushed.

  But when her hands gripped his hips, he had no choice but to obey her silent command. He fitted himself to her entrance, keeping his body weight from crushing her and pressed in all the way, unable to stop until he was fully embedded within her.

  Lilly shuddered violently and screamed out a release so great he thought her father would have heard her at the other end of the house.

  Giles held perfectly still, counting sheep, mucky stables, and slimy green frogs, as he resisted the urge to pump within her immediately. He could not believe she’d come that fast. The heat of her, the thrilling scream, and her clutching fingers had pushed his own arousal up a notch further than he needed right now.

  He waited for her thighs to relax their hold on his hips, her hands to give up some of his flesh and slide down his sides before he moved. He watched her face, flushed and sweat-stained, and felt extraordinarily proud. This woman’s passion matched his. He’d never leave her alone.

  Lilly opened her eyes slowly, and smiled such a welcome that he could not help but thrust. Dear God, she destroyed his control. Her eyes misted with tears, and he kissed her, fully in control of their lovemaking.

  Lilly glanced down to where they joined and her eyes widened. He pushed in to her limit and heard a little pant of air leave her lungs as his possession stirred her senses.

  He loved that she liked to watch. She had been watching him for some time now, but it was better to have a part of him slide inside her rather than inside someone else. She was his now and forever, just as she’d claimed him too.

  A primal need rose to possess her completely.

  Giles stopped watching where they joined and watched her face instead. As he thrust and withdrew, he checked for signs of pain, but he could sense no discomfort from their joining or pain from her position. He would stop if her back hurt. He would make himself do it, but she gave him no indication.

  Thrilling to every stroke, hearing every sound, drowning in the thick scent of arousal, Giles knew he was home. Chills raced down his sweat-damp back as he held his body above Lilly, and he found a rhythm he could maintain until he lost himself to the pleasure.

  When Lilly’s hips rose to meet his thrusts, Giles pressed harder to give her more pleasure. Her breaths changed to gasps, and he grinned because she was with him again. Her legs wrapped high around his back, her feet brushed his bottom and he could not hold back.

  With excruciating care, he lowered them both to the mattress, resting the weight of his lower body on hers and thrust at a faster pace. With no hesitation or modesty, Lilly urged him on while he told her just how much he loved being buried deep inside her, straining to give them both pleasure.

  Lilly’s hands gripped his back and sides and her nails bit deep, telling him without words that she was close. He told he loved her, over and over until all that remained was the desperate reach for bliss, for the explosion that shattered the night as they cried out in unison.

  Giles lost his ability to see. His release was more powerful than any in his history. He was buried deep, still twitching when he raised his head from the tangled mass of Lilly’s hair and attempted to see her face.

  Lilly’s eyes were closed, and a small smile played around her mouth, so he assumed she had come with him. He could honestly not remember. Her passage clamped tight around him and he was possibly crushing her, but he did not want to withdraw.

  The sensation of coming inside her amazed him, and he was thankful she was the first one to have him all, the first one to kiss him, too. He gripped her hips and rolled them, keeping her close, laying her over him while remaining
buried inside.

  As he landed on his back, he slid her hair out of the way when it would have smothered him and pressed her head to his chest. He found his way under the counterpane, covered their sweat-damp bodies from the threat of getting chilled, and wrapped his arms tight around her.

  ~ * ~

  Lilly stirred and flexed under the rough blanket, a discontented grumble emerging from her lips. Giles twirled a pale lock around his finger and guessed Lilly preferred the softness of sheets to the rougher blanket covering them.

  Although his mind raced with plans for his future with Lilly, Giles closed his eyes again, hoping to fall back asleep. It wasn’t that he was tired but he sought distraction before his body demanded to make love to Lilly again.

  When she moved, he cracked his lids open enough to see what she was doing. She shifted again, drawing her knees together, curling onto her side. It had become a habit to keep watch over his little ghost, and now he could do it for the rest of his lifetime.

  He’d taken his release inside her.

  The thought excited him. Lilly would be his bride, his wife, the mother of his child. The thought made his heart pound with pride. But he would still worry for her health. He feared he always would.

  Pretending to still be sleeping, Giles turned toward her. She looked happy in her sleep. His angel, his ghost.

  Lilly’s eyes fluttered open, and after a moment, a wicked grin twisted her lips. She brushed her finger over his bottom lip and he twitched away, pretending to be disturbed. Lilly did it twice more, and he captured her fingertip with his lips, then sucked it deep into his mouth. Her eyes widened, her lips parted to drag in a deep breath.

  “I take it you want to wake me,” Giles murmured when he released her finger. “Wretched woman. A man about to marry needs his sleep. He needs to keep up his strength to meet the demands of a greedy wife.”

  Lilly’s smile touched that part of him long dormant. His heart, his soul, the very essence of his existence depended on that smile. Giles tucked her against his chest, her back to his front, keeping her clever little fingers trapped beneath his. With his lips, he worshiped her neck, rubbed his thickening cock into her soft bottom, making her moan in delight and him press harder still.

  He captured her breast and would have continued onwards to further pleasures if his eyes were not drawn to the opening door, and the very unwelcome face peering inside his room. Winter. The door crashed open to reveal a houseful of servants, along with Lord Carrington, all smiling insanely as he attempted to make love to his future wife.

  Lilly squeaked and attempted to hide. Giles flipped the covers up over her head. “Can we be of assistance?”

  Carrington covered his face.

  “No escape at all now, daughter. You will be married within the month, or sooner if a special license can be obtained.” Lord Winter bellowed loud enough to make all the servants flinch at his fate, but not Giles. He’d had always known he could only marry a woman he adored.

  He peeked under the covers and met Lilly’s cheeky smile. He loved Lilly. She was the center of his world. “Trust me. There is nothing I want more.”

  CHARITY

  The Distinguished Rogues

  Book Three

  Heather Boyd

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Charity

  Copyright © 2011 by Heather Boyd

  Edited by Mindy Moore

  Cover Design by Heather Boyd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  For more information visit:

  www.heather-boyd.com

  All of London is agog for the wedding of Oscar Ryall, the charming Lord Carrington, to this season's diamond of the marriage mart. Yet Oscar himself is less than happy with the circumstances that brought about his match to the coldest woman he's ever met. A woman he'd schemed to capture from the start, but who trapped him by scandal instead. Although bred to do his duty and wed as arranged, he's plagued by doubts about marrying the girl. What he wants is his former lover back in his life to turn his mind from the demon plaguing his dreams. Yet Agatha Birkenstock refuses to resume their relationship and the nightmares increase every day.

  Agatha Birkenstock was devastated by Oscar's betrothal and his offer of carte blanche broke her heart. Granddaughter to a wealthy cit, Agatha could never be happy as Oscar's mistress and vows to protect her heart. But when they're forced to work together to save her beloved orphanage from closure, she's hard pressed to keep a proper distance. Although few in society seem to notice, Agatha glimpses the suffering in his eyes and against all sense, risks her heart again. Yet even as she vows to uncover his secrets, Agatha's world is ripped apart and the scandal that follows damages more than just her tenuous place in society. It threatens to shred Oscar's family apart.

  Dedication

  To coffee, Tim Tams and good friends.

  Thank you for sustaining me during the writing of this book.

  CHARITY

  Chapter One

  Autumn, 1813

  London

  “THE CHILD IS asleep now, Miss Birkenstock. You should put her into bed.”

  The nurse’s curt voice dragged Agatha from her rebellious thoughts of running away to a simpler world where people kept their promises.

  Wearily, she opened her eyes. “Yes, I believe you are right, Mrs. Bates.”

  She looked upon tiny Betty Smith lying peacefully in her arms at long last, and her heart fluttered. No matter how tightly the babe clutched Agatha’s fingertip, or how much she longed to stay, she couldn’t remain at the Grafton Street Orphanage overnight to oversee the child’s care. The trustees would never stand for it. Nor would her grandfather.

  Slowly, Agatha rose to her feet. The babe in her arms startled at the movement and Agatha pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Hush, sweetheart, all is well.”

  Betty grumbled and, instead of giving the sleeping infant up to the nurse’s outstretched arms, Agatha carried the child to bed, tucked her snug into the linens, and then placed her favorite rag doll beside her. The nurse clucked her tongue in disapproval at the toy.

  Agatha fingered the little girl’s pale curls and smiled that Betty rested easily. “Please send word if her night should be disturbed again, Mrs. Bates. I will be here early tomorrow morning to visit with her.”

  “As you wish, miss.”

  No matter how harmless the words, the old nurse’s tone hinted she’d rather Agatha be gone from the orphanage, never to interfere with her charges again. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Not a chance of it.

  After smoothing her hand over the child’s pale curls one last time, Agatha straightened to look about the chamber. Six narrow beds hugged the imperfect walls of the chilly room, each containing a peeking set of eyes belonging to a child in need of warmth and kindness. She’d love to drag each of them from the covers, smother them with affection, and stay until they were all sound asleep. If she could take them from this depressing place and home with her tonight, she would be perfectly happy.

  But her grandfather and the board of trustees wouldn’t allow that either.

  Agatha paced the length of the room, doing her best to ignore the cheerless severity of the chamber. The children’s bodies under the frayed covers didn’t so much as twitch. A fear of Nurse Bates’ displeasure kept them still as statues, she was sure. Such strict adherence to rules saddened her. These children needed the freedom to run about on cool, green grass, to smile and be silly instead of being expected to appear perpetually grateful for the bed space they occupied.

  She would promise them everything would be well, if she didn’t harbor a kernel of doubt that she could live up to her own promises. The sting of disappointment was the hardest emotion
to conquer. She would promise them no more than she could vouchsafe: her time, her affection, and a game of cricket in the tiny, rear walled garden if the weather allowed.

  Even though the children showed no sign that they were awake, she made a point of checking each one to be sure they would be warm enough for the coming night. As Agatha reached the end of the room where the drafts were at their worst, the nurse cleared her throat. Nurse Bates always appeared anxious for her to leave, but Agatha refused to hurry. She checked the remaining children and left the room when she was ready.

  Her maid waited in the front hall, hands clenched over Agatha’s cloak. Nell rushed forward. “It be a frightful night outside, Miss Birkenstock. The fog is thicker than pea soup.”

  Since Nell was such a fanciful creature, often prone to exaggerate the mildest of events into the worst possible calamity, Agatha disregarded her words. She donned her cloak, secured her reticule about her wrist, and then turned for the door. “It’s just a bit of fog, Nell. It hardly signifies. Come along.”

  The butler opened the door for them and then stepped back. Pea soup, indeed. Agatha couldn’t see the street clearly from the top step. Her confidence slipping a little, she hurried down the stairs and turned right into the mist. The orphanage door closed with a heavy thud.

  Rushed, light footsteps behind her confirmed that Nell was but one pace away. “People get lost in the London fog, miss,” Nell whispered.

  “That shall not happen to us. I know my way home perfectly well.”

  Nevertheless, Agatha clutched her cloak tightly about her and kept her eyes fixed on her path. She followed the high front fences along Grafton Street, ignoring the disturbing way nearby houses appeared out of the thick fog only to disappear from view a moment later. It was eerie and quiet and, with Nell crowding her left shoulder, Agatha’s heart raced in a foolish rhythm.