Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  “Angelo!” Alexei snapped suddenly, and Orelan watched a tall darkly handsome European man walk to Alexei’s side. Angelo’s eyelashes were long and dark, his eyes brown, his skin a rich olive, and his build was slender. He wore evening clothes, a black jacket, pants, and a crisp linen shirt. His cravat was starched and folded into an intricate design. Orelan watched in surprise as Alexei took Angelo’s hand, lifting it upward to kiss his knuckles. Was this . . .

  “My current lover,” Alexei sneered.

  Wyndham’s body tensed beneath her body as his fingers drew into a fist on top of the tabletop. He was as surprised as she was then.

  “I enjoy women as much,” Alexei drawled. “And Lilith or Rosalyn, my current female companions are about here somewhere tonight. But I thought, Lord Hawkenge, that this might be much more interesting for both of us.”

  Orelan turned her gaze away, looking up at the side of Wyndham’s face. His strong features were etched in masculine starkness, his eyes vivid purple against the golden hue of his skin as he nodded his head slightly. Agreement. The game would begin, yet Wyndham had seen, as she had seen, that Angelo was as much an unwilling captive as she was to the games these powerful men would play with their lives. Angelo was young. Too young. Perhaps twenty and his haunted dark eyes spoke of reluctance and acute embarrassment. Orelan wondered what hold Alexei had over the young man that he could be forced to do this thing or perhaps more. Be forced to be Alexei’s lover.

  “Monte,” Alexei drawled. “I know how much you enjoy the game, Lord Hawkenge,” Alexei sneered. Then, Alexei raised his voice purposefully for the gathering crowd around them. “And the bets shall be lovely body parts. Tits, ass . . . a cock . . . perhaps,” He laughed, looking at Orelan now. “Or a cunt?”

  The crowd around them murmured with excitement and Orelan gripped her hands together in her lap, gazing at Alexei with all the defiance she could muster, as her heartbeat fluttered wildly. This madness would happen and there was nothing she could do to stop it, and her worse fear was that she understood this was only the beginning.

  Chapter Seven

  Orelan did not understand the game of cards they played, but she knew when Wyndham lost the first round, by the sudden flexing of tension in his muscular body. “I will not lose another,” he hissed beneath his breath, and she wondered crazily if her Wyndham meant that he purposely lost the hand so that...

  “Her breasts!” Alexei sneered. “And we shall wager on the exact color of her nipples!” he shouted to the crowd of people gathered around them. “I will wager one hundred rubles that they are light pink and wickedly erect.”

  The crowd roared in laughter and the Arab, who Alexei had nearly sold her to, shouted. “Five hundred rubles that they are red and fat like cherries!”

  Orelan did not know where to look, every inch of her skin was flinching with the demand to flee, and then Wyndham’s hand was beneath her chin. Frantically, she grasped his wrist trying to halt its motion, and yet he only cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to his as her hands fell away. His irises were so dark purple they were nearly black as she searched them anxiously with her gaze. She could see determination and strength in his gaze, strength so powerful she clung to it. Then, she saw the barest hint of regret and it was her savior, because it calmed her as nothing else could have. She felt Wyndham’s hands moving to her bodice and she clung to his gaze as even the rancorous bidding faded from her hearing.

  Wyndham’s hands were hot on the iciness of her bare shoulders as they slid downward, pulling the gown with them. So slowly the fragile material moved, inching its way lower to the cusps of her nipples . . . hanging on the turgid pinnacles, and then falling loosely to her waist. Cool air flashed across her shivering flesh and goose bumps rose, light and pink, in the circle of her areolas. Her lips parted, yet no sound came forth, then suddenly Wyndham’s wide hand was clasping her throat. The torridness of his palm and fingers searing the flinching column of her throat. He used this leverage to turn her on his lap, until her spine was compressed to his chest. The angle of supplication thrust her naked and quelling breasts further outward. Her fingers clenched in the silk of her skirts as the rushing sound of the crowd around them came back into her hearing. Particularly, Alexei’s shout, “I have won! They are pink and wickedly aroused!”

  Acute humiliation and embarrassment flushed her body to a fevered pitch as she turned her temple to press along Wyndham’s hard jaw with her eyes closed against the men and women gazing at her exposed nudity.

  “You are more beautiful than any other woman I have ever seen,” Wyndham whispered fiercely into her ear. “These men drool over the youth and perfection of your breasts. These women drip with envy. You should be proud, spitfire. As proud and as bold, as I know you can be. Come drink champagne with me, little love, and flaunt your beauty. Flaunt it in Alexei’s face, and let him know how brave and unconcerned you are.”

  Wyndham held his breath as he realized fighting in the war and maiming his leg had been easier than allowing Alexei Tropov to gaze at his woman’s naked breasts. Yet, he would be damned if he let this vanquish them, because he knew that worse was yet to come, and together he and Orelan would be stronger than this or anything else that Alexei would do to them. If only Orelan would...

  Suddenly, her body moved, rising from his hand clasped to her throat as she stiffened her spine straight, while sitting in his lap. Grasping his hands firmly, she lifted his palms down over her breasts, making a cup of both of their hands as she laughed, and then she exclaimed, “My golden Lord Hawkenge loves my breasts and he promises me champagne to drink and rubies to adorn them!”

  The crowd happily, although drunk, cheered their approval to her claims. They lewdly roared their acclaim when she removed his hands completely from the pale shivering globes, letting his hands drop to her waist. Then, she reached with a flourish for a fluted glass of champagne, arching her back to brazenly display her naked breasts to the crowd as she toasted them. Alexei gazed at her with sly amusement in his cobalt irises and Wyndham saw her winking at Alexei imprudently. Yet, even as she did this, she hissed beneath her breath. “My golden puma, you had better not lose to him again or you will feel your spitfire’s claws down your back.”

  The tension was edgy, yet Wyndham could not help the clipped laugh that escaped him as he reached forward and knocked the table indicating the deal for the next round would begin. When he reached forward, he caught Orelan’s waist with his forearm, steadying her on his lap, as he murmured, “Be careful what you threaten, my beautiful Orelan. I already have your marks on my back, and I look forward to more.”

  “You are so arrogant,” she hissed, taking another sip of champagne, then smiling to the crowd.

  As uncomfortable as Wyndham was with Orelan being forced to sit bare-breasted on his lap beneath Alexei’s imprudent gaze, he was equally, or more, disturbed by the steady disrobing of Angelo. Just as Alexei knew he would be. The fact that Angelo was clearly an embarrassed and unwilling partner in the game he and Alexei played. This disturbed him profoundly. Yet, he let none of this show behind his clenched jaw and hooded eyelids. The effect of masking his emotions from Alexei was satisfying, because Alexei was not receiving the reaction from him that he desired and ultimately played the entire game for. Yet, Angelo suffered. Angelo was completely denuded now with his limp dick exposed and only his calf-high stockings left to forfeit, while Alexei groped his tight youthful ass for the hedonistic pleasure of the crowd.

  Orelan, still perched gracefully on his lap, was becoming more tense and edgy with each increasing momentum of Angelo’s humiliation. When she reached for her fourth glass of champagne, he stopped her hand with his hand, instead bringing her knuckles to his lips. It was time to finish the distasteful game they played and ultimately he could not allow Angelo’s future fate to disturb him.

  “Last hand,” he uttered, as he forcefully willed his hand not to reach downward to rub his cramping leg. It was time to pay for the continued ill use of his injure
d limb today. He would not be walking gracefully away from the table this evening. Alexei would finally realize his weakness, and one could only guess as to how Alexei would exploit it. He silently cursed his damnable masculine pride for not bringing his cane along this evening, because he realized suddenly, that the only way he could manage to leave the ballroom at all now, was with Orelan’s help.

  As the last cards were dealt, Wyndham watched disgustedly as Alexei moved his hand from fondling Angelo’s tanned buttocks to lewdly grabbing the young man’s flaccid cock. The entire time, Alexei’s icy blue irises never left Wyndham’s. Even as Alexei began to stroke Angelo’s limp member, while Angelo, appearing shamefully humiliated, dropped his head. Wyndham wanted to shout at Angelo not to play the submissive enslaved captive. Alexei could only use and abuse him that way, whereas Alexei was stymied and receiving no satisfaction from Orelan, masquerading so boldly and unconcerned.

  Yet, what grated on him the most, and sent an irritating tremor through his tall frame, was the unspeakable message Alexei was really sending to him. Alexei stroked Angelo’s cock for his eyes and his eyes alone. What price would he pay, Wyndham wondered? What price would he eventually be forced to pay for Orelan’s release? He had baited the serpent in his den once before, and he had not won his freedom completely unscathed.

  “My hand!” Alexei quipped snidely and suddenly . . . and directly to Wyndham beneath the loudness of the crowd. Wyndham’s tall body jerked. He was shocked! Somehow he had lost his concentration, and... “My hand!” Alexei shouted to the crowd around them.

  At the same instant Orelan cried, “No!” With agileness belaying his astonishment, Wyndham grabbed the end of her gilded leash, halting her attempt to flee. It left her straining against the collar as she clutched the front of her loose bodice barely over her breasts. Her lovely delicate features completely belayed the wildness in her golden irises.

  “Cunt’s and asses!” Alexei shouted.

  Orelan cried out, still straining against the collar and leash as Wyndham tried to catch her wild gaze. “I cannot do this! I will not,” she careened rapidly and frantically in Spanish, and then her tumultuous gaze collided with his.

  God, help him, she was everything in a woman he could ever desire, Wyndham thought, as he uttered. “I cannot stand from this chair alone, Orelan. My injured leg will not hold my weight upright.”

  Her entire body trembled visibly with her gaze locked onto his. Fear, embarrassment, and then anger flashed across her gold irises. And then finally, the golden starlit chips of determination lighted her gaze. He was humbled, and more in love than he could ever have imagined in that moment. Then, Orelan lifted her stubborn diminutive chin, letting her gown tumble downward in a pool about her feet. The crowd shouted lewd rabid voices of approval as she kicked her gown to the side defiantly. She was completely nude, except for her small green velvet slippers.

  “Bravo!” Alexei laughed snidely, then he lowered his voice for Wyndham and Orelan’s ears. “The rest of the markers if she fucks Angelo right there on the table!”

  “No!” Wyndham exclaimed harshly. He was expended beyond his limit as he began to rise out of his chair without thinking in his anger. He barely caught his gasp of pain as he tottered, and then Orelan moved to save his foolish hide.

  “My lover will not share his beautiful, Orelan!” she exclaimed with an outrageous feminine squeal of delight. Then, she was beside him, grasping him with her arms, steadying him as though they were embracing. It was enough to keep him from falling flat on his face as he grappled with the pain lancing through his leg.

  I will kill my golden puma, Orelan thought furiously. She would scratch his tough muscular hide into little ribbons. She would . . . she would... Oh dios, she loved him so much! She stood shaking with anger and love combined. And her fear and embarrassment, as she tried to steady Wyndham with her shivering naked body. She was, oh so foolish at times like this, she thought, trying to catch her scattering emotions. Yet, it was too late for her treacherous mouth. “My Wyndham will never want you, Alexei! You are a pig!” she cried at Alexei, who had come toward them halfway around the table.

  Wyndham growled, an inarticulate exclamation of warning to her, just as Alexei spat furiously. “You dirty little, puta!”

  Orelan clutched Wyndham, steadying him with her shoulder beneath his arm as she cringed at the threat in Alexei’s voice. Madre dios. She watched horrified as Alexei raised his hand sharply and gestured to two of his Russian guards. “When I am through with you, you little Spanish slut, no one will want you!” he hissed.

  Then suddenly, Wyndham shoved her away from him, making her cry out in confusion as she stumbled backward. Instinctively, her hands tried to cover her naked breasts and between her thighs as her horrified gaze saw Wyndham collapse to the floor with a sharp grunt of pain. Why had he done that? What had he done? She did not understand, as she watched Alexei exclaim, in obvious shock. Alexei nearly went down to his knees beside Wyndham, but then he seemed to catch himself at the last moment, as he uttered, “Khrisinan.”

  The Russian guards stood uncertainly behind Alexei. Angelo behind them, beside the table, was hurriedly grabbing his clothes. Orelan fought the intense urge to go to Wyndham, but succumb to the desperate need to retrieve her gown, which she hurriedly picked up and at least clutched it in front of her.

  She watched Wyndham raise his stark purple irises to Alexei as his hands clutched his bad knee. “The woman is mine!” Wyndham growled in a harsh rasp, glaring through pain-filled eyes up at Alexei.

  Alexei sucked in a hissing angry breath. “You are both mine!” he snapped with a sharp cutting motion of his hand, and then he turned his blond head to a guard behind him. “Take my guests, Lord Hawkenge and his woman, to my suite now!” he ordered sharply. Then he straightened his stance and clapped his hands to the crowd as he shouted, “Music! Everyone! We will dance!”

  Chapter Eight

  Wyndham lived every emasculating moment of being carried from the ballroom to Alexei’s suite by the guards. He was not the man he used to be, nor would he ever be again. Was he even man enough to help Orelan to escape their desperate fate, he wondered, as the pain from his leg washed over him in waves? Drummond or Harrison should have come. Not him. He should not have been as arrogant and foolish when he refused the Archangels help. His witless masculine pride had gotten in his way. And now, because he could not accept his disability, he had gotten Orelan into more danger.

  He could only be thankful that he had managed to keep Alexei from taking Orelan away from him. He’d known that if he let Alexei see his disability, it would distract Alexei. Deep inside himself, where he had no wish to admit it, he knew Alexei’s feelings for him. Now, he’d used those feelings to his advantage again. Did that make him any worse than Alexei?

  He was nearly incoherent with the pain, but he knew as Alexei’s guards carried him between them that another guard was guiding Orelan forward. Toward Alexei’s suite. The portent of that did not escape him, he only wished that the pain would let go long enough so that he could think clearly. When the guards set him down on the opulently displayed bed in Alexei’s master suite, he could do no more than let his head fall back. He had wrenched his bad leg, twisting it when he had fallen making the desperate play to distract Alexei and keep Orelan by his side. That coupled with the strain he’d already placed on the injured limb, left it feeling as bad as when the injury had first felled him at Waterloo. He’d not been this debilitated because of it since those first few months of recuperation two years ago.

  “Orelan,” he rasped hoarsely. Christ, he had failed.

  “Wyndham my love, I am here,” Orelan whispered.

  He winced at Orelan’s words of love, if he could have, he would have shouted the denial of his worthiness. He felt her grasping his hand, bringing it to her soft lips, as he rasped. “Do not let him take you away from me.”

  “Never!” she exclaimed as he felt her tears on his knuckles. “Wyndham, you never told me you
were this hurt,” she whispered, as he felt her lips kissing his hand again. “You make me very angry for not telling me this. I had plans to punish you and now I cannot.” Christ, if he could have laughed, he would have roared. “But I will never leave you, my golden puma. Never-never.” Wyndham tightened his grip on Orelan’s hand. “Wyndham, please tell me what to do to help you with this terrible pain,” she asked tearfully.

  “Nothing,” he hissed as a particularly sharp jolt of pain lanced through his leg, making his body arch with tension. “Whiskey,” he groaned. “Christ! The bottle!”

  “Si, si, Wyndham!” Orelan exclaimed as she pried Wyndham’s fingers from around her hand. Once loose, he clenched his fingers into a fist by his side as she hurriedly turned to find some whiskey. She had put her gown back on beneath all three of the guards stares, before she’d come to Wyndham’s side. Now she was glad for the small comfort as her gaze landed on Alexei standing by a side bar with his hand on a bottle of dark liquor.

  She knew that it was the whiskey as she lifted her chin and walked toward Alexei. No one could have missed Wyndham’s anguished pleas for whiskey. She also understood there was now no one standing between Alexei and Wyndham but herself. Her strong golden puma needed her strength now as never before. She needed it also to stand against Alexei for her own sake. This time she could not be foolish because of her fears. She must never be that foolish again. It was because of her that Wyndham lay helpless in Alexei’s bedchamber. Now, she must defend them both in any way that she could.

  The shade of concern that she could see in Alexei’s eyes, and then his first words to her, showed her a possible way to begin her defense. “What is wrong with him?” Alexei asked tersely, as she stopped beside him to watch him pour some of the whiskey into a crystal glass.