Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  His estate? Sheriff? Nia backed up toward the vines, where Radford’s horse was. “I would get dressed behind those vines, Radford,” she said. Then, she turned and scrambled behind the foliage. Oh what was she thinking?

  Nia stumbled as she hastily began to pull Radford’s pants on, trying as best she may to hold them up around her waist. “Oh, I am so sorry, m-my love,” she whispered, reaching for the reins to Radford’s stallion.

  The sleek and proud black stallion did not enjoy having and unknown rider trying to hoist clumsily up onto its back. However, she managed to climb up on the stallion and grasp the reins steadying the horse with Radford’s pants trying to slip down her hips. The first touch of her inner thighs and deeper into the saddle brought a small wince to her lips. This was the tender and abrading aftereffects of her and Radford’s abandoned joining. She knew that she would feel the lingering presence of their wilderness mating for some time to come.

  She lost the battle with the waistband of his pants, because she had to use both of her hands on the reins of the stallion and the pants ended up falling down further around her hips as she turned the horse. She paid the price on her tender sex, when she pranced Radford’s horse from behind the vines.

  Radford looked up as she turned the stallion in a high-stepping circle, and she exclaimed. “I must go! I beg you not to follow me!” The stallion snorted as she turned him into the motion of kicking him into a gallop. “Please, your grace, I am safe now! I will return your stallion!”

  Nia held her breath as she galloped forward and away from Radford. A cry with some of the pain that she was feeling bodily, and in her heart, escaped her as the stallion sprinted away. She prayed fiercely that Radford would not follow her as she looked back over her shoulder and saw him standing tall and still as a statue, while he stared intently at her leaving.

  “Damnation!” Radford swore under his breath, yet he tensely held his body still, waiting the first moment Nia would disappear from his view. It was a lush view of her bare ass bouncing on the seat of his prized black stallion. If she thought that he was going to trust her safety by remaining here, while she rushed headlong, as was becoming usual, off through this large forested countryside unescorted . . . she was exactly the mad cap minx that she portrayed herself. Just then, Nia’s fulsome and rousingly naked buttocks jiggled from his view and he sprang into action, while muttering about foolish, eccentric, beyond the pale women, who made love like wicked Goddesses of Fire.

  Without time to spare, Radford simply tugged the thief’s boots off, then he leaped aboard the bastard’s horse, grabbing the reins and wheeling the horse around. He kicked the livery horse into a gallop, and then he realized that he was nearly naked with only pieces of his shirt still attached and flapping behind him, while his britches gaped open. Good Christ, they were a pair, Radford thought, as he began to laugh, while chasing after Nia.

  He tossed the bastard thief’s boots off into the forest at some point, but he still held onto his fresh shirt as he followed Nia’s trail, finding her, yet keeping back to just follow her unseen. He could be a fool that was losing his cunning edge in lust. However, some emotion inside him, that he was at a loss to name, held Nia’s desire for continued anonymity as though he were her noble protector. She was foolish, headlong, vexing, beautiful and the most exciting woman that he’d ever met. Perhaps, he was indeed relishing the game she played and he wanted to continue to be a participant. His cunning edge agreed that he’d never been so ensnared or titillated. Moreover, he was certain that the game was not played out yet and she would be returning to his side for more sexual antics.

  What amazed him the most was that when he’d put his outrageous betting scheme into play, he’d certainly expected the ladies to produce escapades. However, never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the play becoming so highly skilled, or for that matter, considered that he might be very affected. Somehow, he thought his sophisticated aloofness to be unshakeable. He had certainly assumed that some of the ladies would at least peak his interest in some manner or other. Yet, he’d never envisioned this headlong vaulting that sorely felt like it was snatching at the hidden wealth of passion inside him.

  Which brought him squarely to a sudden and newly arising sore point in his life, he thought, as he watched Nia cantering his stallion to the very back stable at the Boars Head Inn. What the hell was he supposed to do with all the women, who must at this very moment be arriving at his country estate, not five miles down the road from the Boars Head Inn?

  He decided as he watched Nia that he would have to credit her for her choice of a base for her operations, as it were. The establishment was respectable, discreet, and within easy striking distance of his estate. It appeared that she must have one of the stable boys in her employ because she was able to leave his stallion and scramble inside the back entrance to the inn without being seen in her curious dress. He knew the Boars Head Inn well, and better yet, he knew intimately that little used and hidden back entrance.

  Radford pursed his lips as he put the fresh shirt on that he carried and he tied his pants beneath it. Then, he trotted his horse around the front of the quaint and well-maintained inn. Nia’s actions spoke clearly of proper prior planning, which were the three P’s in any good plan, and he had to give her another nod of admiration. As he approached the front stable, he kept a clear eye outward toward running into any of the ladies that might be traveling to his estate, who had stopped for refreshment. He did note one, overly gilded coach, that fit that description distastefully, but thankfully it appeared the occupants were inside. He knew that he would have to make quick work of his intentions, but he had history with several informants inside the inn and outside in the stables.

  Nia’s industrious stable boy for one, he thought, with an inward smile. So it was, that only a short time later, he had the information that he wanted and at the same time he was not caught in the process. He did not take the main road, for the same reasons of not wanting to be seen, but he was also forced to return to his coach. He needed fresh attire and the means to arrive at his estate properly, and his present state would cause quite a scandal. Besides, all of the servants in his employ were well trained and even trained to the fact of the unusual events that might occur in his life. The life of a spy appearing quite out of the ordinary so his coachman would be waiting dutifully on the road for his return. Where any other coachman, under the circumstances, might have harried off by now.

  As he rode, much more slowly than he had advanced in the opposite direction not long ago, he mused over the information that he had garnered on Nia. He knew her exact room location, how many servants she had with her, which were none. He did not care for that fact at all. A lady unescorted all alone in a roadside inn. He was daft for feeling that way, he was certain, because the lady had, on her very own, brought herself into the company of ruffian thieves. That jewel of information was an unexpected tidbit that Jim, one of the stable boys had to offer. It seemed the two thieves had drunk at the Inn the night before with one of them alluding to getting a pay day shortly.

  It appeared that Lady Nia O’Shea had used her proper name to book the room for two nights. If it was her real name? And she traveled alone with no one else staying at the Inn with her. It was meager information about the still completely and mysterious lady. However, he could surmise, with the two night booking of the Inn that within the next twenty-four hours he would be in the company of his Lady Fire once again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nia shut the door to her room at the Boars Head Inn and she wobbled to the bed, falling face down upon it. She would order a hot bath and food, she thought dismally, surely that would help? Then, she burst into tears, immediately disgusted that she had any left to shed, which upset her even more.

  “Oh, you kissed him,” she mumbled tearily, wadding part of the bed quilt beneath her face. “Never! Never, kiss them!” And, she’d done it twice now, with both kisses combined more like a thousand kisses between them. She was blubbe
ring and completely avoiding the real reasons she was crying, by using small distracting excuses. “Kissing is the least of your offense, you daft girl.” Nia hiccupped. “I will never get paid,” she sobbed, burying her face into the quilt. She knew it was much worse than getting paid. Much, much worse than that. She’d never felt like this before. It nearly frightened her. It did frighten her. “Oh, you blimey idiot. You’ve gone and fallen in love with him, you fool.”

  Her weeping was pathetic and a small part of her mind was annoyed with her weakness. She had not cried this much since her parents were lost at sea, three short years ago, when she was but twenty. She’d cried then for nearly a full day. Yet, her younger siblings had needed her strength so badly that she’d forced herself to stop. She had not cried since, until her near rape, and now this.

  “Radford!” Nia pounded the bed with her fists a few good times as though she could somehow pound him out of her system. It wouldn’t work. Love was love. She rolled over onto her back staring at the bed canopy overhead, with a blurry gaze through her tears. “What will I do now?” There was no one to answer her. There had not been for a long time, she thought, curling her fingers into fists. She hiccupped, “You must just pick yourself up and go on,” she announced bravely. “Get about the proper business you are going to be paid for.”

  Oh, but she felt so badly about that. Being paid. Love should not be so tainted! “Oh blimey, you’re a whore. That’s bloody worse!” A sob caught her throat along with a hiccup.

  A Duke and a whore! It was nearly laughable. But the passion still lingered on her body and in her mind. The ardor and the flame. She could smell Radford on her, and she never wanted to wash. Extraordinary things had occurred in his arms. Things she could never imagine. Her passions had become wholly unbound and completely consumed. Just the thought of him now made her ravenous with desires and deep hopeful longings. Oh lord, she loved him. She had no clue, how it could have happened so quickly. Yet each time they met, their bodies wildly spoke of it, even if their minds had not spoken the reason yet.

  “What will I do?”

  Nia sat upright looking about the room in an abysmal manner, seeking answers that were hiding fearfully in her heart. Love or money? She could never be with a Duke such as Radford was, once he found out. She’d already made the impossibly hard choice between love and money once before. She loved her brothers and sisters. She needed them and they needed her. All she’d wanted to do was cling to them, and yet she’d had to set that aside for practical reasons. She’d never regretted it, because what she was doing was born of love. Just a different way of giving it, and she’d also sworn to herself that she would never be ashamed. She liked men, they liked her. It was fun, until now. Now it hurt and it had the chance of making her feel shame.

  Suddenly, she had to know what the next directions of Benny’s instructions were, so she snatched up the vermilion envelope off her nightstand. There were only two more envelopes inside that remained unopened, but she could not stand to wait and do each one of them at a time. She had to know the entirety and what the ending was. At once! Her fingers shook as she tore open each envelope, then she absently wiped the tears out of her eyes as she began to read the second to the last set of instructions.

  A part of her mind was incredulous that there still were no specific instructions that she bed Radford. “Oh, if you only knew, Benny,” she muttered.

  She’d always assumed that bedding Radford was an eventuality of Benny’s entire scheme. But this letter instructed her to yet another daring meeting of teasing and sexual torture, while saying specifically that she was not to allow Radford to do more than touch her. Nia chewed on her bottom lip. Well, Benny surely could not have envisioned how quickly and wildly Radford and she would be attracted to each other. “This must be Benny’s way of building romance,” she reasoned. Then, she looked at the final envelope. “And the coup de grace must be here in the final envelope.”

  Nia quickly pulled the one page out of the envelope with her heart skipping on the fact that there was only one page. Her fingers shook as she read the four small lines written there.

  “Disappear now. Go back to your home in Dublin. You have completed my services and the money will be deposited in your name at the Bank of Dublin, within one week of your return. Regards for your services, Madame.”

  The paper fell from Nia’s fingers as a hard sob caught in her chest. “Oh no,” she moaned. That was it! That was all! She was never to have tupped Radford, and now if she were still going to try to take the money she must play out this last escapade, and then never see Radford again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Where have you been, Radford? There are six ladies arrived as we speak. Two without an escort and all are ravenous for the sight of you. I could have been a pickled herring for all they cared to speak to me,” Saxonhurst said.

  “Damnation,” Radford replied, raking a hand through his hair in irritation. He had managed to arrive in the rear of his estate and clandestinely come up the back way to his master suite, only to find Saxon reclined in a chair by the fire with a glass of scotch in hand. “What are you doing here, Saxon?” Radford understood his tone was rather exasperated.

  “Truthfully, the ladies look at me so distastefully, when they discover I am not, ‘the Duke,’ I’d rather thought to hide. Yet, I imagine you mean here, now so early. I really thought it might be a pip actually, Rad.”

  “A pip?” Radford pursed his lips. “Dandified, Saxon?” After releasing this scathing remark upon Saxon’s character, Radford strode to the side bar and poured himself a scotch as well.

  Saxon laughed, throwing his head back with his damnably long hair loose once again. “You are in rare form, Rad. Arrogant as hell, which means that something, somewhere is not going to your fine tuning. I will wager it has beautifully flowing red hair and places bets on White’s books.”

  “Touché.” Radford saluted Saxon with his drink aloft and a sneer.

  “And, Rad, the word, ‘pip’ by the way was used by a simpering and gallant Miss of the ripe old age of barely sixteen with the name of Lady Jane Oakmore. She used the word no less than a dozen times, in as many harried sentences. So that I can only imagine it is a new word among the youngsters.”

  “Sixteen?” Radford questioned nearly choking on a swallow of his scotch.

  “Why yes,” Saxon chuckled. “There are two sixteen year olds and one seventeen,” he sputtered, apparently trying to contain his laughter. “Had you a clue?”

  “Hell no!” Radford exclaimed. “Is that not illegal, or an unspoken law among the mothers?”

  “Apparently not, for so treasured a prize as a Duke.” Saxon burst out laughing again, seemingly giving up his less than valiant effort not to. “Has your plan gone a bit awry for once, Rad?” he asked through his laughter.

  “Please, tell me the sixteen year olds are chaperoned,” Radford exclaimed.

  Saxon, with his tanned face ruddy from suppressed laughter, shook his head chuckling harder.

  “Judas priest,” Radford cursed.

  “A pip!” Saxon chortled, slapping his knee. “I would not have missed this, Radford, never, never!”

  There was nothing for it, no other cunning approach Radford could take upon the matter. He was at a loss.

  So he hid.

  It was decidedly cowardly, incredibly rude, yet if anyone had known, it was quite honorable on his part. He sent excuses to his guests that he was temporally ill and he urged them to carry on without him. Saxon behaved similarly sending his regrets that he was not feeling well also. Both of them shuddered at even the slightest chance of getting caught en flagrant delicato with a sixteen year old Miss.

  The thought still caused Radford to shudder in the late hours as he lay in his bed unable to sleep. Wisely, he’d locked his bedchamber door, because already after dark he had received three bold scratches upon it. It was the ever, tried and true, way of a lady requesting amorous entrance to a gentleman’s bedchamber.

&nbs
p; “I should be shot,” he growled, throwing his arm up over his forehead. He’d never had one of his schemes melt down into such chaotic disarray. He even found himself praying that a horde of motherly inclined matrons had this evening or would in the morning descent upon his estate with their daughters in tow. The more of them around the less likely he would be thrown in jail for stepping out of his bedchamber in his own home. He’d even broken down and sent off urgent messages to Drummond’s wife, Ravenscar’s wife, and Wyndham’s wife to come early, please, and save his worthless hide. They had been set to arrive by Sunday evening as it was for the last night’s masquerade ball. Surely they could take pity on him and come earlier? Or he was determined to hide in his bedchamber for the duration.

  Yet, besides feeling like an incredible fool, he was upset because each sound outside his door, every discreetly laid scratch, could be Nia, without his knowing it. The love sick agony that caused him was simply embarrassing. Yet, by two in the morning with his bed linens thrashed asunder by his body’s heaving in remembrance, he admitted that it was love. It was illogical love and love without a reasoned backbone to stand on, but it was love, fast, wild, and furious. Nevertheless, his reasoning mind wondered how he could love so quickly. But his heart knew the answer.

  So with little sleep the night before and after a morning bath and shave, he was edgy. He had asked his butler the details of who was in residence and it appeared that it might be safe to attend the scheduled brunch, but he would disappear for a ride shortly after. Perhaps to ride out his bad temperament, he thought.

  From his butler he’d found out that in the course of his excused absence last evening and this morning that a much more well-rounded group of guests had arrived. Lady mothers in abundance and gentlemen attached to them or a healthy group of single ones up for the festivities. Or rather, Radford thought, they were hoping to gain advantage on the ripe pickings this misbegotten weekend soirée promised.