Her Wicked Longing: (Two Short Historical Romance Stories) (The League of Rogues Book 5)

by Lauren Smith

  “Oh… Miss Sheridan,” Jonathan’s voice was as smooth and rich as honey to her ears.

  Damnation! She’d hoped to escape before he arrived.

  “Mr. St. Laurent.” She recovered quickly and stepped back, allowing him to enter. When he was out of the bright light and she was able to see him better, she saw he wore buckskin trousers that clung to his lean, muscled legs and a maroon waistcoat that made his sandy brown hair gleam. His green eyes always glinted devilishly, as though he knew secrets she’d give anything to know.

  “Pardon me, I was just about to—”

  “Flee?” he suggested, one dark gold brow raised.

  Was he accusing her of running away? She inwardly cursed. He was right, she was fleeing him, but she didn’t like to think he was able to read her so easily.

  “I was not fleeing,” she replied archly. “I have things to do and cannot have tea with everyone.” She started to walk around him to leave, but he caught her arm, holding her captive.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, his voice still soft and husky, a tone more suited to a lover’s whisper in the bedchamber. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and a tension that sent shivers through her as that forbidden desire rose up within her.

  She glanced down at herself, then around. “No…”

  He rolled his eyes. “A chaperone. You need one. Where’s Gillian?” His hold on her arm tightened and her body hummed with hungers she’d vowed to ignore no matter how badly she wanted to indulge them. Anger flared inside her at his words. Yet again, he was chastising her like a child while he made her feel wild and hot…

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “A chaperone? I most certainly do not need one, and Gillian is running errands for me. Now good day.” She tugged her arm free and stalked in rather unladylike fashion down the steps to the street, and waited for her hired hackney to come collect her.

  Bloody rogue! I shouldn’t have to be watched every instant.

  She did not look back, not once, even when the hired cab stopped in front of her and she told the driver her destination as she climbed inside.

  Foolish, odious man!

  Audrey stared out the window and tried to focus on the lessons she was about to have. Her tutor was Evangeline Mirabeau, the former mistress of Jonathan’s half- brother, Godric. That information had been surprisingly easy to obtain; the mistress of a duke tended to have a reputation, after all. What Audrey had been most interested in was not Evangeline’s relationship with Godric, but rather how she’d come to England and made a life for herself.

  Most ladies would be scandalized even speaking a courtesan’s name, but Audrey was not most ladies. Evangeline was French, and she knew much about the trouble on the Continent. She had been forced to flee when her aristocratic family had been killed. She’d fought her way to England, only to become a courtesan in order to survive. Rather than judge her, Audrey respected her for her strength.

  As the coach stopped in front of the Midnight Garden, Audrey shivered. She’d never been inside a house of ill repute before, but this was the best place to meet Evangeline. The patrons of the Garden would keep her identity a secret, just as she would keep their names private, since none would admit to being present. One might call it mutually-assured discretion.

  The driver stopped at the entrance to the mews just between the Midnight Garden and the next townhouse. She exited the coach and paid the man to return in two hours. Audrey squared her shoulders and rushed down the narrow mews to a door which was opened by a man after just one knock. The servant was a handsome man with a ready smile that made Audrey’s heart skip. She had been warned before by Evangeline about the servants of the Garden and how seductive they could be.

  “Welcome, my lady,” the man purred. “Have you chosen your pleasure for this afternoon, or may I offer my services?” The man gestured for her to follow him into a sitting room down the hall. Everything in the room they entered was red. She blushed as she remembered that her sister had once sneaked in here to meet with Lucien. That particular rogue adored the color red. Was this where he had found his love of the color?

  “I have an appointment with Miss Mirabeau.” Audrey’s body reacted as the man leaned down to where she sat on the couch and caressed the back of his knuckles over her cheek.

  “A female? I am most disappointed. It has been ages since I’ve tasted a young, pretty peach like you.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while longer.” A dark growl came from the doorway behind the handsome servant.

  Audrey gasped as she moved to the side, leaning past the man to see who had spoken. It was just as she feared.

  She had been followed.

  Chapter 2

  Jonathan St. Laurent walked up the steps to the Sheridan townhouse, his heart racing. She was inside. The little sprite who had fueled too many fantasies of late. Her dark-brown eyes gazing into his, the deep rich coils of her russet-brown locks spread out over a pillow, her lips parted as she gasped and moaned his name. She was a woman full of passion—and she scared the bloody hell out of him. She was the only woman he’d ever met who seemed to know exactly who she was and what she wanted out of life. She’d never want a man like him, not really. Her interest in him was no more than a game to her.

  And I’m the fool who wants to marry her, if she’ll have me.

  He paused at the closed door, hesitating. Sweat gathered in his palms as he fought off a rush of nerves. He tugged on his riding gloves, trying to prepare himself to enter. Jonathan paused as he stared hard at the iron lion’s head knocker.

  Last Christmas he had made a mess of things, but to be fair, she’d caught him off guard. Lucien had been fighting with Horatia, and he’d encouraged Jonathan to take a firm hold of Audrey and take her up to her room.

  It hadn’t gone well at all.

  He’d lost control and carried the woman out of the room in his arms. She’d smacked him soundly with a rolled-up fashion-plate magazine and wriggled like a fish. By the time he got her upstairs, his temper and passions were so utterly mixed he couldn’t separate them enough to clear his head. He’d tossed her onto the bed, and she had pulled him down on top of her.

  That first kiss—Lord, she had tasted sweet. Her mouth had been as soft as petals and as hot as fire. He had lost control. She was a woman a man could kiss for days and never want to stop. He almost hadn’t. Jonathan had given in to his desires, pinning her down on her bed and claiming her mouth in all the ways he’d dreamed about for months.

  And then she’d done something no gentle-born young lady should have known how to do. She’d stroked him. Her touch on his cock, even through his trousers, had nearly killed him. He’d rolled off her and fled the room. If he’d stayed, he would have taken her, with little if any ability to restrain himself.

  I’ve been running ever since.

  He wanted her so much it hurt, but she was too good for him. Even though her brother and the rest of the League had encouraged the match, Jonathan still felt unworthy. He’d been raised as a servant until he’d turned twenty-four. And then his well-organized world had been turned on its head when he learned he was not only Godric’s half brother, but a legitimate son of their father.

  The truth of his birth, although well known, was still spoken of in whispers. Audrey didn’t deserve that kind of cloud over her social life, and he knew how much balls and parties mattered to her. She was a woman who enjoyed life, a woman who loved to laugh, smile, and dance. Until London stopped whispering about him, he couldn’t take a chance by asking her to marry him, no matter how much he wished to.

  Having stared at the knocker long enough, he decided against using it and simply entered the townhouse, expecting to find the League filling the hall. Instead, he found himself colliding with the very woman who vexed him.

  “Oh… Miss Sheridan,” he managed to say, startled by her loveliness. She blinked and squinted at him, but he didn’t care. She looked as lovely as a woman dressed for a ball. Hell, s
he’d even looked lovely masquerading as a boy at Fives Court and shouting curses like any man at a boxing match.

  Lord, he found her a fascinating creature.

  “Mr. St. Laurent,” she replied, her tone frosty. That was certainly his fault. The last time they’d been alone, he’d dragged her away from Fives Court and lectured her on the dangers. She had no idea how precarious her position had been. Fives Court drew gentlemen, but also the dregs of society, men who wouldn’t have backed down had they discovered she was a woman. When he’d realized it was her and not one of the boys worshiping at the altar of Charles as he boxed, Jonathan’s heart had almost leapt out of his chest. His only thought had been to get her to safety. And that little hellion was holding it against him.

  Audrey tried to get around him. “Pardon me, I was just about to—”

  “Flee?” He arched an eyebrow. She was running away, something she didn’t usually do. Her face was pale and her eyes a little red. She’d been upset? He did the only thing he could do. He challenged her to stay and argue with him.

  “I was not fleeing,” she snapped, lifting her chin defiantly. “I have things to do. I cannot have tea with everyone.”

  Jonathan grasped her arm, holding her still. He could feel the heat of her skin against his, which set fire to his blood. The urge to swing her around to face him and kiss her was almost overpowering. The only thing that stopped him was knowing her brother was but one door away, and while Cedric approved of the match, he would not approve of his sister being kissed like a common wench in view of everyone. That would get him shot in an instant, even if the kiss was worth dying for.

  He tried to bury the thought of kissing her and focus on the fact that she was leaving the house alone.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  The look of confusion as she glanced around would have made him laugh on any other occasion. She was so confident she didn’t even think about chaperones. Stubborn creature… adorably stubborn.

  “No.” She glowered at him and he rolled his eyes.

  “A chaperone. You need one. Where’s Gillian?” He searched the hall for Audrey’s maid. Being a former servant, he never took them for granted. Audrey’s maid was usually quite good at keeping her mistress out of trouble. Gillian was normally Audrey’s shadow. The two were rarely apart, but there was no sign of the quiet lady’s maid now.

  “A chaperone? I certainly do not need one, and Gillian is running errands for me. Now good day.” She ripped her arm from his with surprising force for one so small. He wanted to stop her, to call out and beg her to stay, but he was frozen at the top of the steps as she hurried away into a hired coach. Where the devil was she off to?

  “Sir, would you like to join the others for tea?” the footman, Sean Hartley, asked. Jonathan spun to face him.

  “Er… No. Where you know where Miss Sheridan went?”

  Sean shook his head. “I wish I knew. She made no mention to the staff that she was leaving.”

  “Hellfire and damnation!” Jonathan cursed. “Sean, fetch my horse.” He ran back to the steps, keeping his eye on Audrey’s coach as it rattled down the street. A minute later, a groom returned with his horse, which hadn’t been settled within the Sheridan stables. Jonathan merely nodded at the groom before he swung himself up into the saddle and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. He urged it into a canter to catch up with Audrey’s coach, but not too close. He couldn’t let her know he was following her, at least not until he figured out what she was up to.

  Her coach stopped in front of an establishment he knew only too well. The Midnight Garden. It was a high-end brothel, but still a damned brothel and no place for virginal gently-born ladies like Audrey. Jonathan reined his horse in, slowing enough that he stayed far back from her hackney. Should she decide to glance around, he didn’t want her to see him.

  “What the devil are you up to?” he muttered as he dismounted and walked his horse toward the entrance of the Garden. He could see Audrey disappear into a door at the side of the building. A servant came down the steps to take his horse, and Jonathan handed the mare over to him.

  “Where does that door lead?” he asked the man as he pointed at the side entrance.

  “Private rooms for gentlemen or ladies who have made appointments and don’t wish to be seen.”

  Jonathan huffed. So, Audrey thought she could go to a house of pleasure to satisfy her urges? Over his dead body. He’d known the moment he’d kissed her at Christmas that she was no wilting flower or trembling virgin who feared passion. She was a wanton, wild creature who longed for physical love as much as he did, but if she wanted someone to experience lovemaking with, it would not be some man in a pleasure den. Audrey deserved to learn at the hands of a gentleman, or at least someone who was doing his best to be one at the moment.

  He strode down the alley, ignoring the shout from the servant to stop. If the man came after him, he would lay the fellow flat with one good punch.

  When he reached the door, he found it unlocked. He burst inside, not knowing what to expect, and was surprised to find a silk-wallpapered corridor with gilded lamps that resembled the rest of the house. There were doors along either side, which probably contained entertaining rooms. Most of the bedrooms were upstairs.

  “My lord?” a woman asked as she exited a chamber next to him. Her partially exposed bosom and painted face were meant to enhance her looks, but they failed.

  “I’m looking for a woman, this high.” He held his hand up to his chest, showing the other woman how short Audrey was. “She’s wearing a blue cambric gown and has dark hair and dark eyes.”

  “She’s with Rufus, the first door on the left,” the woman whispered huskily. He ignored her open invitation.

  He stomped past her. “Thank you.” When he reached the door, it was partially open. The voices were soft murmurs, but he knew if he opened the door, he’d hear better. Jonathan braced himself for a fight as he nudged the door with his boot hard enough that it swung open. He saw a tall man leaning over a couch, and Audrey’s slippered feet were visible between the man’s parted thighs. The man had cornered her against the couch. His words filled Jonathan with a blinding rage.

  “It has been ages since I’ve tasted a young, pretty peach like you.”

  Curling his hands into fists, Jonathan took one step into the room.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

  The man, Rufus, spun, his eyes widening. “My lord?” He stepped sideways, avoiding blocking Audrey from Jonathan’s view. Smart man. If Rufus had tried to stay between him and Audrey, Jonathan would have laid him out with one good punch.

  “The lady does not require your services,” Jonathan informed him. “So get the bloody hell out of this room before I throw you out.”

  Rufus shot one last glance at Audrey before he bolted.

  “Mr. St. Laurent!” Audrey leapt up from the couch, a honeyed fire lighting her brown eyes as she came toe to toe with him. “How dare you follow me. How dare you interrupt my private engagement!”

  “Private engagement? You are not going to be needing any services here. Do you understand?”

  Audrey raised her reticule and whacked him soundly on the shoulder.

  “Oomph!” He winced. What did she have inside the damned glittery little bag?

  “Get out of my way. I’m going to find the madam and have you thrown out.” She started to march past him like a feisty army general, but he caught her by the waist. Before she could stop him, he tossed her over his shoulder and left the room. If she wanted lessons in seduction, she was going to be schooled by him and no one else.

  Chapter 3

  Audrey’s breath burst from her lungs as Jonathan climbed the central stairs leading up to the other rooms in the Midnight Garden. He stopped only once, to demand a bedchamber, while Audrey shrieked until he smacked her arse with one hand. The blow hadn’t hurt, but the message it sent was clear—she was no longer in charge. Normally, a loss of control w
ould terrify her, but with Jonathan, it heated her blood. It made her feel faint.

  Probably because you’re hanging upside down, you silly fool. She refused to let her body betray her, not when she had vowed to stop finding Jonathan attractive.

  He opened the door to the bedroom and slid the lock into place with a frightening finality before he set her down on the bed. Audrey’s breath came easier. She would recover from being carried around like a sack of potatoes. Her artfully styled hair had started to come undone, and she pulled a few pins out of her messy locks and tossed them to the floor in frustration.

  “Why didn’t you just take me home?” she demanded, refusing to look at him as she peered at her reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. Her hair was not salvageable.

  Jonathan laughed harshly. “First, tell me exactly why you are here. Do you have any idea how furious your brother would be if he found you at a brothel?”

  She shrugged. “He has much more on his mind now than me. He and Anne are expecting. He doesn’t have time to worry about me anymore, and you shouldn’t either. No one appointed you my guardian, so stop playing the part. He already likes you, all of them do, so you need not protect me to be in their good graces.” She slid off the bed and approached the mirror.

  Her body flushed with heat as he stepped up behind her. He was so tall compared to her. When she met his gaze in the mirror, she saw the infamous St. Laurent temper lurking there. It was not the sort of temper that made one fear for one’s safety. When he was angry, like his older brother, he expelled his fury through sensual domination. Like kissing her to silence her protestations. Audrey truly feared this—not because she didn’t want him to dominate her like that, but because she would like it far too much, and it would rob her of her good sense.