Regency Rogues Box Set -- 4 Gay Historical Romance Stories in 1

by Ruby Moone

  “What ho, old chap!”

  Tristan almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard the door and the footman hadn’t made an announcement of a guest. His cousin from his mother’s side, Lord Alfred, better known to him as Alfie, stood in the door with his customary supercilious smile on his irritating face; the footman scurried behind him.

  “Alfie,” he said, holding one hand to his chest. “You scared the life from me.” He only saw his cousin in fits and starts because he appeared to lead some sort of dual life. One as a gentleman of the ton, whose sole purpose in life was to irritate him, and another doing God only knew what for the Prince Regent.

  “You look like you have the weight of the world on those small shoulders. What’s to do, dear one?”

  Tristan tried to smile as Alfie walked very carefully across the room, in a manner that suggested he might have overindulged, and slid into a chair in front of the desk. Alfie was ten years older than him. Straight dark hair, dark eyes, dark soul. Even cast away he looked like he had stepped out of a fashion plate.

  “Bit of a conundrum I’m trying to work out.”

  “Glad to be of help. Women problems?”

  If only his life could be so simple. “No, not women problems.”

  “Ahhh,” Alfie said and wagged a finger. “Problems of the heart then.”

  Tristan paused, uncertain of what he meant, and afraid to ask. “You’re foxed,” he said softly, kindly.

  “I am.” He looked up, those dark eyes suddenly quite clear. “Don’t end up like me, old chap,” he said. “Find someone to love even if it is someone you can’t be with. Everyone needs someone to love them.”

  Tristan stared and Alfie dropped his chin onto his chest and laughed. “Have your balls even dropped yet? You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

  Thankful for the change in subject Tristan laughed. “My balls are just fine, thank you.” He bowed his head. “Is there someone that you love?”

  Alfie stared at the ceiling for a moment then levelled that dark gaze at him. “Yes. Yes, there is. And I can’t have them so take heed.”

  Tristan was taken aback. Alfie had never previously vouchsafed any personal information, so this was a surprise. He noted the fact that he didn’t say she, but kept quiet and wondered. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, his own needs, and his own shame that he had really not considered anyone else. He knew he wasn’t the only man to find an attraction to his own kind stronger than any attraction to women. Half of the chaps at school had experimented with each other. Most went on to marry, but he somehow couldn’t imagine it, and had certainly never found a woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, or even one that he could imagine bedding. He spent most of his time avoiding them, particularly in London during the season where it seemed that every young woman and every mama was hell bent on matrimony. As he was young, not ugly, wealthy, and came from a titled family, he was unfortunately considered a catch and he had discovered, almost to his cost, that young women could be incredibly devious when it came to securing a husband. His mourning black didn’t appear to deter, so he kept himself to the clubs and avoided mixed company where he could. He was lucky in that he did not have a huge family with expectations as to his appearance, but since his father’s death he knew that it was only a matter of time before the issue of his marriage and succession raised its ugly head again. He had tentatively decided that he would happily leave the estate to his cousin and his offspring, but looking at Alfie’s miserable face now he began to wonder.

  Chapter 3

  Saturday arrived, and with it, torrential rain. Sam sat in his freezing cold room in the attic, listening to the noise on the roof. It was like sitting inside a tea tin with someone hammering on it. The door opened and his friend Gareth threw himself through in dramatic fashion. Gareth was the man he shared a room with sometimes. Gareth was small, dark, and theatrical to the point where Sam often wondered if he couldn’t make a living on the stage. In the brothel, he went by the name of Romeo. It somehow suited him better than the rather pragmatic Gareth.

  “Bastards!” he declared. “Bastards. The lot of them.” He tossed his long dark hair over one shoulder. His hair was silky and straight and he spent hours brushing it and tending it. His eyebrows were plucked into slender arches, and he made no attempt at all to hide his true nature. He was wonderful.

  “Who now?” Sam asked, sipping his coffee.

  Gareth held out a hand so Sam gave him the cup. “Thanks, darling.” He took a healthy swallow and then handed it back. “Men. Bastards. The lot. Present company excepted,” he added, and dropped a kiss on Sam’s head. “So, how is the escape plan going?”

  “Well. I just need to see if he comes back tonight with the money.”

  Gareth smiled and sat on the bed. “Do you think he might fancy a threesome?” he said and tossed his hair again.

  “You never know.” Sam couldn’t imagine it. Tristan gave the impression of someone private and quite shy. Sam had made a three with Gareth once before, for a client, and the man was shameless, to say nothing of ridiculously bendy, but there had never really been anything between them other than genuine friendship.

  Gareth rolled his eyes and lay down, dropping his head on Sam’s lap. “When you are set up, leading a life of luxury, I hope you remember your old friends.”

  Sam petted his hair. “I will.”

  “So, is he going to set you up as his mistress? Did he mention an allowance? Will he set you up in Mayfair?” he asked, peering up at him.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not anyone’s mistress. He just mentioned somewhere where we could meet and be together.”

  “Bugger.” Gareth sighed. “No mention of clothes, jewels? A carriage? Horses?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “I thought he was minted. Are you having second thoughts?” Gareth patted Sam’s leg as he looked up at him.

  “No, just feeling a bit guilty about deceiving him.”

  Gareth wrinkled his nose. “How are you deceiving him? You like him, you would be happy to service him, he likes you, and he likes being serviced by you. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I told him I loved him.” Sam felt his face colour.

  “Ah. Bit naughty that, but if it gets the job done…”

  Sam leaned back against the wall and stroked Gareth’s hair. Tristan might not even turn up. Might have decided against it. Somehow he doubted it.

  A commotion from downstairs stilled his hand. Gareth sat up and they looked at each other. Their rooms were in the attic but the yelling and banging carried loudly.

  “We’d best have a look?” Sam said. “That sounds like Bill Mosely.” Bill Mosely was Dante’s right-hand man and nobody dared naysay him. Gareth nodded reluctantly. If Mosely was in a bad mood it behoved everyone to keep out of his way, but particularly Sam. Mosely took delight in making Sam submit to him and when he was in a mood, he liked to make it hurt. They crept out of the room and listened. It was definitely Mosely.

  “Get back in the room and hide,” Gareth hissed as the shouting got louder. “He’s foxed. He’ll be looking for you. He’s had it in for you ever since Harry ran away.”

  “Oh, Christ.” Sam ran up the stairs as he heard Mosely shouting his name. The bastard was drunk. Where was Tristan? It was past the time he usually arrived, but the mistress hadn’t been to call him down. He hesitated by his door, but then ran on and dodged into one of the girls’ rooms. They screamed and hit him, but when Mosely could be heard bellowing his name they shoved him under the bed and sat on it.

  Sam hid and hated himself for doing it. He wanted to stand up to Mosely, tell him to shove it. He pressed his nose into his arm to stop the dust getting up it and went rigid when the door slammed open.

  “Where is he?”

  “Got a client I think,” Charisse said. Sam was sure her name was really Iris, and he thought that was a much prettier name, but they all had stupid made up names. He winced when he heard him slap
her, and when she screamed he hated himself even more. The door slammed so he shuffled out. Charisse was holding her head and her friend, Clara, was shouting at Mosely through the closed door. Mosely wasn’t stupid enough to mar anyone’s face and risk losing the income from providing battered produce, although there was probably a fair few of the clients that wouldn’t object. There was a fair few that made their own marks, but they paid extra for that. He took the girl in his arms and rocked her.

  She let herself be held for a moment then pushed him away. “You owe me,” she muttered.

  “I do.” He squeezed her arm and slipped out of the room, ignoring Clara’s tirade that was now directed at him.

  He made his way cautiously to the room where he normally saw Tristan, but when he got there Mosely grabbed him roughly by the arm.

  “There you are, you little shit. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you. I have need of you.”

  Sam’s heart was hammering. Mosely was as tall and as broad as him. He grabbed Sam’s arm and started dragging him to the room where he should be seeing Tristan.

  He wrenched out of his grip. “I’ve got a client. You’ll have to wait.”

  Mosely’s eyes burned. They were dark eyes that sometimes were hard to read, but tonight Sam had no trouble. The man wanted to hurt someone.

  “Wait? Wait? Do you imagine for a second that I am going to wait?” he walked towards him, hissing the words as he came until Sam was backed up against the wall, then Mosely’s hand was fisted in Sam’s hair and he was being dragged. Mosely threw open a door and shoved Sam inside so hard that he fell. He rolled to his feet, hands balled into fists. This was enough. This was the end. He would not be pushed about and abused anymore.

  “On your knees.” Mosely had one hand on his own cock, rubbing it as he dragged open a drawer with another. He took out a length of chain that made Sam go cold.

  “No.”

  Mosely smiled and unbuttoned his falls to take his cock into his hand.

  “No. I mean it. Enough is enough.” Sam held out a hand in front of him as if to ward the man off. Mosely probably had fifteen years on Sam, and although Sam was sure he could take Mosely in a fair fight, this was never going to be fair. His only hope was the fact that Mosely had a bad arm. His cousin, Harry, had run away in spectacular fashion last Christmas, taking one of the boys with him and Dante had been beside himself with fury. Mosely had been dispatched to drag him back but had returned not only empty handed, but with a bullet hole in his arm. He seemed to feel that Sam should pay for his inability to find Harry and bring him back.

  “Beg pardon, sir, but the gentleman is here for Henri. The one that pays?”

  Mosely’s head spun at the intrusion and Sam held his breath. Tolson was the major-domo for the place. The man that kept everything running smoothly like the gentlemen’s club it purported to be. In that moment, Sam could have kissed him. He was probably the only person that might stop Mosely.

  “Make him wait.” Mosely rolled the chain around his fist.

  “Send me to him used and he will know,” Sam said, praying that greed would win over lust. It also made him wonder how much Tristan paid. His heart was beating in his ears as he waited.

  Mosely smiled. He walked over to Sam and stood beside him. He reached out and stroked his face, making Sam flinch. Sam screwed his eyes tight shut as his stomach rolled.

  “Then I will watch. I will watch you plough the pathetic little molly. I will watch your every move and I want to see everything that you do. When you have finished, you will come to me and I will chain you to the roof, cuff you, and screw you until you beg for mercy. Do you like that? Do you want that?”

  His face was pressed against Sam’s. “Yes, I want that.”

  Mosely shoved him away. “Then move. Don’t make the man wait.”

  * * * *

  Tristan sat on the chair in the room that they always used and waited for Samuel. He had six hundred pounds in his pocket, and the key to extremely pleasant lodgings not far from his home. His fingers tapped nervously on his leg. When the door opened and Sam finally walked in, his breath came in a whoosh of relief. He stood and went to take the man’s hands, but it was immediately clear that there was something wrong. Sam’s crystal clear eyes were normally glowing, excited, and filled with passion and focused on him with gratifying intensity. Now, he was glancing around anxiously and Tristan was sure that his hands were shaking a little. He opened his mouth to speak, but Samuel shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and his eyes telegraphed alarm. As always, he cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. Tristan sank into the kiss and wrapped his arms around him. Samuel moved a little and then pulled his lips free and buried his face in Tristan’s neck and spoke in the quietest whisper.

  “We are being watched…no, don’t look, just know we are being watched.” He pulled his face back and looked directly into Tristan’s eyes and then kissed him again before burying his face in his neck again. “Unless you don’t mind being watched, pretend you just want to kiss or something like that.”

  “What do you want today, my lovely,” Samuel said, and pushed his hands through Tristan’s hair. Tristan was so hard he could barely function. The thought of being watched was terrifyingly arousing. It was not something that he had ever thought of, but now the prospect presented itself he could scarcely breathe. Samuel must have read something of his excitement because he smiled and there was genuine affection in his eyes.

  Tristan cleared his throat. “Lay me on the bed and kiss me. I want you to lie on top of me and kiss me.”

  “Do you want me naked?” Tristan watched as Samuel gave the tiniest shake of his head.

  “No, I like you clothed. You know that.” Tristan smiled and winked as he walked to the bed. He pulled off his coat, which was an effort given how well tailored it was, and laid it on the chair. He pulled off his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt. He could see Samuel watching him and when the man swallowed and licked his lips Tristan swelled even harder. He had no idea why someone would be watching. If they meant to use the information against him it was already way too late, so Tristan decided to put his trust in Samuel, in the fact that the man would not place him in any danger. He took off his shoes, laid on the bed, and opened his legs. Samuel didn’t hesitate, he crawled up the bed and laid directly on top of him, lining up their cocks as he did so.

  “Like this?” he said in a normal voice. “Am I not too heavy for you?”

  “Not at all. I want your weight. All of it. Now kiss me.”

  Samuel sprawled on top and Tristan lost his breath for a moment. The man was heavy. He coughed and Samuel lifted his chest a little. He stroked Tristan’s hair and laid his lips against his. Tristan was lost. Kissing was so terribly intimate. The sharing of breath and taste with another man never failed to stagger him. He allowed himself to be absorbed into Samuel’s heat, his mouth, his passion. After a while Samuel gentled the kiss and started nibbling his ear, which made Tristan moan.

  “I have to leave tonight. A man named Mosely is watching and he intends to take me once we are done. I cannot stay. If you have changed your mind I understand.”

  Tristan arched his neck and moaned loudly before kissing his way along Samuel’s jaw. “I have money in my pocket and I have rented rooms for you,” he whispered.

  He felt Samuel go still and then squeeze him tightly. “Keep your back to the wall with the picture if you don’t want him to see.”

  “Won’t he be suspicious if we don’t do anything?”

  “People come here for all manner of activity.”

  Tristan smiled up at him. “Touch me here,” he said loudly, and indicated his nipples. Samuel grinned and kissed his way down to the flat discs and then licked and nipped at each, making Tristan arch and moan again. He kissed his way down Tristan’s stomach but pinched tightly at his nipples making him gasp. Samuel came back up and kissed him on the mouth. He unbuttoned Tristan’s falls and pushed his hand inside taking firm hold of his cock making
him gasp even more.

  “Like this?” Samuel murmured.

  “More, more,” shouted Tristan, throwing back his head.

  Samuel stifled a snort of laughter but set about tugging him. He buried his face in Tristan’s neck. “Kick up a fuss. Say I’m doing it wrong. Start knocking me about.”

  Tristan almost laughed. Knocking him about? He luxuriated in the feeling of Samuel’s warm hand on his cock for a moment and then pushed at him. “Not like that, you oaf. What are you doing? Why aren’t you doing it like you usually do?”

  Samuel sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, my lord…”

  “Well, sorry isn’t going to make me come, is it? Get off me, you bloody idiot. Get off me.” He wriggled free and hoisted up his breeches.

  “Come now, do you want my mouth? My cock in your arse?” Sam said in a mock wheedling tone that was frankly hopeless. Tristan could only hope whoever was watching didn’t know him very well. Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Say you want a three.”

  “I want something different tonight,” Tristan said, lifting his chin and looking down his nose. “It will take more than you to satisfy me tonight. I want two.”

  “It will cost you.”

  “Do you imagine that I care about that? Go. Go and find me another.” Tristan waved his hand imperiously. “But kiss me first.”

  Samuel leaned closer and crowded him with his body. “Run,” Tristan whispered. “Run and go to my house.” He whispered his direction.

  “I can’t leave you here.” Sam peppered Tristan’s face with kisses.

  “Of course you can. I’ll just kick up another fuss and leave. Tell the footman you have a private appointment with me.”

  Samuel hesitated and then nodded almost imperceptibly. “I will find just the man for you and together we will give you a night to remember,” he said in his dreadful acting voice. The man would never make it on the stage.

  “See that you do.” Tristan watched Samuel back out of the room. He remembered that he had a part to play so he arranged himself on the bed and stuck his hands in his drawers and rubbed. His cock was completely limp by now. He was so bloody terrified for Samuel. As he lay rubbing himself he saw a flicker of movement from the painting that sat on the wall opposite the bed. An idea struck him.