Honor and Secrets: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Gypsy Gentlemen Book 1)

by Sahara Kelly

  There was a moment of silence as the truth of Freddie’s words sank home to everyone seated by the warmth of the fire.

  “Speaking of lucky ones,” said Peter, “Do you have any idea where the others are?”

  Viktor shook his head. “Not a clue. I heard from Fabyan…he is in London. I do expect him soon. But as for Gyorgy, Lukasz and Matyas…” He shrugged.

  “They’ll turn up. They always do.” Peter laughed.

  “Without a doubt.” Viktor paused and stared absently at the ring on his wife’s hand. “I could certainly use them, however. There is a visit I plan on paying shortly.”

  Peter’s eyes narrowed. “I recognize that tone.”

  “I have a personal debt to settle.”

  “Viktor, no…” Madelyne paled.

  “Your father needs to be taught a lesson or two, love. And Francis Hucknall is a piece of filth that should be sluiced from London’s streets.”

  “I’m with you, Viktor.” Peter’s tone was firm.

  “And I.” Freddie’s chin rose slightly. “I dislike vermin.”

  Madelyne couldn’t help laughing. “Well, damnation. If you three think we can do it, I don’t mind saying I’d like to settle a few old scores myself.”

  “Oh we can do it, love,” smiled Viktor. “Our years in France taught us exactly how to plot out various schemes and work together to achieve a common goal. Back then it might have been life and death…”

  His voice dropped slightly and Madelyne’s hand squeezed his. He knew she was remembering his tale of imprisonment and torture. Sometimes he wondered if he should have told her, but some secrets were better shared. She’d kissed his scars and proceeded to fuck him into limp and sated bliss. Yes, sharing had certainly eased his pain. And a few other things too.

  “Now we have only our own goals to worry about.”

  “And quite a relief that is too. I’m not sure if we could actually spirit a dozen people around London as easily as we did the French countryside.” Peter’s words sparked some memories and he and Viktor kept the women laughing for the next few hours as their stories of life in Napoleonic France grew more and more unlikely.

  “Enough, you two,” scolded Madelyne at last. “You are stretching the truth to a point where I can hear it screaming for mercy.”

  “They are shameless frauds, Madelyne,” chuckled Freddie.

  “We’ll remember more tomorrow.” Peter waggled his eyebrows at his wife.

  They stood, and as a discussion was held on the subject of rooms and schedules, Peter neared Viktor and spoke quietly.

  “I’ll stand by you in this business with Eventyde, you know that. Any ideas on how to handle it?”

  Viktor leaned closer to Peter and nodded at their wives. “Preferably without those two if we can manage it. I have some thoughts…it may take a few days or so to pull it all together.”

  Peter nodded, eyes on the women. “Agreed. And by God, having Gyorgy along would be a help as well. I wonder what he’s up to?”

  *~~*~~*

  What Gyorgy was actually up to at the moment his friends in London were pondering his whereabouts, was his armpits. In bathwater. It had not originally reached so high around his body, but the addition of the luscious wench who had so readily clambered in to wash his back had inevitably resulted in a rising of the water level, and now there was quite a bit of oversplash.

  “Ooh, Georgie. Such a lovely cock you’ve got, love.”

  Gyorgy winced. Jenny was certainly enthusiastic, but clearly her hearing wasn’t all it could be. He’d pronounced his name quite clearly, several times, but to no avail. He was “Georgie”.

  He really disliked that.

  For a second or two he wondered what the hell he’d been thinking, inviting her into the tub. Then she slithered her breasts and the rest of her around him and without further ado sank down onto his cock.

  Aaah. Yes. That’s what he’d been thinking.

  Jenny moved and rubbed her ample body against his, squishing herself closer and riding him. Heedless of the sudsy tide swamping the sides of the tub, Gyorgy thrust upwards and accepted the nipple that was flying around his face.

  He sucked hard and heard her gasp, enjoying her pleasure with her. He slid his hands behind her and helped her rise and fall on his cock, the water adding to their sensations.

  Her breasts were pendulous and full, and her arse overflowed his grasp.

  This was just how he liked his bedmates. Buxom, enthusiastic and hot. Jenny fulfilled all three requirements, and within moments she was shuddering around him and screaming out her orgasm.

  “Geeeoooorrrggiiieeeeee…”

  This time, Gyorgy’s expression was one of pleasure. What the fuck did it matter what she called him? As long as he could empty his balls into a willing woman, had money to burn, and no obligations, his life was good.

  Gyorgy spent himself with a sigh of relief, feeling Jenny milk his seed with her body.

  Yes, the simple life was good. Very good indeed.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  It is wonderful to know Gyorgy is enjoying life, is it not? Because shortly, his world is about to come to a crashing halt and then take off in a new direction. His fate awaits him and how pleasant to imagine him walking into it with a smile on his face.

  Mat and Luk must not be forgotten. They are men of taste and discretion, which must certainly be approved of, given their particular desires. They have sought for many years for the right woman. It could be entirely possible that she awaits them, and yet has no idea they are so close, since she has other troubles on her mind…

  The stories of the six Gypsy Gentlemen continue in

  BOOK II – Control and Compassion

  Here is an excerpt to whet your appetite…

  Book II

  Control and Compassion

  The contestants slowly dwindled down, doing their best to flick the long leather thong at the ribbon. The farmer came close, but did no better than a puff of hay. One of the coachmen achieved a respectable crack before aiming, to the delight of the crowd, but could come no closer than the first entrant.

  The second coachman was more accurate, making the ribbon shake and shudder as he caught one flying tail.

  The local lad was also very close, bringing a gasp and a shout of encouragement to the lips of his supporters.

  Then it was Gyorgy’s turn.

  He picked up the whip and turned it in his hand, feeling for its balance and weight. The braided leather was smooth beneath his fingers and the tail bore marks of years of use. It was a fine whip and would serve his purpose well. Not as well as his own would have done, but no matter.

  He smiled as the judge butchered his name. “Mr. Georgie Varguss.” His Vargas ancestors were probably rolling in their graves.

  With a slight movement he flicked the whip and tested it, allowing the tip to crack softly. It was a trick he’d perfected as a boy…letting those watching know he was familiar with the instrument, and yet revealing nothing of his skill.

  The crowd had fallen quiet, struck perhaps by the tall stranger in their midst, handling the whip so comfortably.

  Gyorgy focused on the ribbon, knowing all the while that a pair of blue eyes were now focused on him.

  One side of his mouth curved up as he drew his arm back, and with a deft move swept it unerringly towards its target.

  The ribbon fluttered free and fell to the ground.

  There was dead silence for a second, and then a lusty cheer broke free.

  “Did you see that?”

  “Gor blimey, the man’s good with that thing…”

  “Well, I never…”

  The judge slapped Gyorgy on the back with a hand the size of a ham and nearly knocked him over. “Well done, lad, well done.” He turned to the crowd. “We have our winner,” he shouted.

  Applause followed his words and Gyorgy was surrounded by smiling faces, complimenting him on his skill.

  He demurred. �
��A simple trick, no more. Your lads were equally skilled.”

  “A trick, sir?”

  The voice was cool, the tone polite. She stood a short distance away, a little smile playing around her lips. “’T’would seem you excel at such tricks.”

  Gyorgy bowed. “Gyorgy Vargas at your service, Ma’am.”

  She nodded in acknowledgement. “I would like to see some more of your…tricks.”

  I’d love to show you. But you’ll have to strip off that gown.

  Hushing his inner thoughts, Gyorgy raised an eyebrow at her. “What would you have me do, Ma’am?”

  She allowed her smile to widen. “Perhaps…”

  She strolled towards the hay bale under the watchful gaze of the crowd, and pulled a small handkerchief from her sleeve. She waved it to one side of her body.

  “Perhaps you could hit this, sir?”

  The crowd gasped. “My Lady, you should not…” said one woman.

  “Oh, I think Mr. Vargas can accomplish such a simple…trick?”

  Gyorgy rose to the challenge. Other parts of Gyorgy threatened to rise as well at the sight of her standing with an arm outstretched and breasts thrusting against the blue silk gown.

  He quenched the inner demons and nodded. “Please extend your arm, Ma’am, and remain still.”

  Without a second glance, she did as she was bid.

  Even the birds held their breath, and not a sound came from the assembled villagers.

  Gyorgy sighted on the fluttering cloth and flicked his whip. With a small crack it connected with her handkerchief and tugged it free of her hand. With a touch of showmanship, Gyorgy allowed the thong to circle upwards after his stroke, releasing the lace and dropping it into his outstretched hand.

  He caught it, and casually strolled towards her. “Your handkerchief, Ma’am.”

  The crowd roared.

  For a split second, Gyorgy saw something flicker behind those tranquil blue eyes. And it shot right to his groin.

  Then the expression was gone, and the polite smile had taken its place. “My congratulations, sir. You are indeed most skilled.”

  And you may think you have ice blood in your veins, but I know better.

  Without thinking, Gyorgy looped the whip and tucked it into his pocket. It was an action so natural to him that it passed unnoticed.

  “I am the Dowager Duchess Kirkwood, as you may have been informed. Should you ever be passing, you may be assured of a welcome at my home.” She nodded at a house barely visible over the treetops. “I thank you for an interesting afternoon’s entertainment.”

  Within seconds she was gone, surrounded by villagers, children and her servants. Gyorgy was the immediate recipient of a great many compliments, slaps on the back and laughter.

  The chaos and confusion separated them, and Gyorgy bit down hard on the urge to go after the Dowager.

  There was unfinished business between them. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.

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  About the Author

  Sahara Kelly is always happy to explain to editors that her spelling errors aren’t really errors, since she was born and raised in England, where an extra “u” is quite in order. She likes to think it adds colour to her writing. Sadly, it’s not a widely held belief in the United States, so she’d like you to know she still retains a lot from her English childhood even though you won’t see much of it in her spelling.

  Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris’ Saint novels and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara’s new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings. (She still cherishes that extra ”u” though.)

  After more than two decades of writing, Sahara is now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene and looking forward to many more such experiences. Being freed of restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time...” (or however it sounded several million years ago.)

  To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:

  Sahara Kelly (Website – http://www.saharakelly.com)

  This is where Sahara shares none of the intimate details of her life, but will present you with a list of books she'd like you to buy so that she can go do research on a beach in Aruba and be pampered with massages accompanied by drinks with umbrellas in them. She’ll send you a postcard. Thank you.

  When not dreaming of lazing on tropical beaches, Sahara has a relatively active social presence on the Internet. Take a look:

  Follow Sahara on Twitter: http://twitter.com/SaharaKelly

  Friend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sahara.kelly

  See what she’s blogging about: http://writersaharakelly.blogspot.com

  Sahara on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16158.Sahara_Kelly

  You can stay on top of what’s on the way from Sahara’s fertile imagination by subscribing to her newsletter or picking up her app for your iPhone or iPad. Yes, there’s even an app for Sahara Kelly. Best bet? Subscribe to the newsletter and keep up to date with everything going on by clicking here. (http://eepurl.com/bxpvp) She doesn’t send them out too often, so you won’t be swamped with unwanted mail. Sahara loathes that and refuses to inflict it on anyone else so you can go ahead and subscribe without worrying about it.

  Also by Sahara Kelly: (*- co-written with S.L. Carpenter)

  Oh My Laird!

  Deverell’s Obsession

  The Fifth Wife

  Julia and the Devil

  Discreet Madness

  The Viscount and the Witch

  Miss Foxworth’s Fate

  Feels So Right*

  Whole Lotta Love Series

  Love in the Cards*

  Love on the Road*

  Love Under the Lights*

  Happy Endings*

  With a Little Help from my Friends (with Ciana Stone)

  Letting Off Steam

  Winding Her Up

  Stripping Her Gears

  My Renaissance Romance

  Hired Help*

  Open House

  So Into You*

  Faerieland needs YOU

  My Wish

  My Prize

  My Hero

  Showing Off*

  And many more…

  *~~*~~*

  Several of the above titles were co-written with friend and writing partner S.L. Carpenter. Together, they have a dozen or so books available, each featuring their trademark touches of humor and heat. Their most recent releases are a contemporary romance - So Into You, a bundle of their very first three books now available together – Feels So Right, a collection of strange fairy tales – Happy Endings, and the Whole Lotta Love series.

  These, and a whole bunch of Sahara Kelly’s other books, can be found online for your eReader at your favorite vendor. Quite a few are also in print. No excuses, people. You can add her stories to your bookshelves physically or digitally. Go get ‘em.

  *~~*~~*

  Sahara would like to mention that also involved in a collaboration with her writing partner, S.L. Carpenter. They have blended another of their shared passions — art — and five years ago they formed an online graphics business focusing on the complicated world of writers. If you’re interested in seeing what they get up to when they’re not writing something twistedly hot and sexy, they’d like to invite you to come visit their business at the link below and check out some of the amazing cover art currently being created by S.L. Carpenter. They’re certainly never bored…

  P and N Graphics, LLC

  Happy Reading…
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