Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  Blinded by her hands covering her face as she shook, Arabella heard a ripping sound above her head that jerked her head upward away from her hands. Instantly there was a cloth dropped over her eyes making her gasp and lift her hands to try and remove it. But Darth was stronger and faster as he tied the blindfold in a secure knot at the back of her head. Just as she was reaching to tug it upward, he grabbed her wrist together in one hand stretching her arms straight above her head.

  “No!” she cried. “Let me go!” Her thighs struggled between the tight pressure of Darth’s knees and when she raised her hips upward, trying to struggle free, she felt Darth’s sizable male organ along the crease of her bottom. “No,” she cried again, dropping her hips quickly away from its searing presence.

  But then, without warning, Darth rolled her onto her back, repositioning his hand around her wrists as he kept her arms stretched over her head. His other hand groped between her thighs, cupping her sex as she screamed again. But this time she screamed not in denial, but in desire, as she raised the mound of her sex upward into the heat of his palm as his middle finger separated the swollen slit of her sex.

  “Now, I will rape you with my finger,” Darth’s voice rasped above her.

  Arabella whimpered without control at the threat ... or at the dark promise. Darth’s finger pressed and the puffy slit of her sex yielded wetly. She gasped. He touched her deeper. She moaned, tossing her head and twisting her wrists beneath the grasp of his hand. He hissed deep in his chest an answer to the uncontrollable sounds of need she made, then his finger flicked up and down and her knees lifted outward.

  “Yes,” he rasped, as she whimpered needy sounds.

  Darth’s finger rubbing between the lips of her sex was relentless, tormenting, and exciting. Then he shifted his body and she felt one of his knees pressing between her knees. They separated and he pushed one knee, then the other, until her inner thighs were forced apart. His finger still flicked in the tender quivering flesh of her sex with deeper access now. She moaned, arching her back, struggling, but not struggling at the same moment.

  “God, your pussy is beautiful. So smooth and soft. So wet.”

  Arabella cried out at the touch of Darth’s fingers spreading the lips of her sex open wider, until cool air rushed over the inner flesh. “And this tender bud is mine, Arabella,” he rasped.

  When the roughened tip of Darth’s finger touched her sex bud, Arabella screamed, bending her knees and clamping them along his hips. She never realized that he’d released her wrists as newer sensations caused her to arch her back and cry out at the sharp plucking of her left nipple, while Darth’s finger thrust into the opening of her sex. Still, he used the flat of his thumb to rub her sex bud as his finger withdrew, and then thrust forward again. She panted and moaned senselessly, riding his finger with each thrust that grew harder and came more swiftly. Her body rocked as he used his finger with force on her at the same time he pinched her nipples.

  “Is it rape, Arabella?” Darth’s mouth came down over hers, and he thrust his tongue between her panting lips. Deeper and deeper, he pushed his tongue, until it filled her mouth, choking off her scream as she climaxed.

  Moments later as Arabella tried to find her even breathing, Darth licked her lips slowly, thoroughly, and she let him. Denying him nothing. The taste of him was warm and strong. His finger was still embedded deep inside her, and his thumb still pressed to the beat of her sex bud. She lay with her arms above her head and her knees still gripping his muscular hips. The sensations without her sight were twofold, surprising because she never knew when or where Darth’s touch would come.

  He licked the shell of her ear, wetting it as though he would devour it, then he murmured. “Men and women spend hours or whole days and nights together in bed, little dove.” Then, he barely whispered. “Did you know?”

  “No,” she breathed, and the tip of his tongue touched hers, startling her as it left as quickly as it came. His words, their meaning tightened her belly, bringing excitement. Then his tongue licked her jawline down the side of her throat to circle a hollow there.

  A moment later he murmured, “I want to rape you again, Arabella.” His finger moved deep inside her and her inner muscles clutched it tight. Her inner sex already so wet, dribbled more and she could feel the heat of it. “I want to rape your soft sweet pussy with my mouth, Arabella. I want to lick the lips, suck on your tender bud, and taste this nectar that wets my fingers.”

  “Darth,” she gasped, and in her uncertainty, her hands instinctively reached for the blindfold.

  “No,” Darth hissed on a sharp note, and the bed shifted beneath them as his hands grasped her wrists and pressured them above her head again. “The blindfold stays,” he said. “I would allow you nearly anything but this,” he finished.

  Arabella sucked in a tight breath at the meaning of Darth’s words, and she heard him curse. She knew that he had not meant to say it. He could not have meant for those words to spill from his lips, but he had ... and now was her chance. She would not let him take them back. Let him wonder at her choice.

  “Clothes,” she gasped. “I beg you for some clothes.”

  Darth answer was a harsh unintelligible sound of denial, but the sound of his voice was sneering when he said, “Clothes then, Arabella. I am a fool and fools must always pay the price.”

  The bed shifted and Arabella knew that Darth had left her side. She should be relieved, but her only thought was that if she had clothes, it would be her first step to getting Nicolas back. She’d had no hope before without clothes, but now...

  Chapter Ten

  Darth grimaced as he struggled to put on his boots. He was forced to lean against the wall in the hallway outside his bedchamber to accomplish the task. The tussle between foot and boot aggravated his bad humor. Why would Arabella ask for clothes, when she could have easily asked for her virginity ... or freedom? She was as intelligent, as she was beautiful, he concluded. She had not gambled too highly on the strength of his words, or his conviction to them. She asked for something small and reasonable, gambling she would receive it.

  He was a fool for saying what he had, and further for allowing her the boon. It showed him clearly how much Arabella already affected him, his mind and his body. He’d never expected her to be as responsive as she was, and he could nearly fall onto his knees weeping over having a woman beneath his hands once again. The intense feelings frightened him. He wondered what lengths a man might be propelled to under his circumstances.

  That was why he left Arabella with the presumption that he was going to obtain her clothes. Which he would do, after a fashion, but really he’d left to gain sometime and perspective. Then he realized, with a slight lifting of his spirits that he did have the time with this woman of his, he had been so hungry that he’d nearly forgotten to savor. He was going to enjoy teaching Arabella more, slowly and thoroughly. The possibilities carried him down the staircase, veering right across the tiled entranceway to his office.

  Just as Darth was sitting at his desk chair, Chicery entered the office and stood at the entrance performing a half bow. “Your, lordship,” Chicery stated on the rise. “Is there anything I can see to?”

  Darth continued to settle at his desk and offered up an absently said, “Yes, send me a messenger from the stables I will have some missives to post shortly.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Chicery cleared his throat once, then again before Darth looked up at him.

  “What is it, Chicery?”

  “Your lordship, might I bring to your attention that I have just recently discovered our own Mrs. Wellborn has a cousin in dire need of a position. And the Miss in question just happens to be a skilled lady’s maid, sir.”

  “Really, Chicery, and you thought this piece of gossip might interest me, I take it?”

  Chicery ducked his chin downward, thinking he would not go so far as to advise his lordship on any particulars, just lend him a direction, ever hopeful. “I always keep you apprised, sir�
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  Darth grimaced, making himself appear more severe than was ever his intention. He would not state the obvious, but had he been so inclined to hire a lady’s maid, the task would surely prove impossible. One look at him would have had the poor girl fainting. But not, his Arabella.

  “Thank-you, Chicery, for the information, I will certainly keep it in mind.” And then toss it out, Darth thought. “I will be leaving for several hours, shortly. See that no one enters my bedchamber while I am away. Our guest is resting. That will be all for now.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” Chicery replied somewhat stiffly, as was his manner, before turning to leave the room.

  Darth remained thoughtful, staring at the place where Chicery had stood. Chicery would be an inconvenience to have around at this time, perhaps he would be wise to send the little man on holiday. Arabella was securely locked upstairs in his bedchamber, yet Chicery was sure to notice and harangue him on the impropriety of it, forever more. He was the master here, yet Chicery seemed to have this baffling way of making him adjust his morals. He would have to consider it carefully, he decided as he turned his mind to his correspondence. He intended to find out what he could about the man, Victor Crom, and to that end he was posting his solicitor to the task. He was not a man for leaving loose ends, and he could not ignore the unspecific threat to Arabella. Victor Crom had, had a knife at the end, and he intended to find out why.

  Thirty minutes later, Darth let his stallion, Raven, take the lead as they raced together across the grassy slopes east of Lee. His direction was to the small haven of Griswold, where he intended to fulfill his promise. Eventually the hills leveled outward into haloed fields. In the center of these stood Griswold, where he slowed Raven’s pace to a trot as he neared the town, veering off to take a back alleyway that led him to the rear entrance to Grainier’s Milliner Shop. He hoped the shop was without patrons at the moment as he moved to ring the back bell.

  “Why, Lord Peregrine. It is so good to see you,” Mrs. Grainier said as she stood at the opened back entryway. Darth had known Mrs. Grainier since he was a child and she had never passed a sideways glance at his disfigurement in all those years.

  Darth offered Mrs. Grainier the appropriate bow as she informed him the shop was empty at that moment, she knew his preferences well. With a little niece, who he adored, he’d used Mrs. Grainier’s services on a number of occasions. “I will set out the sign that I have gone for the hour. Do you think that will be an appropriate amount of time, Lord Peregrine?”

  “Yes, madame. Quite adequate, thank you.”

  Darth stopped in the back of the shop as Mrs. Grainier went forward saying, “It is my pleasure to see you again, sir. No need to thank me of course. You will notice the newest shipment of velvets there on the back wall.”

  Darth skipped the velvets Mrs. Grainier indicated. He knew that she’d assumed it might be something for Victoria, his niece, and he realized in that moment, how much he was going to enjoy dressing Arabella to his tastes. He decided on three dresses. The first one was blue linen with a high collar in the back and an open v-shaped neckline in the front. He had Mrs. Grainier remove the flounce of bows holding up one layer to show a deeper color underneath and he also had her take the ornate lace from around the top collar and cuffs.

  “A woman should be the decoration,” he stated to Mrs. Grainier’s raised brow.

  “Of course, my lord, you are right,” she said with a smile.

  Darth had the other two garments similarly treated. One was a rich, brown silk that would complement Arabella’s unique golden eyes and the other a sturdier, dove gray wool with a short jacket. He picked out undergarments, stockings, and two pair of shoes. He spent a little more time in the undergarments nearly despairing of finding what he needed, until he asked Mrs. Grainier if she carried any night frills for mistresses. This did the trick, and he had this particular piece of frippery package separately. Finding it difficult to hold back his smile of anticipation over what Arabella would make of the single article of clothing that he intended to present to her.

  “Are you certain that a corset will not be necessary?” Mrs. Grainier inquired for the second or third time.

  “The lady in question has a sufficiently slim waist already. I would not tie even the lowliest animal into one of those trappings,” Darth declared, thereby effectively closing the subject.

  Darth paid for his purchases and left through the rear door, tying the parcels off his saddle horn. Mounting Raven, he turned his mount back toward Lee and then gave a second thought to another idea. Bringing Raven about, he headed to the Inn of Griswold. Once there he entered the inn by the front door seeking out the proprietor, and ignoring the stares that he received from the common room patrons.

  Twenty minutes later found him back on the road to Lee as he kept Raven to a trot, mirroring his own thoughts. What he’d learned at the inn had been very interesting. It seemed that Mr. Crom had left the inn without paying his tab and the inn keeper was very interested in finding him. When Darth had inquired how many had been in Mr. Crom’s party, he was told that it was but the one man and a small boy. Darth had even gone so far as to describe Arabella by name and by looks, but this had produced no recollection on the inn keeper’s part.

  The inn keeper told Darth that a satchel and a trunk had been left behind, which Darth promptly paid the outstanding fees on to acquire. The trunk would be delivered to Lee tomorrow by coach and the leather bound satchel now hung from his saddle horn. Darth was certain this must be the same satchel that Arabella had spoken of once, but he did not venture within its confines to see what was inside. The smell alone told him the satchel most likely held the herbs that she had remarked on.

  He wondered why Crom would keep Arabella’s presence a secret and who the devil was the small boy? The situation was very delicate and he knew the only place to discover the answers were from Arabella herself. He also realized that he did not want to know the answers now, especially if it could sway him in any direction of letting Arabella go. Actions that would not, and could not, happen.

  “You are a scarred beast,” he declared. “Act as you look, man. There is no room for decency in this gamble.”

  So with determination, Darth put aside his thoughts and guilt about the how and why’s of Arabella, and he just lingered on the woman herself. A pastime entertaining his thoughts all the way back to Lee.

  Chapter Eleven

  Arabella stirred on the bed, she knew Darth was gone, yet still her breathing came erratic as she reached for the blindfold. She lifted it slowly, first seeing her naked breasts rising and falling, then seeing her nude body. Quickly she grasped an edge of the bed linen and pulled it over her body. She could see the place on the linen where Darth had torn a strip for the blindfold. She contemplated the blindfold as she lay still, nearly afraid to move.

  Darth’s need to blindfold her was the key to his soul, she thought. She realized suddenly that Darth used the blindfold for her, so she would not have to see his scarred face. She’d been so entangled with riotous emotions before this to think clearly and truthfully Darth’s scarring had faded in its importance to her. It was simply a part of him. Where the man he was, his strength, his power, and his masculinity overwhelmed her concentration. Yet he must believe that most women would find his appearance distasteful. In all honesty, many women would shudder, and the weaker ones might cower.

  Yes, they would, she conceded. She could not imagine what it must be like to live as Darth was surely forced to do. He had to be terribly isolated, conceivably haunted, and perhaps even afraid. Of course he would never admit it, or allow others to see it. Yet they had been intimate together, and words had come from him that would not have otherwise.

  It was clear that Darth’s intentions were to keep her as his slave, and it was also painfully clear that he intended to take her virginity. Arabella wondered why he waited. Did he not have her at his mercy? But it seemed to her that he wanted more from her. Another man in this position mig
ht just forcefully rape her. If she were honest, she would have said that she thought all men would. Yet her dark lord portrayed himself as tormented as she felt.

  Arabella wondered then, if she could use her understanding of Darth to somehow compel him to help her to rescue Nicholas? She had to get Nicholas away from Victor, she was so worried about him, and already an entire day had passed. Yet she did not believe that Victor would harm Nicholas, unless it would benefit him somehow. She wished desperately that she could tell Darth of her circumstances. Would he care or would he ignore it? She could not take the chance.

  It was then she finally got up, slowly from the bed. She did not know where Darth had gone or how long he would be gone, but she could not rest naked on the bed just waiting for his return. When she found another shirt and put it on, she decided to check all the entrances to the room for possible means of escape. The windows were too high to climb out of and all the doors appeared to be locked. But when she returned to the clothing closet to check one more time, she found a small door at the very back, behind a rack of clothing. The door was a forgotten feature, it was dusty, but it opened easily, and she saw that it led into the adjoining chamber. This room was another bed chamber and when she checked the door, she found that it was unlocked.

  Her heart fluttered in excitement as she stood there for long moments with her hand on a door knob that would open to her freedom. Did she dare? Or more importantly would it be wise? A man such as Darth, would not allow her escape easily, he would hunt her down if he had to. He believed that she was his property now, and she knew with inner certainty that he was fiercely possessive. It showed in the way that he moved and stroked her body with such power and command. He would hunt her to the ends of the earth, she had no doubt, and she did not have the power to match his. She realized in that moment that Darth was her only hope. He was the only one she knew in England, the only one who might help her, if she dared to tell him. Her hand shook as she released the knob, and then she returned to Darth’s bedchamber.