A Rogue's Surrender: Regency Novellas

by Lauren Smith

  “The last ten years, I’ve been the one writing to you. James wanted me to because he didn’t have the courage to break off your understanding. But I couldn’t either, not when I started writing to you…I fell in love with you, Gemma.”

  Jasper wrote the letters that had tied her heart into knots? He was the one who’d penned the amusing poems about the seamen and their daily duties. He was the one she’d confessed all her dreams to and he’d shared his back. More pain dug its claws into her heart. Another deception, another pack of lies tore into her, ripping the last bit of control keeping her together.

  “You wrote the letters?” Each word came out of her lips in a strained rasp.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you mean any of it? Or was every letter a lie?” When he tried to touch her, she shoved at his hands.

  Jasper bowed his head, but his eyes fixed on her. “Yes. Every bloody word. I gave you all that I am, Gemma. I did not lie about a single thing. I never even signed the letters as James. It was always ‘J’ for Jasper. Even from the start I didn’t wish to lie to you.” He ignored her attempt to retreat and clasped her face in his hands, their lips a breath apart. An unrelenting gleam in his eyes softened her own bleeding heart. He meant what he said, it was in the firm set of his mouth and the intensity of his gaze.

  “Please, Gemma.” His voice was a husky whisper half ragged with emotion. “You saved me. Your letters saved me time and time again. Let me fight to win you back, tell me I still have a chance to earn your heart back.” His eyes brightened with…were those tears she glimpsed?

  “You want to fight for me?” She reached up to curl her fingers around his wrists.

  He answered with a slow, definite nod. “James is my closest friend. I owed him a debt for a time when he saved my life at sea. That was the only reason I agreed to this wretched plan to trick you and I hate myself for it. Believe me. Better yet, let me prove it to you. Let me show you how much I adore you, how much I love you to distraction. You are first in my life, now and always. Even if you won’t give me your heart, you still hold mine in your hands.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. His words were a hypnotic spell upon her hurting soul, healing it of all the pain it had suffered in the last few days.

  The man she loved wasn’t James. He was Jasper. And he loved her back. The finality and the utter relief hit her so hard she expelled a breath and had to suck in another when her head spun.

  “Gemma? Are you all right?”

  Clutching his shoulders, she almost giggled “I never used to get faint until you showed up. What would lady Greenley think of me, swooning like some ninny?”

  His warm laugh rumbled deep from his chest. “She’d tell you to stand up straight and snap out of it, Haverford.” His tone imitated the old battle axe Lady Greenley.

  Gemma laughed harder, only to stifle the sound with her hands. It would be an utter disaster if her parents overheard her and came to check on her.

  Sobering again, she looked up at him. There was so much she wanted to ask him, to know about everything that they’d written to each other in the last decade, but she had to be clear about what he had done, and what James had done.

  “And the garden? Did you tell me to meet you there and send me the blindfold?” The puzzle pieces seemed to be falling into place…the changing penmanship, the change of tone and interest, the depth of emotion too had changed. James never did like to talk about anything serious, but Jasper had.

  With a grim expression, he nodded. “I did send you the blindfold and asked you to meet me in the garden. James told me I had to compromise you so he’d have a reason to break it off when he discovered you’d been with someone else. I hated myself for doing that to you.”

  “Why didn’t he just come to me and tell me from the start he didn’t love me?” She leaned into him, eager to feel his heart beat against her cheek.

  “Because he’s a cur. I should have told him I wouldn’t do it, but I was a fool who wanted to help him out. I went to the garden out of loyalty to him, but when I saw you that first time in the garden, God how I wanted you, Gemma. Everything we’d shared over the years, it just came rushing back to me and I couldn’t walk away from you.” He tilted her chin up so she had to look him in the eye.

  “You truly love me?” His warmth against hers fogged up her mind, but she had to be sure of him and his love.

  “More than you know,” he admitted with an unexpected vulnerability in his eyes that made her love him all the more.

  “I climbed a bloody trellis, braving thorny peril for you my fair huntress. Now, give me an answer, one that won’t break this poor sailor’s heart. Can I yet reach the fair star that shines in my night sky?” His lips teased her cheek and for the briefest second she forget to breathe.

  She loved Jasper. The realization made her giddy.

  “I…I will marry you Jasper.” She turned her head to catch his lips with hers in a sweet, tender kiss, one full of emotion and nothing else between them except that love which had once burned only upon the pages of their letters. Now it burned between their lips.

  He brushed her hair back and she caught his hand, seeing the red angry bruises on his knuckles.

  “What happened?” she asked, then brushed her lips over his reddened skin.

  He frowned a little. “I hit James.”

  “You hit James? What on earth for?” She couldn’t imagine the two men coming to blows.

  “He was being himself, and I was tired of him besmirching an innocent woman’s good name,” he said.

  She raised his hand to her lips again and lovingly kissed the tender bruises. He’d defended her honor. Such a gentleman rogue…and he was hers.

  “You know, if you want to heal my other wounds with your kisses, I was recently attacked by Lady Greenley in several places.” His lips curved into a deeply dangerous smile that made Gemma’s body flash with tempting heat.

  “Oh? And where would that be?” She arched an eyebrow at him, offering a warm smile to encourage him.

  He touched his cheek, she kissed it. He touched his neck and she pressed a kiss there too. He pulled his blouse off and touched his chest. Gemma feathered her lips down from his neck inch by pleasurable inch.

  “Anywhere else?” she asked in a low sultry voice.

  His eyes darkened and he hissed out a breath, adjusting his trousers. “Well…” He started to touch his thigh when footsteps thudded on the stairs.

  “Quick, get down. It’s my father!” She shoved him off the bed behind her, ignoring the thump and the stifled groan. At the moment her father knocked on her door, she kicked at Jasper’s body by her legs, urging him to slide under her bed.

  “Gemma dear? Are you all right? May I come in?” her father asked, his voice a little muffled by the wooden door.

  “I’m not entirely decent, papa, but you may peek inside if you wish,” she called out.

  “I’d like a peek inside too,” Jasper’s wicked whisper slithered up her bare legs and a warm hand started to slide up her calf.

  She kicked out, but Jasper’s hand didn’t leave.

  Her father poked his head in the door and looked at her, a pleasant smile hovering about his lips. “Everything all right dear?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, just preparing for bed,” she lied.

  He studied her with an unreadable gaze and she flushed. It had everything to do with Jasper’s lips against the inside of her thigh, just out of her father’s sight.

  “Well, your mother is turning in for the night. I’ll be up a little while longer if you need me.” Her father started to leave but paused, and with another little twist of his lips, he spoke again. “Mr. Holland, when you find yourself able to rise from behind my daughter’s bed, please come to my study so you and I might discuss Gemma’s dowry.” And then her father shut the bedroom door leaving them alone again.

  Gemma fell back onto the bed mortified, burying her face in her hands.

  Jasper leapt to his feet and towered over her where she sat
on the bed. He gently shoved her flat on her back and slid his hands underneath her chemise, trying to lift it off her.

  “Jasper, what are you doing?” She tried to tug her chemise back down, but he brushed her hands away.

  “Your father doesn’t expect me for a little while, so let’s enjoy the moment,” he purred. He kissed her lips while parting her legs and eased himself down onto her.

  Gemma giggled when he nibbled on her ear. She loved the way he could be part rough and part gentle as though his need for her was so great, but his love for her tempered him enough to go slower when she needed it.

  “You’re terrible, you know that?” she said, her breath coming faster now. She let her hands roam over his back, and she grasped his shirt, lifting it up. Bare skin, that’s what she wanted. His skin beneath her hands so she could feel every muscle move and twitch while he made love to her.

  “You expect me to admire my star from afar? I think not, I’ve tasted the heaven that is your love and cannot bear to wait another second…” His voice was husky and his eyes dreamily half-closed as he cupped one of her breasts, massaging it gently, expertly, until she panted with the desire to have his mouth there.

  Jasper pressed down harder against her, the force of his desire pressed against her now aching core.

  How could love making with him be like this? Half passion, half delight, as though being with him was not only about pleasure, but about sheer breathless joy? Who knew love could be this way? That she could be in love with a man and feel so close to him, inside and out as she did now. That they could enjoy each other while being so intimate. It was wondrous. Simply wondrous. Another one of life’s miracles she wouldn’t take for granted.

  “That wouldn’t perhaps be Lady Greenley’s parasol would it?” She teased and slid her hand underneath him to stroke him through his breeches. She cupped the thick length of him, squeezed hard enough that he growled against her neck and nipped her ear lobe. The tender spot that made her entire body explode with a fiery need that would have her begging soon.

  “Good God no, but I promise to use it much better than a parasol…” His rich voice rumbled in a deep throaty chuckle as he freed himself of his pants.

  With a little wriggle she got closer and he positioned himself. One thrust and he was in her to the hilt. She whimpered at the stretching and the ghost of pain, but it didn’t last long before pleasure overtook it.

  Their faces were close, their bodies touching everywhere and something about that realization made her tremble. Every part of her was open to him, not just her body, but her heart.

  “Do you promise to love me, forever?” she asked as their bodies rocked together in perfect sync.

  He captured her wrists and pinned them onto the bed beside her head, the dominant move making her burn even hotter. He had control of them both now, could do anything he liked to her and because she trusted him, she knew he would only ever give her pleasure.

  “I don’t have to promise you, Gemma,” he murmured against her mouth and thrust into her slowly, gently, as though he had all the time in the world to make love to her.

  “What?” Confusion flitted across her passion dazed mind.

  He chuckled, slid himself deeper into her, hitting a spot that made her entire body go limp. A climax hit her hard enough that she saw stars.

  “Promises can be broken. My love for you? How I feel about you, about us? It’s not something that will ever break. You’re mine, Gemma Haverford, and I’m never letting you go.”

  Neither of them spoke. He continued to rock his body against hers, and she rode out the rippling aftershocks of pleasure while watching him come above her. His parted lips, the widening of his eyes, and the smile of bliss that followed.

  “God, woman, I’m so glad you’re mine.” He whispered it so softly she thought for a moment she’d imagined it.

  Cupping his face, she traced his lips with hers, and felt the sting of happy tears in her eyes. “And you’re mine. I should have known better than to resist such a temptation.”

  “Temptation?” He cocked a brow.

  “Oh yes, from the moment you touched me in the garden, you’ve been a wicked temptation, but now you’re mine, my wicked rogue.”

  “Wicked rogue? I rather like that.” He flashed her a crooked smile that would have weakened her knees if she had still been standing.

  Gemma laughed before finding his lips on hers again. It was beautiful, this passion born of words, consummated with the body and endured by the souls. Every moment was worth the wait.

  Keep in touch!

  Can’t get enough rogues? Then keep reading for the first chapter of Wicked Designs from my League of Rogues series about a group of ultimate bad boys in Regency London.

  If you love this story and any other story of mine, please leave a review! And don’t forget to connect with me on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/LaurenDianaSmith/, on Twitter at @LSmithAuthor and to sign up for my newsletter which will update you on contests, new releases, sneak peeks and cover reveals at http://www.laurensmithbooks.com. I also have a fun street team called Lauren Smith’s League which you can find on Facebook and request to join. I share snippets and teasers of current works in progress and other fun book related content before the rest of the world gets to see it.

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  The Seduction continues…

  An exclusive excerpt of Wicked Designs, The League of Rogues Book 1

  © Lauren Smith 2014 - Published by Samhain Publishing

  League Rule 4

  When seducing a lady, any member of the League may pursue her until she has declared her interest in a particular member, and at such time, all pursuits of the lady by others must cease.

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  Excerpt from The Quizzing Glass Gazette, April 3, 1820, The Lady Society Column:

  Lady Society was quite entertained earlier this week, when she was witness to yet another wicked scheme perpetuated by a member of London’s notorious League of Rogues. His Grace, the Duke of Essex, was seen to have been seducing a most attractive widow in the midst of a musicale hosted by Viscount Sheridan.

  It seems the duke has truly broken with his long time paramour Miss Evangeline Mirabeau. For all marriage minded mamas, there is a collective sigh of sadness that His Grace is a determined bachelor with no intent to marry. Shame upon His Grace for not being a gentleman that mothers could safely marry their daughters to and indulging in his wicked lifestyle.

  Lady Society will continue to watch the League with the keenest interest…

  Wicked Designs

  Lauren Smith

  London, September 1820

  Something wasn’t right. Emily Parr allowed the elderly coachman to help her into the town coach, and the queer look he gave her made her skin crawl. Peering into the dark interior of the vehicle, she was surprised to find it empty. Uncle Albert was supposed to accompany her to social engagements and if not him, certainly a chaperone. Why then was the coach empty?

  She settled into the back seat, her hands clutching her reticule tight enough that the beadwork dug into her palms through her gloves. Perhaps her uncle was meeting with his business partner, Mr. Blankenship. She’d seen Blankenship arrive just before she’d gone upstairs to prepare for the ball. A shudder rippled through her. The man was a lecherous creature with beetle-black eyes and hands that tended to wander too freely whenever he was near her. Emily was not worldly, having only just turned eighteen a few months earlier, but this last year with her uncle had enlightened her to a new side of life and none of it had been good.

  Her first London Little Season should have been a wonderful experience. Instead it had begun with the death of her parents at sea and ended with her new life in the dusty tomb of her uncle’s townhouse. With an insubstantial library, no pianoforte and no friends, Emily had started to slide into a melancholy haze. It was crucial she make a good match and fast. She had to escape Uncle Albert’s world, and the only way she could do that was to legally obtain her father�
��s fortune.

  A distant cousin of her mother’s held the money in trust. It was a frustrating thing to have a man she’d never met hold the purse strings on her life. Uncle Albert despised the situation as well. As her guardian he was forced to give an accounting to her mother’s cousin, which thankfully kept him from delving too deeply into her accounts for his own needs. The small fortune was the best bargaining chip she had to entice potential suitors. Though the money would go to her husband, she hoped to find a man who would respect her enough not to squander what was rightfully hers. But arriving at the ball without a chaperone would damage her chances in husband hunting, it simply wasn’t done to show up alone. It spoke lowly of her uncle as well as their financial situation.

  As relieved as she was to not have her uncle or Mr. Blankenship escorting her, her stomach still clenched. She recalled the cold way the elderly driver smiled at her just before she’d climbed inside. The slickness of that grin made her feel a little uneasy, like he knew something she didn’t and it amused him. It was silly—the old man wasn’t a threat. But she couldn’t shake the wariness that rippled through her. She would have been thankful for Uncle Albert’s presence, even if it meant another lecture on how costly she was to provide for and how kind he’d been in taking her in after her parents’ ship was lost.

  The driver was engaged to bring her to Chessley House for the ball, and nothing would go wrong. If she kept saying it over and over, she might believe it. Emily focused her thoughts on what tonight would bring, hoping to ease her worry. She would join her new friend, Anne Chessley, as well as Mrs. Judith Pratchet, an old friend of Anne’s mother, who’d kindly agreed to sponsor Emily for the Little Season. There was every possibility she would meet a man and catch his interest enough that he would approach her uncle for permission to court her.