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  Trusting the Rogue

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-232-4

  ©Copyright Danielle Lisle 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2013

  Edited by Amy Parker

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 1.

  This story contains 55 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 9 pages.

  Rogues of Deception

  TRUSTING THE ROGUE

  Danielle Lisle

  Book three in the Rogues of Deception series

  A rogue, who had sought nothing but his own pleasure in life, is now faced with something he never knew he wanted. A family.

  Hannah, a recent widow and proud mama to the new Duke of Holsworthy, is confronted with a man who fills her body with yearnings she cannot name. The ache is so foreign to her, as is the desire to be touched by this handsome and charming stranger. Yet reality crushes her vacillation when she learns he is also a member of the exclusive Goodrich Hall—a place where the essence of sex practically drips from its sinful walls!

  While this knowledge disgusts her, she finds herself still dreaming of him constantly. The more time she spends with him, the more Hannah sees that he clearly cares for both herself and her son—unlike her late husband, a man who had filled their lives with nothing but pain and suffering.

  Does the pleasure he teases Hannah about really exist? Nights filled with nothing but sublime pleasure? The question is, is Hannah brave enough to let go of her prudish ways and find out for herself?

  Dedication

  For my little man.

  While you’re certainly too young to read this now, I hope when you grow of age, the idea of your mother writing stories such as this won’t embarrass you too much.

  Cuddles—Mum.

  Chapter One

  Hyde Park, London

  1805

  The crunch of Sir Andrew Harington’s steed’s tread on the loose gravel below and the pleasant song of the birds twittering overhead were the only sounds around him, until a child’s squeal soared through the crisp morning air. Yet it was oddly not a sound of terror, pain or suffering—merely glee. Andrew’s interest, as well as his horse’s, moved to the young boy, perhaps five years in age, who charged down the steep, grassy embankment. A broad smile stretched his chubby features as he stared at the large horse beneath Andrew in rapture.

  “Sir! Please, can I pat your mount?”

  Andrew chuckled to himself at the boy’s eager pleading, and nodded.

  “He is the grandest horse I’ve ever seen!” The child’s eyes widened with delight as Andrew rode off the path onto the green lawns bordering the winding lane. He dismounted and came up to the head of his horse, joined by the child, who appeared to be in awe while he gazed up at Andrew’s steed, Dusk.

  “He is so big, sir! My papa never rode, but Mama did when she was a girl. I cannot wait to learn. Did it take you long to learn?”

  Dusk dropped his head to nuzzle the child’s jacket, no doubt looking for a treat such as Andrew’s nephews and nieces always offered. This had the boy in throes of laughter. Andrew patted the well-natured animal and could not help but smile at the boy’s obvious delight.

  The child was clearly no ruffian. His finely tailored clothes and formed speech proved him to be well above the serving or even middle class. Where were his parents? Andrew frowned and looked up to see a woman hurrying towards them, concern lining her features while her attention lay fixed on the child. It took Andrew a moment to draw his eyes away from her skirts, which she lifted as she ran, exposing glimpses of her fine ankles to his curious gaze. His lips twitched in amusement. The lady would be mortified to learn that her slender ankles had attracted the attention of a man such as himself.

  “Harold James! What are you doing?” the breathless woman called, her ample chest rising and falling with her hurried breath as she came upon them. Andrew would hardly have been a red-blooded male if he’d failed to notice the lush softness before him.

  The boy’s shoulders slumped after a moment, and he spared Andrew an apologetic glance before facing the woman.

  “Mama, this man’s horse is black like you said your horse at Eventon was. Even his hair is long and flowing like in your stories,” the boy said, and pointed to the stallion’s mane in evidence. Dusk tossed his head as if in agreement, and Andrew pursed his lips to suppress a chuckle that threatened to escape—not that anyone noticed.

  A little of the fight seemed to leave the boy’s mother. Her pillowy, soft-looking breasts rose, then fell with her deep sigh of what he assumed was relief at finding her child. Andrew could not help but notice how firm and large those delectable mounds were to the eye, and no doubt as appetising to a man’s palm or ravenous lips. His mouth salivated at the thought. It had been too long since he’d bedded a woman—two weeks at least. He inwardly frowned. Two weeks seemed like a lifetime while he stood before this tempting morsel. Though at that moment he had little will to pull his gaze from its current vantage, child present or not.

  “Well, that may be true, but you know better than to leave me. I turned and you were gone.”

  The boy appeared mollified. “Sorry, Mama.”

  She nodded and, for the first time, her attention moved to Andrew. He reluctantly raised his eyes and resisted the urge to stand straighter and comb his hair with his fingers. What am I, a randy youth? He wanted to snort at his inner monologue. He was hardly that.

  Her brow furrowed for a moment before she took another deep breath. His attention was drawn immediately back to her bust line as it perched high, thanks to her dress. The tops of her breasts lay delicately concealed behind a layer of fine lace, which he suspected was worn to tease every warm-blooded male in existence.

  He forced his eyes back to her face in time to witness her wandering gaze drift the length of his body. Andrew’s cock twitched in his suddenly tight breeches. Did she like what she saw? He certainly did of her.

  “Please forgive my son for interrupting your ride, sir,” she said, but he heard the tinge of apprehension in her tone, and the question as to who he was.

  “No bother at all. I am Sir Andrew Harington, and this is Dusk,” he said, while his steed nuzzled the boy’s hair. Giggles misted the air while Andrew smirked. “He is fond of you, young man.”

  “I like him too,” the boy said, half-heartedly attempting to push the horse’s nose away.

  Andrew glanced to the woman, who for the first time smiled as she watched her child, seeming to forget his presence at that moment. Her face was dev
oid of any fright at his disappearance and now only radiated pure beauty. Her twinkling blue eyes and porcelain white skin shone with an exquisiteness that could not be matched by any woman he had met since his birth. Did he want to prolong their meeting? Indeed, he did.

  “Care to ride, young man?” Andrew asked the boy. He stepped forward and scooped up the child, placing him in the saddle. The boy’s eyes widened for a moment, but his expression quickly transformed into wonder as he picked up the reins. “Now, hold them loose. I’ll have a hand on them so you’ll be safe, I assure you and your mama,” he said, flashing a broad smile in the lady’s direction, her face awash with sudden horror.

  “But—”

  Andrew cut her off, taking her gloved hand and bringing it to his lips. “Fear not, my Lady. All is safe in my care.”

  * * * *

  Hannah stared blankly at the man for a second longer before her attention moved to the hand he had kissed just moments ago. He still held it, his deep caramel eyes sending liquid fire into her soul as he gazed upon her, caressing the underside of her gloved palm with his thumb. Shivers skated along her suddenly heated flesh.

  Remove your hand from his grasp! See how he looks at you—it is how a fox gazes at a chicken!

  As sensible as her inner voice was, Hannah could not seem to obey it. Heat flowed from his touch through to the very core of her womanhood. What was wrong with her?

  “Mama, is he as big as Cole?”

  Hannah blinked and looked to her son, where he sat atop the grand animal. The horse seemed calm enough, but Harold was all she had…

  “He is safe,” the man said, as if reading her thoughts. “Dusk would never allow anything to befall him. He is putty in a child’s hands, so please do not let his size fool you. I think it is because children are always covered in something sweet and sticky. Well, at least my sister’s children always seem to be.” The corners of the man’s lips lifted in amusement as if he was recalling an occasion of dealing with the sugar-coated children.

  “Mama, is he?”

  It took her a moment to recall her son’s question. Oh, yes—is he as big as Cole…? “Indeed. He towers over my childhood horse, if truth be known.”

  This pleased Harold. He sat up straighter and puffed out his chest, looking like a minute commander upon the noble beast. She wanted to weep for the boy in him, determined to be the man so many expected him to be. He was a mere child! He should be concerned with nothing more than games and scrapes upon his knees! Alas, it was sadly not the case.

  “All right, young man, now hold the reins like that. Good lad. Now give him a gentle squeeze with your legs and look where you wish to go. He will be able to feel it and proceed there.”

  Harold nodded at the man’s instructions and set about his task. The horse seemed calm and obeyed her son’s command. Sir Andrew slipped her arm through his and turned, walking beside the horse and gallantly leading her along as well. What am I, a sheep? Yet she could do nothing to pull her hand free. She did not know this man, but her mind and body seemed determined to forget that important fact.

  “Pardon my enquiry, but what is your name?”

  Hannah looked to him as they walked the wide path through Hyde Park. “Pardon me, sir. I was distracted by the disappearance of my son.”

  “No harm done. I understand. Yet, you still have not offered your name to me,” he said, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Is it a secret?” he asked with mischief twinkling in his eyes.

  She shook her head, but her son answered before she had the chance.

  “Mama is the Duchess of Holsworthy and I am the Duke, since Papa died. Mama, friends can call us by our given names, can they not? So, Sir Andrew can call me Harold and you Mama?”

  Scarlet heat burnt her cheeks once more, while Sir Andrew laughed.

  “Well, indeed, I consider you a friend, Harold. You must call me Andrew if I am to address you as such,” he said, and looked to her. “However, I have no intention of calling your mother ‘Mama’. I will address her as ‘her Grace’ until she grants me leave to do otherwise.”

  Hannah shuddered at the sexual undertone his voice carried. Oh, this man was a rake! A rogue of the worst order! So why was it that she could not remove her hand from his to slap his face? Chills and sensations foreign to her raced through her body and pooled in her sex, causing it to clench in anticipation. What is wrong with me? Even as she asked herself this, she felt her nipples bead and become painfully sensitive in the confinement of her corset. Each step she took rubbed the nubs against the fabric, teasing her in a way she could not understand.

  “Harold, take Dusk for a turn about the grass there, while your mother and I wait under this tree,” Sir Andrew said.

  Her son nodded eagerly and rode towards the small clearing, while Sir Andrew led her to an old and shady oak.

  As the morning sunlight filtered through the leaves above them, Hannah desperately tried to gauge what was happening to her, but nothing made a lick of sense. What was going on and why was her body reacting like this? It is sinful!

  “He is a charming lad.”

  Hannah forced herself to focus on what was happening rather than on the peculiar reactions of her body at this moment in time.

  “I think so, but then again, I am his mother and therefore rather biased,” she said. She watched Harold grin from ear to ear as the horse walked leisurely around the small green. “Thank you for bestowing him with your kindness. He has known little male interaction and no horsemanship in his short life.”

  She regretted the words instantly once they’d left her mouth. Why was she telling this man anything? He was simply being kind. She had been daft to think he might have the smallest interest in her son—or her, for that matter—when her late husband had not.

  “Hmm, a shame,” he said thoughtfully. “Does he not recall the late duke?”

  “He does. He was almost four when the duke died, but his father never showed him much interest.” As he had never shown any interest in Hannah, other than to do his duty by bedding her for long enough to conceive his heir. It had been a painful reminder of her lacking status as a wife.

  “Then it was his loss.”

  Hannah glanced up to see him watching her, his caramel eyes again capturing her own. Her stomach tightened. She attempted to take a breath, but it somehow managed to become lodged in her throat. His hand, as it rested on hers over his arm, tightened slightly. His gaze smouldered, growing darker, and Hannah felt a new wave of heat flush her body. Am I ill?

  “Can I go faster?”

  Her son’s called words broke apart the moment of insanity, and she snapped her head to her son and the horse. She almost screamed, “No!” but Sir Andrew called, “Another time, Harold,” before she could.

  She looked back to him as he added, “One step at a time.”

  * * * *

  Hannah slammed the book closed and irritably tossed it down next to her on the settee. Like every other thing she had attempted to do to occupy her mind this day, nothing could distract her.

  Regardless of the year since her late husband’s death, she was still a widow in mourning, thus her early excursion to the park when most of the ton would still be asleep in their beds. Everyone apart from Sir Andrew Harington.

  Harold was still in rapture from their meeting with Sir Andrew. Hannah could not but agree with her young son—the man was truly captivating. Ever the gentleman, he had walked them home with Harold still perched high upon the grand black stallion, who had truly been docile until Harold had run inside and begged the cook for sweets to treat the horse. When he’d returned with his offering, Dusk had inhaled them, barely leaving her son’s hand intact—not that Harold had seemed to mind.

  Sir Andrew had asked permission to call again and perhaps take Harold riding. Before she had been able to decline, her son had squealed with excitement. No mother would destroy the first signs of true happiness she had seen in her son in some time. That morning, he had almost been a child again.
>
  She sighed in defeat as the sitting room door opened.

  “Lady Anna, my Lady,” Morris, the butler, said with a bow.

  Hannah stood and embraced her old friend as Anna waddled into the room.

  “My, my, Anna, I swear you get bigger every day. How do you feel?”

  Her dear friend sighed, settling beside Hannah on the settee, gently rubbing her rounded stomach. “Like I am with child,” she drawled.

  Hannah chuckled. “Indeed. Just be thankful you have only a few weeks left, then you will be able to hold your newest love. There is truly nothing superior to holding your child for the first time.”

  Anna regarded her with doubtful green eyes. “I prefer not to think about how this child will leave my body, if you do not mind.”

  Hannah chuckled once more, knowing it was no small task that awaited her friend.

  “Is Harold with his governess?” Anna asked.

  “Yes. They are studying the colonies today, I believe. He is rather fascinated by it all.”

  “Take care, or you will have a son who leaves you in search of the New World and all its adventures,” Anna said, rubbing her back. “I hope you don’t mind my arrival, but Dicky was driving me insane. He hovers like a maid.”

  “Actually, I am thankful for it. You are offering me a form of distraction. Nothing else has worked for me today.”

  “Oh? Distraction from what?” her friend asked, studying Hannah with interest.

  Hannah sighed. “Do you know a Sir Andrew Harington?”

  Anna’s lips twitched. “Indeed I do. Now I understand the cause of your distraction,” she said knowingly.

  Hannah felt heat rush to her face.