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gentleman’s anger
PLAYERS & SINNERS

M.K. MOORE

FLIRTY FILTH PUBLISHING

Gentleman’s Anger (A Players & Sinners Novella) by M.K. Moore

©M.K. Moore 2023 Flirty Filth Publishing.

All Rights Reserved.
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the
publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used
fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is
entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in
no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s
trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18
years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.
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 contents
Playlist that Inspired Gentleman’s Anger
Blurb

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Epilogue

Want more players and Sinners?

ABOUT M.K.
 Dedicated to Joey… one of my favorite brothers. Thanks for all the rugby help.
Also to the Vitamin String Quartet… I couldn’t have written this book without your inspiration.
-M.K.
 playlist that inspired gentleman’s anger

(pretty much ever VSQ song ever, but specifically these ones)
Love Story Vitamin String Quartet
Take Me To Church Vitamin String Quartet
Bring Me To Life Vitamin String Quartet
Sail Vitamin String Quartet
Firework Dallas String Quartet
Love Story Taylor Swift
Die for You The Weeknd
 blurb

Logan Reynolds is a perfect gentleman, that is until he gets on the pitch. All bets are off out there.
When he sees the new owner, he never imagined she would be everything he ever wanted.
Patience Winters has never taken no for an answer. Her 1% stake in the London Lions is about to
finally pay off. She shouldn’t get involved with a player, especially not Logan Reynolds.
Is it really such a sin?
When they fall, they fall hard, fast, and dirty. Doesn’t love always win?
Can his wrath match her patience?
Hate the sin.
Love the sinner.
Falling for the bad boys may get these ladies into trouble, but it's hard to resist the temptation. The
guys are hot, talented, desperately wanted, famous... and the details of their stories extremely
addicting.
As the women these athletes love peel away the layers, each one uncovers a side the public doesn't
normally get to see. Whether or not that side is worth the fight is a different question.
One only answered by the heart.
7 Deadly Sins meet the famous athletes of the Players and Sinners Club. Indulge with these standalone
stories, guilt-free.
 one
LOGAN REYNOLDS

A t twenty-four, I’ve been around long enough to know that I’m beyond fucked up, but I can
compartmentalize it, for the most part. When I was seven years old, I witnessed my parents murders. I
had gotten up for a drink of water and heard a noise. Like a dumbass, I went to the source of it. I
pushed open my parent’s bedroom door and froze as I watched in horror as they were stabbed to
death by strangers. Like a coward, I went back to bed, hoping and praying it was just a nightmare.
Afterward, I kept hearing the whispers of the killers as they carried the TV from their bedroom
downstairs. When they left, I finally called 911, but it was too late. They were gone and my older
brother, Jensen, became our guardian. He raised us well, but it wasn’t the same. I never told anyone
what I saw. I am ashamed that I didn’t do more to help them. It weighs on me more than anything ever
has before. For years it was just Jensen, Harry, Paul, Don, Dave, Kyle, and me against the world.
Jensen really held it together. He was eighteen when it happened. I like to think that if it had been me,
I would have been able to step it up, but I’m not so sure. Jensen was a professional gamer for many
years but once he got married to Jessica two, almost three years ago, he moved into game design,
which I guess had been a dream of his. I’m ashamed that I didn’t know that about him. Fuck. I’ve got
to get better about visiting more often. When I was eighteen, I left Florida for England and I never
looked back. Sure, I visited some, but it is no longer home. My brother tried, God bless him, but I
haven’t had a home since the night I stood by and did nothing as my parents were murdered.
My brother’s don’t understand me and that’s okay. I don’t need them as much as I thought I would.
I have to be my own man. I don’t know exactly when I turned into this hardened person, but something
has got to give, and it’s got to be me. Only I can change it but at this point I’m not sure how to go
about doing that.
I never date, I’ve never fucked a woman before, never wanted to waste my time. Night after night,
I watch as my teammates, most of whom are my friends, search the clubs of London for whatever
pussy they can find for the night. I never understood that. Mind you, this isn’t rooted in some religious
piety. It’s because I want my heart, soul, and body to belong to my soul mate. The one woman out
there that was made just for me. Until I meet her, my sole focus is the game. I put on my uniform, the
black and gold colors pumping me up. For luck, I jump up and tap the “Welcome to the Lion’s Lair”
sign before reaching the pitch. The crowds cheers, and even their jeers make me grin. The fucked-up
gentleman I was two seconds ago is gone. In his place is the wrathful god of rugby I have become.
This game is the last of the regular season. When we win, we’ll go onto the semi-finals.
We have to win. Winning is what it’s all about. The violence of this game means nothing without
winning. Nothing. As the teams hooker, my soul job is to hook the ball back to my team.
Eighty minutes until glory or eighty minutes until defeat.
 I know which I’d prefer but it’s not all up to me. Hopefully, Lady Luck will be on our side.
“Ready, mate?” my best friend, Jimmy Long asks as we make our way out to the pitch. London
born and bred; Jimmy was the first person to warm up to me on the team. As the only American on the
Lions it was hard getting acclimated, but Jimmy and his family helped me out.
“Born ready,” I tell him, grinning.
“Let’s rock those Badgers,” he says as we get into rows. The whistle blows and the match begins.
Eighty minutes later, victory is ours. We beat the Badgers by just three points, but I’ll take them.
We are on the way to the semi-finals now.
This is my fourth time at the semi-finals, but we’ve never managed to get into the finals since I’ve
been here, but to be fair the Lions never made it to the semi-finals before I got here. The team was
very unbalanced before the former owners son took over.
After a quick shower in the locker room, Jimmy thrusts a dry-cleaning bag into my hands.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“The club.”
“I have a suit. I don’t need to wear yours,” I reply, trying to give the bag back to him.
“Not for this club.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m bringing you as my guest to my private club.”
“I don’t want to see strippers,” I say, quickly.
“It’s not that kind of private club. I mean not unless you want it to be.” I look at him with what I
am sure is the craziest look on my face. “I’m not doing a very good job of explaining this.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay. It’s like this. Do you know what the regency period is?”
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate that the only reason I know what it is isn’t because of history classes.
When my mom died, she had tons of historical romance novels. They were all over the house. She just
left them wherever she finished them, like decorations. Jensen was selling everything, which I got, but
when no one bought the books, he was going to donate them to a thrift store. For some reason, I didn’t
like that. I made him keep them. Since I was only seven at the time, I left them in boxes in the garage.
When I turned twelve, after being punished for shoplifting, I was tasked with cleaning and organizing
the garage. I found them again. Armed with Lady Sophia’s Duke For Hire by Chastity Bontrager in
one hand and a dictionary in the other, I fell into a fantasy world I’ve never shared with anyone. It’s
my guilty pleasure. Some guys snuck Playboy and Hustler; I wasn’t one of them. Instead, I read every
single one of my mom’s books and I feel like I learned a lot from them. Once I finished one, I moved
on to the next one. They have graduated from six carboard boxes in my brother’s garage to a large
plastic tote that can hold a six-foot Christmas tree in my air-conditioned storage unit back in Florida.
I still read them now, but thanks to the invention of the Kindle, I can read them discreetly. I can’t
imagine what how fucking badly my teammates would make fun of me if they ever found out.
“So in the Regency Period they had gentlemen’s clubs.”
“Like White’s on St. James Street?” I ask, cutting him off.
“Exactly. This club is on St. James too, but it’s open to anyone. Men and women. It’s called The
Pinnacle.” I choke on my water, which I just started gulping down. Pinnacle is an old term for a
woman’s orgasm. I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but I know, and I’d be lying if I said I
was intrigued by the idea of this club. “You okay, mate?”
“Yep. Great. Go on.”
“Well, tonight is their famed Crisis party. I can bring a guest. If you like it, you should join. I’ve
been a member for six months and it’s pretty fucking awesome.”
“Is it?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s unreal. Unlike any club I’ve ever been too. Therefore, you have to wear this.” He hands
the bag back to me.
“Okay. Let’s go,” I reply, suddenly excited a way I don’t think I ever have been before.
Any club named after the female orgasm who holds a party named after the male orgasm definitely
warrants at the very least a visit.
 two
PATIENCE WINTERS

“W here the hell is Patience?” I hear shouted from somewhere on the other side of my shut and
locked trailer door. I know I’m needed on set. They have called this scene three times now, but I am
not ready. Diva Patience is on the loose. My best friend, Holly opened up a private club in London
and asked me if I wanted to invest in it. I was looking for a tax write-off at the time, so I invested,
becoming a silent partner with a 49% stake. After that, I invested 1% in the London Lions, my dad’s
favorite rugby team. I’ve been going to matches there since I was little girl, so when they were
looking for some new investors, it was a natural move for me. My phone vibrates across the table, so
I pick it up and see that Holly has texted me.
Holly: You have to come see the club. We’ve been open for two years and you still haven’t come
to see the place. You should come. Tomorrow night is the Crisis.
Me: Okay. I’ll be there.
Since I haven’t been home in ages, I quickly book a ticket for London and set my phone back on
the charger. She has been asking for a while now and I would honestly kill someone for my mum’s
Toad in the Hole. It’s fucking delicious. There is nothing like Yorkshire Pudding battered sausage
with the best gravy ever. It’s always been my go-to comfort food. However, I haven’t had any in two
whole years. I’ve been acting since I was four years old. My mum was the best mumager ever, but
when I turned eighteen, she went home and managed me from there. She’s the best business partner I
could ask for. Other than Holly, I don’t trust a single person besides my parents to help me with this.
Everybody lies, cheats, and steals. That’s why I don’t have many friends. I’ve been burned too many
times. I look at myself in the mirror. Twenty-one is way too young to feel this tired. To look this tired,
but I really, really love my job. I love getting to be a totally different person every day. I love telling
stories. I love that people get lost in those stories. Hell, I love it all.
I paste on a big smile and not two minutes later, I’m giving it my all as Fanny Albright, a poor
farmer’s daughter who saves the town from a nuclear reaction from the power plant on the other side
of town. It’s the first role I’ve done that isn’t a children or teen movie. My ultimate goal is romantic
comedies. You know the ones with one or two chaste kisses and undying love before the credits roll. I
don’t want to do anything too risqué or make out with someone who isn’t my husband, but before that
can happen, Holly begged me to play the lead role in the movie based on her novel. I couldn’t turn her
down. Of course, I don’t even have a husband, but I know he’s out there somewhere waiting on me. I
can’t, in good conscience, go to my husband anything other than pure. I know it’s old-fashioned but
there is something to be said for it. There was probably a reason why all those years ago a virgin
bride was best. I think a lot of things that have happened in the world in the last two hundred years
that has made that virtue fall to wayside, and I get that. I really do, but I don’t have to agree with it. I
want to my husband, whomever he may be, to know that I have never or will never take anyone else
into my body. It’s his. It should be a sacred right and it’s the only thing I can give him that money can’t
buy.
Once I finish shooting, I’m finished with all my parts. I don’t have to be here anymore. I’ve been
in a hotel for months now, since we are on location in Estonia, it’s not going to be a long flight home.
I board my Regal Air flight, first class. Since it’s so late, there is no one else in the section. I fall
asleep almost as soon as we take off. Less than three hours later, I’m at the baggage claim. The taxi
ride to the house I bought for my parent’s is blissfully short. I’ve only been here once, but it’s my
home base. I pay the driver and take my bags up to the front door.
Using my key, I let myself in. My parents are already in bed because, unfortunately, I can hear
them having sex. Ugh. I mean, I guess it’s a good thing that they love each other so much, but I really
don’t want to hear that. To be fair, they didn’t know I was coming home.
The lights are off, and I run into something… Something that wasn’t there the last time I was here.
“Bloody hell!” I scream, dropping my purse and keys, then lift up my foot and clutch it. My whole
foot is throbbing.
“Who’s there?” a man, not my dad, shouts as he comes out of my parent’s bedroom.
Of course, I scream again. The lights flip on, and I see that it’s definitely not my dad, but his best
friend. “Uncle Ray?” I ask, confused. He’s naked as hell, brandishing a cricket bat. As if he can read
my mind or something, he drops the bat and covers himself up.
“Paysh?” he says, equally confused.
“Patience?” my mum says, running out of her room. Her open dressing gown billowing behind her.
“Mum?”
And then, because I needed to see this, my dad comes out of the bedroom in his jockey shorts,
which isn’t that weird, but then Ray’s wife, Auntie Rita, rolls right out of there too with one wrist
handcuffed, in a purple silk and lace nightie.
“Pum Pum, you’re home.” I look at my dad. It’s like he’s a stranger right now.
“I am,” I say, looking around the room. My mum has finally closed and tied her dressing gown. I
take a deep, calming breath. “What’s going on here?” I gesture to group of them wildly.
“It’s not what you think,” Dad says.
“Uh-huh. So tell me.”
“We are a quad.”
“What?” I ask. My mind is racing to catch up with whatever this is.
“We are all together. We have been together for twenty-two years. Tonight is our anniversary,”
Auntie Rita says.
I just nod. I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. Ray and Rita have been in my life for as long
as I can remember. I knew my mom got pregnant with me when she was eighteen and at university.
Ray and Rita always lived right next door to us. They did everything with us. Holidays, my school
plays which there were a lot of vacations. Even dinner, most nights. I just thought they were all best
friends. I always thought of them as extension parents.
“Say something, Patience Aria Winters.”
“Which one of you is my dad?” I blurt out. I always thought I looked like Ray, but I didn’t dwell
on it. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. It doesn’t really matter, does it?
“Well, uh, we don’t know, but I had you. I swear,” Mum says.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We weren’t sure how you’d react. When you were a baby, it was easy. The four of us did it all.
Feeding, changing, soothing. Even as you got older the first six years of your life, we carried on as we
always did, but then someone said something to us when you started primary school. We didn’t want
you to be embarrassed. You were getting more acting jobs. We knew you were going to be a big star,
Patience. We didn’t want the press to get wind of unconventional lifestyle and cause you problems
down the road. We did what we thought was best. You don’t remember Ray and Rita being here all
the time?” I nod because I do remember it. My mind flashes back to the time I fell off of my bicycle
and Rita was the only one home. She didn’t work when I was little. She bandaged my knee and kissed
my boo-boo. I vividly remember saying “thank you, Mama.” How in the hell could I have forgotten
that? Who forgets a second set of parents? A self-absorbed bitch that’s who.
“I do. Rita stayed at home with me during the summer.” I look her, really look at her. She used to
hang the moon for me, and I just forgot about it. I can’t imagine what she’s been going through all
these years. As Auntie Rita, I loved her, but it couldn’t have been the same for her and it certainly
wasn’t the same for me. My budding success robbed us. I have to make it right, but not tonight. Not
while everyone is so… undressed.
“That’s right. I didn’t work. They all did, but I took care of the house and cooking.”
“Toad in the Hole,” I murmur, suddenly vividly remembering making it by her side in the house
we all must have lived in before I started school.
“That’s right. It’s her recipe.”
Okay. I’m in Hollywood ninety-nine percent of my time before that I was a theater geek. I’ve seen
some crazy shite before. I’m also pretty sure everyone is embarrassed by their parents at some point
during their awkward adolescence. I can totally handle this.
“What kind of quad?” I ask. My dad, Roger, I guess I need to start differentiating, nods like he
knows what I’m meaning, which is good, because I have no idea what I mean.
“Quad might be misleading, but that’s what we call it. We are all together, all in love.”
“Desperately and equally,” Rita says, moving closer to my mum, grabbing her hand. I watch as my
mum squeezes it.
“Why am I an only child?” I ask, praying that they didn’t stop having kids because of me.
“Rita had a miscarriage about nineteen years ago and neither of us ever got pregnant again,” Mum
says.
“Not for lack of trying,” Ray says, making me laugh.
“Jesus, go put something on, Ray,” Dad says. Ray backs out of the room and disappears into the
bedroom.
“Nothing has to change, Pum Pum.”
“Um, not to be difficult but this most assuredly changes everything,” I say as Ray comes back into
the hallway.
“Patience, please. We are sorry for lying but don’t shut us out,” Mum says, and I smile.
“Mummy, please. You know me. I was just confused, but now my entire childhood makes sense.
You should have told me, but I get why you didn’t.”
“What are saying, Paysh?” Ray asks moving to my dad, who takes his hand and Rita’s in his. The
four of them are standing, together, like an immovable wall.
“We are a family. We always have been. Now, I have four parents who I’m pretty sure all love
me.”
“We do,” Rita and Mum say at the same time. Dad and Ray nod vigorously.
“I knew it. I knew my parent’s best friends wouldn’t come see me in school plays if they didn’t.”
“We should probably tell you one other thing,” Mum hedges.
 “What?” I ask, cautiously.
“Okay. This is where it gets legally confusing. I’m married to your dad and Ray is married to
Rita, but the four of us did a commitment ceremony as a group and as four separate couples.”
“Okay, so to clarify. Mum and Dad are married in the eyes of the law. As are Ray and Rita. Then
Ray and Dad committed to each other, You and Rita committed to each other. Dad and Rita did the
same and you and Ray rounded that out.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well. I guess I’ll see you guys in the morning then. I quickly buss kisses on each of their
cheeks and grab my purse and carry one before dashing up the stairs.” As I walk past the bedroom, I
glance inside. The largest bed I’ve ever seen in my life is in there as well as several dressers, and not
one, but two sex swings hung right next to each other in one corner. Nope. Not going there.
“I’ll get your suitcase, Pum Pum.”
“No need, Dad. I’ll grab it in the morning. I have stuff up here. Happy Anniversary.”
After shutting myself in my room, I pull some pajamas out of my dresser. I strip down and throw
the One Direction T-shirt and pair of shorts on. Only then do I remember my foot is killing me. I look
down at it and see the bruise already starting to form. Oh, well, nothing I can do about it now. I slide
into the crisp sheets of my bed.
Well, that was certainly interesting.

When I wake up in the morning, I’m not surprised the find the four of them sitting around the dining
room table, eating breakfast. Fully dressed in proper pajamas, thankfully. I pour myself a cup of tea
from the teapot on the table. I grab some toast and bacon and sit down. Ray and Dad are reading the
paper, while Rita and Mum talk quietly. I have several months before I have to be anywhere. My next
shoot doesn’t start until May. It’s filming in Sussex, so plan on staying in London for a good long
while.
“Sweeting, you must have a lot of questions for us,” Rita says.
“Not really. I just can’t be calling you and Ray by your names anymore. So, I’ve decided to
change that up if there are no objections.” No one says anything, so I continue. “I think Mama and Da,
will work, like before. What do you think?”
“I think that would be lovely,” Mum says, grasping Mama Rita’s hand.
“We all do, Pum Pum.”
“How long are you home for?” Mum asks.
“At least until May. I can stay at a hotel if that’s a better option. I know you gave up twelve years
together for me. I don’t want to be the cause of any more separation.
“We wouldn’t dream of it, Patience. This is your home.”
“Technically, I bought it for you, but…”
“But nothing. Stay as long as you like. It’s not too weird for you is it?” Dad asks.
“Well, other seeing way too much of Da, it’s fine.” That garners a laugh. “I do have one question
though.”
 “We all have sex,” Mum blurts out before slapping a hand over her lips. Everyone looks over at
her.
“Uh, good for you, but that’s not what I was going to ask.”
“Sorry. Continue.”
“How did this happen? How did you know the others would be into it?” I take a bite of bacon in
order to stop talking.
“Oh, well. Ray and I were roommates at university and so were they. We hung out and dated
casually, but it felt like something was missing. One night we had a few too many beers down the pub
and one thing led to another. I had never and still haven’t been attracted to another man. Just Ray.”
“It’s the same for us too,” Rita says.
“Love will do that to you. Pure and simple. Love knows no boundaries and it never fails, always
remember that, Paysh,” Ray says, surprising me. He’s usually the funny guy. I’ve never heard him say
anything so… poignant before.
“Hear, hear,” Dad says, rubbing his arm.
“Alright, enough of that,” I say wiping a stray tear that escaped at his words. Suddenly, the
doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” I say, leaving the dining room. Moving to the front of the house, I pull the
front door open.
“Delivery for Miss Patience Winters. Patience Winters? Where have I heard that name before?”
He looks at the label and back at me several times. “The movie star, Patience Winters?”
“I wouldn’t say star, but yes I am she,” I say, offering him my press junket smile.
“Wow. Cool. Sign here,” he says thrusting a iPad at me. Using my finger, I sign it. “Could you also
sign this? My daughter loves you.”
“Sure, do you have a pen?” He pats his pockets down with one hand, but comes up with nothing.
“No, shite.”
“Hang on,” I say reaching into the bowl of crap mum keeps by the front door. It’s mostly change
and rubbish mints, but I find a mini hot pink Sharpie in the mess. I sign my name to the piece of paper,
a receipt, I think. I take the box from him and thank him. Opening the box, I find a note and a gorgeous
red gown, along with all the proper Regency undergarments. Holy shite. Are these crotchless
drawers? I’ve never worn anything so elaborate before.

Wear this tonight. Get your own shoes, girl. XX Holly.

This is how I find myself being cinched into a corset tighter than a vise by my mums ten minutes
before my taxi is set to arrive, but we did it. I stare at myself in the mirror not recognizing myself.
Rita curled my hair to look like Daphne’s in Bridgerton. My boobs are right under my chin, and the
pearls I borrowed from Mum look amazing, just kind of nestled there.
“You look beautiful. Tonight is going to change your life. I can feel it, Sweeting,” Rita says,
looking at me. She’s beaming with pride; just likes she’s always done. I could kick myself for not
realizing how much she loved me. I pull her into a hug, which is the first time I’ve done so since I
was six, I believe. I pull Mum into out hug and kiss both of their cheeks.
“Thank you, Mama. Mum.”
After a quick goodbye from the Dads, I hop in the taxi, ready for wherever this night will take me.
 three
LOGAN

A s soon as we get to the Pinnacle, I see a huge, ornate sign by the entrance way that reads:
Welcome to The Pinnacle.
This is an exclusive, all-inclusive club hidden in the heart of London. Here, no one knows your
name. Privacy is paramount. There are only a few rules here:
This is a 21 and up establishment. Guests are welcome but they must remain with the member at all
times.
Never discuss what occurs within these walls with any non-member. To get to this point, you signed
a non-disclosure agreement, remember that always.
No cellphones.
No cameras.
No Modern clothing. All of our patrons are to be dressed to the nines in Regency Attire only at all
times, unless utilizing a private salon. There are several shops in London we recommend, however
if you are looking for something couture, be sure to contact Migan Jorgensen. She has created all
of our proprietrix’s wardrobe.
Do be sure to remember, on the last Saturday of each month we hold The Crisis, a no holds barred,
hedonistic party where non-members can see what we are all about.
Here we are all Lords and Ladies.
Here we can be whomever we want.
Whatever your pleasure: cards, billiards, drinks, dancing or if your daring, be sure to check out
The Auxiliary, where all things debauched dwell.
Come inside and party like it’s 1820, because here, it’s forever the Regency Period.

I read each rule. As I do, I get more and more excited. Like Christmas morning when you’re ten
excited. I’m barely in the doors when I decided to join. I step into an antechamber and meet with the
owner, and fill out paperwork. I also sign the NDA. We chat for a few minutes while she runs my
credit card.
“Welcome to the Pinnacle, Lord Reynolds. Enjoy your evening,” she owner says, smiling at me.
She’s a consummate professional. If she knows who I am, she doesn’t say anything.
“Come on this way,” Jimmy says, leading me over to a locker area. “Phones go in here. You keep
the key until you leave.”
“Oh, okay,” I say. The sign is making sense now, not to mention the additional rules the owner
said she’d email me.
“Welcome to the Pinnacle, gentleman. I’m Elyse. Should you need anything, anything at all, please
don’t hesitate to ask. Enjoy The Crisis.” She gestures toward the entryway.
“Thank you,” I say, not knowing what to expect.
The entryway is thick red velvet curtains. Automatically, the curtains part and we are in the main
salon. It looks like pretty much every fancy bar in the world, but the historically accurate touches are
what makes it stand out. We make our way to the bar and order shots of Jameson. I throw mine back,
savoring the delicate spicy flavor of it. On the way over, Jimmy told me that most of the team are
members here. It’s a place to go where we aren’t mobbed by fans. The way it was described to me is
Julia Roberts could be drinking a dirty martini right next to you, but you can never tell a soul. In here,
no one cares who you are, they are pursuing their own pleasures. That kind of anonymity is unheard
of. It was recently released in the press that I am the highest paid rugby player in the world and damn
sure gold diggers came out of the woodwork. No fucking thanks. I am glancing around the room, when
the curtains part again and my breath leaves my lungs in an undignified woosh.
“Who’s that?” I ask, looking again at the woman who is now coming toward us with the owner,
Holly Fraser. I feel like I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place her. She’s so beautiful, it’s almost like
she isn’t real. Her red dress should be illegal with the way it clings to her curves. Her strawberry-
blonde hair is curly and it’s begging me to touch it. To run my fingers through it. As she’s walking
toward me, her blue eyes don’t leave mine. She’s perfection, practically floating toward me,
surrounded by ethereal red gauzy fabric. The red in her dress actually matches the red in my
waistcoat.
“Mate, come on. That’s Patience Winters,” Jimmy says.
“The actress? What’s she doing here? Who is that man she’s with? I ask, then feel immediate and
irrational anger and jealousy at the thought of that beauty being with anyone other than me. The
reaction is so visceral that it takes me by surprise. I’ve never reacted to a woman like this.
“I don’t think she’s taken. At least not publicly. Who knows with actresses? Who is that beauty
with her?”
“Lady Holly,” I say, still staring at Patience. God as my witness, nothing short of death could take
my eyes off her.
“How the hell do you know her, mate?” Jimmy asks. I can tell he’s pissed about something, but
what I couldn’t say.
“She’s the owner. I met her when I signed up for membership.” One minute in this club and I was
hooked. I’m dressed like the duke of nothing, but fuck this is fun. Hands down, the best six thousand
dollars I’ve ever spent. The yearly dues are less at five thousand, but it’s going to be so worth it.
“I met with someone else entirely when I signed up.”
“I’ll introduce you,” I reply, feeling every bit like a duke who is about to give his mate a proper
introduction to a lady in my acquaintance. How Regency. I’m not gonna lie. I fucking love this shit.
“They are coming toward us,” Bobby Gallagher, another teammate of ours says from my
right. He’s dressed like Mr. Wickham in Pride and Prejudice. The ladies flock to him. No matter the
century, ladies love a man in uniform.
“My Lords, this Lady Patience. Lady Patience, Lords James, Robert, and Logan. Make her feel
welcome,” Holly says before leaving her with us. For the briefest of seconds I wonder how she knew
Jimmy, when he had never met her, but Patience smiles and my heart skips a goddamn beat. Jimmy
takes off after Holly like a lightning bolt just singed his ass. Bobby shakes her hand first, but then it’s
my turn. Our hands touch and I freeze.
 Without a doubt, this is my woman.
Mine. Mine. Mine. My inner caveman comes alive for the very first time. I step closer to her, still
holding her hand. Her scent hits my nose and I’m lost in a haze of Chanel perfume and something
uniquely her. Apples maybe…
My soulmate.
My everything.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Patience,” I say, before leaning down and kissing the back of
her hand, never breaking eye contact with her.
“Likewise,” she says, blushing. “But, um…” she begins, worrying her bottom lip. Why is that so
fucking hot? “Which lord are you?” Her accent is sexy, and I’d give anything to here that voice say my
name. Preferably, over and over as I pound into her. Whoa. Slow down, player.
“Logan Reynolds, at your service.”
“Logan Reynolds? The hooker?” Out of context, that would be bad, but I chuckle anyway. Her
eyes widen when I nod.
“Rugby fan?”
“Oh, God. Yes.”
At that moment, a woman comes up to Bobby and pulls him away, leaving the two of us. Standing
there. I’m still holding her hand, though it’s down at our sides now. She didn’t wear gloves, but then
again neither did I.
“I am he. Is this your first time here?” I ask, as a string quartet starts to play. People begin to
dance, and champagne corks begin to pop behind the bar area.
“Yes. I just got back to London.”
“Where were you, if I may ask?”
“On location in Estonia.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It was alright, but I am glad that’s done. I might have some post-production reshoots, but that will
mostly likely be done on a soundstage in California.”
“That’s pretty cool,” I say, as the song playing shifts quickly into another one. Patience’s face
lights up when she hears it.
“Oh, it’s Taylor Swift’s Love Story,” she says, bopping her head along to the music. “It’s my
favorite song. What the hell is Holly up to?” That last bit was muttered, and it makes me wonder how
well she knows Holly.
“Would you like to dance?” I ask.
“Yes. I would.” Since I still have her hand in mine, I lead her onto the dance floor. We dance like
we’ve been doing it every day since the beginning of time. Just before the song ends, I stop and pull
her as close to me as she can get. She licks her lips in what I hope is anticipation.
Oh, come on now. She’s fucking mine.
 four
PATIENCE

O h. My. God. I was just dancing with Logan Reynolds. The Logan Reynolds. The rugby god
himself. I know perfectly well that I own a stake in the team he plays for, but I can’t bring myself to
care that this might be ethically wrong or something like that. The lovely string quartet moves
effortlessly into another song, Faithfully, by Journey and then his lips are on mine. The rest of the
room blurs around us. It’s just him and I. My knees go weak and as if he knows it, he grips me harder
to him. There are too many layers between us to, so I can’t feel him, but God, how I want to. For the
first time, I want to.
What can I feel are his lips pressed to mine. Our breaths mingling. He tastes like whiskey and
fire. Then his tongue sweeps into my mouth and I let him devour. I devour him in return. Vaguely, I can
hear Firework by Katy Perry and I fleetingly think that it’s appropriate but then he switches up the
kiss. Deeper, harder, and infinitely just more. That’s all I’ve got. Somehow, my back is now pressed
up against a wall. When did we move? I don’t know because my eyes are closed. My hands roam his
back as I get lost in him.
In this.
In us.
I don’t know how long we kiss for. I lose track of everything. Eventually he pulls away from me
and my eyes pop open. I’m dizzy.
“Why did you stop?” I ask, so breathless. It’s like I’ve run a marathon.
“I am about two fucking seconds from taking you against this wall, Patience. I… I don’t know
what’s come over me.”
My hand moves from his back, and I place it on his cheek. I smile up at him, because did I fail to
mention that this man is a giant god. I know for a fact, he’s 6’4 and weighs at least sixteen stone. He’s
a big boy and I like that. A lot.
“You are going to be trouble, Reynolds. I can already tell.” Then he grins. Fuckity fuck, he’s hot
as hell.
“So are you, milady.” Shite. Why did he say it like that? Like it was a caress. I hear a tiny moan
escape from my lips as my core clenches and I feel a rush of liquid heat slide down my thigh. Can you
come just from words without even being touched? I take an assessment of myself. My nipples are
hard and rubbing against my corset. How did ladies get anything done back in the day? Crotchless
knickers and overworked nipples? I wouldn’t get a damn thing done.
“What just happened, duchess?” he asks, his voice harsh and gravelly.
“N… Nothing,” I lie.
“What a pretty liar you are, Patience.”
 “I’m not a liar,” I lie again. His index finger trails my cheek, then he traces over my lips and down
my chest rubbing the tops of my tits, back and forth, he rubs me.
“Tell me, did you come?” he asks, his lips against my ear. His devilish tongue hits the shell of my
ear. I shiver. Full on shiver.
“No. Of course not. Who comes in the middle of a crowded room?”
“Plenty of people, I’m sure. But there’s no one in this little alcove but us.”
“There isn’t?” I ask, peeking around his broad shoulders. I see that he is indeed correct. We are
all alone. “Kiss me again,” I demand.
“Answer my question, duchess.”
“Yes,” I hiss when his lips dip to my neck. The quartet slides into Chains by Nick Jonas and I
can’t help but feel that this whole night has been catered to me.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against my lips before kissing me again. I don’t know how long we’ve
been kissing. Then I hear a throat clear, delicately. Logan stops kissing me and we both look at the…
intruder. Holly and either James or Robert.
“Holly, Jimmy,” Logan says. So, James. “How can I help you?”
“Perhaps you’d like entry into a private salon? We were just on our way to one when we came
across you.”
“Private salon?” I ask, after swallowing thickly.
“Do you realize your corset has been loosened?” Holly asks, making me look down at my chest at
the same time Logan steps back in front of me, shielding me from view. No nip slip, but you can see
them, nonetheless.
“Avert your eyes, Jimmy, unless you want them blackened,” Logan growls. It vibrates all through
me.
“Already averted, mate.”
“Uh, no,” I say, mortified. I try to reach behind me and tighten the laces, but my stupid arms are
too short.
“Turn around, duchess,” Logan says, his voice low. I do what he says automatically. He deftly
tightens the corset and ties it tight. He drops a kiss to my shoulder before spinning me back around.
“Lead the way Lady Holly,” he says, taking my hand in his. Our fingers interlace and I swear nothing
has ever felt more right than this does. Holly produces a key from her pocket and hands it to Logan
after we stop in front of a door.
“The Green Salon,” she says, winking at me. What is her deal? Then she’s off again, leading
Jimmy further down the hallway. Logan unlocks the door and opens it. Inside, there is faux candlelight
lighting our way. There is an elegantly decorated queen size bed in the corner. A fireplace with two
chairs in front of it and a what I can only call a… sex couch in another corner. There is also a small
fridge hidden smartly. And, you guessed it. Everything is green and gold. The music from the main
room is piped in here, but it’s softer. Perfect. He clicks the lock into place. The sound harsh, yet it
makes my pussy clench in anticipation. The way he’s looking at me make me think he knows that I’m
dripping for him. Only him.
We don’t say anything. What can we say? We rush to each other before another breath is taken.
Our lips meet, frantic for some reason. My hands touch every inch of his back, what I can reach
anyway.
“Patience?” he asks. I’m so into this, into him, that I didn’t realize he took his lips off of mine.
“Yes,” I say after clearing my throat.
“Please tell me that I can have you.”
 “Yes,” I say, without hesitation. There is just something about this man that I can’t explain. He
looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world. He makes me come undone. It’s too much. Too fast. But
I’m falling in love with him anyway. I don’t really know this man. We’ve barely spoken to each other,
but somehow none of that matters.
Nothing matters.
Nothing but him and I.
This.
Us.
“Thank fuck,” he growls, spinning me around. My corset is unlaced in seconds. I let it fall to the
floor, my dress falling without the tight corset binding it to my body. I’m not wearing a bra or the shift
thing that Holly sent. I am wearing the crotchless knickers though, and I wish I weren’t. I quickly pull
them down my legs. I skipped the stockings, and I wore Birkenstocks because I hate heels, unless I
absolutely have to wear them. I leave them inside the flounce of the dress and step out of it. This is
the first time I’ve been naked in front of anyone as adult that wasn’t a female in a wardrobe
department. To say that I’m nervous would be an understatement.
“Turn around for me. Slowly,” he says. I do that and our eyes meet. His green ones are feral. They
excite me. Am I really going to do this? I wonder to myself as his eyes greedily wander over my
body. Yes. Yes, I’m going to do this and I’m going to love it. Consequences be damned.
“I think you are quite overdressed, milord,” I say, reaching for him. I fling his overcoat down his
arms and unbutton his waistcoat. Belatedly, I realize that it’s the same deep crimson as my gown. I
don’t have to think about that. It too is gone. His shirt is quick to go. He toes out of the big black boots
he has on, reaches down and pulls his socks off. My hands reach for the button flap thing on his
trousers. Opening them, I see he’s not wearing anything else. They fall to his ankles, and he kicks them
away. We are both blessedly naked. My eyes roam his body. He’s all muscles on muscles and that hip
V thing I’ve read about has my mouth going dry. I swallow. Then I continue down. His cock is bloody
huge. And I want it. In me. The fierceness in which I do want it surprises me. But it shouldn’t. Not
with him. I can’t explain it. I don’t want to explain it. I want to feel it.
“Did you go commando in another man’s fatigues?” I ask, giggling. I don’t know why I said that. It
was just the first thing I could think of other than fuck me. Hard, fast, slow, gentle. Dealer’s choice. I
just want him… so I reach for him. The heat coming off of him is radiant. I’m drawn to him in a way
I’ve never been drawn to anyone before.
“Yes,” he groans as my hand wraps around his hard length.
“I heard you’re not supposed to do that,” I moan as I he pumps his hips, thrusting his cock into my
tightening hand. Why does that turn me on so much?
“Fuck, duchess. He gently moves my hand off of him. “You have no idea how much I want your
touch, but I’ll come if you keep doing that.”
“I thought that was the idea.”
“Fuck,” he growls. I love that he’s so growly. He hauls me up into his arms. My legs wrap around
his waist and my arms around his neck. He kisses me as he walks toward the bed. Suddenly, I’m
dropped to the bed. He grabs my legs and pulls me closer to the edge, so my arse is hanging off of the
bed.
He drops to his knees and spreads my thighs open. He doesn’t say anything, but he gives me a
wicked look and licks his lips.
Lamb to the lion.
I’m ready to sacrifice every covenant I hold dear to this man.
I’d set the world on fire for him and let it burn, burn, burn.
 five
LOGAN

H oly fucking shit. This girl is amazing. My cock is harder than it ever has been before. It’s leaking
like crazy too. Patience’s pretty pussy is wet for me. I feel like a king, instead of the duke I’m
pretending to be. I can see how her pussy shines for me like a fucking star in the night sky. I prop her
legs up on the bed frame for support and spread her wider for me. I’m already on my knees ready to
worship her. Starting at her ankles, I lick and kiss my way up her legs, alternating back and forth
between her long, toned legs. When I reach her thighs, I breathe her in. She’s sticky here from when
she came earlier, without my touch. I avoid that place on her because I want my first taste of her to be
straight from the source. What will her orgasm be like when I touch her? When I lick her? When I’m
buried nine inches inside of her? Unable to help myself, I gently bite down on her thigh. When she
moans, I bite down a little harder. There is something about knowing that I am leaving a mark on her
that makes me feel like a savage beast. After doing the same thing to her other thigh, I move higher,
nipping her hips.
“Why?” she gasps.
“Why what, duchess?” I ask. My voice sounds tortured and unlike my own.
“Why are you teasing me, Logan?”
“Because I don’t want this night to end,” I reply honestly.
“Oh, Logan. I don’t want it to either, but I am no achy for you. I need you,” she says, softly. So
softly, my heart breaks in a way that I didn’t know was possible. Fuck. I grip my hands into fists on
my thighs. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give this woman. Nothing I wouldn’t do for her. My mind is a
war with the rest of me. How could I have fallen so deeply for a woman I met an hour or so ago? If
there is anything I’ve learned in my life it’s that love doesn’t follow the rules. It makes you break
them. All I can do is nod, because if I open my mouth to speak I’ll say something crazy, and she’ll
leave me. That can’t fucking happen. happen. Ever. Being this close to her, a hairs breath away, the
scent of her drives me wild. Like a witch, she has me under her spell, one I never want broken. Damn
it all to hell, I need the taste of her sugar my tongue before I take her.
Because I will be taking her.
Keeping her.
Claiming her.
Owning her.
She’ll own me too. Body and soul, she’ll rule me like the goddess, queen, duchess, she is.
I run my tongue up her slit. From top to bottom. One first taste of her sweet juice and I am hooked.
I’ll crave this taste until the day, the motherfucking second that I die.
“Logan,” she moans as I eat her pussy. She’s so responsive to my touch and that’s fucking
amazing. My eyes scan up her belly to her tits, to her eyes. She’s looking down at me like I rule the
world and I feel like I do at this very moment.
My tongue slides into her tight hole and I watch her as her mouth opens in a perfect O shape. Her
hands tangle in my hair as she moves her hips, riding my face. Shallowly, I slide my finger into her.
She tighter than I imagined she would be. I add a second finger into her. Pumping them in out of her,
like my cock is about to do. She’s murmuring nonsense, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. With
my tongue on her clit and my fingers inside of her, I make her come. I am rewarded with a flood of
wetness from her. She’s panting and moaning my name over and over. Fuck. The sound of her like this
made me come, but I am still hard as hell. Standing, I look down at her. Her eyes are open but slightly
glossed over. My ego inflates knowing that I’ve done this to her, and no other man ever will again.
She’s mine now. She has to be. She has a sweet, contented smile on her face.
“Move up onto the bed,” I tell her. She crawls to the center of the bed and lies back on the
pillows.
“God, Logan. Please. Hurry. I need more. Please,” she begs, and I lose my mind. She’s so fucking
beautiful. How could anyone ever so no to her?
I move onto the bed and between her open thighs. Leaning down, I kiss her. She moans when she
tastes herself on my lips. I can’t get enough of this woman. I move my lips down her neck to where I
can feel her pulse. I suck and bite there, knowing that she’ll wear my mark there too. She doesn’t try
to stop me. I move down her body, licking every inch of her as I move. She gasps as I pull an already
hard, pale peach colored nipple into my mouth. My hands are on her tits, feeling the weight of them in
my hands. I move to the other one and give her more of that, while my cock thrusts against her belly.
Then I feel her hand wrapped around my cock again.
“Patience, please, don’t,” I say through clenched teeth. “I have to be inside of you.”
“I want to taste you too,” she says bringing her hand back up between us. She gathered my come
from before. My eyes widen as I watch her lick her palm and each one of delicate fingers clean of my
seed. Holy hell. I could die right now, but I don’t want to. I’d be missing out on her. Patience. Her
name is litany in my head.
“Jesus,” I growl before leaning down and kissing her again. She drags her fingernails down my
chest, and I welcome the bite of pain. She’s got me all kinds of messed up right now.
“Take me, Logan. Make me yours,” she says, kissing me again.
Gripping my cock, I move her down a little bit, and pull a leg up to hook around my hip. I run my
cock through her wet fold. I rub her clit with the head before dragging it back down her slit to her
opening.
“There’s no going back after this, Patience. Tell me to fuck off. Tell me to stop,” I say, praying she
doesn’t say either of those things or anything like it.
“I’m yours, Logan. Take it.” My eyes pop up to hers.
“You’re a virgin?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”
I slide into her slowly, savoring the way her walls clench around me as I enter her. Leaning down,
I kiss her again as I push through her cherry. She gasps into my mouth but keeps kissing me. I wait,
giving us both a chance to adjust to this. I move my lips to her ears, licking the shell and the place just
behind her ear that smells of her perfume.
“You’re my first too, Patience. My first and only.” She gasps again, but I don’t give her chance to
say anything as I begin to move. Slowly at first. Savoring. Always savoring. She wraps her other leg
around my hip and tightens them both. Somewhere in my mind, I faintly hear a cello. Take Me To
Church by Hozier is playing and I can’t help but to think the soundtrack of tonight was catered to us.
Somehow. Patience moves her body in time with mine. She meets me thrust for thrust as I take her,
knowing all the while she’s taking me too.
 six
PATIENCE

“Y ou’re my first too, Patience. My first and only,” he says making me gasp. He’s a virgin too?
How the hell can that be possible? He’s hot and famous, women must throw themselves at him all the
time. Well, that pisses me off, so I choose not to think about that. He’s proficient at this, I think. Of
course, I don’t really know. All I know is how I feel. I feel both dead and alive at the same time. I
feel safe yet desperately in danger. I never understood what the women in the romance novels I love
so much meant. With my legs wrapped around his waist and my hands clenching his forearms, I try to
meet him as he thrusts into me, but the end result of that is just being fucked into the bed and I can’t
complain. I would never complain. I feel everything and nothing all at the same time. It defies logic.
To be his first and only is a dream come true. To know that there was never anyone before me
makes me determined to ensure there’s no one after me. He’s bare inside of me, and I can feel every
ridge and vein of him, like he’s tattooing himself on me. I’m not on birth control, there was never a
need before, but he doesn’t know that. We didn’t even ask any questions. From the moment I walked
through those velvet curtains and our eyes met, I was his. In every way, for every day moving
forward. I knew it. It like a supernatural force brought us together. This right here. Us, joined as one,
was always the end result. The only result possible.
My pussy clenches around him and he groans, fucking me faster and faster. My orgasm builds and
builds until it explodes. Literally. I scream his name and tighten my thighs around his hips like I
imagine a snake does to its prey. As crazy as it seems I don’t want him to pull out of me. I know I’ll
love and want this man until my dying breath.
“Patience!” he shouts, before his whole body tenses up and I feel him fill me with his hot seed.
It’s almost scalding and it’s definitely branding me. Branding me in the best way.
My breathing is harsh; coming in pants and gasp, and it matches his. Still inside me, still
impossibly hard, he drops all of his weight down on me and I welcome it. My arms wrap around him
as he kisses my chest, more like he murmurs over my skin, but it feels like kisses. I shiver under him. I
want him again.
“You must be cold,” he says, pulling out of me gently, but I regret the loss of him all the same. He
rolls off the bed and I scramble to join him. I move to my clothes and start to put them on. “What are
you doing? Are you leaving?”
“I thought you were done with me,” I say, suddenly shy. I don’t know why. He’s seen, touched, and
tasted every inch of my body. Not to mention he was inside me.
“Don’t misunderstand me, duchess. I’ve staked my claim and you won’t be going anywhere. Get
back over here and let me have you. Again, always, forever,” he says, throwing back the covers on
the bed. I drop the gown in my hands, and run to him. He catches me and our lips meet again. I can’t
get enough of this man. He drives me wild. Suddenly, I am on the bed again and he’s slammed back
inside of me. I can’t help feeling a sense of rightness. Like he’s exactly where he belongs. Like I’m
exactly where I belong.
“Logan,” I moan, which seems to be all I can do.
“I know, Patience. I know.” He hasn’t moved yet, he’s just in me. A part of me. With each passing
second the undeniable bond between us grows stronger.
“You’re killing me,” I say as I flip us over. He goes easily, thankfully. I am not sure I could have
done that without his help. My hair falls around my shoulders. It’s wild, I caught a glimpse of it in the
mirror when I was standing.
“How so?” he asks as his hands land on my hips and begin to roam up my ribcage until he’s
holding my tits in his hands.
“In the best way, I promise. I just need…” I trail off.
“I know what you need. Put me inside of you.” Lifting off of him, just a little bit, I grip his cock
and stroke him off while I glide my pussy over him. “Fuck, Patience. That’s exactly what I am lacking
right now. Put. Me. Inside. You. Now,” he growls. I smirk at him and stroke him slowly, desperately,
one, two, three more times before I do as I was told and position him at my entrance. Then I slide
down his shaft slowly. So slowly. Any and everything to prolong this. His hands make their way back
to my hips. He grips them tightly. When he’s balls deep inside of me, I begin to move. I alternate
bouncing and grinding on him. I tug on my nipples before sliding my hand down to my pussy. I rub my
clit in time with my bounces. His eyes widen and I smirk at him. Despite never having done this
before, the only thing I do in my spare time besides hitting the gym is read romance novels. If I’m not
reading them, I am listening to them. I’ve retained a lot of knowledge from those delicious bitches.
Feeling bold, I take my pussy juice covered hand and reach behind me and rub his balls.
“God, this feels amazing,” I moan. His hand tighten on my hips.
“Hell yes it does,” he agrees. “Come for me, Patience. Let me see you let go.” He removes one
hand from my hip and rubs my clit, sending me right over the edge.
“Logan, don’t stop. Don’t stop,” I cry, over and over until I feel him fill me again. As soon as he
does, I drop down on him. Satisfaction hums through my body as I try to catch my breath. His hands
wrap around my back, and I snuggle into his chest.
“Patience?” he asks after a while. I pop my head up and look at him.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for giving yourself to me. I will always honor that gift.” I smile at him and moan as I
scoot forward to meet his lips. “Shit, duchess. You’re going to be the death of me.”
“That is most ardently not what I want,” I tell him.
“Most ardently? I do believe your Jane Austen is showing.
“You’ve read Pride and Prejudice?”
“It was required reading in high school, but I’ve read it at least ten times since school.”
“Me too.”
“What else do you read?” he asks, stroking his strong fingers over my back. Like I can think when
he does that.
I’m in so much trouble here.
 seven
LOGAN

I look at her while she thinks about my question. I don’t know how the hell I got so lucky but I’m
thanking God that I came to this club tonight. I shudder to think if she had met someone else here. She
wouldn’t be so thoroughly mine right now.
“Romance novels mostly. You?” she asks.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I also read romance novels.” She grins then, but not in a way
that she’s making fun of me.
“Really?” she says, excitedly. She moves off of me and sits on the bed with her legs crossed in
front of her. “What are you reading right now?”
“I’ve never told anyone that before. You are sworn to secrecy.”
“I would never tell anyone, Logan. I promise.” Then she makes an X over her heart. She’s
adorable. Sexy and adorable, it’s a heady combination. I move to sit up. I clasp her hand in mine and
bring it to my lips, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.
“Thank you. I am reading two, currently. One on my Kindle and one paperback.”
“Two. That’s what I do. Except one on my Kindle and one on Audible.”
“I haven’t ventured into Audible yet. So the e-book I’m reading is Stir by ChaShiree M. and the
paperback is The Duke’s Debauched Duchess by Celeste Monroe.” She claps her hands excitedly. I
get it. I might be the steamiest historical romance novel I’ve ever read.
“Really? It’s so good right? I know Celeste. It’s her penname, but you know her too, actually.”
“Are you telling me that Holly Fraser is Celeste Monroe?”
“Yes. You can’t tell anyone though. She hasn’t even told her parents.”
“She better. Isn’t being made into a movie?”
“Yes. Pre-production is already under way. Filming starts in May.” My eyes widen, realization
dawning on me.
“Are you going to be the Duchess of Stoke-on-Trent?”
“I am. It hasn’t been announced yet. That’s in April.”
“Who’s the duke?” I ask before I can stop myself. I vividly remember the scene in the apple
orchard on the ducal estate. There’s no way that’s not going to be in the movie.
“He hasn’t been cast yet. I did chemistry readings, but nothing was good enough.”
“Hmm…”
“Why?”
“No reason. Tell me what your reading,” I say, changing the subject. No one else is going to be
that fucking duke but me. My first phone call tomorrow is to my agent. I wouldn’t be the first athlete to
step in front of the camera. In fact, I was asked to be in movie last year but turned it down. Patience
doesn’t have to worry about chemistry with another person because it’s all right here.
“Oh, I’m reading It Ends With Us, by Colleen Hoover and listening to Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“Nice,” I say having read both of those.
The clock chimes and for the first time since we’ve been here, I hear it. I look over at it and
realize it’s four o’clock in the morning. The quartet has long since stopped playing but music is still
playing softly.
“Holy shit,” I say.
“Have we been making love for eight hours?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip.
“We have.”
“I’ve never lost track of this much time before,” she says as her stomach growls.
“Come home with me. Let me feed you.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
We get out of bed. I dress quickly so that I can help her put her gown to rights. I cinch her into it
and take her hand. Out in the main room, there are still a few people milling around, but it’s safe to
say that the Crisis is over. We walk over to the curtains, and they part. I return the key to the Green
Salon and step into the room to the left to get my phone. She does the same. As we are getting ready to
leave, Holly and Jimmy come into the room. Jimmy’s waistcoat is open and his coat is slung over his
shoulder. Holly’s dress looks wrinkled, but no worse for the wear. Her hair however is another story.
Telltale bed head, much like Patience. She tried to fix it, but instead put it in a loose ponytail. They
take one look at each other and then point and laugh.
“You look well and truly fucked, Patty Cakes,” Holly says, pulling her friend into a hug.
“Shut it, but the same could be said for you, Holls,” Patience says. Jimmy and I just look at each
other.
“How about some breakfast ladies? Theirs a dinner open not far from here. We can walk,” I say.
“Stretching sounds like a good idea, mate,” Jimmy says, grinning. What a bastard.
“I’m starving,” Holly says at the same time Patience says, “Food. Yes.”
“That settles that then. Shall we?”

After breakfast, Patience and I take a cab back to my apartment. It’s not really a home. The team
provided it. I’ve lived here for almost five years, and I haven’t done anything with it. All I brought
with me when I moved here was my clothes and my rugby gear. I’ve added a laptop, a kindle, and
books since I’ve been here, but that’s about it.
“How about a shower? I don’t have a tub, I’m afraid.”
“A shower sounds perfect,” she says, presenting me with her back. She moves her hair out of the
way and coyly looks over her shoulder at me. “Would you help me, please?” she asks. We are still
standing in the middle of the living room.
“Of course, duchess.” After unlacing her, I place a kiss on her shoulder as she lets the dress drop.
Her ass and hips come into view. Both are already bruised. Oops. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but seeing
them there and knowing they are not from hurting her, but loving her makes me hard as hell.
 “Are you joining me?” she asks as she takes off down the hall. My bedroom and bathroom is the
only thing down the hall, so she has no trouble finding it, but I’m stripping as I move toward her. Like
a moth to the flame.
I’d follow her anywhere.
To the shower.
Straight to hell.
It doesn’t matter, where she goes, I’ll follow.
 eight
PATIENCE

I open my eyes when the sunlight hits them. Waking up in a strange bed isn’t new to me, however
what is strange is the man wrapped me. The heater wrapped around me. It’s so toasty. I think this is
the first time I’ve slept in since I was in secondary school.
“Go back to sleep, love,” he grumbles against my shoulder.
Love. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I know it’s a common term of endearment in the UK but he’s
American. I don’t think they use it, at least I’ve never heard it.
“I can’t. I think I’m late, but I am not sure since I don’t see an alarm clock anywhere.”
“It can’t be that late, I always wake with the sun.”
“Clock?”
“Hang on,” he says getting out of bed. I already miss the warmth of him, but I sure do like the
view of his arse as he walks out the door.
“Fuck. It’s 11:30. I am supposed to be at the stadium at noon. We are meeting the new stakeholder
in the team.”
“I know. It’s me. I bought a stake in the team.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry. Things got busy last night.”
“You’re a part owner of the team.”
“Oh, shite. Is this wrong. Forbidden?”
“God, why did you have to say it like that?” he asks, pulling the covers off of me. I’m just wearing
a t-shirt of his. I have no clothes here. I start to get up, but he stops me by climbing on top of me.
“I need you, Patience,” he says, kissing me. Morning breath and all, he can kiss me whenever he
likes.
“You have me,” I tell him, spreading my legs open for him. He reaches between us and guides his
hard cock into me. I’m a little sore, but it doesn’t matter. I want him.
I can be a little late. They really can’t start without me.
I throw on his t-shirt and a giant pair of his shorts, so we can leave. At the last minute he also
gives me a Lions hat since I don’t have any sunglasses. As he lives so close to the stadium I decide
against going all the way home. We stop at the closest store which happens to be a Gap and I buy the
jeans and a t-shirt. I put it all on in the store and wear it out. My Birkenstocks complete and his hat
complete the look. We walk the rest of the way to the stadium hand in hand. The conference room is
on the back side of the stadium in the administrative offices. The rest of the team is already gathered.
“I apologize for my tardiness. It… could not be avoided.”
“Right,” Jimmy says, almost making me giggle. I’m already not being professional. Can’t add
giggling like a little girl to the mix.
“No problem, Miss Winters,” Jake Glass, the team owner says. His assistant, Kelly, is hovering
nearby. She is the one initiated all the video calls between Jake and I when I was onboarding. She
looks at Jake like he’s a god and I finally get it. I wave at her, and she returns the wave and a smile,
but her eyes go right back to Jake. I wonder if he knows how much Kelly loves him. Someone should
help them along with that. I make a mental note to do so in the future. Now is not the time.
“Patience, please.”
“Very well. Patience has purchased a stake in the team. She has infused the needed funds for our
marketing division. She’ll have every right of an owner, including seats in the owner’s box and tickets
for all of our matches. Patience?” he asks. I finally let go of Logan’s hand and make my way to the
front of the room, but Logan is right behind me. I stop and turn to face him.
“Milord?” I whisper, quirking my eyebrow at him. I love calling him that, and he doesn’t seem to
mind it one little bit.
“Yeah, love?” Again with the love. I know my eyes widened, but thankfully he doesn’t say
anything.
“I got this. Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“Oh, right. Okay,” he says dropping into the first empty chair he can find. I continue to the front of
the room.
“Again, I’m sorry for being late. I know you are busy gentlemen. So, I am Patience Winters and I
have been a fan of the Lions since I was a little girl. Whenever I wasn’t working, my dads would take
me to matches.” I surprised myself by saying that for the first time. “Then we get fish and chips from
the chippy down the street and eat them out of the newspaper on the way home. Those days are some
of my fondest memories. When the investment opportunity came up, I jumped on it. I don’t anticipate
my being a 1% owner will do anything crazy, but if the press finds out you might have some questions
come up. You don’t have to answer them, but of course you can if you choose to. Are there any
questions? I’m not sure how to wrap this up so that seems like a good place.”
“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“No, she won’t,” Logan says standing up.
“Logan, thank you. I’m sorry. I have plans.”
“With the Yank?”
“Yes,” I reply, smiling at the same time Logan says, “she’s my fiancée, so back off.”
My head swings to him so fast I almost give myself whiplash. There is a not so quiet buzz of
people talking.
“Well, that concludes the meeting,” Jake says. “Congrats on making the semi-finals, gents. Don’t
forget practice tomorrow is at nine, not eight. Coach Potter has an appointment.”
The room clears out and Logan and I are left standing and staring at each other.
“What the bloody hell was that?” I ask. Both excited and concerned. I can’t help the myriad of
emotions I feel when I am near him.
“What? It’s inevitable. You know that,” he says, stalking toward me, slowly. Like he thinks I’ll
run, and I very much feel like I am his prey, and I don’t hate it.
“Do I?”
“I thought I made myself clear last night.”
“Did you?” I ask as he reaches me, pulling me close to him after snaking an arm around my waist.
“Don’t fuck with me, duchess. You gave yourself to me last night. That wasn’t just one fucking
night. It was all the goddamn nights.” I swallow thickly.
 “So, I did.”
“No take backs, baby.” Then his lips are on mine. Vaguely, I hear my phone ringing in my back
pocket, but I make no attempt to reach for it. Then his rings. “Shit,” he says after pulling away from
me.
“What’s wrong?”
“My brother is calling me.”
“You have a brother?”
“I have six brothers. He usually only calls on Friday night when they are all together for dinner.
Hang on.”
“Of course.” I pull my own phone out and see that Twitter has blown the fuck up with news of my
engagement. Shite.
“Jensen. What’s wrong? Is Jessica okay? The baby?” He waits while I assume Jensen says
something. “I am. How the fuck did you hear about that?” His eyes meet mine and I turn my phone to
face him. “Shit. Of course we’ll be inviting you. It’s very new. I don’t have any details yet. Yes. That
Patience Winters. Of course. Thank you. Bye.” He ends the call.
“So, my sister-in-law is huge fan of yours. She can’t wait to meet you.”
“Oh, me either.”
“So six brothers? What about your parents?” I ask, knowing I’m going to have to explain mine.
“We have a lot to talk about, Patience. Let’s go grab a cup of coffee.”
“Sure.” I take his outstretched hand. We walk down to the Bean and Leaf coffee shop. We place
our order and take a seat.
“I find myself wanting to tell you things I’ve never told anyone else,” he begins after taking a
drink of his hot black coffee. I reach for his free hand that is resting on the table. Our fingers link and
somehow, I feel his sorrow.
“I’ll never tell anyone what you tell me, Logan. I swear.”
“I know. Despite having met you yesterday, I know you better than anyone else on the godforsaken
planet.”
“I feel like that too,” I assure him.
“When I was seven years old, I witnessed my parent’s murder. I never told anyone what I saw. I
couldn’t. I was a coward and hated that I didn’t do more to help them.”
“I’m sorry, did say you were seven?”
“Yes. I could have called 911 but I didn’t. I prayed it was a nightmare. It wasn’t. For a hundred-
dollar television a couple of meth heads murdered my parents. They were gone and my brother,
Jensen, raised us all.”
“Were you the youngest?”
“No. That’s Kyle. He was two when it happened. I was the second oldest. Eleven years younger
than Jensen.”
“That’s awful.”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“It’s not?”
“I overheard my mom talking to her friend on the phone, earlier that day. She was pregnant again
and I remember thinking God, not another one. And then they were all gone.”
“Logan, tell me you know that’s not your fault. You were a child.”
“I knew how to dial 911.”
“You were a scared child, Logan. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this tragedy.” His
eyes meet mine; they are shining with unshed tears. “Don’t cry, my love.” In this moment, I went from
falling in love with him to being completely in love with him. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know what
his favorite food is or his favorite color. My soul recognizes its mate. Nothing else matters.
“Love?”
“Listen, um… this might be crazy, but I never could have done what did last night, without being
at least a little in love with you.”
 nine
LOGAN

A ll I can hear is roaring in my ears. The room around us blurs and it’s just her and I. She fucking
loves me. I crave her. I need her. With every fiber of my being I need her.
Again.
Always.
Forever.
“Say something, Logan. Please. I’m sorry if it’s too soon.” She looks panicked, like I am about to
kick her ass to the curb or something.
“You love me?” I ask, still in shock. Disbelief.
“I do. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I reply honestly. My heart feeling whole for the first time in a long ass time.
“You don’t have to say it just because I did. I just needed you to say something.”
“I’m not, duchess. I felt it when I first laid eyes on you.”
“Me too. It was like there was a magnet between us, drawing me to you.”
“Exactly. We were powerless to stop it.”
“So what do we do now?” she asks.
“We get married,” I reply.
“You know, we don’t have to get married just because we had sex. It might be 1820 in the
Pinnacle, but out here it’s 2023.”
“I know we don’t, but I want to. A lot of things happened to me in that first moment I saw you. I
clearly saw our future together. You belong to me, Patience.”
“You belong to me too,” she says.
“Damn right I do.”
“Okay. So we’re getting married.”
At the same time, we say, “it should be at the club.”
“See. We were made for each other.”
“I know that. I should probably tell you that I own 49% of the club.”
“Okay. It clear I need to start making some investments.”
“It’s an excellent tax shelter.”
“I donate a large sum to a no-kill shelter near where I grew up. Does that count?”
“Not for money making, but it gives you philanthropical points.”
“Good,” I say, standing a bit to lean over the table and kiss her. It’s a very chaste kiss, given that
we are public, but that doesn’t stop someone from snapping our picture. I hear the sound and turn
toward it.
 “Sorry. I just saw the news on Twitter, and no one had any pictures,” a female customer sitting
next to us says.
“It’s fine,” I say, and Patience nods, smiling. To a certain extent of course, this is what we signed
up for when we sought the spotlight.
“I’ll be going now. Enjoy your coffee and congrats. Really. You guys looks so in love.”
“Thank you,” I tell her and then she’s gone.
“I have something else to tell you,” she says.
“Oh?”
“About my parents?”
“You have two dads. That’s not a big deal.”
“Of course of it isn’t. But that’s not just it.”
“Just tell me,” I say wondering where
“My parents are a part of a quad. You’re going to meet them when I go and pick up some clothes
from my house. They live with me.”
“A quad, you say. Well, that is…”
“I’ve been using the word interesting.”
“Yes. Interesting.”
“They have been together for twenty-two years and I just found out about it, recently. I don’t know
how I didn’t know. When I told Holly yesterday she just laughed at me and thought it was common
knowledge. It decidedly was not. At least to me.”
“That’s not a problem for me, if that’s why you are telling me.”
“No, I didn’t think it would be, but I was shocked when I saw it.”
“You saw it?”
“Walked in on it to be precise.”
“I see.”
“Be glad you didn’t and let’s leave it at that.” We both laugh at that.
“Have you finished?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go meet them,” I say standing.
“Okay, we’ll need a taxi,” she says taking my hand. I help her to her feet, and I can’t help kissing
her. That’s not all I want to do, but it will have to do for now.
I see a taxi letting off a passenger across the street, so I flag him down.
“Just so you know, I’ll not be sharing you with anyone. Ever. Is that understood.”
We are just getting into the car, so she doesn’t answer right away.
“Where to?” the driver says with a cockney accent.
“Tottenham. 18 Gladesmore Road.
“Right you are, love,” he says, taking off in the direction of North London.
“I understand milord, I’m a one-cock girl. Your cock,” she whispers in my ear after she gives the
address to the driver.
“Fuck, duchess. I’m a one-pussy guy. Your pretty, pink, kissably wet pussy. Yours alone,” I rasp
into her ear. She shivers and hold her tighter.
“Oh God, we’ve got to get out of this taxi.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes. No. Who comes just from words? No touching?”
“You do,” I say proud as fuck. “I take it that’s never happened before?”
 “Just with you,” she says.
“That’s just further proof that you’re mine.”

When we get to the house, her parents, all of them, are welcoming. I sit with Renee, Rita, Ray, &
Roger while Patience changes her panties and gathers some clothes.
“So just what are you intentions with our daughter? We saw Twitter but we’ve learned to take
everything on social media with a grain of salt,” Ray says. At least I think it was Ray. I learn their
names.
“Well, Ray,” I begin. When no one corrects me I continue. “I will be marrying your daughter as
soon as humanly possible, but definitely before May when she begins shooting her next film.”
“The Debauched Duchess. Are you okay with that? This will be her first role that will require
nudity,” Renee says.
“As I have every intention of being the duke in that movie, it will be fine.”
“You act and play rugby?” This from Roger.
“Not since I was in high school and I think I was knight, it doesn’t matter.”
“What makes you think you’ll get the part? Rita asks.
“The power of persuasion. It’s not unheard of that an athlete try a different field.”
“True, but are you any good?”
“This might sound crazy or controlling, but I’ll be the best damn duke on the planet if it keeps her
from making that movie with some other man.”
“A little controlling, but I like it. I like you, Logan,” Rita says smiling. “What did I say, Renee. I
knew going to the club would change her life.”
“You did say that, Mama,” Patience says coming back into the room carrying a small overnight
bag.
“That’s all you’re bringing?”
“It’s all I need for now. I’m technically on vacation. I don’t plan on doing much of anything.”
“She has been working non-stop since last August.”
“Really?” I say.
“Yes. Oh, you’ll come to my premiers right?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Sit down, Patience. You’ll stay for dinner,” Rita says.
“Toad in the Hole?”
“Of course,” Rita says, smiling. “It’s been a long time since I made it for you.”
“It has.” Patience drops her bag on the floor and moves to Rita and pulls her into a hug. “Too
long. I think we’ve missed out on a lot.”
“Your Mum keep us informed and we saw you on the big screen.”
“It wasn’t the same. Please Mum don’t misunderstand me, but I missed all these hugs. That’s
important too.”
“Patience, there’s no jealousy here. There’s no room for it. I’m glad that you feel this way. We
should have told you; we know that now. Rita is just as much your mother as I am, make up that lost
time with her however you see fit. Don’t worry about my feelings.
“So this is my family,” Patience says, smiling.
“I’m happy to be joining it. I have six brothers and a sister-in-law who love to stir things up
here.”
“No parents?” Roger asks.
“No. They passed away a long time ago,” I say. There is no way I can explain it again today. Not
without crying like a fucking baby.
“I’m sorry, dear. Well, There’s enough of us here.”
“I see that. Thank you.”
Sometime later, after dinner, we decided to stay the night here. I couldn’t believe how at home I
felt with these people. Their kindness warmed my heart.
 ten
PATIENCE

ONE WEEK LATER

W e have been alternating staying at his apartment and my house all week. I can’t bear to be away
from for too long. He’s already at the stadium, getting ready for the first game of the semi-finals. It’s
home game and I’m excited to take my dad’s to see it. The Lions have never been in the semi-finals
before, so the excitement is triple fold. I pull on my jeans and pull on the jersey that Logan gave me
this morning. It’s his jersey from last season. It’s three sizes too big, but I tie in down at the bottom. I
smooth on some makeup and pull on my trainers before heading downstairs.
“You guys ready?” I ask, and wait while they all hug and kiss. Mum and Mama are heading into
Central London for a spa day.
“Ready, Pum Pum,” Dad says. I hired a car for the day, so we can drink some pints and not have
to worry about getting home.
“Ready,” Da chimes in.
“Miss Winters. I’m Giles. I’ll be driving you today.”
“Good afternoon Giles. We are going to the Lion’s stadium.”
“Of course,” he says, opening the back door for us. I slide in first. We get to the stadium and
naturally the press is camped outside the entrance. Surprisingly, it’s been a pretty quiet week where
they have been concerned, but I know that can change at any second. I plaster on a huge smile and get
out of the car. As soon as I do, I am bombarded by questions.
“Patience, have you and Logan set a date yet?”
“We have,” I tell them.
“When.”
“The eleventh of February,” I tell them.
“where?”
“My church, with private reception to follow.”
“That’s all for now,” Dad says, leading me further into the stadium and away from the press.
“Thanks Dad.”
“That could have gone on all damn day. I need a cold pint.”
“Right. Everything upstairs in the box is for us to use.”
“Great. This is really amazing Pum Pum.”
“I’m so excited. Let’s kick some Weasel arse!” I shout as we get into the lift that will take us
directly to the owner’s box.
 We take our seats just as the match is about to begin. The press delayed us longer than I thought
especially after we ran into some traffic on the way.
I watch, in awe, as Logan takes the field. He looks up at the box and our eyes meet. He bows to
me like the duke of my heart would at the Pinnacle. I blow him a kiss, which he catches. How
adorable is he? I can’t. I know we’re crazy. Crazy in love, so it’s to be expected.
The match is a spirted one and the first half flies by. By the half, the Lions are up by six. There’s
still a lot of game left to be played. I excuse myself to the loo. By the time I return, fish and chips have
been brought in and I realize how freaking hungry I am. I douse my fish in malt vinegar and settle back
in. Not ten minutes into the second half the whistle blows. There’s a scuffle down on the pitch. It’s
madness so I can’t see who is involved. It looks like a fight. There’s an injury. I listen as the
announcer calls out the injured player.
“Number twenty-nine, Logan Reynolds has been injured following a fight with Weasel number
eighteen, Jack O’Bannon.” What the hell?
I can’t see much from here, but what I can see blood. A hell of a lot of blood. It’s pouring down
his face, onto his jersey. He’s wiping handfuls of it on his white shorty shorts. Shite.
“You better get down there, Paysh,” Da says, practically pushing me from the chair.
“I’m going,” I say as the lift opens. I’m down on the first floor quickly and running for the locker
room. I don’t know the protocol, but I really don’t care at this moment. I burst into the locker room,
the door bouncing off the wall behind it extremely loudly. He’s standing with the team physician. They
both look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What happened?” I demand. They look at each other, then back to me.
“The motherfucker, O’Bannon, insulted you,” Logan spits out. I’ve never seen him angry before.
I’ve heard about it. His anger during games is legendary. They say it’s how he gets it done out on the
pitch.
“What? Why does that matter?” I ask, wondering how that got us here. To this moment. My man
covered in blood. I find that I don’t like this at all.
“He insulted you, so I fucking punched him. That’s were things took a wrong turn. We got to
tussling and when I was down on the ground, some other fucker stomped on my damn hand.” He holds
it up and three of fingers are already swollen, swollen.
“What did he say?” I ask, curious to know what he could have possibly said to cause all this.
“It’s not important.”
“Yes, it is.”
“He called you a horse-faced slag,” the doctor offers, shrugging when Logan gives him a death
stare.
“Oh, well I’ve been called worse.”
“He was a fucking wanker. Logan did the right thing. It’s clearly not true, he was just jealous.”
“That will be all, Evan. I’ll have my fiancée take me to the hospital.”
“Right. I should get back out there. It was nice to meet you, Miss Winters.”
“You too, Evan,” I say. Evan leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Your nose is probably broken.”
“I know.” That’s it. That’s all he says. God, how I love this man.
“We should go. I’ve got a car outside.”
“I need to change.”
“I help you,” I say.
“You don’t need to,” he says, moving to stand in front of his locker.
 “I know that I need to, I want to. Let me.”
“Alright,” he says, sighing.
I walk my fingers over his back as I walk around to stand in front of him.
“Thank you for defending my honor, so gallantly, milord.” I look up into his eyes and lick my lips.
I know that he loves it when I do that. He’s told me a several times already.
“Fuck, duchess,” he groans.
“However shall I repay you for your kindness?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at him. I don’t know
what’s wrong with me. I really don’t. He’s hurt. Covered in rapidly drying blood and he’s filthy from
the game, but I don’t care. I want him. I need him. Right here. Right now. No one has ever defended
me or my honor like this and it’s… hot as hell.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he says, making me laugh.
“I do believe that I already have,” I say, dropping to my knees in front of him.
“Patience,” he warns, but I ignore him, reaching for his shorts. Something inside of me has
broken. This is what I want. I wet my lips again. “You don’t have to do this.” He might be saying the
words, but he does nothing to stop me. In seconds, his cock is out and in my hand. I’ve been dying to
this all week, but he hasn’t let me. He’s made me come so many times with his mouth and with his
hands. When it was my turn, he’s stopped me every time. He’s wanted to come inside of me, but now
all bets are off.
He’s hard and ready for me. I wrap my hand around the base of him, and stroke. I kind of know
what he likes from watching his jerk off before sliding into me. I don’t take my eyes off of him as I
lower my head and wrap my lips around the head of cock while stroking him firmly. He groans and
reaches for me, but stops short.
“Tell me what to do, Logan,” I whimper. Why is this turning me on so much?
“How should I know,” he says, chuckling, though it sounds pained. There is something so heady
about being the only woman to ever see him like this. To ever love him like this. To ever worship him
like this.
“Tell me anyway,” I say, before taking him back into my mouth.
“Take me down your throat, duchess.” I do what he tells me to and put my own spin on it. Of
course I do. Finally, blessedly his non-injured hand tangles in my hair and he uses it to guide me. He
feels so hot and hard in my hand. I must be doing something right because he shouts and comes in my
mouth without warning. He’s tastes salty yet somehow also sweet. “Fuck. That was perfect,” he says.
I pull my mouth off of him, mesmerized by the trail of saliva still connecting us together. I tuck him
back into his shorts and he pulls me too my feet.
“We should probably get you to the hospital though,” I say. He doesn’t appear to be bleeding
anymore, but he should get that nose and hand looked at. Before we even have a chance to move, the
door to the locker room bursts open again.
“What the fuck was that, mate?” Jake shouts, coming into the room alone. It’s never a good sign
when his little assistant, Kelly, isn’t following after him like a lost puppy. But honestly, thank God he
didn’t come in a few minutes ago. That would have been embarrassing as hell. I don’t say anything as
the two men stare at each other.
I can hear Logan’s teeth clenching. He better not get into another fight.
 eleven
LOGAN

I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking out there, but it’s too late to worry about that now. It was
both unprofessional and unsportsmanlike, but sometimes violence is the answer. I have never lost my
temper like that before, but I’ll be damned if I let someone talk about Patience like that, to my face. I
get that people say shit to her or about her all the time, but it hits different when its right in my face.
To make matters worse, he was lewd as hell when he was talking about fucking her. That
motherfucker is lucky I didn’t fucking kill him. I’m getting pissed off all over again just thinking about
it. I have to force myself to calm down. I look over at Patience. Her lips are swollen, and her lipstick
is smeared. Thank fuck Jake didn’t see her like that. That’s only for me.
“Jake, I’m sorry man. I was so fucking pissed off. That motherfucker said something about my
girl, and I fucking lost it. It’s no excuse…”
“Eh, that excuse is as good as any,” Jake says, confusing the hell out of me.
“You’re not mad?” Patience asks.
“Oh, no. I’m mad, and your suspended without pay for the rest of the season, but I get why you did
what you did. I’d have done the same fucking thing.”
“Where’s Kelly?” Patience asks.
“I don’t fucking know,” Jake growls. I know that growl. He’s gone for the girl but hasn’t done a
thing about it. He should get on that before someone else snatches her up.
“So I’m not fired?” I ask, clarifying.
“No. Can’t be firing my best hooker.” Again the context, but I can’t help chuckling.
“Okay. That was a lot of tension for no reason,” Patience huffs. “I’m taking him to the hospital
now.”
“Let me know how that goes,” Jake says.
“Of course. Thanks for being so understanding,” I tell him.
“No problem. Get that hand looked at. Your nose looks fucked up too,” he says.
“Yeah. No kidding,” I say. Patience takes my good hand, and we go out to the car she has waiting.
The drive to the hospital is blessedly short. Once there it’s determined that while my nose is
definitely broken, my hand is more complicated. I’ll need surgery to get the tendons back in place, but
that’s a week or so from now.
While waiting for the doctor to come back into room, I get a text from my agent. Martin Van Klaus
is the best in the business. His main focus is sports management, but he’s knowledgeable in the
creative outlets as well. He doesn’t want his client to have to shop around for another agent when
their career takes another path. He’s good like that.
 I saw what happened. They are replaying it on all the sports networks. You OK?
At the hospital now. Surgery scheduled for next week.
So you’re out the rest of the season?
Yes. Unpaid, unfortunately.
Excellent.
I fail to see why that’s fucking excellent, Marty.
You got the part, dumbass. Why you wanted to play the Duke of Stroking Off, I’ll never know.
They already got back to you?
Yeah. The producer Holly wanted you as soon as she knew you were interested.
Excellent.
They want to know if you’ll work for scale. I said yes since you wanted it so bad. I started
your application for the SAG. You’ll need to finish it. I’ll drop by your place Sunday to finish
it up.
I give him Patience’s address and then look over at her. “What is working for scale?” I ask. She
look up from her phone and the book she’s reading.
“It basically means you’ll work for the industry daily minimum wage. Why?” she asks, raising an
eyebrow at me. It’s now or never. She’ll either love this or she’ll think I’m insane.
“I got a part in a movie.”
“Which movie?” she asks, but I know she knows.
“The Debauched Duchess.”
“As?”
“Your duke.”
“You’re crazy, you know that don’t you?”
“I do, but I couldn’t let anyone else work with you like that.”
“I love it. Think of the press,” she says rapidly texting someone.
“I can’t think of anything but,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Out of curiosity, what is the current scale?”
“Oh, about eleven hundred a day.”
“Damn, okay.”
“I haven’t worked for scale since I was a little girl.”
“Well, you’re an amazing actress. This my first role and I had to be sure I’d actually get it. I
would have worked for free.” I really would have done anything to make sure no one else got that
role.
“Oh, you can’t do that. They really hate that. Big no-no.” Her wide eyes and the way she’s shaking
her head make me laugh.
“I love you, duchess.” She smiles at me and blows me a kiss from across the room.
“I love you too, duke.”
We go back to waiting for the doctor. Finally, he gives me the all clear to leave and I’m starving.
Two hours later, I’m standing in the hottest shower I can stand, finally cleaning the blood and dirt off
of my body. I feel hands come around my back and settle on to my chest. Her chest is pressed into my
back, and she places open mouthed kisses on my skin.
“I’m glad you are okay,” she says. “And I can’t wait to make this movie with you.”
 “Me either, but what I really can’t wait for you to be my wife,” I
“You know, you never did ask me properly,” she says, smiling at me.
“Didn’t really think that I needed to. You were mine from the moment I saw you. Getting married
is just the next logical step.”
“You didn’t really need to, but a girl likes to be asked now and then.”
“Would that make you happy?” I ask, crowding her until her back is against the wall. She sucks in
a breath as her skin hits the cool tile. “Do you want me to get down on one knee and beg you to be
mine for all eternity?” I run my hand up the inside of her thigh. As I reach higher and higher, her
breath hitches. “Is that it, duchess? Do you want me to beg? I can beg you without fucking words. You
know that I can.” I finally reach her pussy and slide two fingers into her. She’s hot and wet. “Did you
get turned on sucking my cock?” She nods. “Tell me.”
“I loved sucking your cock. It was so hard and heavy. It was powerful.”
“What was?” I am still pumping my fingers in and out her, but I add my thumb to rub her clit.
“Oh, God. The way that I felt when I was on my knees for you. I felt powerful. More powerful
than I’ve ever felt before. I was the one doing that to you.”
“I see. Only you can make me hard like that, like this,” I tell her, using my free hand to guide one
of hers to my cock. She grips me and strokes it.
“I love that. I know that in my bones, I’ll never love anybody else the way that I love you.”
“Neither will I. Marry me, duchess. Make me the happiest man in the world. Say you’ll be my
wife.” I can feel her pussy clench around my fingers, and I know she’s about to come.
“Yes,” she says, moaning as she comes.
“Thank fuck,” I say. She’s still stroking me, so I come all over her stomach.
“Take me to bed,” she demands.
In bed, I slam into her over and over, thanking my lucky stars that she’s mine. I don’t know how I
ever got so lucky, but I’ll do everything in power to keep her.
Marrying her is the just the beginning.
Another random document with
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 They went upstairs, Mrs. Horton to darn the neglected socks, and
Sunny to watch for Daddy and the new car.
“Here he is! I’ll open the door! O-hoo, Daddy!” Sunny Boy saw the
dark blue car draw up before the house and stop, and he banged
noisily on the window screen to attract his father’s attention. Then he
dashed downstairs.
“Well, well, who’s this young cyclone?” inquired Mr. Horton,
catching Sunny Boy in his arms and lifting him to his shoulder. “Saw
me drive up, didn’t you? Where’s Mother?”
“Upstairs. Daddy, let’s go out in the automobile! Where you going
to keep it? Can I drive?” Sunny bounced about excitedly as he put
his questions one after another.
“Easy, easy,” protested Mr. Horton. “The automobile will be an old
story fast enough. Let me have a word with Mother and then perhaps
you and I will have an errand to do down town.”
Mrs. Horton smiled when she saw Sunny’s flushed face.
“Some one is excited,” she teased. “Well, Daddy dear, what did
Bessie say about the suitcase?”
“I called her up, but she wasn’t in,” answered Mr. Horton. “Miss
Martinson seemed to think, though, that they’d better have it. I’ll go
up and drag it out now and Sunny and I can run it over to her in the
car.”
“Oh, yes, let’s,” coaxed Sunny Boy, without a very clear idea of
what the talk was about, but sure that a ride in the automobile was in
some way connected with it.
“Think you can come up to the store-room with me and give me a
hand?” asked his father. “I have to get a suitcase for Aunt Bessie,
and I suppose it is under three trunks with the empty goldfish globe
on top.”
“Why, Daddy Horton, what a way to talk!” Mrs. Horton pretended to
be very indignant. “The suitcase is the first thing you’ll see when you
open the door. I thought we might need it before the summer was
over, so I left it where it would be easy to get.”
 Sure enough, Sunny and Daddy found the suitcase without any
trouble, and they brought it downstairs and Mother dusted it off, and
then they carried it down to the automobile and put it in the back.
Sunny Boy climbed into the car and sat very still with his eyes
straight ahead. He hoped Nelson and Ruth Baker were watching
him. Mr. Horton walked around the car to the other side, got in, and
closed the door. He waved to Mother in the window, put both hands
on the wheel, and away they went.
“Can I help drive, going to Nestle Cove, Daddy?” Sunny asked,
watching carefully, so that he might remember all the things he saw
Daddy do. “I drove Peter and Paul for Grandpa.”
Peter and Paul were the farm horses.
“Well, you see, Sunny Boy,” Daddy explained, skillfully steering the
car around a heavy coal truck, “automobiles are different from
horses. You can’t talk to them and tell them what to do. You have to
be older, and stronger, and taller, to manage a machine. See how
constantly I have to use my feet? You are not tall enough to reach
the brakes. And, anyway, the law says little boys can’t drive cars,
even to help their daddies. They must be at least eighteen years
old.”
“Yes, I ’member, you told me,” said Sunny sorrowfully.
Daddy never turned aside his questions with an “Oh, you wouldn’t
understand, wait till you’re older” kind of answer, and Sunny really
was used to reasoning things out.
“I’ll carry the suitcase,” he offered, when they came to Aunt
Bessie’s house. “Let me ring, Daddy.”
Aunt Bessie lived in an apartment house and the colored boy who
answered the bell knew Sunny very well indeed.
“Miss Andrew ain’t home,” he said. “But Miss Martinson am. I’ll
take you-all up.”
Aunt Bessie was Miss Andrew, and of course the colored boy
couldn’t have known much English grammar to say “ain’t.” Or,
perhaps, he forgot what his mother told him about always saying “is
not.” We’ll hope you never do. Anyway, this boy had the most
delightful, rich, soft voice, and no matter what he said it always
sounded pleasant.
“How lovely of you!” Miss Martinson, Aunt Bessie’s friend who
lived with her and helped keep house in the apartment, flung open
the door almost as soon as they lifted the heavy old-fashioned
knocker. “Come right in. We have a bundle of things that simply
won’t go in the trunk and Bessie has every suitcase packed so full
now we’re in despair.”
Miss Martinson was little and dark and pretty. She taught girls in a
large public school how to baste and hem and tuck and, after a
while, make dresses. She was a sewing teacher.
Sunny and Mr. Horton couldn’t stay very long because they knew
that Mother at home would be needing them. But before they went,
Sunny ran out to the kitchen to find his dear Harriet.
“Here’s my own boy, bless his dear heart!” and Harriet, whose
eyes were as blue as Sunny Boy’s, and who wore a blue dress that
just matched them and her usual big, white apron—Harriet’s aprons
were always whiter than other people’s—swooped down upon Sunny
Boy and gave him a tremendous hug. “Did you have a lovely time on
the farm, darlin’? And did you miss Harriet? Never mind, we’re going
to have a fine time down at the sea. Think of it—you’ll be sailing
boats and going swimming and all!”
“Sunny, coming?” called Mr. Horton.
“Here, give this to your mother,” and Harriet hastily put a square
box into his hands. “’Tis a cake I baked for the lunch on the way
down. I made two of ’em, one for her and one for Miss Bessie.”
“Daddy,” Sunny Boy spoke for the first time on the way home,
holding the cake box carefully on his lap, “how long does it take to
get to Nestle Cove?”
“Oh, about six or eight hours with fair traveling,” answered Mr.
Horton. “Why, Son?”
 “I was just thinking,” said Sunny. “Harriet made a cake for us to eat
on the way.”
“And I suspect Mother will be busy all day to-morrow putting up a
picnic lunch for us,” responded his father. “You see, we’ll find a nice
shady spot about noon when the sun is too hot to make driving
comfortable, and we’ll sit down and rest on the grass and eat all
those good things up.”
“That will be fun,” agreed Sunny enthusiastically. “There’s Mother
waving to us now. Does she want something, Daddy?”
“Don’t get out,” called Mrs. Horton, hurrying to them. “The
laundryman telephoned Mrs. Baker that their wagon has been in an
accident and the clothes are hopelessly scattered. They want you to
go down and see if any of yours are missing.”
 CHAPTER III
GETTING READY

“T AKE me with you, Daddy?” Sunny Boy begged. “I could see

the accident.”
“There’ll be nothing to see,” answered Mr. Horton, smiling. “I’m
only going to the laundry office, and that wouldn’t interest you. I think
you’d better stay with Mother and help her.”
“All right,” agreed Sunny Boy cheerfully, climbing out of the car
and holding the cake box carefully right side up.
He and Mother went into the kitchen, while Mr. Horton turned the
car and went off down the street.
“Gee!” exclaimed Sunny, watching Mother fill the tea kettle. “Gee! I
guess that laundry-wagon boy wishes he’d called it a day.”
“Called it a day?” repeated Mrs. Horton, puzzled. “What do you
mean, dear? And is it absolutely necessary that you use ‘gee’ twice
in one sentence?”
Sunny Boy admitted that it wasn’t. Then, while they waited for the
kettle to boil, he told Mother about his morning adventure and the
man who had picked him out of the bushes and advised him to call it
a day.
“Why, you might have been hurt!” said Mrs. Horton seriously.
“Don’t do that again, Son. Probably the boy is a reckless driver, or he
wouldn’t have had this accident, but no driver can watch out for little
folks who hitch on behind wagons. Now we’ll set the table in the
dining-room to-night, and go out and wait for Daddy on the front
steps.”
Sunny Boy helped Mother so well that the table was set and
everything in readiness for supper and they had been out on the
front steps for nearly ten minutes before they saw Mr. Horton coming
around the corner.
Sunny Boy ran to meet him.
“Did you walk?” he asked disappointedly. “Where’s the
automobile? Did you scold the laundry-wagon boy?”
“I put the automobile to bed,” answered Daddy, waving to Mother.
“This fall, perhaps, we can build a garage out back of the house. I’ll
see. But just now a man named Mr. Taggart has to keep the car at
night for us. Did you help Mother?”
“Indeed he did!” Mrs. Horton held open the screen door for them to
go in. “I haven’t missed Harriet at all.”
At the supper table Sunny remembered the accident again.
“What did the laundry-wagon boy say?” he asked his father.
“The poor chap’s in the hospital,” replied Mr. Horton soberly.
“Nothing more serious than bad bruises, they say. I imagine, from
the way the superintendent talked, that he’s been in pickles before
this for careless driving. There were half a dozen of us there,
reclaiming stuff. How many shirts was I supposed to have in that
bundle, Olive?”
“Seven, and eleven collars,” said Mrs. Horton promptly.
“Well, only six had my mark on ’em,” declared Mr. Horton. “A
number of bundles were entirely missing, stolen during the
excitement of the crash they think, or hopelessly torn and mangled.
He drove right into a big touring car, the police say.”
“I have to go over to Mrs. Baker’s,” announced Mrs. Horton when
supper was finished. “You’ll go up with Sunny Boy, won’t you, Harry?
He must have a hot bath.”
“It’s day yet,” protested Sunny Boy. “I don’t have to go to bed till
night.”
“Well, if you’re going to get up early in the morning and help me
pack stuff in the car, I think you’d better have a nice, hot bath and go
to sleep as fast as you can. Of course, if you are not going to get up
in the morning, and would rather stay down and wash the dishes,
why that’s another matter entirely.”
Sunny Boy giggled.
“I’ll bath me,” he decided. “You sit on the hamper and watch,
Daddy.”
Daddy did sit on the hamper and watch. He also helped with the
drying. Then he pulled up the awnings all across the front of the
house so that the rooms would be cool during the night. Then he
found the woolly dog, that hadn’t gone to the farm but that was
Sunny’s bedfellow when he was at home, and put him in bed with
Sunny Boy.
“Good night, laddie,” Daddy bent down and kissed Sunny Boy. “If
you wake up first, come in and call me.”
When Sunny Boy opened his eyes it was to find the sun streaming
in the windows and to hear the locusts singing away for dear life. He
got softly out of bed, tucked the woolly dog under his arm, and
paddled into Daddy and Mother’s room. It was empty.
“Well, well, here he is!” There stood Daddy in the doorway behind
him. “Breakfast’s almost ready, and we need a certain young man to
help us with the sliced peaches and cream, to say nothing of the
brown toast Mother’s made for us. Come on, and see if you can find
the blue sailor suit on the little rocking chair under the window
nearest the closet door.”
The lonesome feeling Sunny had had for a moment when he
found his father and mother had gone downstairs ahead of him, went
away, and he hurried to help Daddy find the sailor suit. They
knocked over so many things in their search, and laughed so much
and made such a great deal of noise that Mother came up and
pretended to scold, though really she came to find the suit, tie the tie
for Sunny, and brush his yellow hair.
“Now if you don’t come down to breakfast this minute,” she told
them when Sunny Boy was as neat as neat could be—“well, you
can’t have any toast, that’s all!”
 So they all three hurried down and found plenty of toast; and very
good it was, too.
“Each one must carry his plate out to the kitchen,” ordered Mr.
Horton, when they had finished. “And then Sunny Boy and I will go
round and get the car. Whatever you can pack to-day, Olive, will
save us time in the morning. I’d like to make an early start, because
I’m afraid we’re in for a hot spell, and the earlier we get off, the more
comfortable we’ll be.”
“The trunks are going this morning,” said Mrs. Horton. “Bessie
promised to get theirs off, too. All I have to do—My dear child, what
are you going to do with that?” she broke off.
Sunny Boy stood in the doorway, Harriet’s cake on the best china
cake-plate in his hands. It was a cake with white icing and it looked
delicious.
“It’s to eat on the way,” explained Sunny Boy. “Harriet said so. I
was going to put it in the automobile under the seat where it wouldn’t
get mussed.”
“But I’m going to put up a nice lunch for us,” said Mother. “Harriet’s
cake really ought to be wrapped in wax paper, you know, and go in a
box. You shall fix it for me this morning. Now run along with Daddy,
and bring our shiny new car around for the bundles.”
Sunny met Mr. Taggart that morning. He was a short, round man
with little twinkling blue eyes and he wore overalls that were very
black and greasy from the oil and grease on the cars he took care of.
“I’ve got a little boy ’bout your age,” he told Sunny. “You’re about
five, aren’t you? I thought so. Ted’s five and a half. In you go! Ted’s a
little heavier than you are. He’s down in the country now, visiting his
grandma.”
Daddy started the car, and Sunny leaned out to call back to Mr.
Taggart.
“My grandma lives in the country, too, and we’re going to the
seashore to-morrow.”
 Mr. Taggart waved his hand to show that he heard and
understood, and Daddy backed the car out into the street.
“Let’s get Mother and go now,” suggested Sunny. “Why is there
always a lot to do before we do anything, Daddy?”
Mr. Horton smiled.
“Well, most things that are worth while or give us lasting pleasure,
laddie, require work and effort,” he said. “You’ll find that out as you
go along. You see, we might go this morning, but we’d have to come
back in a day or two for more clothes, or the swing, or some of the
other things Mother is busily thinking of and packing up this morning.
And down at Nestle Cove, the man who owns the cottage Aunt
Bessie has rented is opening it and cleaning it and putting it in good
order for us, so we’ll be comfortable the rest of the summer. If he
didn’t look at it till ten or fifteen minutes before we were due there,
the roof might leak, or the rooms be damp and dirty, and then we’d
have to spend the first week of our stay making things pleasant and
comfortable. So we’ll wait till the time to go, and do everything
there’s to be done while we’re waiting, shall we?”
“Let’s,” nodded Sunny Boy, who really understood. “Look, Daddy,
there’s Ruth and Nelson Baker out in front of their house. Ruth’s
waving to you.”
Mr. Horton stopped the car, and beckoned to the Baker children.
“Hop in,” he said pleasantly. “I have to go over to Aunt Bessie’s
apartment and you might as well have the little ride. I’ll tell your
mother where we’re going. Wait for me.”
He went on into the house, and Ruth and Nelson scrambled into
the back of the automobile.
“Isn’t it hot?” said Nelson. “I’ll bet there’s a thunderstorm this
afternoon. Don’t scratch the paint, Ruth.”
“I’m not!” retorted Ruth indignantly. “Let me ride up in front,
Sunny?”
“Don’t you let her,” urged Nelson. “You always want to do whatever
you see any one else do. Sit down, or I’ll tell Mother.”
 Ruth, who had been trying to climb over the back of the seat, sat
down, not so much to please her brother as because she saw Mr.
Horton coming.
“Now we’re off,” he said, getting in. “I’m to take you two Bakers
down to your father’s office after we’ve been to the apartment. I hear
you’ve been wearing out your sandals at a shocking rate.”
“And Father’s going to get us new ones,” guessed Nelson.
“Right,” responded Mr. Horton. “He’s a pretty nice father to have.”
 CHAPTER IV
HELPING HERE AND THERE

D ADDY and Sunny Boy found Aunt Bessie and Miss Martinson
very glad to see them. Aunt Bessie was packing, Miss
Martinson washing some cut glass to be put away, and Harriet in the
kitchen, as usual, was making something good to eat.
“Don’t you want to stay with me, lambie?” Aunt Bessie asked
Sunny. “You may play the piano-player all day, if you like. And sleep
to-night on the funny couch that opens when you press a button, and
Daddy and Mother and the car will come and get us in the morning.
Will you?”
Sunny Boy looked at Daddy.
“I guess we’d better hurry back,” he said politely. He caught hold of
his father’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “We have to do a
lot of things while we’re waiting for to-morrow,” he explained.
Aunt Bessie and Miss Martinson laughed.
“Tell Mother, then, Busy Bee,” said Aunt Bessie blowing him a kiss,
“not to make egg sandwiches, because Harriet has two dozen of
them. And we’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
Next, Ruth and Nelson Baker were left at their father’s office down
town in a big gray building, and then Daddy and Sunny Boy drove
home and went in to see what they could do for Mother.
“Why do you wrap ’em in a cloth, Mother?” asked Sunny, leaning
against the kitchen table and watching Mrs. Horton put a dozen
sandwiches in a damp cloth.
“So they’ll keep fresh, dear,” she answered. “I’ll put them in the ice
box this way and to-morrow morning they’ll be just as nice as they
are now. Want to taste this?”
 Sunny tasted the spoon she held out to him.
“It isn’t egg, is it?” he asked anxiously. “Aunt Bessie says not to
make egg ones, ’cause Harriet did.”
Mrs. Horton laughed.
“It isn’t egg,” she assured him. “That was minced ham you tasted. I
hope all sandwiches don’t taste alike to you, Sunny. Now let me see
—it’s only half past ten. I think I’ll go up and put the bedrooms in
order. Sunny Boy, if you’ll stay here and let the expressman in when
he comes for the trunks, I’d like it very much. I want Daddy to tie up
some packages for me.”
Sunny Boy, left alone in the kitchen, inspected the three boxes
open on the table. Sandwiches filled one, another was evidently for
fruit, since oranges were already in it, and the third was for cake.
Harriet’s cake, wrapped in waxed paper, filled half of it.
“Mother said I could do that. I s’pose I wasn’t here,” thought Sunny
Boy. “I want to help fix the lunch.”
He sat down to think on the chair that obligingly turned into a step-
ladder if you knew how to twist it. Presently he carried the chair over
to the kitchen closet and stood up on it to look over the shelves. Very
likely his mother, with so much to do, might forget the most
necessary thing. He poked around among the boxes, opened
several and smelled the contents. Finally one seemed to please him
very much, and he scrambled down and went back to the lunch
boxes.
“There!” He tucked his find in neatly under the sandwiches.
“P’rhaps they’ll be s’prised. They can—”
“Sunny! Sunny Boy, please bring me the ball of cord in the wall
pocket,” called Mother.
No sooner had he run upstairs with the cord than the doorbell rang
and down he came to let the expressman in. So it was no wonder
that he forgot what he had tucked into the box and never thought of it
again.
 After the trunks had been carried out, Mrs. Horton said it was time
to get lunch, and both Daddy and Sunny helped her and with the
dishes afterward. Then Daddy had to go down town, and though
Sunny begged to be allowed to go with him in the car, it was decided
that he had better stay with Mother.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and see your toys?” Mrs. Horton
suggested. “I don’t believe you’ve paid them any attention since you
came home. Daddy opened all the windows on the third floor this
morning, so it must be nice and cool.”
“Will you come up too?” asked Sunny Boy. “It’s so—so still,
Mother.”
The house was still, as houses often seem when they have not
been lived in for weeks.
 Upstairs Sunny Boy found his toys exactly as he had left
them
Page 55

“I’ll come up and start the clock on the playroom shelf,” said Mrs.
Horton briskly. “And you might get out your kiddie car. I saw Nelson
with his this morning.”
Upstairs Sunny Boy found his toys exactly as he had left them.
The Teddy Bear sat on the kiddie car, his forepaws resting patiently
on the steering bar. The drum was hanging on its nail, and the train
of cars was still jumbled together from the last glorious wreck.
“See, here’s where you mended the drum,” said Sunny Boy,
showing Mother the neatly pasted tear. “I’d like to see if it is all right.
Would you mind if I drummed ve-ry softly, Mother?”
Mrs. Horton was willing.
“Rub-a-dub, dub!” went the drum-sticks merrily. “Rub-a-dub, dub!”
the drummer stopped suddenly.
“Nelson has a new game, Mother,” announced Sunny Boy. “He
stands up paper soldiers—no, I guess they’re pasteboard soldiers
——and has a little gun that shoots marbles at them. The drum
made me think of the soldiers.”
“Did you play the game with Nelson, Sunny?”
“No’m, not yet. He said I might, though. But I’d like a soldier game
of my own. How can I shoot at my soldiers, Mother?”
“That’s easy,” said Daddy from the doorway. He had come in and
no one had heard him. “Stand your soldiers up in a row, Sunny Boy,
and roll marbles at them. Olive, will you come down and help me find
that old fishing tackle?”
Left alone, Sunny Boy got all his paper soldiers out and stood
them up in two long rows.
“Nelson gives the enemy the first shot,” he said to himself. “He
thinks that’s polite. So I’ll let the enemy roll first.”
A white marble rolled over the rug and knocked a corporal and two
privates flat. Quick as a flash the other side fired, and a black marble
bowled over three of the enemy.
Between firing, the drum, tied round the Teddy Bear’s neck for the
sake of convenience, was heard in a lively tattoo.
 “That’s the signals,” announced Sunny Boy to the hobby horse
that, as Daddy often said, “looked as though he smelled gunpowder.”
“Three beats means to advance. That’s the way they did when
Grandpa went to war.”
“Bang!” another enemy went down, carried away by a green glass
marble.
“I wish Nelson was here,” said Sunny Boy earnestly. “Two sides
could fire at once then.”
Still, he managed to have a pretty good time without Nelson, and
when Daddy called him down to supper he put the soldiers back in
their box reluctantly.
“Which side won?” smiled Mrs. Horton at the table.
“Well, you see,” explained Sunny Boy carefully, “neither really won,
Mother.”
“I thought one side always won,” said Mother humbly.
“My, no!” Sunny assured her. “When Daddy called me there were
ever so many soldiers alive yet. The am—am—”
“Ammunition?”
“Yes’m, the amm’nition gave out.”
“But we used to use our marbles over and over,” said Mr. Horton.
“A bag of marbles ought to furnish enough shots for an army twice
the size of yours.”
Sunny Boy attempted to make it all clear.
“I did shoot ’em over and over,” he said patiently. “Only after a
while they were all under the bookcase.”
Mr. Horton laughed.
“I’ll get them out for you with a long pole to-morrow,” he promised.
After supper they sat out on the front steps for an hour or so and
talked to the Bakers, who were also sitting out on their steps. And
then it was bedtime for those who were going to take a trip the next
day.
“Are you coming every night, Daddy?” Sunny Boy asked, as they
climbed the stairs on their way to bed.
“Can’t make it every night,” was the answer. “But I’ll be down every
Saturday afternoon and spend Sunday with you. And if I can take a
Friday off now and then, I will.”
Sunny Boy, after he was in bed, was perfectly sure that he couldn’t
go to sleep.
“I keep thinking about the ocean,” he explained to Daddy, who was
hunting for something in the closet in his room. “What you looking
for, Daddy? Can we go fishing in the ocean?”
“We can’t if you don’t go to sleep, we can’t even start for the
ocean,” said Mr. Horton. “I’m looking for my old golf cap. You go to
sleep and I’ll find it.”
“I know where it is.” Sunny got out of bed and pattered across the
floor to his toy box. “I thought maybe you didn’t want it any more,
and I made believe it was a horse blanket for my gray horse.”
Sure enough, the gray horse had the golf cap neatly pinned about
him.
“Well, he won’t take cold without it in summer,” said Mr. Horton
cheerfully. “And I thought I’d like to wear the cap while driving the car
to-morrow. Sunny, aren’t you going to sleep at all to-night?”
“I don’t feel sleepy,” complained Sunny, climbing into bed and
settling the covers again. “Oh, Daddy, I forgot the woolly dog.”
Mr. Horton brought him the woolly dog, kissed him good-night, and
put out the light.
“Daddy?”
The door into Daddy and Mother’s room opened a crack.
“Go to sleep,” said Mother severely.
 “But, Mother, I just have to ask Daddy one question. Then I will go
to sleep—honest.”
So Daddy came in again and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Daddy—” Sunny sat up in bed so that he could see him better, for
the light from the street lamp shone across the room. “Daddy, does a
crab bite?”
“It does,” said Mr. Horton. “I’ll take you crabbing and you’ll see how
it does it. And now—”
“Now I’m going to sleep,” said Sunny hastily.
He just closed his eyes for a second and turned over in a more
comfortable position. And then—
“All aboard for Nestle Cove!” There stood Daddy in the middle of
his room, calling to him. The sun was shining, and, yes, it was
morning!
“What do you know about that!” said the bewildered Sunny Boy. “I
wasn’t going to sleep that minute.”
“But you did. And in an hour we’re to start,” Mr. Horton told him.
“Mother has already gone downstairs. We’ll have to hustle, for we
have to go get Aunt Bessie and Miss Betty and Harriet, you know.
Let’s see who can get dressed first!”
 CHAPTER V
SUNNY BOY’S SURPRISE

D ADDY wasn’t dressed first because he stopped to help Sunny

Boy, who had lost one shoe and simply couldn’t find it! Finally
Sunny discovered it under the bed, and he had it on and laced and
the other shoe done, too, before Daddy was ready. Then they raced
downstairs, and both tried to kiss Mother at once.
“You crazy boys!” she said, laughing. “I suppose you’ll be too
excited to eat breakfast. Hurry! Sunny Boy! Why, how you do act!
Come now, I’m going to put the eggs on to boil. Sit down and eat
your fruit, and stop bothering me.”
Sunny could have skipped breakfast without a murmur. Indeed, he
suggested that they shouldn’t waste time doing the same old thing
they did every day; he wasn’t hungry, so why not start out right
away?
“Well, if you don’t want to eat, I do,” said Daddy. “You wouldn’t
want me to faint away from hunger while I was driving the car, would
you? I thought not. And if you have your eye on those lunch boxes
Mother has for us, you’d better eat breakfast just the same. I might
eat all the lunch up and then you’d be sorry you missed this buttered
toast.”
So Sunny Boy did his best to eat, and he really managed pretty
well.
After breakfast there was a great scurrying about. Mother washed
the dishes, Daddy dried them, and Sunny put them away. All the
food that was left in the house was put into a little basket and left
with Mrs. Baker for the washerwoman who came to wash for her
every Wednesday. She was a tall colored woman, and Sunny knew
her. They often talked over the fence.
 “I have seven childern,” she used to say. “And I keeps thirteen
hens and one rooster. I kin use every scrap of food, yes’m. Don’t you
ever throw away nothing that can be et.”
So Mrs. Horton was always careful to set aside all the left-overs
she couldn’t use for Molly.
“Now while Daddy is fastening the windows and locking up, we’ll
be putting on our new linen dusters,” said Mrs. Horton. “Let me see,
have we forgotten anything? The trunks went yesterday, there are
the two suitcases—No, Son, don’t lift them, Daddy will carry them
down—the lunch boxes are on the hall table. Yes, Harry?”
Mr. Horton on the third floor was calling her.
“Olive, there’s a fly in this room—he’ll starve to death this summer.
Send Sunny Boy up with the fly-batter, quick.”
Mrs. Horton laughed.
“Daddy’s remembering something I did ever so long ago,” she told
Sunny Boy. “What was it? Oh, I haven’t time to tell you now. I will,
after we’ve started. Run along up with the fly-batter, precious, and
tell Daddy please to hurry.”
Mr. Horton killed the fly and carried down the suitcases and took
them and the lunch boxes out to the car at the curb. The boy who
worked for Mr. Taggart had brought the automobile around soon after
breakfast. Mother and Daddy had on long brown linen coats, and
Sunny Boy had one, too, made exactly like Daddy’s. He was very
proud of that new coat.
Then it was time to lock the front door and really start.
“It does take so long to go,” sighed Sunny Boy, as he stood waiting
with Mother on the front steps while Daddy made sure that the door
was tightly fastened.
“But we want our house to be all here when we come back,”
Mother reminded him. “Never mind, we’re going this minute. There
are Nelson and Ruth to say good-by to you, dear.”