Steamy Romance - Sampler Vol. 1: Steamy Romance Book Bundles, #1

By Vashti Valant

Four steamy romantic novellas in one volume!

Historical Romance: Whipped at the Earl’s Whim

When an Earl catches a lady in his stable, he decides to teach her a lesson…never imagining it will lead to losing his heart to the feisty filly… (A stand-alone novella)

Sci-Fi Futuristic Romance: Ruthless

When Zethia was spurned by a handsome cyborg general, to hide her shame, she falsely accused him of a crime. Now he is back and determined to have his revenge…and claim her as his bride.

(First episode of a trilogy)

Paranormal Romance: Born To Burn

Shar had no idea she was a Firecaster until a brutal attack unleashed her power. Now she must learn to control her power without losing her heart to her handsome trainer…

(A stand-alone novella)

Fantasy Romance: Gargoyles’ Plaything

With the love of two Gargoyle mates, BBW Taniya overcomes an evil enchantment. But they are not the only ones who desire Taniya’s curvy body, and they will have to defend their mate against a villain determined to turn the men against each other…

(First episode of a trilogy)

About the Author

Vashti Valant loves Romance with Alpha Heroes and feisty Heroines, and delivers scorching hot love stories with happy endings. She writes Historical Romance, Sci-Fi Futuristic Romance, Fantasy Romance and Paranormal Romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Misque Press
• Release date: Sep 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516313877

Book preview

Chapter One

1870, Victorian England

Marianne felt free riding a horse as she never could at home. Dark Champion was a racing horse, headstrong and powerful, although unfortunately, he didn’t belong to her. He belonged to her enigmatic neighbor, the Earl of Marlbridge, salaciously dubbed by gossips, the Wicked Earl. But the Earl committed most of his wicked deeds in London, and Marianne, the daughter of his closest neighbor, was on better terms with the staff of his stables than he. She had no fear of being caught riding his newest prize race horse, for he’d never know. Marianne had seduced the horse over the past few weeks with whispers and carrots and rubs, and he was ready to let her fly with him. As for the grooms, they ate out of her hands as well. Most of them had known her since childhood, and could deny her nothing, especially since they knew her love of horses—and her genuine skill with them.

The wind whipped at her auburn hair, pulling it from its simple bun. She tipped her face up to the rising sun. They were coming up on the jump now. She straightened her back and focused on the spot where she wanted Dark Champion to land on the far side of the jump. She urged Dark Champion into an even canter. As they came into the jump, she leaned forward, tucked pressure into her heels, and felt her will merge with the horse’s in one moment of rebellion against everything earthbound.

Dark Champion took the leap like a winner! She could not contain her whoop of joy as he pounded down the path on the far side. Marianne felt her spirit soar as stallion broke into a gallop. She bounced on the saddle, her hair wild behind her like a red flag, and didn’t care a whit that she probably looked more like a wild Amazon or Gypsy girl than a Lady. There was no one on this gorgeous, foggy dawn to see her, chide her or beat her for her brazenness.

Or so she thought.

As she eased Dark Champion into a walk and returned him to the Earl’s stables, she heard a voice that made her heartbeat quicken in alarm. It was a man, obviously furious, interrogating Dan, the stable boy, about Dark Champion’s whereabouts.

The Wicked Earl was here.

Of all the days for him to visit his country estate! Why, oh, why, she wondered, had he come all the way out from London?

Lord Thaddeus, the Earl of Marlbridge, had, in fact, come to his country estate explicitly to see the new racehorse, for he was thinking of entering Dark Champion in the Grand National Handicap Steeplechase. Thaddeus did not see Marianne. His attention fell wholly on the stable boy, who cringed and stammered an incoherent and patently false excuse for why the stallion was not in his stall. Thaddeus raised a whip threateningly, but it was for show. In fact, he despised gentry who abused their servants, and had no intention of hurting the boy.

But Thaddeus also remembered what a fool he himself had been at fourteen, with more sense of adventure than common sense, and he feared the boy had either attempted to ride the stallion himself or else let one of his friends do so. The stallion had yet to be broken in, and could be quite dangerous. Alas, to convince an adolescent boy of his own mortality was a futile task. Better the boy fear a whipping, something every lad understood.

I will whip you for this, boy. Do you understand me? How could you be so careless?  That is my prized stallion! No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to ride him!

Marianne could hear his menacing words before she entered the stable and her stomach plummeted.

She stepped forward, to physically interpose herself between the irate Earl and the boy.

Please don’t hurt him, sir. It was my fault! she declared boldly.

Thaddeus stared at her in shock. Her wild hair tumbled freely over her shoulders. It was red, but not a garish orange, more of a deep bronze, subdued at first glance, but upon further inspection filled with fiery highlights. She wore a simple white blouse, falling off one shoulder, and a plain, threadbare skirt, that marked her as a country wench, perhaps some cousin of Dan the stable boy, or perhaps some girl from the local village. But the simplicity of her attire could not disguise the lushness of her figure. Indeed, the blouse revealed her rounded shoulder and a hint of cleavage, and the skirt, of too thin material, hinted at the shape of her hips and thighs.

Marianne faltered into silence. The Earl had turned his full attention from Dan to her, and she was suddenly, terrifyingly aware of what a large and imposing man he was. He stood taller than most men, definitely much taller than she, and beneath his fashionable riding clothes, she could tell his shoulders and arms bulged with taunt muscles. He did not at all resemble the dissipated dandy she had somehow imagined him to be. Worst of all were his eyes, as steel as sabers, and as sharp in the way they pinned onto her.

At first, he had only looked angry, then shocked. Then, as he raked over her body with his eyes, his demeanor transformed. Something dangerous and enticing entered his gaze, some dark emotion that made her want to close her thighs tighter. It was as if he could see directly into the darkest, naughtiest parts of her.

Despite the tremors that rippled through her, she could not let the stable boy be beaten for her action. She knew all too well how that felt. Just as she often defended her younger sisters from her stepfather’s wrath by taking it on herself, she would do what she could to spare the lad, who was the same age as her youngest sister. So she forced herself to go on.

I begged him to let me ride this black beast. He didn’t want to let me. Marianne lifted her chin. If you must whip anyone, sir, whip me!

Whip me. Thaddeus savored her words as if they were a fine wine. Her challenge, both innocent and defiant, brought an image into his mind that had nothing and everything to do with punishment. He imagined what her fleshy bottom would look like reddened by the stripes of his crop. He imagined her thighs parted far enough that the pink folds of her pussy was revealed to him, and his fingers parting those wet lips to fondle her clit. His cock hardened.

The stable boy seized his moment of opportunity and ran, the heavy stable door clanging behind him. Neither Marianne nor Thaddeus tried to stop him. They were locked into a battle of wills with each other.

He sauntered towards her, sizing her up, his walk that of a predator, freezing her in place with his eyes alone.

"Do you understand the offer that you have just made, girl? If I whip you it will not just be for punishment. When I break in a new filly, it is so that I may mount her."

Chapter Two

His voice was as soft as a suede glove, as sharp as the crack of a whip, and it stirred something forbidden deep within her. Marianne knew that she should say no. Innocent as she was, she sensed a double meaning to his words, hinting at something so shocking and improper that her cheeks burned.

I’m not afraid of you, she lied.

A saucy one, are you?

I have no choice. It’s expected of a redhead.

A smile cracked his grim expression. The smolder in his eyes intensified. He walked around her, inspecting her from all angles. When he was standing behind her, he leaned forward to murmur huskily, But I think you secretly would rather submit than rebel.

His hot, spicy breath against her neck made her whole body tingle strangely.

A horsey snort made her jump. Dark Champion still stood in the stable, waiting patiently to be led to his stall.

Take care of my horse, commanded the Earl. Then we shall continue this negotiation.

Glad to be released from his spell, even temporarily, Marianne hastened to obey. She led Dark Champion into his stall, removed the saddle, and brushed him down, all the while aware of the Earl’s observation. Any hope that he would forget her and let her go withered under his intense stare.

After she finished, he still stood between her and the stable door.

Well, my saucy filly? Are you ready to bare you skin to me? To accept the blows of my whip? To let me spank you like the naughty girl you are? He added, even lower, And to bring you pleasure equal to your punishment afterward?

The acts his purring threats brought to mind were not the acts performed by a gentleman with a lady. But when she opened her mouth to defy him, instead came a voice so laced with longing she didn’t even recognize it as her own.

Yes, Sir. Please.

Her cheeks immediately flushed. How could she have agreed to such a thing? She even begged him, Please. Why had she not run the other direction as the stable boy had? Obviously Dan had more sense than she. Instead here she was begging for a punishment, begging for a punishment that no lady would ever even think to beg for.

Triumph, lust, and something even more primal—raw, savage possession—glittered in the Earl’s eyes and turned up the corners of his mouth.

Strip yourself of those rags, he commanded.

It dawned on her just what a mistake she had made. She had been bluffing! Good God, at least she thought she had.

But he did not allow her to run. When she hesitated, he closed the gap between them and ripped the thin white blouse from her body, shredding the fabric that was already stained and torn.  Her breath left her in a gasp as her breasts tumbled free, for she wore no corset underneath.

Drop your skirts, or I’ll tear that off you too, he commanded. And don’t defy me again.

Trembling, she let the skirt fall. She wore a single petticoat, but at his impatient growl, she realized he wanted her to remove that as well.

Please, please, I... I have nothing else on but my drawers...

I want you naked.

But, sir!

He reached for her and pulled down the petticoat and drawers without waiting. The material pooled at her feet. Her whole body felt seared by shame as she was rendered exposed. She didn’t even have time to cover herself with her hands, as he grabbed a rope and tied her hands to a ring in the crossbeam above her head. She was stretched, dangling at his mercy, not even able to brush the floor with the tips of her toes until he kicked a plank under her feet and even then it was not much help.

Panic welled within her and she wriggled in her binds, realizing for the first time that he had no clue who she was. He would never show a lady such treatment, not a proper lady, if he knew. No, he must think she was some commoner, trespassing on his land and flirting with the stable boy to ride the stallion. He must have thought she was going to steal Dark Champion, not just ride him. She couldn’t imagine what else but rage would drive the Earl of Marlbridge to treat her like this.

Thaddeus slowly walked around her, watching how her body quivered with each step he took. He took in every inch of her creamy skin. His eyes were drawn to the bruises that bloomed on her ribs and her back. There were marks on her wrists too, he noticed. He looked at how her hips swelled and the way her perky breasts bounced and shuddered with each movement she made. He could tell that she was a young woman; he guessed around nineteen. The signs he saw on her body made him tighten in his trousers as lust begin to stir within him, though whoever had used her before had been too crude for his tastes. Blood had been drawn from the whipping, and the bruises indicated punches or deep kicks, not playful slaps had been delivered to her tender flesh. Such abuse did not arouse Thaddeus—it crossed a line he himself never did. Nonetheless, he gathered that she enjoyed this kind of thing, rough play. She would have never seemed so eager for his punishment otherwise. He couldn’t imagine any other reasoning she could have for submitting to him.

He realized, belatedly, that he was angry. Not with her and what she had done, as her gentle treatment of Dark Champion had quelled his original complaint. This new depth of his rage stemmed from these markings from her previous lover. He cringed at the thought.  The man was a crude peasant and surely had not given her what she needed or she wouldn’t be here in his stable.  In that moment, he vowed to give her a night she would never forget. He would show her a world she had probably only ever dreamed about if she had thought about it at all.

She stiffened when he spoke.

You have gotten yourself in quite the predicament. But I am not a cruel man. If you feel that you have made your promise with me in haste, if the thought of taking my whip is unbearable to you, I will release you. All you have to do is say this, ‘my Earl, my Earl, my Earl, release me from your stable’, and I will let you go, no questions asked.  But heed my word, girl. You must never return here.

She bit her trembling lip as he spoke. He was giving her an out. She could leave now and return home and nothing would change. But she couldn’t make herself beg him to go.

You better speak now, as soon you will not have that ability, he warned her.

Do you worst, she spat. She would not back down.

His eyebrows rose. She sensed he took delight rather than umbrage in her defiance. He strolled to the far end of the stable to a chest that she had never seen any of the stable hands use. It was always locked with a heavy padlock, but the Earl evidently had the key.

He returned to her with a hunk of metal and leather and showed it to her. It was a bridle, complete with a bit... but it was not made for a horse, the shape was off.

It had been shaped to fit a woman’s face.

A trill of mingled excitement and dismay shot through her.

He deftly fitted the bridle to her face, buckling the straps swiftly and tight so that she wouldn’t be able to work it off with movement. Then he pulled out his handkerchief and used it to blindfold her.  Fear spiked in her chest as her heart stammered an unsteady rhythm that pounded in her ears. Just what hopeless mess had her misbehavior gotten her into?

As her panic reached such an awful pitch that she was shivering, she heard the sounds of his heels meeting the floor, walking away from her and out the door. She realized just how helpless she was then. Hanging in such a fashion, she had no hope of getting out without assistance, naked, blindfolded, and gagged, as well as alone.

Chapter Three

Her ears strained to hear anything, but met only the sounds of the horses surrounding her.  Her wrists ached and her lungs burned. She wiggled futilely upon the ring, straining her body this way and that to give her some sort of balance and some sort of relief to her already aching muscles, but there was absolutely none. Surely he would return at any moment, surely he wouldn’t just leave her here.  A fresh new wave of panic washed over her as she realized that he very well could. There was absolutely nothing stopping him from doing just that, leaving her here, filled with an anticipation that was worse than any punishment she had ever felt before. But that anxiety gave way to a burning wall of anger inside of her as she realized that that was entirely the point.

Her feeble thrashing intensified as she screamed behind the bit.  Her war cry muted into a pitiful moan. He meant for her to feel this helplessness, this futility, and for her to soak it in. This showed that he was the master of her, that he held the upper hand without even trying. For all she knew he was standing behind her watching her pathetic attempts to be free.  This was all part of his game, breaking her in, forcing her to kneel in ways she had never kneeled to any man. Her stepfather could beat her, and he did, often.  But she had never once felt as helpless in the midst of his drunken rages. He could never break through the shell, her shield, and carve into her soft underbelly, and yet the Earl already had. Fresh, hot, angry tears crept down her face and she stilled upon the ring.

Thaddeus threw open the door to his home and called out for his valet. James, of course, was more than a mere valet.  They had met in the British Infantry. When Thaddeus took over after his father died, he wrote to James, offering him the position. He wanted someone that he trusted to take the position of his valet and there was no one in the world that Thaddeus trusted more than James.

James, well used to the predilections of the ‘Wicked Earl’, expressed no shock as Thaddeus explained the task set out before him. Thaddeus