A Thief in the Night: Gentle Art World
By KJ Charles
4/5
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About this ebook
Toby never meant to be a highway robber, but needs must. He didn't plan to impersonate a top London valet either, but when the chance comes to present himself as the earl of Arvon's new gentleman's gentleman, he grabs it. Unfortunately, the earl is the man he seduced and robbed on the road to get here. Oops.
Miles, Lord Arvon, is not impressed. But he's faced with a tumbledown home and lost family fortune, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Toby—shameless, practical, and definitely desperate—may be just the man he needs.
To steal back a priceless bracelet, that is. What else were you thinking?
KJ Charles
KJ Charles is a writer and editor. She lives in London with her husband, two kids, a garden with quite enough prickly things, and a cat with murder management issues. Find her on Twitter @kj_charles for daily timewasting and the odd rant, or in her Facebook group, KJ Charles Chat, for sneak peeks and special extras.
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13 ratings1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Beutiful short read with witty characters and inteiguing story. Every wold was on point, no sentence waisted. Fast paced, but not rushed. Loved it.
Book preview
A Thief in the Night - KJ Charles
Chapter One
There was a handsome man in the snug.
He was sitting by the fire, long legs stretched out, boots in need of a polish but hugging his calves in a way that suggested they’d cost good money at some point. The caped coat that hung by the wall added to the impression of a man with funds, even if he was travel-stained and unaccompanied.
Toby watched him out of the corner of his eye while he waited for his tankard of ale and exchanged some saucy words with the landlady’s daughter. Then he strolled over.
Evening. Mind if I...?
He indicated the other chair. The man gave a nod, raising his tankard in salute, and adjusted the angle of his knees so Toby could sit facing him.
He was perhaps thirty or a little more, with dark brown hair and a complexion that suggested he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. The Peninsula, Toby would bet: he had a military air and looked in good condition. He also had all his limbs, which was more than many Peninsular veterans could boast, and he was very handsome. Well-shaped mouth, dark brows, impressive cheekbones, blue-grey eyes. Plenty of faint lines around both eyes and mouth. He looked tired. More: he looked worn.
The man cleared his throat. Can I help you?
He’d been staring, Toby realised. Oops. I beg your pardon. Have we met, sir? You look familiar.
The man raised a brow. I can’t say the same, but I’ve been out of the country for five years. We could resolve the question by exchanging names, perhaps? I’m—uh, Miles Carteret.
Toby politely disregarded the little stumble of uncertainty: these things happened. Toby Porrit.
Doesn’t ring a bell, I fear.
Toby wasn’t offended, since he’d never seen the man before in his life and that wasn’t his name anyway. Pleased to meet you. Have you travelled far?
He aimed for casual confidence and a gentlemanly tone, something to place himself as an equal.
Far enough. I was in the Peninsula.
And back safely? That’s surely worth celebrating. Let me get you another. Or a brandy?
I’ll take a brandy.
Miles gave a nod of thanks.
Toby obtained the drinks—he hadn’t yet worked out how he was going to avoid settling his account, but that was tomorrow’s problem—and they clinked glasses. So are you back for good, now it’s all over? Have you sold out?
I have indeed. I’m on my way home.
Here’s to your safe return.
They both raised their glasses again. Their eyes met, and this time Miles smiled. He had a very good smile, one that did interesting things to the planes of his face. Toby smiled back, and let the moment stretch just long enough to be sure. Eyes meeting, lips curving, not an offer, but a definite readiness for action. And no dancing around the subject, either. He did like a military man.
So are you going back for a girl you left behind?
he enquired, just to be sure. Or were the long years of fidelity a bit much to ask?
It would have been a bit much to ask of me,
Miles said with a grin.
Toby arched a brow. Really? There’s nobody pining for you?
No. No. Actually I was coming back to see my father, but it seems he died last week. I had the news when I landed.
Oh.
Toby kicked himself. That’s dreadful. I’m very sorry. Were you close?
Miles grimaced. Not really. We weren’t on good terms when I joined up. He wasn’t the easiest father, and I wasn’t much of a son. I had hoped, when we met again— But we won’t, and that’s that.
I’m sorry,
Toby said again. Fathers are difficult. Mine was.
Did you resolve matters with him?
The honest answer was, He caught me with the potboy at the Green Man, so I stole ten pounds he had stashed and ran away, and with any luck I’ll never see the foul old sot again. That wasn’t what Miles would want to hear. Yes. Yes, we did. I left for some time, and I think my absence helped us both realise what mattered. I came back to ask forgiveness, and learned I’d been forgiven long before.
A tiny widening of Miles’s eyes told him he’d pitched that correctly. He ventured to add, I’m sorry yours didn’t have the chance to tell you as much. I’d hazard he would have wanted to.
Thank you. I hope you’re right. And I think he would be pleased that I’m claiming my place now.
Your place?
Well, my family name. I didn’t do much for it in my youth. I wasn’t what you’d call responsible.
In Toby’s world, family names were changed more frequently than linen, but he nodded in a serious sort of way. Five years of service to your country—that sounds responsible to me.
Yes, I think I’ve grown up at last. Time to go home and do my duty.
When you get home, absolutely,
Toby said. I feel one’s allowed a bit more leeway when travelling.
There’s that.
And one can’t always be dutiful,
he added, meeting those blueish eyes.
Miles held his gaze. Oh, I don’t know. I rise to the occasion as a soldier should.
Oh, yes, Toby could take a hint when one was being thrown his way. He tilted his glass, let the brandy moisten his lips, licked them slowly, and saw Miles’ gaze follow the movement of his tongue.
It was academic after that. They finished the brandies, one or the other enquired the way to the privies, and they collided in the dark outside, hands frantic, pulses thumping. Miles pushed Toby against a wall, rubbing against him, groping for his prick through his breeches; Toby wrapped a thigh round him, grabbing his firm arse for balance.
God, this felt good, better than anything had done for a while. Touch, the promise of mutual pleasure, the simple fact of connection with another body. He looked up at Miles, his face barely a dim oval in the darkness, and had just time to think I wonder if he kisses? when Miles’s mouth came down hard on his.
Oh, perfect, perfect. Toby kissed him back with fierce joy, lips urgent, tongues tangling. Biting and gulping at each other with the hunger of desires that needed to be sated, kissing as passionately as lovers who cared, straining into each other.
Perfect, but doubtless not what Miles had come out here for. Toby pulled back, ignoring a touch of reluctance that he had no business feeling, and they both fumbled buttons, then Toby slid down to his knees, and took Miles’ substantial cock at a swallow.
Christ,
Miles said, barely audible. God, yes, so good. This is good for you?
Toby made a quietly enthusiastic noise, since he’d been taught not to talk with his mouth full. Miles gave a soft laugh. Damnation. I’m glad I met you.
Say it again tomorrow morning, Toby thought, and then pushed that aside. No point spoiling this interlude. He sucked and licked, worked his own prick while he did it, felt a strong hand gripping his hair as Miles thrust between his tensed lips with flattering enthusiasm, but not excessive force. A gentleman. And God, it was wonderful, the hand caressing his scalp, the tense muscle of