Rugged Gentleman Novels & Stories

"You’re crossing into the Untamed Territories with your scent masked. That makes you either a fugitive or an idiot. In these woods, they’re usually the same thing." "Which one are you?" Anya challenged, her body tensed to bolt. The man finally looked up. He didn't have the mark of a pack-wolf. He had no status, no crest, no rank. He was a Rogue—a true one, unbonded, unchained, and likely insane. He smiled, a jagged expression that didn't reach his eyes.

He said with a stupid smirk on his jerk face. He? A gentleman? Bitch he looks like a walking red flag man, you can't consider that as a gentleman. He may look gorgeous but that doesn't mean he's a gentleman, I bet he doesn't even open the door for the lady and would take on the first of the line instead of an old lady and I bet he doesn't follow the 'lady's first' thingy. "B*tch please, you a gentleman? I would prefer to call you a cave man," I joked and he playfully glares at me.

They communicated in sharp, rapid Italian. The thick, rolling vowels carried a distinct, heavy Sicilian accent. A man stepped out of the lead Aston Martin. He was an older gentleman, perhaps in his late sixties. He wore a sharp, double-breasted gray suit and carried a silver-handled walking stick. His silver hair was combed back perfectly. He looked like an aristocrat stepping out for an evening at the opera, completely unbothered by the carnage and smoke surrounding him. He walked through the ruined doorway, his leather shoes stepping neatly over the shattered glass. The armed men immediately parted, lowering their weapons and bowing their heads in deep respect.

They finally acknowledged our presence when one of his friends, I got to know was Raymond called out to Tunji. "Guy won't you acquaint us with the ladies that came in with you?" His voice sounded gruff, he had a gentleman's outlook with the way he was casually dressed, trousers-not sagging- and all but he sounded pretty much like a stereotypical gangster. Still he was handsome, his beards, neatly trimmed, you'd almost want to feel them. TDH, I tell you. His girl clung to him like a leech but who wouldn't? A fine man with a good bank account? Not a very common combination in these parts, forget cliche novels and movies for a moment.

He keeps it bottled up inside, but he never loses his total masculine composure as a son of a Lord who has real estates-hectares of land that served as farmlands and treasures worth a lot of money from trade with British foreigners. He does not lose his composure even if he is feeling something terrible; he would never want to tarnish his image as a cultured and educated gentleman who walks the grass fields and streets with heavenly finesse, like a woman's elegant dress and soft hair, swaying along with the subtle wind in the start of springtime, the month of the cool climate of April. He is restless, as he is holding his stomach-trying to keep everything in. A guy is in disorder, scandalous

I looked up at the sky and could see stars through the light pollution. As if reading my thoughts, an elderly gentleman came outside just moments after me, holding a cigar between his teeth. He spoke with a soft accent, "It's rather chilly tonight, is it not?" I turned around, looking him over. "It most certainly is." He was of Asian descent, with long grey hair and a beard that matched, yet he was youthful looking for his age. His eyes were as black as night, and glimmered with the confidence of a man who knew how to wield power. He was wearing a suit similar to mine, with the same expensive sheen to it. There were golden rings on his fingers that suggested wealth.

Asher turned the moment he saw her and smiled, that soft, knowing kind of smile that tugged at her chest. “There she is,” he said warmly, motioning her over. Vera walked up slowly, tucking her hands behind her back as her eyes shifted between Asher and the man beside him. The gentleman was tall and lean despite his age, with steel gray hair and a matching mustache, dressed in a charcoal golf vest and slacks. There was something distinctly aristocratic about him, the kind of man who had been born into money and molded by decades of wielding power. “Asher, are you trying to throw me off my game by bringing a beautiful distraction to our meeting?” the man joked with a rich baritone voice.

It has not been taken care of recently. I looked at Ryan standing behind the door. He is wearing his Khaki color suit. He preferred his dresses a little loose unlike Alexander whose body is hugged by the piece of fabrics which reveal all the shapes of muscles bulging out perfectly. It made me think of that same body which is a little thin and has many scars now. I forced myself not to think of them anymore. They are melting me now. Ryan looked at me and smiled while setting his collar.

BOOK FIVE: His Wicked Embrace League Rule Number 11: A man should remember from time to time to be a gentleman, even if he thinks he may have forgotten how. Excerpt from the Quizzing Glass Gazette, April 28, 1821, the Lady Society column: Lady Society is quite curious about a certain gentleman named Mr. Lawrence Russell. His elder brother, the Marquess of Rochester, is quite infamous indeed as a member of the League of Rogues, but as for Mr. Russell himselfthe rumors abound.

His stomach hurts so much. He sat down on a sofa, he picked out a cigar and lited it. His legs were crossed while he smoke, He had a belt around his trim waist and his top hugged his body revealing a huge collarbone. His Adam apple bobbled sexily and his entire presence exuding an indescribable masculinity and charming. He is so Damm sexy, he exuded a perfect gentleman and woman could go crazy seeing him like this. A moment later, Butler Ji won walked up to him, he bow in respect. Butler Ji won is the man steward of old master Lin, he knows practically everything about him.