The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (18 page)

“Let me help you with that, darling,” said Malcolm. He released her and, with a facility she realized she should resent, divested himself of his boots, then stripped off his coat and shirt. Finally he pulled off his breeches, and stood before her naked. Helena’s breath quickened as she gazed at his broad shoulders and narrow hips, his erection high against his flat stomach. Helena hesitated, overwhelmed by his beauty but also dimly aware that his obvious comfort with his nudity in front of her indicated years of experience. She pushed the thought aside, distracted by the promise in his eyes, and allowed one hand to trail down his abdomen to his rigid length. She stroked it gently at first and with more firmness and finally, with great daring, she dropped to her knees to allow her tongue to circle the bulbous head. She licked the little droplet of moisture from the tip as he arched into her, the sinews of his thighs clenching as he strove to control himself while she drew him into her warm, moist mouth, closing her lips over his shaft, taking him deep inside.

Astonished and delighted at her boldness, Malcolm reached down to caress her breasts, gently pressing her distended nipples, as she continued to lick and suck at him. Finally, with an oath, he withdrew from her, watching as his erection popped wet and glistening from between her lips. She looked up, puzzled.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

Malcolm gave a shaky laugh. “You are doing everything precisely right, my dear. But if I am to satisfy you, you cannot continue.”

He raised her to her feet, pausing only to kiss her deeply and possessively and then tumbled her onto the bed, his hands stroking her back, her buttocks, her stomach, pushing through her hair, scattering pins everywhere. He rolled onto his back and clasped her by the waist, lifting her over him.

“I know you to be an excellent horsewoman, and am sure you can ride me just as well,” he said, with a wicked smile.

Helena looked at him round-eyed, then seemed to see the advantages of his suggestion. She placed her hands on his chest, reveling in the feel of his warm skin and put her leg across him, placing one knee on each side of his hips.

Malcolm grinned. “Such a delightful sight. You learn quickly. Perhaps you should remain there one moment while I ascertain that you still want me.” He raised a hand, and dragged two fingers between her nether lips, across the honeyed skin, slick with her desire, and drew them back, covered with her pearly essence.

“You need someone to make love to you,” he whispered.

Helena shivered, and then, grasping him firmly, fitted him to her drenched channel and lowered herself slowly along his rigid length. She arched her back, as with a thick slide he filled her more deeply than she had thought possible, and then paused a moment, quivering against him as he stretched her wide. Then she rose again slowly, tantalizingly, until Malcolm grasped her hips and pushed her back down again, urging her into a rhythm that would satisfy them both.

“What, are you impatient?” she teased.

Malcolm thrust upward once more, his hands on her hips, holding her down for sensational seconds as he braced his feet and surged into her until she felt she could no longer form a coherent thought. She whimpered, hovering on edge of ecstasy, and then he lifted her off his erection abruptly, holding her by the waist, only the very tip of him inside her.

“Impatient?” he repeated. “We shall see who is impatient.” The corded strength of his powerful arms was visible as he held her there, and she began to squirm, seeking to take him inside her again. Her body throbbed with unsated pleasure, crying for release.

“If you don’t wish to climax again, you should tell me,” Malcolm murmured. “You don’t have to, you know. I won’t force you.”

Helena groaned, aching for him, the small pressure of him just inside her sending a hot spiraling tension through her core, the promise of rapture denied. “Please, Malcolm,” she whispered.

“Please what?”

“Please let me—”

“Let you what?” asked Malcolm inexorably.

“Please be inside me again,” breathed Helena.

“You can’t scream when you come,” he warned gently. “The servants will hear, and they will gossip.”

“I won’t,” said Helena in a small voice.

“Very well.” Malcolm lowered her slowly, guiding her gently into place, penetrating her engorged tissue by delicate degrees. She felt herself open to him, tiny tremors starting already as he seated himself deeply inside her. When their bodies met he held her still, his hands on her hips, soothing her gently as she whimpered, her senses aflame, the cresting passion so near and yet still not accessible. He reached up and cupped her breasts, his fingers rolling her engorged nipples. Slowly, he urged her down towards him, the new angle increasing the friction between them, and took one turgid peak between his lips, suckling, and then biting down with exquisite slowness.

Helena’s cry echoed across the Queen’s Room as peaking ecstasy flooded through her, no longer able to form a rational response. She spasmed around him ferociously as he released himself into her warmth, gasping for breath at the power of his climax. He clutched her hips as they crested for long moments of shattering pleasure, before she collapsed, sobbing, on his chest.

Helena stretched slightly, enjoying the weight of Malcolm’s arm as he lay across her waist, one hand still cupping her breast, his fingers lightly caressing it.

“I think this is quite my favorite room in Keighley Manor,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into her neck.

“You planned this,” Helena said, though not with any anger.

“Planned it? You were the one who forced me into the priest hole. How was I to know I’d wind up in Queen Elizabeth’s bedroom?”

“You came here today meaning to—to do this.”

“I came here today meaning to make sure Denby got up to no mischief with you. But I cannot deny I had other things on my mind as well, your beauty and warmth being not the least of them.”

Helena tried to sit up. “We cannot keep doing this.”

His arm around her tightened, holding her down with very little effort. “I will not have a repeat of yesterday, where you throw on your clothes and storm away. Helena, I mean to marry you. You know that. All you have to do is agree.”

“I cannot—,” she began.

“Spare me the list of the reasons you cannot marry me.” Malcolm rolled her over on her back and leaned over her, supporting himself on his arms, his legs between hers as he nestled his body into the juncture of her thighs. “See how well we fit together?”

She gave a tiny sigh of resignation. “Malcolm, you know how I feel.”

“Indeed, I do know how you feel, love—inside and out.”

Helena flushed. “You said you would not bring up marriage again until we have caught the free traders.”

“I said I would not propose again,” Malcolm pointed out. “I did not say I would never mention our inevitable union again.”

“I cannot become betrothed to you, for I have told Denby that he may court me.”

“Did you?” Malcolm kissed the spot where her shoulder met her neck. “I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.” She wiggled slightly and he laughed softly. “I will have to keep you very, very busy, so you have no time for Denby.”

“But we must learn more about his involvement with the smugglers,” she protested.

He gazed down at her. “You seem to think very little of me. You need not do this; I am quite capable of dealing with Denby.”

“It is not your place to protect me,” she said, annoyed.

“Perhaps not yet, but I wish to nonetheless. Believe me, Helena, I have known many men like him. He swaggers and blusters, but at heart he is a bully and a coward. That makes him dangerous. Cowards are never honest, and they will strike out when you least expect it. Denby cannot be trusted.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” she demanded. “He tried to force me into marriage.”

“I am almost grateful to him for that, as it kept you unwed until I returned to England,” said Malcolm. “But I cannot forgive him for making you miserable. Believe me, Helena, he will pay for it. But you need not be involved.”

“You’ve never asked me what happened.”

“I’ve no need to.” Malcolm kissed his way down her chest to one breast, which he nipped at teasingly. “I know you would never lower yourself to touch a worm like him, and that he must be crushed so he cannot harm you again. I don’t need to know anything more.”

Helena looked perplexed. “I thought you were pursuing Denby in order to stop the smugglers.”

He smiled down at her. “If you wish to stop the free traders, I will am willing to help. But Denby—no, my dear, that is another matter altogether.”

As she pondered his words, Malcolm glanced up at the window. “It’s early afternoon. When does Arthur return?”

Helena squeaked and tried to sit up, and this time Malcolm let her.

“Afternoon!” she exclaimed jumping off the bed. “He should be home soon, and the servants must wonder where I am.”

“I imagine Chalmers is confused, at any rate,” said Malcolm. “We were in the drawing room, and then I wasn’t and you were and now, well, neither of us are.” He swung himself up to sit on the edge of the bed and stretched with an easy grace, his long muscles sliding under his skin, golden hair glinting on his chest. Helena stopped and watched, transfixed.

Malcolm caught her gaze with his, and she was shaken by the desire she saw there. He smiled.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, and she realized that what she had seen in his eyes was reflected in hers. “Or I shall take you back to bed, and Arthur can go to the devil. You look very fetching just now.”

Helena glanced down to realize that she was completely naked, and turned away, embarrassed, searching for her chemise.

“I would help, but I think I prefer you this way.” Malcolm stood and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. “Hush,” he said when she opened her mouth to speak. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

“I must get dressed,” she said hesitantly, barely able to stop herself from leaping into his arms.

“I know. We can’t spend all day in bed, as much as I’d love to. But perhaps we should discuss tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You could come to Wroxton,” he said, drawing her close, his fingers tracing a path down her spine. “We have many lovely rooms there as well, though it was built too late for Elizabeth to have slept in them.”

“Do you mean we should make an—an assignation?” asked Helena, faintly shocked.

“I don’t mean to deny myself your company, and depending on chance meetings is unsatisfactory. If you don’t come to me, I will have to find you, and I will, you know.”

“But to plan such a thing,” she murmured.

“You cannot take back what you have given me,” he pointed out. “You might as well enjoy it—which you clearly do.”

Helena stirred against him. “You shouldn’t do that if you want to get dressed,” he said.

“Lord Denby is to visit me tomorrow,” she said.

“Is he?” Malcolm looked at her enigmatically. “We shall see about that. In the meantime, may I expect you at Wroxton in the afternoon? To discuss business, of course.”

“To discuss business.” She smiled up at him. “I suppose I could be there. At two o’clock?”

“I look forward to it.” Malcolm released her, and, walking across the room, picked her chemise up off the floor. “Let me help you dress.”

Helena felt a pang of disappointment when he brought the garment to her and helped her slide it over her head. He smoothed it over her chest, his hands lingering on her breasts.

“It seems a shame to cover these,” he murmured. “They are so lovely.” He leaned down and took one nipple in his mouth. Helena writhed as she felt the warmth of his mouth and pressure of the linen against her skin. He raised his head and smiled at her.

“A promise for tomorrow,” he said.

Malcolm found the garments she had shed and brought them to her, helping her dress as gently and patiently as he had undressed her.

“Your gown is a bit crumpled,” he murmured as he slid it over her head. “But you can change it soon.”

Helena smoothed her skirts as Malcolm dropped another kiss onto the nape of her neck, and then turned her, pulling her into his arms.

“You—you should dress as well.”

“I could stay here, in this room,” he said. “You could tell the servants it is haunted, and they are not to enter. I could be here every hour of every day, waiting for you. How often would you visit me?”

Helena felt desire stirring at his words, at the thought of Malcolm being always there for her. She shivered.

“You don’t answer. I think you would be here often. Several times a day, in fact.” He ran a finger down the length of his penis, and she watched, fascinated.

“Think of that before you come to Wroxton tomorrow,” he murmured. Lazily he turned away and picked up his breeches, stepping into them and sliding them up over his hips. He fastened them as she watched regretfully.

“I—we should go back to the drawing room,” she said.

Malcolm slid his shirt over his head and buttoned it. “I suppose we should,” he answered. Helena watched silently as he dressed, half wishing he would stay. He looked up and met her eyes.

“Do you regret this?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I cannot,” she finally said.

“I love your honesty. There is nothing to regret, Helena. Do we go back through the passage, or through the house?”

Helena hesitated. “I suppose we should go through the passage. We can go out the drawing room doors onto the terrace, and walk back around. Chalmers will think we took a stroll in the gardens.”

“One would think you’d been born to this sort of intrigue,” said Malcolm teasingly. “I had no idea you were so full of deceptive thoughts.”

“Neither did I. You drive me to unusual actions, my lord.”

“You have no idea at all of what I can drive you to, my dear.” Malcolm took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. When she responded eagerly, he muttered an oath and held her at arm’s length.

“None of that; you must wait until tomorrow at two ’clock.” He looked around. “Now, where’s my waistcoat?”

A half-hour later Malcolm sauntered into the stable yard and called for his horse. A groom scurried away to fetch it, as the earl lounged comfortably against a stone wall in the sunshine, whistling cheerfully. After some moments Macklin approached him, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Your lordship,” he said.

“Macklin.” Malcolm looked the groom up and down.

“May I have a word with you, my lord?”

“Certainly,” said Malcolm. “I don’t stand on ceremony. I know how much Miss Keighley values you.”

A smiled crossed the groom’s grizzled face. “I’ll wager she hasn’t said that to you.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

Macklin nodded his head. “It’s come to my ears that you are seeking out the leader of the free traders.”

“Devil take it! How did you hear that?”

“People talk.”

“They do indeed,” said Malcolm, a bit grimly.

“It’s no secret amongst the farmers and the laborers who it is,” continued Macklin.

“Ah.” Wroxton raised his eyebrows. “Miss Keighley and I had deduced that it must be Denby.”

“You’d be right.” The groom frowned. “He found his opportunity some years ago; your father was more interested in his books and his travels, and Sir Douglas was not right in the head. There was no one to stop him when he organized the smugglers, so he’s made a fortune at it. He depends on the money the contraband brings him, so if any one speaks a word, they may find their animals dead, or their barn burned as a warning.”

“I wonder you didn’t tell Miss Keighley this,” said Malcolm. “She has been worried about it for some time.”

Macklin made a noise that might have been a laugh. “Are you touched in the head? Tell Miss Keighley? She’d have gone haring off without a thought as to the danger. She’d get herself killed—or worse. Denby’s already harmed her enough.”

Malcolm’s lips twitched. “I don’t disagree. So you think I am the man to take Denby down and defend Miss Keighley?”

“I’ve been watching you. I know you’re an honorable man.”

“That is not my reputation,” said Malcolm. “But, in this case, you may be right.”

“I’ve seen you with Miss Keighley enough to know I can trust you—and that you mean to do right by her.” The groom directed a piercing glare at him.

“I’m attempting to, Macklin,” said Malcolm pensively. “She is not being helpful.”

Macklin sighed. “Aye, she’s a stubborn one. She’s always been that way, since she was just a child.”

The two men shared a meaning-laden look. A groom brought up Malcolm’s horse, and Macklin took the reins from him and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“Thank you for your help, Macklin.” Malcolm extended his hand. After a startled pause, the groom shook it.

“Perhaps you can help me one more time,” said the earl. “Where do the gentlemen hereabouts go when they wish to gamble in, er, discreet circumstances?”

Macklin gave him a suspicious look. “It’s a decent town, my lord. We have none of that here.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I’ve been in many towns in many countries, Macklin. I’ve never been in one so decent there wasn’t a place for the menfolk to go when they wish to drink and wench. I do not mean to do anything untoward or that will anger Miss Keighley, but if I am to deal with Denby, I must run him to ground.”

“Ah.” Macklin nodded. “There’s a pretty widow in Folkestone with light pockets and expensive tastes. She has select card parties in her home most nights. It’s very discreet.”

“I imagine it is. Her name?”

“Mrs. Featherhaugh.”

“It would be. Thank you, Macklin.” Malcolm handed the groom a coin and swung himself up into the saddle.

“Be cautious, my lord. That Denby is a bad ‘un,” said Macklin.

Malcolm gave him a thin smile. “He’s not a spot on me, I’m sure.” He turned his horse and rode away.