Mandy

by Claudy Conn

  She felt his excitement rise as he said, “Do you, my beauty? What do I want to do with you with my cock?”

  “You want me to…” she found she couldn’t say it as she reached for his shaft again, and went toward it, to lick its length and kiss its taut throbbing head.

  He groaned and set her once again on her back. He nibbled at her lips as his hand went back to the opening between her legs and his finger slipped inside.

  “That is what I want to do with my cock. I want to put myself inside of you and pleasure you till you scream out my name….”

  His voice was lined with hard raw passion and it excited her. “Then do so, Your Grace.”

  He grinned and said, “But first I want to taste you.”

  He moved away from her mouth and spread her thighs apart to allow him to bend his head between her thighs which he raised by holding up her bottom. His tongue only lapped at her pink wetness at first and then he gently nibbled before he began a sucking and lapping motion.

  She arched with her pleasure and all at once, as she climaxed in a way she had never thought possible, leaving her shuddering with after shocks, she did indeed call out his name.

  “Aye then, beauty,” he said with great pleasure and then suckled at her nipples again, while his hands continued to explore her curves.

  “Brock—oh Brock.”

  His voice was a husky whisper, “I love hearing my name on your lips, Mandy mine.”

  Mandy mine? Did he feel that way? Oh please, faith let him feel that way about me, she thought as she reacted to the finger that once again slipped inside of her.

  Suddenly he worked her in a way that made her whimper with pleasure and unashamedly give herself to his hand, to the quick specific movements of his fingers, now two, inside of her.

  His voice when it came was a low growl and she felt him get into position just as she went into a convulsion of pleasure. All she knew was that she never wanted this to stop.

  He positioned his shaft at her opening then and as he bent to take her mouth with his, he shoved hard inside of her.

  There was a quick moment of pain as he entered and it was done and she began instinctively reacting to his dance, moving with him, harder, faster and harder still.

  When his moment came, he called out her name. “Mandy love!” And she was thrilled beyond understanding.

  He pulled her into his chest, in a spoon position and murmured, “I hope it didn’t hurt too much…I felt you break, love…’

  She shook her head and said, “No…it was over so fast and then you felt so good.” He held her tightly. He kissed her ear, the back of her neck, and then turned her to kiss her mouth, whispering her name, saying he wanted her near, couldn’t bear leaving her at the abbey, and then shocked her by saying, “I must, however, get you dressed and safely returned. Mandy…although all I want to do is stay here with you and make love to you all day, I can’t risk anyone coming across us like this. I won’t have your name bandied about.”

  She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure what she should say. She started pulling her clothes on and the entire time he never turned away from her. Instead, he helped her get dressed, tenderly touching her, sweetly kissing her all the while, telling her she was his sweetheart, his beauty and then he turned her and said once again, “Mine own innocent gamine.”

  There was that word—mine, but no real word of love. She knew that she loved him beyond measure. She knew she would die for him, so strong was her love, but, he was kind and tender and sweet, but he had not mentioned ‘love’.

  So she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Mine? What do you mean by that? I am not property to be labeled thusly,” she said not looking at him.

  “No, not property, and yet mine all the same,” he said not at all put off or apparently about to relinquish his claim.

  No more could be said as they heard her brother call out, “Yer Grace? Mandy?”

  “They are back,” said the duke. “Come…”

  Chapter Ten

  “MY DEAR MRS. Brinley, what can I say? There are no words with which to console you,” offered Mr. Rawlings sympathetically. He came up from his low bow over Agatha Brinley’s hand and straightened to his stout height with a heavy sigh.

  Agatha dabbed at her eyes with her Barcelona handkerchief before swishing the air impressively with its soft black silk.

  “You have no idea, no idea at all, Mr. Rawlings. Such an ordeal. To lose my precious stepdaughter, my only child, for you must know I have no others. And…my word, in such a horrific manner. And then both my dear brother’s children—oh ‘tis more than I can bear.”

  She then allowed him to see that she just might succumb to a fit of the vapors, which enlisted his immediate attention. He hastily took her arm and led her to the sofa with a great show of concern. “This is all so dreadful…simply dreadful.” He shook his bald oddly shaped head in accord with his statement. He hesitated and said, “The matter which brings me to Sherborne is…under these circumstances…a delicate one and very difficult to broach.”

  “But,” said Agatha. “We must not dwell on my tragedy.” She cast a languid glance his way, indicating that he should draw up a chair beside her. As he complied, she said, “You came here I believe, to discuss a business matter.”

  Gratefully he acknowledged this with a series of unfinished sentences as he reached for his briefcase within arms’ length. He set this on his knees and brought forth a package of ivory-colored papers, speaking quickly and obviously hoping to get this settled before she changed her mind.

  “Dear Mrs. Brinley, so good, so understanding. If you will but put your signature here…” he indicated with his quill, “and here…I shall not need to trouble you further.”

  “Indeed? But what am I signing?” the lady asked sharply, her grief set aside.

  Mr. Rawlings lowered his voice, “As you know, my dear lady, your account with Barings was somewhat overdrawn and although you sold out your funds, they were not quite enough to cover your overdraft.” He shook his head, “Oh my, this is difficult indeed and especially considering how much I hold you in esteem.” He sighed again, “But, if you will but sign these, it will enable us to transfer your deceased stepdaughter’s account into your own. Your solicitor assured us that you were fully aware…”

  “Oh, of course I am,” Agatha snapped impatiently, glaring at the young serving girl who had entered the room to set down a tray laden with refreshments. She had stood beside the sideboard, waiting to serve and Agatha had not at first noticed her and worried about how much she had heard. “Go on, you silly child, I can pour the tea…go on.”

  “Yes, mum,” the maid said nervously, dropped a curtsy and hurried out of the room.

  Mrs. Brinley turned a fluttery smile upon Mr. Rawlings. “Of course, dear sir. Where did you say I should sign?”

  * * *

  Mandy felt wicked.

  She had agreed to meet Sir Owen at this prescribed time and place before she left him the other day, but nothing about it felt right.

  The duke had already taken his leave of them and she hadn’t a chance to tell him of the proposed meeting. He would not have liked it. She was already beginning to know just how he would react in any given situation. The notion made her smile.

  She should have at least mentioned it to Chauncey and Ned. Again, she didn’t because they would not have liked it either.

  She didn’t really have a choice. There was a chance, a good chance that Sir Owen might be able to help them find Elly Bonner.

  Yet, now as she hurried toward their prearranged meeting spot, it felt wrong. In fact, she felt oddly sick inside about it. She should have confided in Brock…she should have…because her meeting with Sir Owen could be misconstrued.

  She must confess to them as soon as she returned.

  She reached the meeting spot against the double boulder near the rivulet and found Sir Owen had not yet arrived. She began to pace. He was late and if he didn’t arrive shortly, she would just leave.
That was what she would do.

  Waiting increased her chances of being caught or seen. Every nerve ending of her being told her she should not have come. She was just about to stomp off as fast as she could when the crackle of branches underfoot made her spin around and say with relief, “Sir Owen, thank goodness.”

  He smiled in response and reached to take both her hands in a warm clasp before putting them to his lips for a very pronounced and ardent kiss.

  Her brows rose and she snatched her hands away, as she shot him a look of total disapproval.

  He laughed and said, “Such a little prude, Amanda my dear, but that is just as it should be. I want a wife who is…”

  Cutting him off, she reprimanded, “You are talking nonsense—and it is not that which we should be discussing.”

  “No, of course, you are quite right. There will be time enough for that once I have cleared Ned.”

  “Have you learned something?” she asked ignoring this.

  “No, but I have reason to believe she may be situated near York. I mean to travel there tomorrow and discover what I can.”

  “Tomorrow? Why not today? We do not have any time to waste,” Mandy said agitatedly.

  “I have reason to believe that she has been frequenting a certain shop in York and is expected to be there tomorrow to refurbish her supplies.”

  “How did you come by such information, when no one else has been able to?”

  “Amanda, I am not without means, but tell me,” he frowned at her. “When you refer to ‘no one else’ do you mean—your groom, or Ned?”

  Mandy didn’t like the odd look that flitted across his face and answered vaguely, “Well, for one, I rather thought Skippy might have come up with some information by now.” She didn’t want to mention the duke. The less information she gave the better.

  “What of your guardian?” He raised a brow at her and she felt his penetrating gaze studying her. “I met him yesterday at the viscount’s where he is a guest.”

  He was baiting her. She could feel it. Why? Did he want to know if the duke knew her whereabouts?

  “I see,” was all she gave him, and saw irritation flicker in his eyes.

  He shook his head and said, “Ah, you still don’t trust me. Very well, but why you should think the viscount would be extending himself in this matter, is beyond me. I have already told you that he may have reasons of his own for wanting Elly Bonner to stay missing.”

  She turned away from him while she got her natural hot retort under control. He took her chin and turned her face him. She didn’t want to make an enemy so she restrained herself from slapping his hand away.

  He, however, raised a brow, as though he felt her tension and released her chin. His hand dropped to his side. “Did you know the duke had come?”

  “We do hear things…even closeted with friends as we are,” she answered. Instinct had made her suddenly suspicious of Sir Owen. “Do you think the duke is capable of helping?”

  “I am sure he will try as he has his own name to think about,” Sir Owen returned on a frown. “He might succeed where others have failed, simply because of his station in life. There are those who may take a step back with their innuendos with regard to your brother.” He waved this off, “But never mind him. I want you to keep in mind that there are reasons why you should not trust your long time friend, Skippendon.”

  “At this point, Sir Owen, I don’t trust anyone,” she said simply.

  “Trust me Amanda, you can you know,” he said as he moved closer.

  “No, not even you,” she answered at once. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t want you put in a position where you might have to lie to the authorities.”

  He laughed; pleased enough with this answer and his eyes flirted with her as he ran a hand down her arm whose shirtsleeves had been rolled up against the summer warmth. “A kiss to spur me home then, Amanda sweet?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she answered but gave him a soft smile. No sense annoying him completely.

  He sighed but asked, “When will you meet me again?”

  “I don’t know. But if you have a message for me, write it down and place it here,” she said moving to a hollow in a nearby maple tree, “and I will answer it.”

  “So I shall, my love. One day we will look back on these days as our fine adventure together, but I am not willing to wait till one day, for that kiss…”he said suddenly grabbing hold of her in a crushing embrace.

  Her hand flew up in retaliation but, before she could bring it to his cheek, he caught it, laughed rakishly and murmured, “Now, that is no way to serve me for my help.”

  “Take your help and go to the devil,” answered the lady.

  “I can’t and won’t do that,” he returned, but he also released her then and stepped away, backed up a few feet and turned to vanish in the woods.

  She ran after him and watched as he mounted his horse tethered not so far away from where they had met. She stood and waited while he weaved the animal toward the road and then a few more moments before she turned away. However, even as she turned something caught her eye and stalled her progress.

  A young serving woman was walking toward the village and there was something familiar about her wide ambling gait.

  * * *

  Mandy had been looking for ways to stop thinking about what she had done with the duke. It had been the most beautiful experience of her life, but…what did it mean? She knew beyond any doubt that she was in love with him, but what did he feel? Was she just a passing fancy? If so, in the end, he would leave and she would be broken hearted.

  She couldn’t think about that.

  Well, now she had something else to think about.

  She could scarcely contain herself as she rushed back toward the abbey.

  Chauncey and Ned’s arrival at the old ruins had preceded hers by only a few moments and he was in the midst of distributing food when she exploded upon them.

  Ned was eagerly gathering a variety of delectables onto the large tray he used as a plate and Mandy stopped a moment, eyes opened wide and she squealed with delight because she was starving and that trumped all else.

  Chauncey grinned at her as she bit into a small mince meat pie and groaned with pleasure. While she was still chewing, she took up a berry tart and bit into that and Chauncey laughed. “Easy now, Missy or ye’ll be choking, ye will.”

  With her mouth full, she managed to say, “Met…young…Sarah…from the house. Oh, this is so good.”

  “What? Where?” Ned stuck in as he swallowed and continued to bite on a chicken leg.

  “On the road…she was on…her way to market…” Mandy said, reaching for one of the drumsticks.

  “On the road!” Ned stopped eating and stared at his sister. “What made you go to the road? What a perfectly gooseish thing to do.”

  “Here is the thing,” Mandy started, “I was in the woods not far from the road, but out of sight and I saw her.” She clucked her tongue at her brother, who had made a face. “You know we can trust her and I wanted to speak to her about everything going on up at the house.” She forestalled her brother’s reply with a wave of her hand, “Don’t scold Ned, because, as it happens I learned something.”

  “You learned something? Now what is that supposed to signify?” inquired her brother, as he reached for a piece of cake.

  “‘Tis about Aunt Agatha,” Mandy returned one brow arched as she waited for her brother and Chauncey to give her their full attention.

  “Aunt Agatha?” Ned groaned. “Dash it, Mandy ‘ole girl, not while I am eating.”

  She glared at him, “Ned, don’t be so provoking. I tell you I have learned something important. Don’t you wish to know what that is?”

  “I for one do…” said a strong male voice at her back. Her heart went into a series of flutters as she jerked around and her hand went to her chest. It was as though her world had suddenly thrown off the covers and light was everywhere with him at its center. He aroused her to feel so much an
d she felt a blush steal into her cheeks.

  “Your Grace,” she murmured on a low note and did not meet his eyes. “I thought you would not be back again today…”

  “Do I disappoint you then?” his voice teased, his blue eyes caressed and all the world for Mandy stopped.

  Ned grinned and said, “What have you in that basket?”

  The duke smiled ruefully and said, “Naught apparently to what you have before you. Egad, what a wondrous feast!” He turned to Chauncey, “How do you manage it?”

  Ned had already taken the basket and exclaimed jovially, “Wine! Cheese…” he took a long whiff. “Fresh baked bread.”

  The duke laughed, “I told the viscount’s cook that I was taking a very lovely woman on a picnic. There is a chicken pot pie there as well…”

  Ned and Chauncey fell upon these and Mandy smiled up at the duke. He said softly, “Go ahead gamine…eat, you need to keep up your strength.”

  She dropped down on the blanket Chauncey had produced and the duke took his place beside her. His nearness made her shudder and she chided herself for she felt as shy as a schoolgirl.

  His eyes seemed to cherish her, as he took a chunk of cheese and fed her. She took a bite but it was so hard to swallow and he laughed and took up the glass of wine Ned handed to him, “Here love, we’ll share this.”

  She took the sip he offered and quietly said, “Thank you,” as she watched him take a long sip, hand her the glass and take another chunk of cheese.

  “Now, what about your Aunt Agatha?” the duke prompted.

  “She had a visitor this morning,” Mandy said portentously. “Rawlings of Barings Bank in York.” She waited while Ned finished snorting and making remarks.

  “And what is so unusual about that?” Ned shook his head, “Ain’t the first time the fellow has called on her. After all, he handles her account, such as it is.”

  “I will tell you what is so unusual,” Mandy said and then grimaced as she tweaked her twin’s nose.