A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1)

by Alicia Quigley

  "Possibly." Alaric turned back to Rowena. "Are you sure you are unharmed?"

  "Quite sure. Really, Alaric, you will make me begin to think that I am injured. Please stop fretting over me."

  "Was there anyone else about?" asked Alaric.

  "What do you mean?" Charles looked confused.

  "Who else was there that you recognized?"

  "Any number of people. It was Bond Street in the middle of the afternoon, after all. I don’t know what you mean."

  "I saw Lady Bingham just before it happened," said Rowena slowly. "Alaric, you don’t think--" She broke off at the warning glance he gave her.

  "What are you talking about? Surely you don’t suggest that this was not an accident?" Charles looked from one to the other, bewildered.

  "Not at all. That would be impossible." Alaric released Rowena’s hand and walked over to his cousin. "I appreciate your escorting Rowena home, and for being there when she needed assistance. It should have been me."

  "Not at all," answered Charles. "I am sure Rowena will wish to rest now. I’ll be on my way."

  "Thank you, Charles," said Rowena. "It was kind of you to be concerned for me."

  "Not at all. It was the least I could do for my cousin’s wife." Charles bowed politely and left the room.

  "Alaric, you can’t possibly believe that this was planned," said Rowena the moment he was gone. "Dozens of people could have been killed or injured. Surely Lady Bingham would not wish to injure innocent people."

  "Whoever was behind Ingram’s death did not seem to mind killing him to get at me," observed Alaric. "Perhaps our murderer suspects what we are up to. I am not entirely sure that you should go to the Brandfon’s with me. You’d be safer staying in London."

  "Alaric, you will not keep me locked up here while you try to trap Marguerite! She will never betray herself to you, for you were the object of her plot. You know you must allow me to go."

  "I would rather remain under suspicion for the rest of my life than endanger you," said Alaric heatedly. "This killer is completely unscrupulous and may well have been behind your accident today. I cannot allow you to be a target."

  "Nonsense. This was surely an accident, and even if it was an attempt on my life, I survived it unharmed. You may be content to live under suspicion, but my brother is a wanted man, likely to be hung if he is caught. His future is at stake as well."

  Alaric stiffened. He had forgotten Rowena’s fierce loyalty to her brother. In the past few days he had begun to hope that he had repaired some of the damage he had caused over the past weeks, when he had treated her so harshly, refusing to trust her and instead believing the lies of others. It had seemed to him at times that her affection for him was returning, and it was painful to him to realize that she still put Malcolm before him.

  "I am sure there is another way to clear Malcolm’s name," he said harshly. "It must be possible to do so without putting you in danger. Even he would not ask that of you."

  "My safety is not at stake. You will be at the Brandfon’s to protect me, as will Malcolm. Between the two of you I imagine I will scarcely be able to breathe, and it will be impossible for anyone to hurt me with so many people about. Alaric, you must allow me to do this. It is of the utmost importance to my family and to me."

  She looked up at him, her expression serious. Alaric gazed back at her, trying to gauge her emotions.

  "Clearing Malcolm’s name means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?" he asked.

  "Of course it does. He’s my brother." Rowena swallowed. She wished to tell Alaric that clearing his name as well was her fondest wish, that she hoped if she could do that he would allow the ghosts of the past to depart and they could start on a new life together. But she knew that he would only turn away if she said something so emotional.

  "Very well. You may go to Brandfon’s with me." Alaric held up a warning finger as Rowena gave a squeal of excitement. "But you must do exactly as I tell you at all times."

  "Yes, of course, Alaric. I promise to be very good. You will be amazed at how obedient I can be."

  Alaric smiled. "If you are obedient, Rowena, I will be amazed indeed."

  Chapter 37

  The next afternoon the Earl of Brayleigh’s travelling chaise bowled up the long drive to Brandfon Abbey. As the coachman halted before the imposing front steps, Rowena looked at the house with a mixture of amazement and dismay. Sir Peter Brandfon apparently had fallen under the spell of the current rage for all things Gothic, for the house, built of forbidding gray stone, rose in a mass of turrets and spires that soared above them with no apparent pattern or discernable design. Narrow, leaded windows gave it the appearance of a fortress, while the vegetation, apparently chosen to perfectly complement the gloom of the house, gave the impression of being about to enfold the visitors and perhaps consume them.

  "Goodness," she murmured.

  "As I said, Sir Peter and Lady Brandfon have very little taste," commented Alaric. "You see what a sacrifice I have made for you. Sir Peter will doubtless spend the entire evening soliciting my opinion of his home. And, while I have a constitutional dislike of lying, I can hardly tell him the truth."

  Rowena gave a gurgle of laughter. "I did not realize before how very indulgent you are of me, Alaric. I will remember this in the future."

  Alaric looked down into her smiling violet eyes and an answering smile appeared on his face. "See that you do," he said with mock sternness.

  "Good lord. What the hell is this place?"

  Alaric looked over to see Malcolm, dressed in the livery of one of the Brayleigh grooms and wearing his brown wig, leaning in the windows of the carriage.

  "One of the finest country houses in all England," he answered lightly. "I gather it is not to your taste?"

  "Lord, no," said Malcolm flatly. "What a hideous pile of stone."

  "Hush," said Rowena. "It wouldn’t do for someone to overhear you. We don’t want to offend our hosts."

  "The opinion of a groom would hardly matter," said Malcolm. "I’m thankful now that I’ll be sleeping in the stables. A place like this would give me nightmares."

  "Then see that you stay in the stables," said Alaric. "Remember your supposed station while you are at it; I don’t believe my groom should be speaking to me so familiarly. Between you and your sister, my reputation will soon be in shreds."

  "It was in shreds anyway," observed Malcolm cheerfully. "I thought we were trying to restore it."

  Alaric sighed. "Spare me from such help," he said. "I will be lucky to get out of this with a whole skin, much less with my good name intact."

  "We are doing this for all of us," said Rowena firmly. "And I am sure we will be successful. In only a few days both your names will be cleared."

  "I only wish I had your optimism. The best I can hope for is that we are not all hauled up before a magistrate before the end of the weekend." Alaric looked around. "We had best alight. Malcolm, you will go with the carriage to the stables, and you will stay there unless I send for you. Do you understand?"

  Malcolm exchanged a glance with Rowena. "I understand you, Brayleigh."

  "You will not come unless I explicitly ask for you," repeated Alaric. "And I wish you to stay away from Rowena. If someone sees the two of you together they might figure out the ruse. There is a certain family resemblance. Also, Charles will be present. While I doubt he is a threat to you, it would be best if he didn’t see you."

  Malcolm shrugged. "Very well. But if I hear that Rowena is in danger, I’ll come up to the house anyway. I’m not going to have her harmed."

  "You may rest assured that I will be watching her every movement," said Alaric.

  "See that you do," answered Malcolm. He turned away from the window and busied himself helping to unload the luggage.

  "I think your brother still dislikes me," observed Alaric as he opened the door and helped Rowena out of the carriage.

  "He is just not accustomed to working with you," said Rowena. "He has thought you a murderer
for many years, after all. And you are so different from each other. Malcolm is warm-hearted and rash and you are--"

  "I am what?" asked Alaric, biting back a sharp rejoinder at her unfavorable comparison of him to her brother. "Cold and stiff?"

  "No, not at all." Rowena gestured hastily, anxious to make herself understood. "I meant only that you are more sophisticated, and think before you act. You are more mature than Malcolm is."

  "Soon you will have me doddering about the house, drooling in my soup," observed Alaric. "I think we had best not pursue this line of conversation."

  Rowena looked up at him helplessly. It seemed that nothing she said to Alaric came out right. He had been kind to her since their reconciliation, but she sensed that he was holding her at arm’s length, and it hurt. Would he never allow her to get close to him again?

  "Alaric--" she began, but the doors to the house swung open and flurry of servants surrounded them, escorting them into the house and removing their luggage to their rooms. In the hallway Sir Peter and Lady Brandfon awaited, their faces wreathed in smiles. Sir Peter stepped forward and seized Alaric’s hand.

  "Brayleigh! How wonderful to see you. I am delighted to have you here at Brandfon Abbey. I have been anxious to get your opinion on my home, as well as to show you my grandfather’s art collection. It is quite magnificent, I believe. This must be your lovely bride. Our felicitations to you both. It must be very exciting to you, Lady Brayleigh, to be married to such a mysterious fellow as Brayleigh, eh?"

  To Rowena’s relief Sir Peter did not wait for an answer, but plowed ahead. "You must allow me to show you the entire house as soon as you are settled. We have given you the very finest rooms and hope they meet with your approval. And of course you are acquainted our other guests as well. Your cousin Charles Montfort is here, and the Brenderbys, and Lord and Lady Rushton, and Lady Bingham, whom of course you know--"

  Sir Peter broke off when his wife nudged him in the ribs and he gave Rowena an anguished glance. "No need to worry about Lady Bingham," he said contritely. "I’m sure there are many things to occupy you both here at Brandfon Abbey. I look forward to showing you about."

  "Thank you," said Alaric gravely, taking Rowena’s arm. "I am sure Lady Brayleigh would like to rest now."

  "Certainly, certainly. Hodges will show you to your room. If there is anything you want, please ask for it immediately. We wish you to be very comfortable here."

  Alaric inclined his head formally and escorted Rowena up the stairs in the wake of the servant. She followed him silently, but when they entered their rooms and the servant bowed and left, she broke into peals of laughter.

  "Poor Alaric," she managed to gasp at last. "How very brave it was of you to come here. If I ever doubted the sacrifice you were making, I no longer do so."

  Alaric smiled at her amusement. She was so warm and enthusiastic. He was amazed when he remembered the emptiness of his life before she had come into it. It seemed like a very dull existence in retrospect.

  "I am glad you appreciate it," he said. Locking the door, he moved towards her and took her into his arms. "Believe me, I shall exact payment."

  Rowena peeped up at him through her lashes. He seemed to be in a remarkably good humor now, she thought. The dark mood he had been in seemed to have lifted.

  "What sort of payment might that be, my lord?" she asked.

  In answer Alaric bent his head and took her mouth in a fierce kiss that deprived her of breath. "Perhaps you should take that rest I mentioned," he murmured. "I can think of far more delightful ways to spend the afternoon than looking at Sir Peter’s paintings."

  Rowena reached up and touched his cheek with gentle fingers. He was so beautiful, she thought with a catch in her throat. How she wished that he would look at her with more than affectionate amusement.

  "Don’t you think we would be missed?" she asked.

  Alaric shrugged. "I really don’t care if I annoy Sir Peter. His is hardly the sort of acquaintance I wish to encourage."

  "Then it is my wifely duty to obey my husband’s commands," whispered Rowena. "I believe I could use some rest."

  Alaric smiled and pressed his lips to hers again, his hands moving up her arms to her shoulders, which he caressed gently, sending a shiver of excitement through Rowena’s body. He felt it, and smiled softly. When he held her in his arms like this he was sure that she was his, that she was not thinking of the Pearl of Sirsi or anything else. His finger inched along the bodice of her dress, gently pushing the fabric aside, dipping down to touch her already peaked nipple.

  "Yes, you did promise to be obedient if I brought you here, Rowena," he said. "Now might be an excellent time to fulfill that obligation."

  Rowena felt a flush of desire wash over her at the sensual promise in his voice and skillful touch of his hands. She reached into his coat, to run her fingers over his muscular torso, and up to his shoulders.

  "What form shall my submission take, my lord?" she breathed.

  "You may undress me," he responded. "First remove my coat, and then my cravat."

  Rowena took advantage of his order to run her hands over his chest, and then spread the lapels of his close fitting coat of superfine. She pushed them back, attempting to slip the coat from his shoulders, but needed Alaric's assistance in the end to remove it, so well did it fit. She untied the snowy white cravat, and cast it to the floor at her side, then unbuttoned and removed his shirt, exposing his rippling abdominals, the dark curls on his chest, and the narrow strip, a trail leading to pleasure, running down to his breeches, which were now heavily distended with his need. Rowena leaned forward to lick a flat brown nipple, and allowed one hand to drift downward to the fastenings of his buff breeches.

  "Did I say you could touch me?" he inquired coldly.

  Rowena looked up. " No but…" her voice trailed off at the look on his face.

  "I didn't say you could look at me either," he murmured. "But you may kneel before me."

  Rowena was torn by the conflicting sensations that filled her. One part was furious with the game Alaric was playing, but another was overwhelmed with a flood of sexual excitement. Her adventurous side was also wildly curious about where he might take this. Excitement and daring won, and she dropped to her knees at his feet.

  "Open the top of your dress and lower your bodice," he told her.

  Rowena struggled a bit to reach the tapes that fastened the back of her gown as she knelt before him. But soon her bodice was down, and her breasts, supported by her light corset, were peaking from excitement and the cool air of the room. Knowing it was disobedient, but curious to see Alaric's response, she allowed her fingers to drift over her nipples, making them stiffen further.

  "I didn't say you could touch yourself," he said, his voice ominous.

  "No, my lord. I'm sorry, my lord," she said huskily, feeling the heat and moisture pooling between her legs. She looked down silently, waiting for another order, but Brayleigh seemed inclined to make her wait as punishment. Finally, when Rowena felt nearly ready to scream with desire and impatience, she heard him speak.

  "That’s better. Undo my breeches."

  Her fingers trembling, Rowena hastened to unbutton them, lowering his breeches over his slender hips and suppressing a little moan as Alaric’s erection reared out of the opening in his fitted breeches. As she reached out to stroke him, Alaric pushed her hand away.

  "I didn’t say you could touch me yet."

  She subsided, and Alaric reached down to caress her breasts with both hands, gently rolling her nipples between his fingers. Shaking a little, Rowena bit her lip to remain silent under the onslaught of desire he was producing in her. Wildly, she wondered if she could actually feel her juices running down her thigh, or it was just her feverish imagination.

  Finally, Alaric took his penis in one hand, and reached to the back of her head with the other, gently pressing her face towards him.

  "Open for me," he said, his voice deep with desire. "You haven’t done this before,
but I feel sure you will excel at it. You must do a very good job if you wish to feel me inside you later."

  Rowena obediently opened her mouth, and took his rigid, yet silky, rod between her lips. She felt the engorged blood vessels throb against her tongue, as she slid it around the head, licking at the sensitive tip, and tasting the saltiness of the semen that leaked from it. Alaric groaned, and the sound of his pleasure filled Rowena with a sense of power, and fueled her lust. She opened further, and sought to take him as deep into her mouth as she could, sucking and drawing on him, and then pulling back until the tip almost left her mouth. Her thighs trembled with the throbbing she felt inside as she moved her lips and tongue back and forth over his stiff length. Unbidden, Rowena reached up to grasp the firm balls that rode in his distended sac, gently caressing and rolling them, and so lost in his excitement was Alaric, that he failed to chastise her for her initiative. Instead, he withdrew from the dewy cavern of her mouth, grasping his enormous erection with his hand as he came, streams of his semen bedewing her exposed breasts. Rowena remained kneeling as he reached out to her, rubbing the living fluid across her chest, stroking her nipples, and pulling them into the longest, rosiest peaks that Alaric had ever seen. She trembled again, so close to coming, yet still so far that she could hardly bear not achieving the release that she craved. A tear of frustration leaked from one eyelid, but she remained silent.

  Recovering somewhat from his volcanic orgasm, Alaric looked down, and at the sight of the droplet on her cheek, he reached out and lifted her up to her feet. Her breasts spilled out over the edge of her corset, and the bodice of her dress drooped to her waist. He slid his fingers across her chest, still moist from his come.

  "Come to the bed, sweetheart," he whispered, directing Rowena towards the middle of the room. He guided her to the edge and then swung her up to sit on the quilt that covered it. He lifted the dress over her head and flung it aside.

  Alaric glanced at the floor, and, spying his discarded cravat, picked it up. "Kneel," he said to Rowena, and waited for her to rise on the soft bed. He stood at her side and drew her hands behind her back, tying them with the cravat, loosely enough to cause no pain, but so that she could not release them. As Rowena stared at him, he lay down on the mattress next to her, and, taking his still partially erect penis in his hand, stroked it leisurely.