The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  The groom gaped at her as she faced him, her chin set a proud angle, her cheeks flushed from both her ride and anger.

  “That’s all right, Reeves,” came a quiet voice. “I am here, Miss Keighley.”

  Helena turned to see Malcolm standing in the stable door. He wore buckskin breeches, admirably fitted to his strong thighs, riding boots, and a white linen shirt, open at the throat. His bright blue eyes looked at her with gentle inquiry, but at the same time, Helena felt she saw a gleam of humor at the back of them. This only increased her annoyance, and she glared at him.

  “I would appreciate a moment of your time, Lord Wroxton,” she said sternly.

  “Certainly, Miss Keighley.” Malcolm glanced at his groom. “Please attend to Miss Keighley’s horse, and see that Macklin is made comfortable. Perhaps you could take him to the kitchen and have Cook give him some toast and tea. This might take some time.”

  Helena watched in silence as the groom led off her horse, Macklin dismounting and following in his wake. He glanced at her as he passed, and shook his head, but said nothing.

  Malcolm waited until they were alone, then smiled at her winningly. “It is very early indeed, Miss Keighley, so I imagine this is of some importance. How may I assist you?”

  Helena, who had felt some of her anger leave her in the face of the groom’s incredulity, found it flooding back when she looked at Malcolm’s impassive face.

  “How dare you send Arthur home inebriated last night?” she demanded.

  “Was he drunk?” asked Malcolm. “I thought he held his liquor rather well, considering his youth. He was not more than slightly elevated, and assured us he could make his way home, despite my offer of a bed for the night.”

  “He woke me up at past three, stumbling about in the hallway.”

  “Ah, my apologies, Miss Keighley. I should have advised him to light a candle. A beginner’s mistake, thinking a candle will awaken others, when walking into the furniture is so much more likely to expose you. I regret that your sleep was disturbed.”

  “I do not care that he woke me, I care that he was drunk! He is a boy, and you should know better than to encourage him in such behavior.”

  Malcolm looked amused. “He is eighteen, Miss Keighley. He is a man, not a boy, and the sooner he knows the ways of the world the better. He’s been up at Oxford, and if you believe brandy is unknown to him, you are deceiving yourself. Arthur is far better off learning to hold his liquor with Del and me, who have no intention of hurting him, than with many another man, who might think him a lamb for the shearing.”

  “Do you expect me to agree that getting my brother drunk and allowing him to ride home at three in the morning was a kindness?”

  “Arthur has been in the saddle since he was a babe, and I have no doubt he could stay on a horse if he was drunk as a wheelbarrow,” Malcolm replied. “And I presume his horse would be able to find the way home to Keighley Manor were his rider unconscious, as familiar as these roads are to him. I wouldn’t have allowed Arthur to leave if I thought any harm could come of it.”

  “You are infuriating,” snapped Helena.

  Malcolm glanced around and saw several stable boys were gaping at them openly. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he suggested.

  Helena snorted, but followed him into the stables. The stalls were immaculate and smelled sweetly of fresh hay as Malcolm walked down the aisle, Helena fuming in his wake. A startled groom took one look at them and abandoned his task hastily. Toward the end of the long aisle several stalls were unoccupied, and Malcolm slid open one of the doors, so Helena could enter, then followed her in. Its wooden floor was swept clean and fresh spring hay was stacked within.

  “Now, Miss Keighley, I feel sure you wish to unburden yourself further concerning my iniquities,” said Malcolm.

  Helena looked up at him, infuriated by his calm. She stripped off her black leather gloves and clenched them in her fist. “I ask that you, in the future, leave my brother be. I will not have him going down the path you took at his age.”

  “He may be your brother, Miss Keighley, but he is his own man. While I understand the desire to protect your family—indeed, I once had the crazed notion of protecting Rowena from Brayleigh, and you can see how well that worked—inevitably they have minds of their own. Arthur will not thank you for interfering in his life, and no harm will come to him at my hands. You have my word.”

  “Your word!” retorted Helena. “As though it means anything to me!”

  “You make a very great mistake, Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm carefully. “My word means a great a deal. I advise you to believe me.”

  Helena looked up at him, and saw the glimmer of humor had been replaced by something implacable—it was not anger, but she could see her words had struck a nerve.

  “I did not mean you have no honor—” she began.

  “What did you mean, then?” asked Malcolm, his voice tightly controlled. “That certainly seems to be what you said.”

  “I meant that you are irresponsible and heedless, and I will not have Arthur learning such ways from you. Drinking and gambling and—and other things of that ilk.”

  “You seem to have a very odd notion of me, Miss Keighley. Have you heard—ever—that I am in the business of corrupting youngsters? Because if you have, I want to know the source of that rumor, so I can, er, tend to the person who started it.”

  Helena flushed, realizing she might have overstepped the bounds of propriety. “Of course I have heard no such thing. It is just—just that you are not at all the sort of person I wish Arthur to admire.”

  “What a pity we cannot control the opinions of those around us,” said Malcolm sardonically. “I’m sure if Arthur were here, he would be extremely annoyed with you, Miss Keighley. I cannot imagine he feels he needs you to protect him from my evil influence.”

  “He is my brother, and the heir to the estate. I cannot have him behaving as you did,” protested Helena.

  “Miss Keighley, I was a rash young man and I was punished for it. Do you think so little of Arthur that you imagine him to be as great a fool as I was?”

  “Of course I don’t think Arthur is like you. He is helpful, and dutiful, and the best brother that he can be.”

  “Which is why you should let him loose from your apron strings from time to time. I know he thinks my story romantic, and views me as some sort of hero, while you think me a wastrel. But if you tie him to Keighley Manor and refuse him any fun at all, you will lose him, Miss Keighley. You cannot protect him from all that is bad in the world, and it is far better for him to be prepared when he encounters it.” Malcolm eyed her for a moment. “I know of what I speak.”

  “You know nothing of Arthur! I have known him my whole life, and you just two days.”

  Malcolm closed his eyes briefly, and then turned his bright gaze on her again. “Miss Keighley, it is possible to know someone very well and not understand everything about him. Your brother is an estimable young man, and I rather imagine that is due to you, rather than his parents. I have spoken to him enough to know who raised him. But you are very close to him, and that sometimes means you cannot see what is obvious to others.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Helena crossly. “I have no time for riddles.”

  “I mean,” said Malcolm patiently, “your little brother, who you raised from a babe, is a man. Now it is time, the world being what it is, that you let him be a man. I see in him what you do not.”

  “Arthur tells me everything!” exclaimed Helena.

  “No, he does not. He has his secrets, which is as it should be. You need not know everything he thinks—as I imagine he doesn’t know everything you think.”

  “I don’t believe you. Arthur keeps no secrets from me.”

  Malcolm crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Do you think so indeed?”

  “Of course I do,” she answered. “What can you know after two days that I do not?”
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  Malcolm smiled. “Oh, many things, Miss Keighley. For instance, do you know he is in love with your friend, the lovely Mrs. Honeysett?”

  Helena laughed. “Oh, that is merely calf love. Mrs. Honeysett and I have remarked on it, but it means nothing. He will grow out of it.”

  “Oh no, it is no mere calf love, Miss Keighley. He loves her as truly as any man does a woman. It may not suit you to see it, but that doesn’t stop it from being true.”

  Helena glared at him. “I have no idea why you wish to argue with me about Arthur. I find your interest in him objectionable.”

  “Arthur is the heir to the Keighley estate. He will be my neighbor and hold the lands next to Wroxton for the rest of my life, most likely,” Malcolm pointed out. “I therefore have every reason to wish to make him my friend.”

  “If you wish him to be your friend, you will stop trying to lead him down the path you took,” protested Helena.

  “Now you are being ridiculous.” Malcolm’s gaze softened, and she was annoyed to see how relaxed he appeared, when she felt almost unbearably tense. “You have no reason to believe I mean to harm Arthur. You have convinced yourself of this, but I have no idea why you would think such a thing of me.”

  “You are known for your profligacy, my lord. My father was ill for years and could not be an example to Arthur, and I will not have him looking to you.”

  “That would be a very bad idea indeed,” agreed Malcolm. “But as I mean him no harm, I have no idea why we are discussing him at all. If there is any member of the Keighley family I wish to lead astray, it is not your brother.”

  Helena flushed to the roots of her hair. “What do you mean?”

  Chapter 18

  “You know very well what I mean, Miss Keighley,” he answered promptly. “I have been in your company exactly four times. Twice I kissed you and yesterday we proceeded rather further. The other time we were in an assembly room full of people, so I had no choice but to behave myself, but, believe me, I was sorely tempted to see what I could achieve under the circumstances.”

  “I did not come here to talk about what has transpired between us,” said Helena.

  Malcolm straightened and took a step towards her, and Helena glanced nervously over her shoulder and retreated the same distance.

  “Did you not?” he asked. “Because I find you - and what has happened each time we are together - a great deal more interesting than your brother.”

  “I have no intention of repeating any of those experiences,” said Helena. She took another step back, and felt the wall behind her. Malcolm grinned and leaned forward, placing a hand on each side of her shoulders.

  “No?” he said.

  “No,” she said firmly.

  He looked at her for a moment, seeming to calculate her mood. Then he pushed away from the wall and shrugged.

  “Very well,” he said.

  Helena’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she surprised herself by blurting out.

  Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “You said no, you did not intend to repeat those experiences. I took you at your word.” He waved a hand at the stall door. “It is not locked.”

  “But we have not settled matters between us.” Helena was unable to understand why she didn’t leave, but also unable to acknowledge she might want to stay.

  “Oh, I think we have. I am not to corrupt your brother—something I had no intention of doing in the first place—and so we are in complete agreement. Are we not?”

  “Yes—no! Yes, I wish you to leave Arthur be, but—”

  “But what?”

  Helena glared at him. “You are being very disobliging.”

  “In what way would you like me to oblige you, Miss Keighley?”

  Malcolm moved closer, and she could see the muscles in his arms moving under the thin linen of his shirt. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and looked away.

  “Miss Keighley?”

  “What did you mean when you said you wished to lead me astray?” she asked softly.

  He leaned down to catch her words and she once again noticed the scent of sandalwood and the hint of his natural musk underneath it. She did not push him away, and he gently took her gloves from her grip, dropping them on the floor, and took her hands his own.

  “I think you can imagine. Perhaps you already have. I’ve certainly spent some time thinking about it.” He raised one of her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingertips.

  Helena drew in her breath sharply, but didn’t pull her hand away.

  “After all, you have assured me you are a woman of the world,” continued Malcolm. He turned her hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm, and then, after gently loosening the buttons at her wrist, worked his way up to the spot where her pulse beat wildly.

  Helena made a tiny sound in the back of her throat and Malcolm raised his head. Their eyes met, and he smiled.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  She nodded, her eyes wide.

  “I thought you might. You are so exquisitely sensitive. I’ve learned that already.” His hand slid up her arm and then his fingers traced their way across her collarbone, hidden under the wool of her habit. “What a pity you’re wearing a riding habit again,” he continued, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. “It is very much in the way.” One hand slid down to lightly cup her breast, his thumb lifting to tease at her already straining nipple, while the other went to the lace trimmed muslin cravat at her throat, where he tugged lightly on the bow until it loosened and fell open. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

  Helena sighed and sagged against the wall, her hands raising, it seemed to her of their own volition, to cradle his head.

  “Lovely,” he said, his kisses gliding up the column of her neck to her ear, and across her jawline. He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her close against him, then his lips found hers.

  Helena, remembering their previous kisses, opened her mouth eagerly under his. Malcolm made a satisfied sound and deepened the kiss, possessing her in a totally unexpected way. Whereas their first kiss had been an exchange of pleasure between two people who did not know each other, their second one of curiosity, and the frantic near-coupling in the cave had been born of frustration, this kiss was knowing, almost familiar, and tantalizingly slow. Their tongues met almost languidly, and Helena felt a wave of heat wash over her as she matched him in fervor, stroke for stroke. Malcolm pulled her closer, his other hand reaching down to cup one buttock, as he nestled her against the growing bulge in his breeches. She moved tentatively against him, and he made a noise, half pleasure and half frustration.

  “We must not forget ourselves,” he said almost absently as he rained kisses down her neck and across the delicate skin of her chest. She leaned into him, seeking greater contact, and beginning to understand that the power he seemed to hold over her she also wielded over him.

  “Why must we not?” she sighed.

  “Because if we do, I’ll take you here in this stall.” Still holding her around the waist, Malcolm loosed her slightly, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing his head down to hers.

  “Miss Keighley, I don’t - “ he began, his voice not at all certain, and Helena pressed her lips to his. He gave her what she desired, deep kisses that made her entire body feel on fire. When he loosened his hold she made a noise of protest, but he only laughed gently and began to open the bright brass buttons that held her jacket closed. She shrugged out of it hastily, not caring as it fell to the floor, and reached for him, her fingers closing over his broad shoulders.

  “Slowly, darling,” said Malcolm. He raised one hand to cup her breast, feeling its weight under the sheer linen of her shirt, then lowered his head to take the tip in his mouth, his tongue gently circling her nipple, the heat of his mouth and the soft friction of the fabric on her skin making her cry out with pleasure. He moved to the other breast, kissing and nipping at it as she cradled his head in her hands, silently urging him onward
.

  “I think we will both be much happier with this off,” he murmured, moving her minutely so her back was against the wall, and using both hands to swiftly undo the buttons of her shirt. Soon it was whisked over her head and had joined her jacket on the floor. Before Helena could fully comprehend her nakedness, he had an arm around her waist and gently urged her backwards into a fresh pile of straw. The sweet scent of it floated around them as he covered her, pressing more warm, moist kisses to her neck and lips. His fingers plucked gently at one breast, teasing the already taut nipple to a peak.

  Helena, awash in a sea of sensation, wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. But a sense of something missing stole over her, and she pulled at his shirt, loosening it from the waist of his breeches. Her hands skirted under it, splaying across the taut muscles of his abdomen, then winding around to clutch his shoulders. His skin was tantalizingly warm and silky as she urged him forward.

  Malcolm sat back on his heels, taking her in as Helena lay sprawled in the straw, her hat discarded, her hair working its way loose from its pins, her breasts rosy from his attention.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “I could only imagine you in the darkness yesterday, but the reality is more than I could anticipate.” Impatiently, he unbuttoned his own shirt and discarded it, then returned to her, drawing her close so that her breasts were against his bare skin. He kissed her again, his breath warm and sweet as his tongue slid over her lower lip. One hand grasped the fabric of her skirt, raising it until her leg was exposed. His fingers traced a path up her inner thigh as she gasped and writhed against him. He lowered his head to her breasts again, taking one pointed peak into his mouth, sucking and licking until she cried out in delight.

  “Shhh, my sweet,” he soothed her, speaking softly against her lips. “We don’t need a stable boy to come looking for us.”

  As he spoke, Malcolm’s fingers continued their tantalizingly slow journey up the soft skin of her inner thigh, promising more delights, and when he finally cupped the soft down between her legs, Helena gave a little jump of surprise. He nipped at her breast, then licked his way down her stomach, gently stroking her until she relaxed.