The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  Helena felt a tingle of excitement, despite her best effort to quell it. “This must stop,” she said, in what she hoped was a firm voice.

  “By all means,” agreed Malcolm cordially. “It will stop as soon as you make it stop. I’m enjoying it very much, and I think you do as well.”

  “You think that I will marry you because I—because I—”

  “Because you have what?” asked Malcolm, grinning.

  “Because I have allowed you to be free with my person,” said Helena primly.

  “Is that what you call it?” Malcolm put his arms tightly around her, urging her farther into his lap. She could feel his cock growing hard as it pushed against the fine curls between her legs.

  “Well, I will not marry you,” she said crossly.

  “I didn’t ask you today, did I?” said Malcolm casually. He moved one hand to palm and then gently squeeze one of her breasts.

  Helena’s brow furrowed. “No, but I know you mean to.”

  Malcolm suddenly grasped her waist, lifting Helena, and urging her to straddle him so he could face her. As she gazed at him, he tilted his head and considered her. “You’d best be careful, my girl. I might change my mind.”

  “You are being very difficult,” she said crossly.

  “You know my desire—for you and for a marriage—have not changed.” He continued to toy with her breast, and she felt its tip begin to harden with excitement. “But I’m growing tired of hearing you say no to the wedding. At least when it comes to this - “ he paused and lifted her from his lap just enough that he could slowly slide into her, filling her until she gasped, “- you are always eager.”

  She gave a little cry, and he paused, his hands on her hips, holding himself inside her.

  “What if I asked you now?” he murmured.

  Her head moved restlessly back and forth. He leaned forward and kissed along her collarbone, slowly and possessively.

  “I can’t,” she gasped.

  “Can’t?” he asked. He shifted his hips up slightly while pressing down on hers. Helena had thought she could take no more, but she felt her body opening and welcoming him.

  “Tell me why not.” Malcolm lifted her off his cock with exquisite slowness, and she groaned at the loss. She clenched her muscles, trying to hold him inside her, while also thrilling to the lithe strength of his arms and chest.

  He stopped with the tip of his erection just inside her and waited.

  “Tell me again why not,” he said softly.

  “You are a fiend,” Helena gasped after a pause.

  “You can have what you want if you answer me,” he said quietly. “I’m not unfair, you know. Here, let me give you a taste of you what you’re missing.” He moved in just a fraction of an inch.

  “I’ve told you why I won’t marry you,” Helena gasped, “You find me interesting now, but you will want to return to London soon, where there will be other amusements such as your friends, and other women, and there will be no place for me. I don’t want to be the Earl of Wroxton’s neglected countess. It would be best to stay at Keighley Manor, where I have all I need.”

  “All you need?” Malcolm grinned. “I don’t think you will have all you need there.” He slid into her warmth languorously, as though he had all the time in the world. Helena rotated her hips slowly, trying to urge him on.

  “What about this?” he whispered into her ear. “If you were married to me, you could have this any time you chose. You would only need to look at me, and I would know, and oblige you.”

  Helena moaned as Malcolm seated himself in her fully. She tilted her hips forward, welcoming him, and Malcolm obliged her, sliding in that sensational fraction of an inch further. She arched her back as he moved inside her, seemingly knowing exactly what to do to build the sweet friction between them. When nipped on one rosy nipple just hard enough to spike her arousal, she came undone, her cry echoing in the room as she slipped into ecstasy. He gave a little laugh and followed her, releasing himself into her for long moments, then putting his arms around her as her head fell onto his shoulder.

  Silence reigned as they recovered; when Helena opened her eyes she saw Malcolm watching her, his bright blue gaze reflecting something she could not quite place. He gave her a half smile.

  “There are, I believe, some forty rooms in this house. I’m not sure we could get to them all today, but it would be very pleasant to try,” he said.

  “Do you think of nothing else?”

  “Sometimes I think of my dinner, and of course you remind me regularly of the free traders,” he said genially. “But when you are about, my thoughts invariably turn to this. I lose track of everything when I am with you. Not only the time, and what I should be doing, but my clothes as well.” He lifted her, setting her lightly on her feet and stood in one supple movement, looking around the room for his errant garments.

  Helena gazed at his slender, well-muscled body and was astounded to find herself wanting him again. She looked away hastily, hoping he had not noticed. He chuckled.

  “There’s plenty of time for that,” he said. “But I think I should make you wait at least fifteen minutes. Or until we get to the next room, anyway.”

  He held out his hand to her and she took it, watching as his strong, tanned fingers closed over hers. She looked up at him, noting the fineness of the golden hair glinting on his jaw and the smile that played across his lips. He gazed back at her, a questioning look in his eyes, and she flushed.

  He turned away and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head as Helena attempted to hide her confusion. He returned to her, courteously assisting her to dress. In a few minutes she was once again presentable, if a bit crumpled, and Malcolm stepped back, surveying her.

  “Beautiful,” he said. He rescued his coat from the floor and shrugged into it. “Shall we view the other rooms downstairs? We will want to serve refreshments, of course, and perhaps we should have some of the local gentry to dinner before the dancing. You can doubtless advise me who to invite. Your brother and Mrs. Honeysett will be there, of course.”

  Helena blinked at him, wondering how he could talk to her so casually of the ball after what they had just experienced. But she only nodded.

  “Certainly. You will want to invite your cousin Sir Tarquin Arlingby, and it would not do to forget the Beasleys.”

  “Beasleys? asked Malcolm. “What a frightful name. But I am sure they will be delightful.” He led her from the room.

  Some hours later Malcolm and Stephen sat in the library of Wroxton Hall. The earl cradled a glass of brandy in one hand and gazed abstractedly into the fire while Stephen lounged in a leather chair. After a few minutes, he stirred.

  “You’re damned poor company, Mal,” he said plaintively.

  Malcolm turned his head. “I’m sorry, Del,” he said. “I was thinking about—about other things.”

  Stephen raised his eyebrows. “I’ll wager I can guess what those things—or the one thing—might be.”

  “Is it so obvious?”

  “It is indeed. Miss Keighley would distract any man, and you have found yourself thrown into her company a great deal. Not that it appears to bother you. I recall with some wistfulness when you spoke of her as a dragon.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “Oh, she is still a dragon. A very fiery one. It is only that I have found she has another side.”

  “And what might that side be?” prompted Stephen.

  “That, Del, is not something I’m likely to share with you,” replied Malcolm with a hint of humor.

  Stephen looked at him curiously. “I’ve never known you to be reluctant to discuss your conquests. What is so different about Miss Keighley?”

  Malcolm looked down into the brandy shimmering darkly in its crystal snifter. “Everything is different about Miss Keighley. Nor would I describe her as a conquest.”

  Stephen appeared to be amazed. “Mal, you’re not in love with the chit, are you?”

  The earl looked up, startled. “In love? I haven’
t fancied myself in love for many a year. One grows out of such things.”

  “You’ve never spoken to me this way of another woman. You are charming to them, you take your pleasure, and make sure you return it in kind, and then you are on your way. You thought nothing of leaving Estella to her own devices in London.”

  “I haven’t thought of Estella in days,” mused Malcolm.

  “Not since you met Miss Keighley?”

  Malcolm shot him a dark glance. “I met Miss Keighley very shortly after I reached Wroxton. The one has nothing to do with the other.”

  “I think you delude yourself, my friend,” said Stephen. “Miss Keighley means a great deal more to you than you pretend.”

  “Yes, she must mean a great deal to me, as I intend to marry her,” said Malcolm quietly.

  Stephen almost dropped his glass as he sat up abruptly in his chair.

  “Be careful,” said Malcolm. “That is my great-grandmother’s best crystal.”

  Stephen placed the snifter firmly on the table next to him. “I must be growing hard of hearing. I thought I heard you say you mean to marry Miss Keighley.”

  Malcolm’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You did hear that. My intention is that Miss Keighley shall be the next Countess of Wroxton.”

  Stephen gaped at him. “Mal, you’ve never breathed a word of marriage to me. You’ve scarce been back in England nine months. You’ve plenty of time to find a bride, and no doubt you could discover one far more biddable.”

  “No doubt. But biddable women are so dull, don’t you think?”

  “I do not,” said Stephen frankly. “Miss Keighley is admirable in many ways, but she hardly strikes me as the kind of woman to make you a comfortable wife.”

  “I’m not used to comfort,” observed Malcolm. “I think Miss Keighley will suit me very well. At the very least, I will not be bored.”

  Stephen picked up his glass again and drained it. “What possible reason can you have to tie yourself down?”

  Malcolm gave him a half-smile. “I must marry sometime and I must have children. Miss Keighley is more than suitable. She’s not a hen-witted society female, our lands march together, and her brother is a sensible fellow. Besides, I like her. It’s been some time since I’ve found an unattached woman I enjoyed talking to.”

  Stephen smirked. “Aye, the married ones are always far more lively. Speaking of married women, what of Estella?’

  Malcolm shrugged. “What of her? Neither of us ever thought of our liaison as more than a diversion.”

  “She’ll be spitting mad,” said Stephen fervently.

  “For an hour or two perhaps. There’s no malice in her.”

  Stephen shook his head. “You’ve gone mad. Giving up Estella and your freedom for any woman before you must.”

  “There are other reasons as well,” said Malcolm slowly. “I’ll not bore you with them.”

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “You know the stories about Miss Keighley…” he began, “…not that I believe them,” he continued, when a steely look came into Malcolm’s eyes. “But people will talk.”

  “Not for long.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair. “I need not tell you, Del, that I will not countenance any nonsense of that sort, and I believe I can convince Society to see things my way.”

  “And Denby?” asked Stephen.

  Malcolm looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “You will leave Denby to me. Do you understand?”

  Stephen poured himself another glass of brandy. “I understand a great deal more than you think I do,” he said.

  “I doubt it,” said Malcolm imperturbably.

  Chapter 29

  Helena awoke to the sound of Sherburne pulling back the curtains in her bedroom. Sunlight chased away the gloom, filling the corners of the room and playing across the white linen of the bed. She opened her eyes for a moment and surveyed it, and then closed them with a groan. Sleep had been elusive the night before, as thoughts of a certain blonde and smooth-muscled earl with a tantalizing smile had kept her awake until early in the morning. She had finally slept, and now realized that it was far later than she usually lay abed; it was uncommon for Sherburne to have to wake her. The household must be wondering if she was ill.

  The maid approached the bed and looked down at her. “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Helena,” she said, “but Cook is wondering if you had any special instructions for lunch.”

  “What makes her think there would be?” asked Helena dimly. “There is nothing special happening today.”

  “She was wondering if the Earl of Wroxton would be here again.” Sherburne beamed, clearly hoping the answer would be in the affirmative. “She knows he brought his cook from London to Wroxton Hall, and does not want to be caught unprepared.”

  Helena’s eyes flew open at that and she sat up. “What makes her think the earl will be here today?”

  Sherburne appeared to be surprised. “Why, with all the planning the two of you are doing for his party, he’s been here or you’ve been at Wroxton every day for the past two weeks or more,” she said. “He’s quite become a member of the household.”

  Helena gaped at her. Was it her imagination, or had Sherburne placed an odd emphasis on the words ‘planning for his party?’ Did the entire staff know what was happening between her and Malcolm? She thought back over the past weeks and realized with a sinking feeling that she had indeed spent every day in his company. Either she was at Wroxton, ordering his staff as they prepared the Hall for the party, or he rode over to Keighley Manor with a question from his housekeeper, or an invitation list that must be reviewed.

  In the process, they had found many moments to be alone together—visiting several more of the forty rooms in Wroxton Hall, and making another trip up the passage from the priest hole to the Queen’s Room. She was a fool to think the servants were unaware of their activities. Under Sherburne’s interested gaze Helena flushed, and then threw aside the bedclothes and stood up.

  “No, the earl will not be at Keighley Manor today,” she said with finality. “I mean to go into Folkestone.”

  “Folkestone, miss?” repeated Sherburne, in a surprised tone

  “I—I need a new gown for the party, and I haven’t seen Mrs. Honeysett in some time.” Helena realized that was exactly how long it had been since she and Malcolm had become so close, and turned away from Sherburne’s smile. “Help me get dressed, and then let the stables know to send the carriage around in an hour.”

  “Very well, Miss Helena,” said Sherburne, moving across the room to the wardrobe. “There’s no need to hurry, you have plenty of time.”

  But Helena was all impatience as Sherburne arrayed her in a pale blue silk twill walking dress, with a wool spencer in a slightly darker shade. She knew very well if she were not at Wroxton Hall by mid-day, Malcolm would come to Keighley Manor himself. She realized now that, while they never planned to meet each day, a pattern had somehow formed. What an idiot she was, to allow such a thing to happen.

  “There, miss, you look lovely.” Sherburne gave her skirt a final pat. “Are you sure you wish to go into Folkestone? I’m sure Lord Wroxton will be that sorry to miss seeing you,” she continued coyly.

  Helena’s eyes widened in horror. “It is absolutely imperative that I go to Folkestone. Send for the carriage, and bring my chip hat to the hall.”

  “Very well, Miss Helena.” Sherburne gave her charge a disappointed look, as Helena attempted to collect her wits, and then marched out into the hall. She had best leave the house before Malcolm arrived.

  She rushed down the stairs to find Arthur in the dining room, quietly consuming his breakfast and reading a book.

  He greeted her brightly. “Good morning. “That dress is very fetching on you. I imagine Wroxton will like it very much.”

  Helena glowered at him. “What does Lord Wroxton have to do with my clothing?”

  “That’s an odd question,” said Arthur, taken aback. “I only meant that when he sees you today, you will look very
pretty.”

  “Why should I care how I look when Wroxton sees me?” snapped Helena.

  Arthur looked befuddled. “I would think anyone would wish to look decent when the neighbors visit. Whatever is wrong with you this morning, Helena? I merely wished to tell you that you look all the crack; even a man as bang up to the nines as Wroxton must notice it.”

  Helena gazed at his confused face and relented. She seated herself and placed some toast and fruit on her plate. “Thank you, dear, though I’m not sure Wroxton’s company has improved your conversation. You were not likely before to use such cant. I am going into Folkestone today. Is there aught you would like me to fetch for you?”

  “Going into Folkestone? But you won’t be here to see Wroxton,” began Arthur, breaking off when Helena glared at him. “I mean, no, I have no need of anything. If you see Mrs. Honeysett, give her my best regards.”

  “I will,” said Helena. She hastily consumed her breakfast as Arthur returned to his book. With a last sip of tea, she stood.

  “Why are you off in such a rush?” asked Arthur. “You might at least wait until Wroxton arrives to explain to him that you won’t be about.”

  “You can tell him for me,” said Helena. She swept out of the dining room into the hall, and after allowing Sherburne to nestle her chip hat over her curls, fled down the steps of the manor to the waiting carriage.

  It was not until she was moving down the country road, in the opposite direction from Wroxton Hall, that she breathed a sigh of relief. It would do her good to spend a day out of the company of his lordship, and she certainly had to inform him that their activities had been noted. What little reputation she had left would be gone soon if word got out of her entanglement with the Wicked Earl.

  Helena spent the ride lost in thought, unaware of Sherburne’s amused gaze, and was startled when the carriage clattered into Folkestone. Helena hadn’t notified Damaris of her visit, and she knew her friend seldom arose before noon, so she bade the coachman to let them down in the high street, and spent some time idly strolling about, looking in the shop windows without seeing much of anything. Her thoughts insisted on wandering to Keighley Manor, where no doubt Malcolm had by now arrived to find her gone. Well, it would do him no harm to find that she was not at his beck and call.