Tutoring Miss Molly

by Armstrong, Lyn

  The maid worked the soap into a lather down her arms and over her collarbone. Then she trailed a lazy line around Molly’s breasts and brushed the bar across her raised nipples. A ripple of excitement shot through her. She swallowed and kept her eyes shut. Should she tell the maid to stop or allow her to continue?

  Yvette cupped Molly’s breasts in both hands and massaged them gently. “You have lovely breasts, ma chérie.”

  Oh, her hands felt really good. So tender and sensual. Molly arched her back, pressing her breasts upwards. An intimate sensation pooled between her legs, heating her blood hotter than the water.

  “Do you like this?” Yvette asked.

  “Hmm, yes.”

  Yvette cupped the water with her hand and dribbled the liquid over Molly’s breasts, lightly washing away the soap. Lowering her head, Yvette’s tongue flicked a nipple, teasing it into an aching bud. Her hand traced the soap as it lowered to Molly’s navel.

  Molly arched with an illicit desire, instinctively opening her legs to allow the maid access to her slippery flesh. Within moments, the maid’s hand rubbed the soap up and down Molly’s throbbing cleft.

  It felt so forbidden, so wrong.

  She should stop her.

  Squirming beneath her touch, Molly grabbed Yvette’s fingers and shoved them inside her.

  Thoughts of Devlin invaded her senses and her body reacted to the skilled fingers working in and out of her slick center, Yvette’s thumb rubbing deliciously across her responsive nub.

  “Come for me,” Yvette crooned in her ear. “Come for Devlin. He wants you.”

  Sucking in a gulp of air, she cried in release, her world spinning in sweet agony while water splashed over the rim, soaking the thick carpet.

  Gradually her body relaxed and she opened her eyes to find the blonde grinning at her. Yvette rose from her knees, her white dress saturated along with her golden locks. She looked like she had gone for a swim.

  They both burst into laughter.

  “I am sorry—”

  “Do not apologize. I love to be wet.” Yvette winked and left to find dry clothes.

  * * * *

  Kenneth sat on one of the oversized settees in the conservatory. He tugged at the linen cravat around his neck. Dust particles danced in the stale air. His nose twitched to sneeze from the citrus aroma of the orange blossoms lining the back wall.

  Besides the servants returning to their quarters, not many people ventured into this wing of the manor. Some said his late mother haunted this chamber, but he did not put much belief in that. If she were to linger anywhere on earth, it would not be at Harman Manor. She had hated it here.

  “Ah, there you are.” Audrey sauntered into the room in a fashionable gown of turquoise and pearls.

  Irritation burned in his throat. Why can’t he ever find a moment alone? “Here I am,” he stated dryly.

  Audrey sat next to him on the chaise lounge and shoved him over. “I want you to kill Miss Molly,” she blurted.

  He clutched a chilled glass of whiskey tighter in his palm. To his surprise, she showed no reaction as if she talked about the gardens in the Hyde Park.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  “I wish I had not.” The afternoon meal of poached eggs and the liquor suddenly mingled in his stomach.

  “I don’t care how you do it. Just get rid of that…that girl.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  Audrey relaxed against the settee, the tops of her bosom shifted upwards within her low-cut gown. She twirled a yellow lock of hair around her finger. “Oh, I think you will.”

  “I am many things, but I am no murderer.”

  “You better learn, my lord. Or I will tell His Grace and your brother the little secret you and that butler share.”

  A shiver of panic shot through him, churning his stomach.

  “What…secret?” he asked in a small voice.

  “The one that will destroy you.”

  Sweat beaded upon his upper lip. The cravat felt as if it had tightened around his throat.

  Audrey leaned against him, her fingers trailing along his cheek. “I want her dead.”

  A shuffle came from the hallway. Yvette’s form swiftly walked past the doorway.

  “She heard us,” he whispered.

  “I will deal with our French pigeon.”

  * * * *

  Molly rose from the tub and dried herself. Opening the wardrobe doors, she stood staring at the elaborate gowns with hundreds of buttons lining the back. She sighed. “I miss my simple dresses.”

  Pulling out an elegant evening gown of gold satin—trimmed in swansdown with tassels of silk—she awkwardly stepped into the high-waist dress. She reached around to hook some of the buttons when she heard the door open and close.

  “Yvette, could you please do me up?” Molly asked.

  Facing the window, Molly’s mind wandered while sure hands worked their way up her gown.

  “Do you think Devlin likes to be sad?” Molly asked. “He certainly has everything a man could wish for. Title, wealth, looks.”

  When no answer came, she continued, “He could have any lady he chooses. I only wish…I only wish he would desire me. I guess I am foolish to think he would find a simple farmer like me appealing.”

  When the last button slipped into place, she ran her hands down the silky fabric of her skirt. “There, how do I look?” She twirled.

  In a tailored dark blue suit, Devlin boldly stared at her with mischievous eyes.

  “I—I didn’t know you were there.”

  “Obviously.” He smiled, his dimples deepening.

  Picking up her hand, he kissed it. “You look ravishing,” he said, his tone as smooth as the satin gown she wore.

  She closed her mouth and accepted Devlin’s arm for escort. They walked through the manor then outside, nodding to the few who ventured out into the early evening.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “It’s a secret,” he answered. The corner of his lip lifted, his gaze remaining forward.

  The stars twinkled above. The moonlight peeked through a transparent cloud. A distant bellow made Molly jump. She edged closer to her companion. “What was that?”

  Devlin chuckled under his breath. “That is the elephant my father had shipped over from Africa.”

  “I remember seeing an unusually large animal when I first arrived. Is that the elephant?”

  “Yes, but not to worry. He is in a stall we built especially for him.”

  “May I see this elephant later?”

  “You are not afraid?”

  “I am, but my curiosity is greater.”

  “Ah yes, your curious mind. I’d wager it has gotten you into trouble in the past.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks as she remembered holding onto his mother’s portrait.

  His warm fingers entwined with hers, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb on the inside of her palm. “I welcome your curiosity. It will make you a better lover.” He placed a light kiss on her lips. “I wanted to talk to you about earlier on.”

  Molly’s mind was in a haze from the moment his thumb caressed her hand, and his lips touched hers.

  She tried to focus on what he was saying but her gaze went back to his lips—so beautiful, wide and soft. “I do not want to talk. I want to kiss,” she said and instantly wished she could take it back. So much for remaining angry with him.

  A glint of humor flickered in his gray eyes. “How could I resist such a command, especially when you taste like apples?” Snaking his arms around her waist, he pulled her against his hard body. Reclaiming her lips, he kissed her again, the delicious sensation singing through her veins. Devlin groaned, and the sound rumbled through her mouth, arousing her senses. She placed her hands around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest, wanting to get closer. Needing to be closer.

  He abruptly pushed her away.

  She tried to shade the hurt from her eyes, but knew it was impossible. Her heart
could not hide so easily. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” he said and shoved his hand through his hair in frustration. “I just…Let’s just keep to your lessons.”

  “Do courtesans not kiss?”

  “No! Yes.” He turned his back on her, his eyes tormented. “There will be no more kissing.”

  “But—”

  “Look, when you are someone’s courtesan you can kiss…kiss him all you want,” he snarled. “Come, our supper awaits.”

  His hand tightened in hers, and he almost dragged her down the cobblestone path. They rounded a fountain with a marble cherub in the middle.

  “We are here,” Devlin pronounced.

  Overlooking an oval pond with lily pads sat a table and two chairs with candles flickering in the light evening breeze.

  “It’s beautiful,” Molly exclaimed, her hurt feelings melting.

  Devlin pulled the chair out for Molly and she sat, her eyes roaming over the delicious treats that covered a crisp white tablecloth. A goose with apples and prunes lined a silver tray, the spicy aroma made her mouth water. An assortment of candied fruit surrounded a bowl of white soup.

  Devlin picked up a strawberry and held it before Molly’s mouth. Licking her lips, she opened her mouth and took a bite. The tart juices tickled her tongue.

  “Did you enjoy Yvette?”

  The strawberry stuck in her throat, and she coughed. Her eyes moistened. “I—I did, thank you.”

  “I am glad. She is a skilled lover with men and women.”

  “You ordered her to please me?”

  “I gave her permission to entice you.” Devlin picked up a crystal glass of red wine and handed it to her.

  Molly accepted and slowly sipped the fragrant liquid, her throat still raw from the strawberry.

  “How did you find it?”

  “The wine is lovely, thank you.”

  “No, I meant having a woman caress you.”

  “Oh. I found it strange at first, but very enjoyable.” Molly used her spoon to stir the soup of veal, milk and almonds. She glanced up to find Devlin intently studying her, his expression one of approval.

  She shifted in her seat. “Why do you look at me so?”

  “I like to look at beautiful things.”

  Awkwardly, she cleared her throat and placed her hands on her lap. “Then perhaps we can make love tonight?”

  “Molly, I…” Devlin frowned, his attention shifted to the shadowed tree line.

  “What is amiss?” she asked.

  He pushed to his feet.

  An arrow whizzed past Molly’s head and into his shoulder.

  “Argh!”

  Within a second, he was next to Molly, pulling her down from the chair.

  “What is happening?”

  “Stay down!” He covered her with most of his body, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder blade. Beneath his jacket, blood soaked his white crisp shirt.

  “You’ve been hurt!”

  “It is not bad. We need to get you inside. I cannot protect you out here.”

  Gingerly rising, Devlin held Molly close as they rushed back inside the manor. A stir of activity focused on them when they burst through the doors. A man who looked to be an older brother of Devlin rushed over, lines of worry marring his handsome face. “Good lord, Son. What happened?”

  Molly stepped out of the way when his father ducked under Devlin’s good shoulder while shouting orders to his servants.

  A footman pushed past her, and Molly stood to the side. She wrung her hands, watching them take Devlin upstairs, his face as pale as the moon.

  Kenneth rushed over and enfolded her into his arms. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “Yes, I am fine.”

  “Thank goodness for that. When I saw you come in with blood smeared over your lovely gown, I thought something had happened to you.”

  Molly glanced down at her ruined gown, blood soaked the gold satin and lace while one of her hands was sticky, covered in Devlin’s life force. The metallic scent of blood made her stomach turn with queasiness. She trembled, all warmth having left her body.

  Everyone glared at her with accusation in their eyes. Their voices whispered in muffled tones. Her heart thumped in her ears like loud drums. She shook her head, unable to talk. Why are they looking at her that way?

  “Molly…Molly...” Kenneth’s voice echoed in the distance before everything went black.

  Chapter Nine

  Muted sunrays filtered into the room and a gentle, warm breeze swayed the ivory bed curtains, stirring Molly awake. Her eyelashes flittered open and she raised her arms, stretching her sleepy muscles. The smile on her face faded when memories of last night invaded her morning.

  Warm oozing blood.

  Devlin’s blood had been all over her.

  She inspected her hands but they were clean. Even her nightgown smelled sweet, mocking her into thinking it was all a nightmare. But she knew better.

  Someone had tried to kill Devlin!

  Or was it her they tried to murder?

  The arrow just missed her before finding a mark in Devlin’s shoulder. Was it just a hunting accident? Who would stalk around in the shadows and hunt at nighttime?

  Shaking her head, she tried to clear it. She must dress and go to Devlin.

  Opening her wardrobe, Molly sighed with frustration. What dress could she wear that did not involve another person to help? How did ladies constantly rely on a maid to simply dress? Pulling out a blue riding habit, Molly quickly changed. It was not exactly fashionable for morning attire, but she was in a hurry.

  She knocked on the door opposite to her room. It opened with a whoosh. The duke blocked the entrance, his face held a shadow of a beard, his square jaw line visibly tense.

  “Your Grace,” Molly curtsied. “How is your son?”

  “He will live,” the duke sharply answered.

  “May—may I see him?”

  “He is resting, and is in no need of your company.” He stepped out into the hallway, causing Molly to retreat backward.

  “I can see to his needs, Your Grace.”

  “Lady Audrey is with him and quite capable of handling the needs of my son.”

  “I see.” Molly glanced down at her hands.

  The duke’s voice softened, “Look, why don’t you go downstairs to breakfast. My son is in good hands.”

  Nodding, Molly replied, “Yes, I suppose he is.”

  “Kenneth, my boy!” The duke called down the hallway. “Escort Miss Molly to the dining room.”

  Kenneth’s grin lit up his eyes. “It will be an honor.”

  Molly smiled weakly and entwined her arm within his elbow.

  Devlin woke up to the tart scent of a freshly cut apples. “Molly?”

  He turned to find the scowling face of Audrey, stiffly sitting on a chair. She held a slice of apple midway to her mouth.

  Throwing the fruit onto the plate, she snarled, “No, it’s not Molly who is next you, caring for you. It’s me!”

  “I’m sorry my lady. I thought…never mind.” Devlin gingerly lifted himself against the headboard and unwrapped his bandaged arm. The wound was red and deep. Devlin sighed; thankfully the arrow did not hit Molly on its deadly path.

  Who would want him dead? The list was endless. Many were jealous of him including a number of married ladies who openly pursued him. Maybe an enraged husband?

  Devlin rubbed his index finger across his lips. Whoever it was, they would regret the day they put Molly’s life in danger.

  “Devlin…Devlin?” Lady Audrey interrupted his thoughts, her tone indignant.

  She stood with her hands on her hips, lips pouting.

  “Did you hear what I said?” she demanded, daring him to lie.

  “No.”

  “You do not deserve me.” Twirling around, her skirts rustled when she stomped to the door. “When you come to your senses, it may be too late.”

  Devlin scrunched his face, waiting for the door to slam. The nois
e vibrated along the walls, shaking his bed frame.

  Dramatic and predictable, Lady Audrey did not disappoint.

  * * * *

  Molly spent most of the day with Kenneth by her side. Distracted with thoughts of Devlin, she wanted to run up to his room and interrupt the two lovers.

  Even though Molly missed much of what Kenneth was saying, he remained attentive, showing her his prized hunting dogs and their new litter of beagle puppies. Handing her a particularly adorable tan and white puppy, Molly giggled when a little tongue licked her chin.

  “I love the way you laugh,” Kenneth said, his voice soft while he petted a sleepy puppy in his arms.

  “Thank you,” she responded, uncomfortable with the compliment.

  Returning the puppy back to the mother, he shifted closer to Molly. He placed a hand on her cheek and gazed into her eyes. “In fact, I love—”

  “I think I should check on your brother,” Molly stated in a high voice and edged away.

  Irritation flashed through Kenneth’s eyes then replaced with a cool demeanor. “Of course.”

  Smiling apologetically, Molly placed the puppy with the rest of the litter. Eager to escape the confines of the kennel and Kenneth’s penetrating stare.

  Molly entered the manor and brushed past a laughing couple. She kept her eyes low, unable to stop her feelings of inferiority around aristocrats. Yet, when she was with Devlin, whose title and wealth was vastly superior to these people, she experienced acceptance. He made her feel like an equal, even though she was not. In her heart she would always be a commoner; it did not matter what fine gowns and jewels she wore.

  Hastily, she climbed the elegant staircase to the top floor and paused at Devlin’s door. The strong wood stood imposing, daring her to knock against the duke’s wishes. She raised her hand, but paused midway.

  Two ladies giggled down the hallway, and Molly dropped her hand as if she were caught doing something wrong. She looked conspicuously at them when they passed. The women frowned, yet did not accuse her of being somewhere she should not.

  Biting her lip, she turned to flee to the safety of her room when Devlin’s door swished open. A man’s figure stood leaning against the door jam, his arms and legs crossed.

  “Were you going to stand outside my door all day, or did you want something?” Devlin asked, a cheeky smile playing across his face. Dressed in black breeches and an open white shirt, the man was devastatingly handsome.