by Brogan, Kim
“You see me and you think of screwing me?”
“Of course I do.” He grinned and nuzzled me. “Mags, that’s good. I look at Gemma and I think of the races. I’d rather think of sex.” He slipped his fingers up into the elastic band of my panties and started to pull on them. The panties slid easily down my legs and onto the floor. Campbell undid his trousers, the zipper sliding down effortlessly. I put my hand inside his pants and felt the erection, firm and thick in my grip. His breath caught and a little flash of pleasure went across his face.
I felt fingers rubbing my slit, trying to part me. He slipped his middle finger inside and found that I was getting wet, but wasn’t quite there. He pulled my legs, moving me closer to the edge and then dipped down, his tongue finding my clit. He didn’t waste any time teasing me. The rhythm of his tongue was hard and fast and I as the excitement of having sex in a large library with Earls and Dukes in the next room was enough to make me not only wet, but ready to come. I couldn’t stay sitting up, I leaned back on my elbows and threw back my head, screaming his name as the orgasm clenched and unclenched every muscle in my groin and then shot through, hardening my nipples to the point that they peaked through the fabric of my bra and dress.
He stood up, wrapped an arm around the small of my back and pulled me into him, impaling me as he did. I let out a quick gasp as he leaned in over my body, slamming into me over and over until I felt the warm ejaculation and heard him grunting. When he was through, he stayed leaning over me, out of breath, his body supported by his hands as if he were doing a push up.
“Oh God Maggie, that was just what I needed.”
The library shelving opened up just behind Campbell. I heard a male voice say, “Excuse me your Lordship.” And then the shelves closed again.
Campbell shook his head, “I forgot about the servants’ entrance.”
“Great, now your servants will think I’m a slut.”
“I think I was covering you, I doubt they saw who it was. They’ll assume it was Gemma, but they won’t say anything. If they do, they lose their job and we sue them since they each have to sign a confidentiality clause.”
“Does it really matter? You’re single and the Earl.”
“Frankly, no. Servants are expected to see you in compromising positions occasionally. Besides, you’re right, a single man having sex in his own home is hardly scandalous. I better get out there, the Prince has probably arrived.”
He dressed and watched as I dressed too. As we walked to the door, he calmly slipped an arm around me and kissed me gently, resting his forehead on mine and staring down into my eyes. We smiled at each other. Breaking apart we made our way back out to the reception where I saw Prince Edward greeting Lady Falkirk. Campbell moved through the crowd, most of whom seemed uninterested in the fact that the Prince had arrived and joined this mother. Gemma saddled up next to him and took a great interest in the Prince and his wife, Sophie. I went into the library and sat down, falling asleep in the chair for an hour.
I woke up to a very perturbed Walker staring down at me. “Is there anything you require Ma ‘am? We do have a full buffet and drinks in the Ballroom.” He emphasized ballroom as if I was a tourist who have ventured off the tour into rooms I shouldn’t be in.
“No, I was just about to join everyone. Thank you, Walker.” I was surprised that I had fallen asleep, wondering what I had missed. I snuck out to the hall and peered into the ballroom only to find maybe a dozen people left, the Prince and his wife having left. Lady Falkirk was just leaving the room with another woman that I hadn’t met. I could see Penelope and her children out in the garden playing soccer. I made my way into the room and saw Campbell spring up on his feet as soon as he saw me.
“Where were you?” he barked, sounding somewhat angry and anxious. The entire room was staring at Campbell, somewhat surprised at his outburst. “Sorry, Mags. I thought that you might have gotten lost since you don’t know your way around the house or the estates.”
“I’m sorry your Lordship, but I fell asleep in the library.”
He looked sheepish, sitting down and smoothing his pants as if nothing had just happened. Gemma grimaced at his outburst and interplay between us.
Fiona smiled and put her arm around me, looking straight at Gemma. “Yes, we had a long night. I think we’re both very tired. Aren’t we darling?”
I had just had a nap and wasn’t in the least bit tired, but Fiona seemed to want to retire to our room or rooms. I still wasn’t sure where I was going to sleep. “Yes, I wouldn’t mind going to my room for a few minutes.
Fiona stared at Campbell. “Well, Lord Falkirk, what are the sleeping arrangements?”
Campbell shrugged. “Henry, pull the bell.”
Henry pulled the Butler’s bell. Walker, still crisply dressed in tails, appeared within seconds and bowed slightly in Campbell’s directions. “Your Lordship?”
“Walker, what are the sleeping arrangements tonight?” Campbell asked.
“The Dowager Countess has been moved into the west wing. Lady Penelope and her husband are also in the west wing along with a room for their children. Viscount Adair and his wife make up the last bedroom in the west wing.
I had to give it to Walker, he looked very much the butler standing straight with his shoulders back and head perfectly centered. He spoke directly to Campbell. “Your Lordship and Miss Lancaster are in the Earl’s quarters. Vicountess Raleigh is in the garden room. Lord Guilford and Miss McGee are in the guest quarters. Viscount Raleigh is in the morning quarters and Lord Colchester is in the tree room.”
I saw a slight look of horror spread over Campbell’s face and then disappear. His eyes darted to me and back. I pretended as if nothing was wrong, but if he was going to go to bed with Gemma, he had to know he was in big trouble.
Campbell swallowed hard, “Walker, what time is dinner being served?”
“Eight-thirty my Lord. Cocktails at eight in the front reception room.”
“Could you please have the staff show my guests to their rooms?”
“Yes, your Lordship.”
Another under-butler, Singh, showed up. He was quite handsome, Indian with gorgeous brown eyes and a very kind smile. Singh showed us to the rooms although Henry and Fiona knew where theirs were.
“It’s alright Singh, Lady Raleigh and I can find our rooms. Come along Maggie, you’re with me,” Henry said.
I looked at Fiona who gave me a look of both frustration and puzzlement. Shrugging, she took off down a hall and into a room. Henry opened the door and we went inside. The room was as big as Campbell’s parlor in Cambridge with large windows to the south overlooking the massive gardens and maze in the back of the house. The garden was a cornucopia of beautiful blooms including a gorgeous purple Wisteria that lined a massive portico that separated the maze portion of the garden from the flower and seating area. I saw that in the middle of the maze were a fountain and several benches. The room was regal with two wingback chairs facing a medium sized fireplace with intricate mantel carvings out of mahogany over a marble tiled face. The bed did not have a canopy, but did have a substantial headboard that was also carved mahogany. The room was in deep plums, purples and creams.
“This is the guest room? It’s gorgeous.”
“The sitting room is through that door.” Henry motioned to a door near the window. I noticed that Henry was getting out his toiletries from a drawer. His dinner jacket was hung on the silent butler along with his pants and shoes, already shined. I wondered where my clothes were and then saw the wardrobe near the corner. I went over and opened it, finding all of my clothing hanging up and pressed. I was floored. We’d only been in the home for three hours.
“Mags, I’m going to take a shower and then a quick nap. Care to join me?”
Oh crap! I shook my head. “Henry, I’m not really tired so I think I’ll snoop a little. Besides, I think Fiona wanted to talk to me about something.”
“Fine, have fun. I think we should dress at seven, it’s
six now.”
I nodded. Leaving the guest suite, I started towards the room that Fiona had entered, but then I thought of something and decided against it. If I left things to Henry and Fiona, God knows what would happen. I went downstairs and spent ten minutes finding a servant who could arrange for Singh to come to see me. I didn’t think Walker would help me with my project. When he appeared in the hall, he looked stunned.
“Miss McGee? Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, Singh. I would like for you to show me the wine cellar.” Campbell had once told me about playing in the wine cellar. He missed dinner because no one could find him. He gave me great detail of what had happened. I could only hope that the cellar hadn’t changed since he was a boy.
“The wine cellar Ma ‘am?” his beautiful brown eyes were wide open in surprise.
“Yes. “
He thought a minute and then I thought I saw a slight shrug as if he had just decided some internal argument. “This way ma’am.” He took me through a servant’s hallway similar to the one that ran the width of Henry’s London home. We went through the Butler’s pantry and then to a door that led downstairs.
I was surprised to find that there was a whole world underneath the manor. We passed the laundry and linen room with three sets of washers and dryers, a commercial ironing board and several shelves filled with linens. There was a granary, where all the dry foods were stored. The kitchen had tall ceilings that were high enough that numerous windows lined the upper half of the wall. It contained a large SubZero refrigerator, Aga stove, several ovens and counter space, a butcher’s block and pans hanging everywhere. There was also a large restaurant stainless steel sink and three large dishwashers. Next to the two dishwashers was a room with glass cabinets and drawers for the china and everyday dishes.
I watched as the kitchen staff worked and teased each other as they made sauces, deserts and carved what appeared to be a large roast.
Singh chastised me gently when I slowed down to gawk at the kitchen, “This way Ma’am.”
I picked up speed and then we came to a door which had both a wrought iron gate and then a large oak door. The gate was locked, but the door wasn’t, it was open and beyond it was a set of stairs. Singh took a ring of keys off of a hook next to the door and unlocked the heavy gate.
“Singh, why are the keys kept out in the open?”
“The gate automatically locks, which is why the key is easily reached through the gate from the other side. We keep it open during the day, however, at night, we take the key and it is locked in the safe.”
The gate closed behind us. Singh kept the keys as we descended to the cellar. I immediately felt the cold and could smell that musty smell that cellars tend to have, especially ones built in the early eighteen hundreds. The stone walls were cool to the touch. I was glad that Singh was in front of me to show me the way. The cellar was a little spooky to me. I’m glad he didn’t see my face—I had the most mischievous smile on my face as I plotted the evening out and I didn't want him to see it.
Singh spoke to me as if he was a tour guide for Windsor Castle, “The wine cellar is kept between 9-13 degrees centigrade depending on the room and classification of wine. Our wine steward comes in once a week when the family is in residence to check on the equipment and wines.”
We walked slowly along rows of dusty bottles sitting in racks approximately ten feet high. I was sizing Singh up, wondering if he would work with me, the Colonist.
Singh, obviously very proud of the cellar, motioned to the stores and smiled, “There are seven cellar rooms. Among the reds, Lord Falkirk owns a Château Latour à Pomerol 1995, Nuits St Georges 1996, Château Chasse Spleen 1990, Château Léoville Barton 1988, Château Fonroque 1995, as well as Château Meyney 1996, Château Beau-Site 1995 and Château Batailley 1994.
Among the whites, his father had a penchant for South African chardonnays and New Zealand's Oyster Bay sauvignon blancs.” He continued to drone on as we walked room to room, the temperature of the rooms varying as we walked through.
“There are banks of non-vintage champagne in the room to our right and in this room, gathering dust, are superb ports, including a 1963 Fonseca and Quinta do Noval.” He turned to me and pointed to another room to the left, “That room houses the ales. But, most noteworthy is the 1660 sherry dug up when the new stables were built at Dunskey Castle.” I tried to appear as if I was deeply interested in all the brands and years, but in reality, I wouldn’t know a Chateau Fonroque from Thunderbird.
Singh paused, his hands behind his back, and turned to face me, “Is there something you would like to sample or see?”
“Yes, I’d like to see the very cheapest bottle of wine you have in the cellar.”
He tilted his head and frowned, “Cheapest?”
“Yes, cheapest.”
“That would be back this way Ma’am. It’s served when the British Trust opens the house to visitors once each year. Here you are Madam, Château Rothschild, 2009, Cabernet Sauvignon. It wasn’t a very good year.” He handed her a bottle from the stacks.
“How much does a bottle cost?” I asked.
“I’m not sure madam, perhaps £10, maybe a little more.”
“Thank you, that’s perfect. Now, I have a favor to ask, with the Earl’s blessing of course. I’m going to tell you something and you must never tell anyone.”
Singh raised an eyebrow, reminding me of the look Spock used to give Kirk when he was curious. We spoke for another ten minutes and then left the cellar, replacing the keys on the iron hook outside the gate. I took a walk around the first floor looking at the various rooms and accidently coming upon Penelope’s husband, asleep on a sofa. I eventually went upstairs and slipped inside the room, noticing that Henry was asleep. I grabbed my underwear and toiletries, slipping into the gorgeous marble tiled bathroom and turning on the shower which had clearly been added into the corner of the bathroom sometime in the forties judging from the fixtures which were still in wonderful condition. I had just turned off the water and was stepping out into the bathroom when I noticed Henry, in his boxers, standing at the sink, brushing his teeth.
“Come here, darling.”
I could tell just from the tenor of his voice that he was feeling frisky. I shook my head, “Henry, please, not right now. I need to talk to you.”
His face dropped, but then he looked at his watch, “It’s almost seven-thirty dear. Perhaps we can talk later, after dinner. You better get ready for cocktails.”
I had gone to a Jumble sale in Cambridge and found a rack of designer clothes among the offerings. I purchased a little black dress out of pure silk featuring a sash tie at the shoulder, a keyhole back, and shirred cummerbund. It hit just above my knee. With it I wore sheer black stockings and a pair of black, two inch sling-back pair of Easy Living shoes. I wanted to be comfortable, I’d been running around all day on three inch heels and my feet were screaming.
“You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Henry, so do you!” I had to admit, Henry looked incredible, he was in a white dinner jacket with a beautiful silk bow tie, black pants and Italian shoes.
He smiled and put his hand on the small of my back to escort me out the door and down the stairs to the reception room which sat at the front of the manor, had a huge walk-in fireplace with a large gilded mirror above it and numerous sitting areas. A dozen lights and lamps lit the room, but because of its size, only certain areas seemed to have enough light to read or play games. The area near the fireplace was not as well lit, making it more romantic whenever there was a fire.
Walker showed up, “Drink, your Lordship?”
“Gin and tonic,” Henry said, sitting down in a chair.
“Miss McGee?”
“Single Malt, please.”
Both Henry and Walker stared at me.
“Is there something wrong with a single malt?” I asked.
Henry chuckled, “No, it’s just that American women usually don’t ask for one.”
The doors opened and Penelope came into the room with her husband. She had on a black and white dress, mostly black, almost a cocktail dress, but not quite. I had to admit that I didn’t see much of Campbell in her features. She had gray eyes and very round features compared to Campbell’s height and long proportions.
“Henry!” Penelope went straight over and kissed him, then took a seat on the far end of the sofa I had chosen, close to the fire.
“Maggie, your performance this afternoon was delightful, thank you for doing that.” She sounded genuinely pleased.
I blushed, not expecting her to compliment me, “Thank you, Lady Penelope.”
“Oh, just call me Penelope. I’ve heard a lot about you this afternoon from Fiona.”
I was worried that Fiona had told her some fantasy about me being her future sister in law. I looked over at Henry, who was taking his drink from Walker.
Penelope continued, “She speaks very highly of you. Oh Peter! Come sit by me and keep me company!”
She waved to Viscount Peter Colchester, who quickly plopped down next to her, grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Tell me darling, how are you doing?”
Penelope sighed, “Oh, I have good moments and bad. I wouldn’t want to be Cam; he’s being dumped into the thick of it. He just found out that Father’s big deal that he’d been putting together for two years is unraveling. Cam won’t be joining us tonight; he flew to Paris with Gemma to do damage control.”
I flushed red from anger, but didn’t say anything. I wanted to talk to Fiona.
“Excuse me, but is there a restroom down here?” I asked Penelope.
Henry dropped a cube of ice in his drink. “She means loo.”
Penelope’s mouth dropped open. “Oh! Yes, of course, out the door and behind the staircase.”
I left the room with no intention of going to the bathroom, but in search of Fiona. I went back upstairs and down the two hallways, knocking on the door that I hoped was hers. “Fiona?” I whispered loudly.
The door opened and Fiona, stood in a deep brown satin dress, putting on her earrings. “Come in, Mags. I was expecting you earlier.”