“Please don’t worry, I have no wish to harm you or turn you over to the police. On the contrary, I’d like to help if I’m able, but that can only happen if you tell me your real name, why you have the grace of a well-bred young woman, yet wear an ill-fitting and grubby dress, and why your shoes are about to fall off your feet? To put it bluntly, who are you, where did you come from, and why are you stealing?”
Chapter One
Even after his profound confrontation, except for a flicker of fear in her eyes, she maintained her composure, but he knew she possessed the fire and fight of an alley cat. The comparison made him smile.
“You find me amusing, sir?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“More intriguing than amusing, and you haven’t answered my questions.”
“I’m afraid I must disappoint you.”
“Then you leave me no option but to send for the police,” he declared, though he had no intention of turning her over to the law.
“Do what you must,” she said with a heavy sigh, “although...”
She paused. He sensed she was deliberating.
“Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“Not exactly, but before you send for a constable, may I ask a favor?”
“A favor? You believe you’re deserving of a favor?”
“Oh, no, sir, not at all, but I must ask all the same.”
“Very well.”
“Will you allow me to sit at your dinner table before a constable takes me away?”
Her request had been made in a hopeful, almost desperate manner. A shard of guilt pierced his heart. Rising to his feet and ambling to the fireplace, he stared at the flames. The poor girl was starving. He suspected her dress once fit, but now hung around her thin body because it was the only garment she owned.
“I’m sorry if my request upset you, sir.”
“It didn’t, not at all. It’s your unfortunate state I find disturbing. Of course you will stay,” he said solemnly, moving his eyes to meet hers, “but why would you prefer to be turned over to the law rather than tell your story? Why have you been forced into picking men’s pockets and stealing women’s jewelry?”
Lowering her gaze, she lifted her teacup, took a sip, then poured herself more, adding a splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar.
“At least tell me if Connie is your real name,” he demanded, his exasperation getting the better of him. “How can I share a meal with you if I don’t know even that much?”
“Yes, sir, my first name is Connie, and I’m sorry, but that’s all I’m able to offer.”
“I only wish to help. Must you be so secretive? Is there nothing I can do?”
“There is the matter of my shoes,” she replied, raising her eyebrows. “You’re right, they’re terribly worn, and they’re also very wet. Forgive me for asking, but would you mind if I removed them and allowed my feet to dry?”
“Goodness, you should have spoken up sooner. Please do. Perhaps Mrs. Melville will be able to find you a pair of slippers.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m not sure I deserve such kindness.”
A slight frown creased her brow as she leaned over and pulled them off. He wasn’t surprised to see her dainty feet encased in torn stockings.
“Mr. Mead,” she began softly, looking back up at him, “please don’t interpret my refusal to tell you about myself as ingratitude. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“You have safe haven here,” he assured her, “though I confess, I am completely bewildered. You have the speech and decorum of a lady, yet—”
“Yet, how can I be? I have the appearance of a street urchin, and you found me with stolen property,” she declared, interrupting him, “though the bracelet belongs to me. Do what you will with the wallets.”
Not knowing how to respond, he stepped to the side of the fireplace and jerked on the bell cord.
“Since we cannot talk about me, perhaps you could tell me more about you, Mr. Mead.”
“I shall give as I get,” he said brusquely, then immediately regretted his harsh tone. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to bark at you. It’s what I do when I’m frustrated.”
“I wish I could ease that frustration, but I have learned not to trust strangers, even those who show kindness.”
“I am a man of my word!” he said sternly. “If I tell you I will keep your secrets, I will.”
“You rang, sir?” Corbin declared, entering the room before she could respond.
“Corbin, Miss Smith’s shoes. They’re wet. Please see what footwear you can rustle up.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. May I take the wet ones? We might have more luck drying them downstairs.”
“Yes, thank you, Corbin.”
Striding forward, the butler picked up the shoes by his fingertips, but as he carried them away, Malcolm noticed the soles were worn through.
“May I call you Connie?” Malcolm asked, hoping the familiarity might help to win her confidence. “You may call me Malcolm, if you wish.”
“Of course you may, and you’re very generous, but that’s because you weren’t born into all this.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You said the man in the portrait, the Earl of Brookshire, is responsible for your success. May I ask why?”
“As I said, I’ll give as I get. Tell me something about you, and I’ll answer your question.”
“He must have been an exceptional man,” she continued, looking up at the painting.
“You won’t offer me even a scintilla of information?” he pressed, once again recognizing the change of subject.
“If I do, it will lead to another, and so on. I cannot allow that—oh, my goodness, please forgive me,” she said, stifling a sudden yawn.
The woebegone girl wasn’t just starving, she was exhausted. He’d offered to escort her home, but did she have a place to rest her head?
“Connie, I don’t wish to appear rude, but I have some pressing business matters. Dinner won’t be served for at least a couple of hours. Would you like to have a lie down while I’m otherwise occupied?”
“I, uh...”
“You will not be disturbed, and you’ll be able to wash that dirt off your hands.”
“I would very much like to have a wash, but I don’t wish to impose, sir.”
“It’s Malcolm,” he insisted, moving closer to her, “and it wouldn’t be an imposition in the least.”
“In that case, I’d be very grateful, and now I know your background, I would have returned the snuff box. I don’t steal from people like you.”
“People like me? Explain.”
“You’re not one of them,” she declared, a scowl crossing her forehead. “If you face the windows I’ll retrieve it.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, one of them,” he said, moving toward her.
“You’re not titled. You’re not an aristocrat,” she replied. “Would you please turn away?”
“No, Connie, I will not.”
“I don’t understand.”
“While I am concerned for your welfare, I cannot possibly allow this evening to continue without administering punishment for your attempted thievery. Whether titled or not, you had no right to take that snuff box, and I have to wonder what else might be hidden beneath your dress?”
“There’s nothing, I assure you.”
Suddenly marching away from her, he locked both doors, then strode back to her.
“Connie, we will not be interrupted. Please give me the snuff box!”
“But—”
“Now!”
He could see her nervousness, but she raised her dress and removed the silver box from a makeshift pocket in her petticoat.
“Here you are,” she murmured demurely, placing it on the coffee table.
“Stand up.”
Though it took her a moment, she pushed herself up from the chair. Walking forward and standing in front of her, he noticed her eyes weren’t just green, but car
ried tiny flecks of brown. An unexpected blush crossed her pale face, and her lips parted as if she might speak.
Malcolm caught his breath.
A desire to wrap her into his arms and kiss her passionately had hurtled through him like lightning bolt.
He’d planned to spank her, but now he wanted to do more.
Much more.
“Kneel on the chair with your back to me,” he said sternly, “and I warn you, Connie, don’t make me repeat myself.”
“But—”
“I meant everything I said. My offer of hospitality remains, but I also meant it when I said you must be punished. Whether you choose to run away after I have disciplined you, or you accept my help, you will not leave this room until I have made sure of two things. The first, you have nothing else secreted away, and the second, you have been appropriately chastised. Now kneel on the edge of the chair, grip the arms, lean forward, and arch your back.”
She didn’t move.
“I’m going to count to three. If you’re not in position, I shall tie you over the chaise lounge near the window. One—”
Letting out a short, startled cry, she turned around and climbed on the soft cushion, taking up the pose he’d instructed.
Malcolm’s cock, already stirring, surged to life.
Not only was she beautiful and refined, as her dress fell over her bottom he could see it was wonderfully round. Whatever weight she might have lost, her backside had retained its voluptuous curves.
But he didn’t have time to dally.
Marching forward, he moved her dress up to her waist, but as he raised her petticoat he was surprised to find she wore only one. He was gazing at her drawers.
“As you can see, sir, I have nothing else hidden.”
Though her voice had been tremulous, it had been tinged with defiance.
“I don’t know that for certain,” he replied firmly, reaching around her to untie the cord holding up the remaining garment. “Women have other secret places in which tiny objects can be concealed.”
“I have done no such thing!” she exclaimed, staring at him over her shoulder.
“There’s only one way to find out, Connie, and I intend to.”
“No,” she gasped as the cord came loose and he yanked down her drawers. “Why have you done this?”
“You know why, and unless you want the servants to hear you, I suggest you be quiet.”
His remark worked. As he moved his palm over her bottom, she remained stoically silent.
“I’m going to spank you. It will be quick, but I will not hold back. Do not put your hands behind you, and I will remind you again not to yell out. Have I made myself clear?”
“Sir, you have made yourself clear, but this is wrong.”
“No, Connie, this is right. You must be punished. You’ve been stealing.”
Standing at the side of the chair, he leaned over, wrapped his arm around her waist, and landed several hard smacks to both cheeks.
“If you choose to remain here, I will not hesitate to spank you again if it’s needed.”
Without waiting for her response, he continued to rain his hand on her naked bottom, his stinging slaps covering the breadth of her backside, then finished with a torrent of swats where her thighs met her bottom. Though she’d gasped and kicked out, she didn’t scream or beg him to stop.
“I’ve finished,” he declared, rubbing her skin, “but stay as you are. I must be sure you’ve not carrying any other stolen items.”
“I promise you, sir, I have nothing,” she gasped. “Please, let me be.”
“This will only take a moment, but if you don’t cooperate I shall spank you again. Behave, and my examination will be over quickly.”
He waited for a response, but receiving none, he took her silence as surrender. Slipping his fingers into her pussy, he found her surprisingly slick, and as he pushed into her channel, he was taken aback to find no resistance. Suddenly gasping, she threw back her head, and though she didn’t cry out or try to stop him, she lewdly wriggled against his touch.
She was aroused!
Though sorely tempted to rub her clit and bring her to a climax, he didn’t know how long it might take, and it occurred to him, leaving her wanting might be of later benefit. Wishing he could free his manhood and plunge inside her, he took a long deep breath, then returned his attention to her backside.
“One last place to check,” he decreed, “then you can straighten out your clothes.”
“You can’t mean—”
But already spreading her cheeks, he inserted his finger into her dark hole. As she dropped her head into her hands, he heard a long low, moan. He waited a moment, then withdrew his hand, lifted her drawers, and reaching his arms around her, he knotted the cord.
“You took your punishment well,” he said softly, lowering her petticoat and dress, “and I’m very pleased I found nothing more.”
Wordlessly she slid off the chair, turned around, and gingerly sat down.
“Connie, do you have anything to say?”
“Indeed I do,” she mumbled, raising her eyes to meet his. “You have punished me, and you have humiliated me, but you haven’t broken me. Others have done far worse.”
“It was never my intention to—”
A knock cut him off.
Unnerved by her statement as much as her remarkable strength, he hurried across the room and unlocked the door.
“Excuse me, sir, Mrs. Melville found these,” Corbin declared, holding up a pair of attractive beige and white shoes. “They were left by Lady Edith the last time she visited.”
“Ah, excellent,” Malcolm said, managing to gather his wits. “Please show Miss Smith to the Red Room. She’d like a rest before dinner, at least I believe she does,” he added quickly, turning to face her. “Is that still the case?”
“Yes, I would, very much,” she replied, rising to her feet and moving slowly toward them.
“Corbin, please ask Mrs. Melville to come in.”
“Right away, sir.”
“You see, I do trust you,” Connie murmured, staring up at him. “You could send for the police while I’m resting, but I know you won’t.”
“No, Connie, I won’t.”
As she left with Corbin, he moved back to the fire and stared down at the flames. The young woman’s composure astounded him, and he’d been left with his cock standing at full attention.
You haven’t broken me. Others have done far worse.
Her words rang through his head.
“What happened to you, Connie,” he muttered with a deep frown. “I must find out.”
His mind turned to the wallets. They’d probably contain identification. He’d find a way to return them. She’d claimed the bracelet was hers, and though he wasn’t sure why, he believed her. He wanted to study it, though what secrets it might hold he couldn’t imagine.
Mostly, he was determined to uncover her true identity. In the recesses of his mind he knew who she was. He was certain of it.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Mrs. Melville said, stepping into the room.
“Ah, yes, Mrs. Melville. Would it be possible to wash and dry that dress Miss Smith is wearing in time for dinner?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Please knock on her door and offer her a bath.”
“The poor girl could certainly use one, sir, but I seriously doubt I’ll have her hair dry in time for dinner. I can’t put her head in the airing cupboard.”
“No, but do what you can, and one more thing. Please make sure the servants know they’re not to mention our guest to anyone outside this house.”
“Yes, sir. May I ask, do we know who she is?”
“I’m sorry to say, she’s afraid to tell me. That’s why her presence here must be kept secret. I have a feeling she might be in some kind of danger.”
“My goodness.”
“I’m going to my study to write a note to Lady Edith. Have William meet me there. I want it delivered righ
t away.”
“Yes, sir. Will there be anything else, sir? I want to catch the young lady before she gets into bed. I’m afraid once she’s under the covers she’ll be reluctant to leave them.”
“Quite right. No, nothing else. Thank you, Mrs. Melville.”
Walking swiftly through the opposite door, he made his way to his study at the end of the hall. The windows overlooked the back gardens, but with the foul weather the only thing to see was the heavy rain splattering against them. Sitting at his desk, he withdrew a note card from the drawer, picked up his pen, and began to write.
Chapter Two
With the note to Edith on its way, Malcolm attempted to immerse himself in his work, but the intriguing young woman resting upstairs made it difficult to concentrate. Finally laying down his pen, he rose from his chair and moved to the fireplace. Staring at the hypnotizing flames when he needed to think was his habit. The girl was living in fear, that was obvious, and the state of her garments and loss of weight suggested she’d been scraping by for some time.
“Pressuring her will not help,” he murmured. “In fact, it could make her want to run. I can’t have that. I can’t scare her.”
A gentle tap on the door caught his attention. As he turned, Corbin appeared and announced dinner was ready.
“Thank you, Corbin,” Malcolm replied, moving across the room. “Was Mrs. Melville able to take care of our visitor’s clothing?”
“Yes, sir, and apparently when a bath was suggested the young lady was most eager.”
“That’s good news,” Malcolm said as they started down the hall, but entering the dining room he found his housekeeper waiting for him.
“Excuse me, sir. May I speak with you? It’s about the young lady.”
“Of course, Mrs. Melville. Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly wrong, sir, but I’m not sure what to do. I was able to wash her clothes and dry them, but when I went into her room to help her dress for dinner...”
“Yes, go on.”
“She was sleeping so deeply I was loath to wake her. I stood by the bed and coughed, then lightly touched her shoulder, but she was dead to the world. The poor girl must be absolutely worn out.”
Rough Gentleman Page 2