Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  “But why would Mr. X do that?” Lord Cheltenham asked. “Surely he’d want to have it right away and keep it in his possession.”

  “This is all just conjecture,” Malcolm said to his captive audience, “but I suspect Mr. X is a very cunning and cautious man. He probably determined his thieves might be tracked by the police or the museum guards after the robbery. If the item was found at the home of a well-known Egyptologist, Mr. X would be in the clear. If his men got clean away, he’d wait a couple of days, then instruct them to collect it.”

  “But when he did, they returned and told him it was gone!” Lord Cheltenham said triumphantly. “They wanted it for themselves.”

  “Exactly, and believing the Cliffords had found it, Mr. X went into the house to confront them. Of course the baron and his wife would have claimed they knew nothing about it, because they didn’t. Mr. X became enraged, one thing led to another, and there you have it.”

  “So poor Constance was just another victim,” Millicent said solemnly.

  “As I said, it’s just a thought that occurred to me, and I can’t imagine a young woman being able to bludgeon both her parents. One of them would have been able to get the better of her.”

  “My goodness, Malcolm,” Lady Cheltenham said, staring at him with wide eyes, “that’s a remarkable story. It all fits together so well, and you’re right. How could a slip of a girl do such a thing? Besides, I knew her. She was a lovely young woman.”

  “I didn’t, but I’m glad you said that. It’s terrible to think for a moment any woman could be falsely accused of such a dreadful thing. But as far as the statue is concerned, it was stolen, so there must be a Mr. X, and he must have both brains and money. Of course the artifact may well be in his possession, but if it isn’t, and I was him, I’d be looking at the men who did the actual robbery.”

  The table once again burst into conversation, and Malcolm’s theory was discussed for the remainder of the dinner. Even when the meal came to an end, and the ladies withdrew to the drawing room leaving the men to their cigars and brandy, the discourse continued.

  Malcolm was elated. Malcolm had successfully planted the seeds. Samuel Mountbatten would soon catch wind that Mr. X had been double-crossed by his henchmen. Now Malcolm could set the next part of his plan into motion, but it would mean Edith would have to see Edward again. He hoped she wouldn’t mind too much.

  * * *

  The evening had drawn to a close, and the guests had gathered in the foyer to don their coats and hats for a quick run through the rain to their carriages. As a footman helped Malcolm with his coat, Lady Cheltenham approached and asked for a private word.

  “Malcolm, how can I ever thank you?” she said softly as they stepped away from the throng. “Tonight will be talked about for days on end. Your brilliant theory made for such interesting conversation.”

  “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

  “But I must admit, I’m embarrassed to think I doubted the innocence of that delightful young woman. I’ve always liked Constance. I hope wherever she is, she’s safe and well.”

  “Constance was resourceful enough to flee and remain hidden all these many weeks. I suspect she’s managed to land on her feet.”

  “I do hope so. I can’t stop thinking about what you said. Physically she couldn’t have done it. You’re absolutely correct, and I’m going to have a serious discussion about this with Hector. He has important friends. It seems to me the entire matter must have been badly handled by the police. How could they accuse a young woman of such a heinous crime?”

  “Perhaps Mr. X has powerful friends too,” Malcolm remarked, lowering his voice. “It’s the only assumption I can make.”

  “Oh. Yes. Quite,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I don’t wish to hold you up, but please know you’re welcome here any time. I realize you’re a bit of a hermit, but I’d love to see more of you.”

  “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

  “Please, call me Mary.”

  “I’m honored—Mary.”

  As they returned to the other guests, Malcolm noticed Edward helping Edith on with her cloak. She was continuing the charade, smiling up at him adoringly.

  “Edith, are you ready?” Malcolm asked, walking up to them.

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  “Thanks for the great chat, Malcolm,” Edward said cordially. “It really was most enjoyable. I loved your theory. I’d like to get together and talk about it some more.”

  “I’m going out of town for a couple of days,” Malcolm replied. “Perhaps when I return you can stop by the house for a drink.”

  “I’d be delighted, and Edith, remember, three p.m., and don’t keep me waiting.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Edward,” she replied softly, a slight blush crossing her face.

  Malcolm was taken aback. Guiding her outside and into their waiting carriage, though he wasn’t sure what to make of the exchange he’d just witnessed, he couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “I must say, Edith, you were fabulous tonight,” he said as the carriage began to move. “I hope it wasn’t too painful spending all that time talking with Edward.”

  “No, no,” she answered airily, “it wasn’t painful at all. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

  “What was that business about you being on time?”

  “Malcolm! You and I talked about that earlier. I’d always keep him waiting when he came to visit.”

  “Oh, right, sorry, I have a lot on my mind, but Edith, why did you do that to the poor chap?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “Maybe another time. Anyway, he invited me to join him for afternoon tea at Claridges tomorrow.”

  “Perfect!”

  “Yes, I think so too,” she murmured, a faraway look in her eye. “I haven’t seen Edward in months. He’s changed. He’s become more...”

  “Confident?” Malcolm offered. “He was certainly engaging tonight. He held his own very well indeed.”

  “Yes,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Confident fits, but it’s not quite right.”

  He paused.

  “Edith, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “What? No, no, but why is having afternoon tea with him perfect for you too?”

  “I was going to ask you to invite him to your place while I’m gone, but now I don’t have to. There’s something else I want him to know, but you should drop it casually. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Tell him I think I know where the statue is hidden.”

  “Gosh. Do you, Malcolm?” she asked excitedly.

  “I believe I might,” he said cagily, not wanting to lie to her. “Tell him that, and find out the date and time of the next meeting of the Egyptian Historical Society. Also, find out how he feels about Samuel Mountbatten.”

  “You don’t want much!”

  “Need I remind you a young woman’s life and future are at stake?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Why do I get the feeling Edward appeals to you now?”

  “Because he does. He always has, but there was something missing. Suddenly, tonight, it was there.”

  “Are you saying he’s no longer someone you’d be able to eat for breakfast?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. In fact, I can honestly say I wouldn’t dare try.”

  * * *

  Dropping Edith at her home and escorting her to the door, Malcolm continued on to his house. He was delighted for her, and believed her evaluation of Edward was correct. Over dinner, whenever Malcolm had looked at him, Edward had held his gaze. In the past Edward would nervously shift his eyes. He’d also spoken to the gathered guests with authority and aplomb.

  “Assertiveness,” Malcolm muttered as the carriage came to a stop. “That’s the word Edith was looking for. She’s always fancied him, but he was too wishy-washy.”

  As Malcolm hurried through the rain to the front
door, it occurred to him Edith had kept Edward waiting in the past to provoke a reaction. Apparently during their dinner conversation, he’d made it clear those days were over.

  “Welcome home, sir,” Corbin said as he opened the door. “Was it a good evening?”

  “Exceptionally good, thank you, Corbin. Tell Baker I’ll undress myself tonight.”

  “Is everything all right, sir?”

  “Yes, but I might stay up a while longer, and it’s already quite late.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll let him know.”

  But it was eagerness to give Connie the news that had kept him from the services of his valet. Trotting up the stairs, he walked swiftly down the hall, stopped at her door and gently knocked.

  “Who is it?”

  “Malcolm.”

  “Come in.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Connie had tried to doze off but found it impossible. There was so much to think about.

  She couldn’t wait to find herself in the peaceful countryside and smell the fresh, clean air. Reaching into the nightstand for her precious bracelet, she’d held it tightly and recalled the many happy times at the family estate. She and her mother would ride through the woods to the meadow by the pond. When she grew older and wanted to go out alone, she bribed the stable boys to switch out her sidesaddle for a regular one.

  There was nothing quite so exhilarating as being astride her mare galloping up and down the gentle hills, the wind whipping her hair and the horse’s powerful body between her legs. Her parents had never discovered the brazen misbehavior, though sometimes she thought they knew and had chosen not to interfere. But during her dark days on the street, those carefree times felt a million miles away, and she’d wondered if she’d ever see the country again.

  Now she was on the verge of returning to her life.

  The joy was almost overwhelming.

  Too excited to sleep, and anxiously waiting for Malcolm’s return, she’d placed the bracelet back in the drawer, turned up the lamp, and retrieved the naughty novel.

  Opening the book at a random page, she found the pirate roughly bending his wife over pillows, spreading her legs, and tying her ankles to the bedposts. Losing herself in the ribald prose, she imagined Malcolm doing the same to her, and a rush of erotic energy flowed through her body.

  You’ll meet a man who will make your heart skip and your blood run hot.

  Her mother’s words rang through her head.

  “That’s exactly what Malcolm does,” she whispered. “I can’t wait for him to come home.”

  As if by magic, the faint sound of horse’s hooves on the cobblestones echoed through the quiet night.

  They stopped.

  He was home.

  “Should I...?” she mumbled, her pulse racing and her tummy tumbling.

  * * *

  Standing outside her door Malcolm had to smile. He found Connie’s question highly amusing.

  “Who is it?” he muttered, quickly chuckling. “Is she expecting another late night visitor?”

  But turning the handle and stepping inside, he caught his breath.

  Completely naked, her skin bathed in the golden glow from the lamp on her nightstand, Connie was lying over pillows, her bottom high in the air, and her legs wide apart. His cock surging to life, he moved to the side of the bed. She turned her head and looked up at him.

  “What’s all this?” he asked softly, immediately thinking it was a ridiculous question.

  “The book,” she whispered, moving her eyes to the bedside table.

  Seeing A Pirate’s Pleasure lying innocently next to the lamp, he picked it up and opened it to the bookmarked page.

  “Ye be bound and spread, just as ye should be,” the pirate growled. “Now I shall redden this round arse, and take ye both in the front and the back. Then ye shall know to mind your place.”

  His clothes off in an instant, he kneeled behind her, raised his hand, and brought it down with a vigorous slap on each cheek, eliciting a loud cry.

  “That’s right, wife, ye shall yell, and yell again as I give ye more!”

  Moving his hard, callused palm in a quick rhythm across her full backside for several minutes, he grasped her hips, placed his large manhood at her glistening entrance and plunged forward.

  Though he’d read the raunchy passage softly, the steamy words seemed to linger seductively in the air. His heart thumping and his cock demanding to be released from his trousers, he placed the risqué book back on the nightstand and turned his eyes to his naked beauty.

  “Connie...”

  His voice had sounded hoarse.

  “Was this a mistake?” she whimpered, lifting her torso.

  “Stay exactly as you are!”

  His sharp command had the desired effect. She immediately resumed the position. Settling on the edge of the mattress, he roamed his fingertips down her back.

  “You’re very beautiful, but shamelessly perverse.”

  “Only for you, Malcolm.”

  “I’d like nothing better than to tie you up and utterly devour you, but this is neither the time nor place. However,” he continued, removing his jacket and kicking off his shoes, “since you’re so beautifully spread, I shall take the opportunity to inspect you.”

  “Inspect me?” she gasped. “But, what on earth do you mean?”

  “You’ll find out. Don’t move an inch without permission.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Straightening up, he removed his waistcoat and tie and vest, then climbed on the bed and kneeled between her legs.

  “Lovely thighs,” he murmured, running his palms over the back of her legs. “One day, very soon, when there is no fear of being heard if you cry out, I shall spank them.”

  “But why, Sir?”

  “Because I wish to, and because I want you to feel it,” he replied briskly, then pausing, he added, “now you’re curious. You want to feel that hot sting, don’t you, naughty girl? Speak the truth!”

  “Ooh, yes, Sir, I am curious.”

  “Look at your lovely, fleshy backside,” he growled, squeezing her cheeks, “but I’ll get to them in a minute. First I must explore your womanhood.”

  Sliding his fingers into the delicate folds, he lightly touched her clit. Hearing her whimpered moan, a devilish grin curled the edges of his lips. She had placed herself in the salacious position expecting him to tear off his clothes and ravage her just as the pirate had ravaged his wife. While he would enjoy making her fantasies come to life, she’d soon learn he was unpredictable. Only he would dictate when and how her dreams would become reality.

  “Please, will you rub it, Sir?” she mewled, wriggling as she spoke.

  A hot slap blasted on each of her cheeks. He wanted to vigorously spank her, but the hour was late. There was no street noise, and even though the room was a fair distance from the servant’s quarters, he feared the house was too quiet.

  “Ow! Ow, ooh, Sir...!”

  “Hush! What did I say, Connie?” he demanded, roughly clutching her cheeks.

  “Uh...”

  “My exact words were, don’t move an inch without permission. Was I not clear?”

  “You were, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  “I might decide to give you pleasure, but if I do it will be after I’ve finished my inspection, and only if you’ve been a good girl. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now where was I?” he said brusquely. “Ah, yes, your sensitive little cone. Quite lovely,” he murmured, agitating his finger just long enough to evoke a long, bleating moan. “If I slide my finger down here, what might I find?” he continued, moving his finger to circle her entrance. “Connie, you’re so wickedly wet.”

  Groaning into the mattress, she let out a startled squeak as he pushed his finger into her virgin channel. The moment in the drawing room when he’d first discovered she was not intact had stayed at the back of his mind.

  Now faced with it again, thoughts raced through his head.

&
nbsp; Had she been attacked while living on the street?

  Could she have sold herself to keep from starving?

  Was it possible Roger Witherspoon had his way with her and she was too ashamed to tell him?

  He needed an answer.

  “Connie, have you enjoyed the pleasures of sex?” he asked softly, dropping his tough demeanor and stretching out alongside her, “Were you assaulted? You must not be afraid to tell me.”

  “Heavens, no!” she exclaimed, a worried frown crossing her brow. “You’re the first man to ever touch me. Any part of me. You’re the only man I’ve ever truly wanted to be with. Why on earth would you ask such a thing?”

  “It appears... physically... you are not a virgin.”

  “I most certainly am!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm. “I am, I swear it. I am.”

  “Don’t upset yourself.”

  “How can I not be upset? You have to believe me.”

  “I do, now hush. There must be a reason. Let me think... did you ride horses as you grew up?”

  “All the time, and I’ve missed it so much.”

  “Did you always ride sidesaddle?”

  “Why are you asking me about this now?”

  “Please answer the question.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean? Either you did or you didn’t!”

  “When I’d take my mare out by myself, I paid the stable boys to put a regular saddle on her and I sat astride.”

  “Did you do that often?”

  “Every time, and unless the weather was bad, I rode every day.”

  “That explains it,” he murmured, then pressing his lips on hers, he gently kissed her. “You see? There’s always an answer if one looks hard enough, and this isn’t bad news. It will make your first time better. There will be very little pain, possibly none.”

  “I haven’t disappointed you?” she asked softly, the worried frown shadowing her eyes.

  “Not even a little bit, though you were very naughty to ride so brazenly.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “There’s no perhaps about it!” he scolded. “Now that’s settled I’ll return to your examination.”