“Sir, won’t you please stay with me like this? Hold me and kiss me again?”
“Connie, Connie, you already know the answer to that question.”
Though she let out a disappointed grunt, he suspected her heartfelt plea had been a test of his will, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Returning to his position between her legs, he confidently pushed his finger into her womanhood, evoking another squeal.
“Keep the noise down,” he warned. “I’m going to explore. You may feel an extremely tantalizing sensation. If you must cry out, place your head into the mattress.”
As she whimpered her response, he shoved his finger in and out, keeping his thumb pressed against her clit, all the while thinking about how glorious it would be to thrust his cock into her hot, undefiled depths for the first time. Slowing his assault, he traveled his touch deeper in search of the sensitive area he knew afforded a woman great pleasure when gently rubbed.
“Ooh, Sir, ooh, ooh.”
She’d pressed her face into the bed as he’d instructed, but her muffled wail echoed through the room.
“When we’re in the country you’ll be able to wail as long and as loudly as you wish, but not here,” he declared, quickly withdrawing his hand.
“Sir,” she panted, “what was that wonderful feeling? What did you do?”
“It’s a magic spot that enjoys a man’s touch. Quiet now, catch your breath for a moment.”
His cock demanding attention, he left the bed and quickly removed his trousers, then standing over her, he paused to stroke himself as he feasted his eyes. The lamp giving her skin a golden sheen and casting seductive shadows across her naked form, she resembled a beautiful oil painting from a great master. Wishing they had the house to themselves, and he could enjoy her charms through the rest of the night, he told himself not to dismay. She would soon be his, utterly and completely.
“It is time to inspect your beautiful bottom,” he declared, climbing back on the bed to pinch her cheeks as he massaged his cock. “Prepare yourself.”
“For what, Sir?”
“Don’t you recall how the pirate examined his wife when he returned from sea?”
“Oh, no, Sir, please, I couldn’t bear the shame.”
“You will have to,” he said sternly, clutching her plump flesh and pulling her apart.
“Sir?” she gasped. “Please, Sir, no.”
“It’s too late to protest,” he said sternly, his voice a deep rasp. “I’m viewing all of you, and just like the pirate, the time will come when I will redden your arse and take you in both the front and the back.”
“But, Sir, it seems so—so depraved.”
“Connie,” he growled, touching her rosebud, evoking a long, low groan, “you not only devoured the book, you singled out that particular passage just for me, did you not?”
“Uh, I, uh...” she stammered. “I suppose I did.”
“There’s no suppose about it,” he said stridently, continuing to linger his probing finger. “Do not claim innocence now, unless you’d prefer I put an end to our intimacy. I will still work tirelessly to clear your name and bring the evil man to justice, but if you don’t wish to be under my authority, and subject to my whims and fancies, I’ll understand. My tastes are not suited for all women. I am a gentleman, but as I told you, I am a rough gentleman with unique tastes. Do you want us to simply be dear friends? Shall I stop?”
“No, Sir, please. I—uh—I don’t want you to stop. It’s just—I have imagined many things, but this is all so new to me.”
“And I will guide you, but you must willingly surrender.”
“I do, Sir. I do.”
“In that case,” he murmured, releasing her cheeks, “are you ready for your pleasure?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. I’m ready, I’m so, so ready.”
Chapter Nineteen
Though she’d been mortified by the lewd exposure, Connie couldn’t deny the fantasy had captured her imagination. Now with every nerve in her body tingling and her pulse racing, she closed her eyes.
She was ready for anything.
Or so she thought.
Without warning, he grabbed her ankles and effortlessly flipped her onto her back. It happened so fast she barely had time to react.
Her eyes popped open.
He loomed over her.
Suddenly his lips were on hers in a heart-stopping, crushing kiss. As he moved his body to lie next to her, the kiss continued, his tongue dancing between her teeth as his finger found her clit.
His attentions fired sparks through her womanhood, but just as she felt her climax build, he pulled his finger away to thrust it into her soaked sex. As she clung to him through her muffled moans, he moved his hand back to resume the fervent rubbing. She was sure she would explode, but he skillfully kept her on the edge for endless minutes.
All the while his lips remained locked on hers, then abruptly he broke the kiss.
“Now.”
It was just one gloriously wonderful word, but it sent her spinning into a shimmering orgasmic vortex. His lips dove back on hers as the climax swept her away. But as the sparkling sensations gushed through her body, his mouth prevented her shrill wails bubbling out of her until the paroxysms of pleasure freed her from their grip.
Her body fell limp.
She couldn’t remember their frenzied kiss coming to an end, but floating on a cloud, she heard him groan. He was holding her, whispering something she couldn’t discern, then she felt him leave the bed. She wanted to call him back, but she was drifting into serene nothingness.
* * *
Following his powerful climax, Malcolm moved quickly into the bathroom, cleaned himself up, then returned to the bed. Though he couldn’t stay, he wanted to hold Connie in his arms for a little while before heading to his room. Stretching out and pulling the covers over them, she nestled into his body.
Never had he felt so at peace.
Though he knew he was dozing, he didn’t fight it.
The small carriage clock on the mantel softly chimed the three o’clock hour. Blinking open his eyes, he found it hard to believe he’d slept so long. Though the housemaid wouldn’t be moving through the house to light the fires and open the drapes until six a.m., he couldn’t risk drifting off again. Their sensuous escape had come to an end, but they would soon be heading into the country.
The thought brought a smile to his lips.
He would have her completely.
Letting out a heavy breath, he softly extricated himself from her limbs.
“Don’t leave me.”
She’d breathed the words.
“I must,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“I am asleep.”
He smiled a second time.
Her eyelids hadn’t even fluttered.
Collecting his clothes, he paused for a moment and thought about the book. Realizing Mrs. Melville could stumble across it, he decided it would safer to take it with him. Picking it up, he stole from the room and walked swiftly down the hall, chuckling under his breath. He was a grown man, completely naked, in his own home, creeping to his room like a rogue leaving a forbidden boudoir.
Had he not dropped a shoe, he might not have heard it.
Loud squeaking.
A sound he knew all too well.
The library door.
It could have been a servant, but he instinctively knew it wasn’t.
A prowler lurked in his house.
Suddenly glad of the annoying, noisy hinges, he raced to his room, dropped his garments, grabbed his robe, and hurried to the staircase, but reaching the landing he paused.
He could raise the alarm, but would that put Connie at risk?
The trespasser was linked to the statue, Malcolm was sure of it, but if he and Corbin apprehended him, what might be the consequences?
The police would be contacted!
The matter would take on a whole new direction.
He’d lose control.
Mou
ntbatten and his powerful friends could swoop in.
Having the authorities involved was the last thing he wanted.
“No,” he muttered as the epiphany raced through his head. “I don’t want to catch this person, but I do want to get a good look at him before I let him escape.”
His heart hammering, he moved silently down the stairs, then stopped at the bottom. Low burning lamps were kept throughout the home during the overnight hours to offer minimal light if needed. One sat on the table in the middle of the foyer, another halfway down the hall. Hearing nothing and seeing no movement, but knowing the tell-tale squeak had not been his imagination, he crept down the passage. Stopping at the drawing room, he cautiously opened the door and peeked inside.
He caught his breath.
A lamp had been turned up.
Items had been disturbed.
The intruder had been searching.
Malcolm could think of no other motive than the statue!
He frowned, wondering how the man knew it was in the house, then quickly reasoned he didn’t, and the hunt was a wild shot in the dark because Malcolm had been at the Cliffords’ home. Silently moving on to the library, he stood at the door, pressed his ear against the wood, and listened intently.
Movement.
Very quiet, but discernible.
Darting his eyes around for somewhere to hide, the most obvious place was the billiard room directly across the hall. Slipping inside, he cracked open the door to watch.
“Anybody here?”
“Damn and blast,” Malcolm grunted, hearing Corbin’s voice echo through the quiet house.
“Hello? I say, is anyone down here?”
Peeking down the hall, Malcolm saw Corbin open the drawing room door and poke his head in.
“Hello?”
“Corbin,” Malcolm called loudly, quickly stepping into the passage.
Carrying a large candelabra, and dressed in a blue and red striped velvet robe, his butler looked like an eccentric member of the Ghost Club, a well-known ghost hunting organization that counted many celebrities in its ranks.
“I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed you, Corbin. I couldn’t sleep and decided on a game of billiards.”
“You didn’t, sir. For some reason I was restless too. I was coming down the back stairs to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of milk when I thought I heard the squeak of the library door.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Malcolm replied. “Mind you, I was concentrating on my shot.”
“Strange,” Corbin muttered, a heavy frown crossing his brow. “I could have sworn I made out that squeak. It’s quite distinct.”
Placing his finger against his lips, he shot his gaze to the library.
Corbin’s eyes widened in alarm.
“I’m feeling weary now,” Malcolm declared. “I think I’ll go up.” Then whispered, “I don’t want to catch him. I just need to get a good look at whoever it is. I’m going back in the billiard room.”
“I’ll stay with you in case of trouble,” Corbin whispered back.
For a fleeting moment Malcolm wanted him to leave, then thought better of it. There was nothing wrong with having support, and he didn’t doubt Corbin’s loyalty. The man would keep his secrets if necessary.
“Thank you,” Malcolm said softly, then raising his voice, he declared, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Very good, sir,” Corbin replied loudly. “I’ll go back to the kitchen for that milk. Can I get you anything, sir?”
“No, thank you. I might have a glass of brandy in my room, but please do a quick check around before you go up?”
“I’d be happy to, sir. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Corbin.”
Quickly creeping into the billiard room, Corbin blew out the candles as Malcolm resumed his vigil.
“Do you think this prowler is connected to your guest, sir?” Corbin asked quietly.
“I can’t be sure, but I believe so. Hopefully asking you to make a quick check will get him out of here.”
“That was good thinking, sir.”
“I’d certainly like to know how he gained entry in the first place!”
“As would I, sir.”
“The handle moved,” Malcolm whispered. “He’s coming out.”
Slowly opening the door didn’t prevent the squeak. The prowler poked his head around and stared down the hall. Thanks to the hall lamp, though the light was dim, there was enough for Malcolm to view the intruder’s face.
He looked familiar.
Like a bolt from the blue Malcolm recognized him as the angry young man he’d seen coming out of Samuel Mountbatten’s home.
Watching him sidle out the library door, Malcolm was relieved to see the would-be burglar empty-handed, and guessed he’d squeezed through the narrow opening to prevent further squeaking of the hinges. Then to Malcolm’s surprise, the intruder started toward the back of the house. Like Connie’s home there was a conservatory overlooking the back yard. The garden was small, and surrounded by a high fence, but did offer a gate.
“I think he’s going to the sunroom,” Malcolm murmured. “I wonder if that’s how he gained entry.”
“The French doors, sir, they have only the one lock. No bolts at the top or bottom.”
“Contact a lock merchant. Have them installed tomorrow, and ask him to check all the windows and doors while he’s here.”
“Of course, sir. Should we go after the prowler, sir?”
“I think we can now,” Malcolm replied, moving into the passage. “Slowly though.”
“May I ask, sir, why you didn’t wish to apprehend him? Shouldn’t we contact the police?”
“No, not at the moment. I know it might seem strange, but I have my reasons.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Please don’t be offended, Corbin,” Malcolm said, pausing his step. “I wish I could confide in you, but for your own wellbeing it’s best I don’t tell you. Not yet. Rest assured, I trust you implicitly.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you saying so.”
Continuing on, as they reached the end of the hall, Malcolm peered around the corner to the conservatory. Flooded by moonlight, it was easy to see the glass house was empty. Letting out a breath, he strode forward and marched straight to the French doors.
“Unlocked,” he exclaimed, opening them as Corbin caught up. “It’s impossible to know if someone in this house purposely left it open, or if the man picked the lock. Check to see if the key is still in the burgundy urn, though I don’t suppose that will offer an answer.”
“It is, sir.”
“Lock the door, and keep the key with you while I’m in the country. Let’s see if anyone asks you for it.”
“Do you think the thief will return, sir?”
“I don’t think he completed his mission, so he’ll probably be back, and quite possibly during my absence. Come to think of it, do the same thing with the servants’ quarters and front door. Lock them both, and keep the keys with you.”
“Excellent suggestion, sir, and I’ll keep a close watch, I can assure you.”
“I have no doubt of it. Well, Corbin, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
“Indeed, sir. May I ask, did you come down for a game of billiards?”
“No. Like you, I couldn’t sleep,” Malcolm replied as they started back. “I’d stepped out of my room to go to the salon when I heard the squeaking of the library door. I knew the sound right away. Those hinges have always bothered me, but now I’m glad of them.”
“Indeed, sir. How fortunate you were in the upstairs passage at precisely that moment, and I was coming down the back stairs.”
“Sometimes, Corbin, fortune rolls in our favor. I’m going to check the library to see if anything is missing. He was empty-handed, so I’m not too concerned.”
“Thieves do have pockets, sir. May I help?”
“No, thank you. Go on up. I’m just going to have a quick look around
.”
“Very good, sir. See you in the morning.”
As Corbin marched toward the stairs, Malcolm moved into the room, closed the door, turned up the lamp, and carried it across to the bookshelf. Holding it up, he broke into a broad grin.
“Hah! Brilliant. Connie, you are such a clever girl.”
Chapter Twenty
Woken by Mrs. Melville opening the curtains, Connie yawned and stretched her arms above her head, then suddenly remembered the book. Darting her eyes to the nightstand, to her great relief it was gone. Sitting in its stead was a cup of tea. She quickly realized Malcolm must have taken A Pirate’s Pleasure with him when he’d left her in the early hours of the morning.
“The carriage will be arriving at ten a.m.,” Mrs. Melville declared. “You have just enough time to eat your breakfast and dress. I’ve brought you up a tray, but I had to leave it on the hall table to open the door. I wanted to wake you earlier, but Mr. Mead insisted you should sleep as long as possible. I’ll go and fetch it now.”
Reaching for her teacup, Connie wondered why Mrs. Melville was so chatty. She was always friendly, but generally reserved.
“Here you are,” the housekeeper continued, bringing in the breakfast tray and placing it over Connie’s lap. “Scrambled eggs with parsley, cooked tomatoes, and toast. When you’re ready to dress, pull the bell cord and I’ll bring up the maid’s uniform. It looks as if the rain will hold for our departure. I do hope we have a good journey and the weather is clear when we arrive, but the countryside is always a welcome break, and Mr. Mead has a beautiful home.”
“Mrs. Melville,” Connie began softly, “is everything all right?”
“All right? Yes, yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You seem—well—nervous.”
“I do apologize. I’m generally this way before leaving on a trip,” Mrs. Melville replied. “There’s always so much to do, and I must get back to it. If there’s anything you need, just pull the cord.”
Connie wasn’t convinced, but the woman hurried from the room before Connie could press her further. Trying not to worry, she picked up her fork and began eating the scrambled eggs. As usual the food was delicious and she quickly cleaned her plate. Finishing her cup of tea, she put the tray aside, climbed from the bed, and was about to enter the bathroom when there was a gentle knock on her door.
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