Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  The daughter of a baron, she’d never traveled in a second-class compartment. It was a far cry from the fine upholstery and comfortable seats she’d once enjoyed in her former, privileged life, but she had no complaints. She’d been rescued by the man of her dreams, and was thrilled to be returning to the country.

  Malcolm had told her the journey would take just over an hour, but the miles drifted by much too slowly, and thinking about the night ahead made her even more impatient.

  “Connie, are you all right?” Mrs. Melville asked. “You look worried.”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Connie replied. “The journey just seems to be taking forever.”

  “Trains can be a bit tedious, but it won’t be much longer. Soon you’ll be able to stretch your legs and relax.”

  Though Connie knew Mrs. Melville was referring to stepping from the uncomfortable compartment, her mind sprang to the joy of ambling freely around the grounds of Malcolm’s country home. She’d be able to wander at will, and not worry about being caught by the police and thrown into an asylum.

  When you finally do walk out the front door, it will be with your head held high.

  Looking idly out the window, Malcolm’s prophecy echoed through her head. He’d given her hope, and was working tirelessly to clear her name. She just wished she could help. Her memories of that hellish night were foggy, and she wanted desperately to recall more of the details.

  Remembering that dreadful night had always sent her into heart-wrenching tears, and she wondered if she could look back without giving into the heavy emotion. If she could, she might be able to recall something useful.

  It was a daunting prospect.

  She didn’t want to fall apart in front of her traveling companions. Then it occurred to her, being in their company might help her retain her composure. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

  A scream!

  She ran to the drawing room and opened the door.

  Her father was on the floor—he was groaning.

  Her eyes popped open. She’d thought he’d been lying still. Her heart raced. Taking a long, deep breath, she closed her eyes back down.

  Her mother lunged at the attacker and wrestled the fireplace poker from his hands.

  The French doors were open.

  The man dashed outside.

  Her mother turned to her.

  “Constance, run, my love, quickly, run and get help.”

  The man suddenly came back with a garden shovel and attacked her mother. She fell on the carpet, let out a strange sound, then was still.

  Utterly frozen, unable to speak or move, Connie watched the man come toward her, the shovel raised, poised to attack.

  Her heart pounded so hard she was sure it would explode from her chest.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She would join her mother and father in heaven.

  The evildoer loomed, then abruptly stopped.

  She saw his ugly, contorted face.

  A hawk-like nose and eyes too close together.

  Dropping the shovel at her feet, he spun around, bolted across the room and out the French doors.

  She ran to her mother, begging her to wake and shouting for help.

  A cold wind whistled around her...

  Connie’s eyes flew open.

  The Earl of Landenbury!

  The man had been Samuel Mountbatten.

  He had killed her father with the fireplace poker, and her mother with the shovel.

  The French doors had been open.

  The cold wind had blown in after he’d left.

  She hadn’t been holding the shovel, but their butler told the police she had.

  He also told them the doors had been closed and locked.

  He’d lied!

  Her innocence had been obvious.

  Why had everyone turned against her?

  Even Roger! He’d said she was unstable and given to fits of uncontrollable temper, but that had been a lie too. A cruel, horrible lie.

  “Connie, what on earth’s the matter, dear?” Mrs. Melville asked urgently. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I, uh, I dozed off and had a bad dream,” Connie muttered, swallowing back the hot lump in her throat.

  “Not to worry. The train is slowing down. We’ve arrived. You can breathe the fresh air and put it behind you.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Melville. I believe you’re right,” Connie replied, thinking, With what I’ve just remembered, this nightmare has to be over soon. I’ll be free to live my life, and my parents will finally rest in peace.

  * * *

  The moment Malcolm stepped from the train and caught Connie’s eyes under her crinkled brow, he knew she was desperate to speak with him. As he marched down the platform, she walked quickly up to meet him.

  “Malcolm, I must talk to you.”

  “I know, hold fire one moment,” he whispered, continuing on to Mrs. Melville and Baker.

  “Did you have a good trip, sir?” Baker asked.

  “Very good, and you?”

  “Fine, just fine.”

  “Yes, it’s always nice to leave the city,” Mrs. Melville added.

  “Baker, would you please check on my bags?”

  “Of course, sir,” his valet said, hurrying away to the first-class compartments.

  “Mrs. Melville, please see if our carriages have arrived. If you don’t return I’ll assume they have. We’ll join you in a moment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Waiting until the housekeeper was out of earshot, Malcolm studied the people getting off the train. Not seeing anyone who appeared to be even remotely suspicious, he guided Connie away from the crowd.

  “What is it, Connie? I knew something was up the minute I saw you.”

  “Malcolm, I’ve remembered what happened that night. All of it. The man who killed Mamma and Papa is the Earl of Landenbury, Samuel Mountbatten. He’s Monty! He was the killer. I saw him.”

  “This is excellent, Connie, but I—”

  “And there’s more, Malcolm. So much more. I’m sorry. I interrupted you.”

  “Not to worry, it’s understandable. The thing is, I must confess I just found out it was Mountbatten as well.”

  “How? When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I was holding the news until we came here. I was afraid it would be too upsetting.”

  “It is, terribly, and shocking, but it’s also such a relief to finally remember everything.”

  “Here comes Baker,” Malcolm said hastily, spying the valet walking toward them. “I wish you could travel in my carriage, but we’re too close to putting this all together to take a chance now.”

  “I agree,” she whispered quickly, “but I can’t wait to tell you everything and hear what else you’ve learned.”

  “I have all the suitcases, sir,” Baker declared as he neared. “They’re being watched by a porter.”

  “Excellent. Mrs. Melville hasn’t returned so the carriages must be waiting. You can have the porter take them there.”

  “There aren’t many, sir, I can manage.”

  “Very good, Baker. Come along, Connie,” Malcolm said formally. “I’m looking forward to Mrs. Henderson’s pork roast. She always has one ready when I arrive, and Corbin sent word late yesterday. Hopefully she received the telegram.”

  “I’m starving,” Connie said softly, “but after we eat, can we go for a wander in the grounds?”

  “Exactly what I had in mind. I’m so pleased the weather’s cooperating. I know just where to take you.”

  * * *

  As the carriage made its way to the house, Connie came to grips with the startling memories. She hadn’t been holding the shovel as the butler had claimed, and he would have seen the French doors were open. Perhaps others did too. She couldn’t fathom such a cruel betrayal, but as the carriage turned through tall, wrought-iron gates, her attention was snatched away.

  Malcolm’s country home was more like a country castle.

/>   Beautiful gardens and a forever green lawn sat in front of a majestic house. She found it impossible to imagine how a village couple could care for such a large estate.

  “You’re surprised,” Mrs. Melville declared.

  “I don’t understand. I was expecting a much smaller property. How can two people possibly take care of it?”

  “Now that you’re here I’m sure Mr. Mead won’t mind me telling you. There’s a permanent staff, and though he does have use of the entire house, he prefers having his own private apartment. He has taken over the east wing at the rear overlooking the woods. Lady Edith and the countess spend quite a bit of time here, but Mr. Mead’s wing is off-limits to everyone except the Hendersons. You see, we’re continuing past the front door.”

  “Where will you and Baker be staying?”

  “We dine with the servants, but we don’t sleep in their quarters. There are accommodations for us closer to Mr. Mead’s wing.”

  “He’s a most unusual man,” Connie murmured.

  “I would have to agree,” Baker declared. “A gentleman to be sure, but one with many unique qualities.”

  The carriages rolled to a stop. Baker stepped out, then held the door for Mrs. Melville and Connie. Stepping down, she looked across to the woods at the edge of landscaped grounds, then up at the magnificent home.

  A gentleman to be sure, but one with many unique qualities.

  Baker had described Malcolm perfectly.

  The man who had rescued her and stolen her heart was marching toward them. With his tall, wide, muscular frame set against the backdrop of the forest, he looked like exactly what he was. A gentleman, yet the son of a humble groundskeeper. A squire, but also a rough man who trudged through treacherous terrain as easily as he strolled down Oxford Street.

  “Betwixt and between,” she murmured.

  “Shall we go inside?” he asked, his lips sporting a devilish grin and a wicked glint dancing in his eyes.

  “I have so many questions,” she said as he led her away from Mrs. Melville and Baker.

  “I’m sure you do,” he replied, guiding her up several steps to an expansive terrace, “but they’ll have to wait.”

  “Will you take me on a tour of the entire home?”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise just yet. We may be out in the country, but it’s not another planet. God forbid a servant recognizes you.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “We don’t have to worry about the Hendersons. They wouldn’t breathe a word,” he said, opening glass-paned double doors and ushering her inside. “I’ve known them since I first walked into this house.”

  “This is beautiful,” she remarked as he led her through an elegantly furnished room. “How lovely it must be to relax in here. Watching the snow in winter would be heavenly.”

  “It is, and you will,” he said softly, shooting her a wink, then strode quickly from the room and down a wide hallway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a place we won’t be disturbed.”

  Paneled in polished wood, the walls boasted impressive artwork and medieval sconces.

  “How old is this place?”

  “It’s been in the Whitby family for generations,” he replied, abruptly stopping in front of an oil painting.

  Her pulse ticking up, she watched him quickly glance in both directions, then grasp a sconce and tug it down. A panel swung open, leaving a space just wide enough to slide through.

  “My gosh, Malcolm...” she breathed, excitement pulsing through her body.

  “Surprise! It will be pitch black, but only for a moment.”

  Taking her hand, he led her through the narrow opening.

  The panel creaked back into place, but only a second passed before a lamp illuminated the room. She spied a wide chaise lounge and a table, but before she could look further, his arm came around her waist and yanked her into his body.

  “I must have you,” he growled, “all of you. I must strip you naked and devour your body.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As the train had chugged its way through the countryside, when Malcolm finished making his notes, he decided to take a quick look at A Pirate’s Pleasure. He hadn’t read the salacious story for a couple of years and it seemed a fitting prelude to the nights ahead. By the time the train had slowed to a stop at the station, the tantalizing tale and scenes of debauchery consumed his imagination.

  Stepping onto the platform and spying the distressed look on Connie’s face he’d been temporarily distracted, but during the short journey to his house, the thought of finally being alone with her had made his blood run hot. Now they were finally in his secret room, he ached to slide his member into her pristine womanhood and make her his own.

  “Malcolm,” she whispered, gazing up at him with longing in her deep green eyes, “I want nothing more. Do what you will.”

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Sweeping her up and carrying her to the chaise lounge, he didn’t slowly disrobe her, but removed her clothes in haste, then quickly stripping, he rested his body on top of hers.

  “You can whimper or scream, we will not be heard,” he said huskily, pressing his lips against her neck. “Be free, my love, be free.”

  Letting out a cry, she threw her legs around his waist and her arms behind his neck, but he abruptly raised his torso, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them above her head.

  “Feel my stiff rod against your belly!”

  “Malcolm,” she panted, “I can hardly believe this is happening. I used to wonder what it would be like to be taken as the pirate takes his wife, now I’m no longer happy just wondering, I must know.”

  “And now you will, but first...”

  Lowering his lips to her breasts, he drew in a nipple, sucking hungrily until her soft moans became loud cries. Only then did he move to its twin, but she writhed beneath him.

  “Be still!”

  She paused, her chest rising and falling with her ragged breaths, but a moment later she began squirming again. Moving his body so his cock fell between her legs, he lowered his weight on top of her.

  “Ooh, Sir, you’re so heavy. You’ll crush me.”

  “No, I won’t crush you, but I won’t shift either, not until you promise to behave.”

  “I will, I swear. Please don’t stop what you were doing.”

  “You need to feel my control,” he said, his voice a deep rasp as he pressed his lips against her neck. “You must learn to do as I say, and I’ll make sure you do.”

  * * *

  Shivers rippled down Connie’s spine. Malcolm had read her thoughts as though she’d spoken them aloud.

  “You’re right,” she mewled. “I wanted to feel you take hold of me. I won’t do it again. If I wriggle it will be from passion and lust, I promise.”

  Raising his head, he stared down at her for a moment, then suddenly pressed his lips on hers in a fevered kiss, dancing his tongue in her mouth and biting her lips.

  “I’m going to test your wetness,” he whispered as he pulled back, “and you’re to remain completely still. You may cry out, but you must not move.”

  “Test my wetness?” she repeated, her heart racing as he released her wrists and rolled off her.

  “Your womanhood must be slick and ready. You know that.”

  “But to hear you say it makes—”

  Slipping his fingers between her legs cut her off. His touch sparked her body even more than when she’d so brazenly offered herself in his salon.

  “Ah, yes, just as I suspected,” he muttered, exploring inside her velvet folds. “You’re dripping. Remember, remain completely still. Show me your obedience.”

  As he pushed his finger into her channel and shoved it in and out, desperate to wriggle but determined to follow his instruction, she closed her eyes and curled her fingers into a ball.

  “Good girl,” he crooned, adding a second finger and thrusting forcefully. “Mmm, lovely. Your womanhood opens for me so
well. You may move now.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she panted. “I have never felt so...”

  But there were no words.

  As he pushed her legs apart and kneaded her inner thighs, all she could manage was a long, deep, grateful moan.

  “You’ve never felt so alive,” he said huskily, traveling his palm slowly over her stomach and continuing upward to clutch her breasts.

  “Yes, yes. You’re right!” she bleated. “I’ve never felt so alive.”

  “I feel the same,” he murmured, nipping her nipples. “Do not doubt for a moment how much I’ve come to care for you.”

  “Malcolm, I care for you too, so very much. I, uh, I more than care for you.”

  He paused, then lifting his head, he held her gaze.

  “It must be said. I love you, Connie. Deeply and profoundly.”

  His voice had softened, and an odd crease crossed his brow.

  “Malcolm, will we ever be free and truly together?” she whimpered. “Will I ever walk down the street with you, out in the open, the world knowing I’m innocent?”

  “Yes, I promise it,” he vowed fiercely, curling his fingers tightly into her hair. “They will not beat us.”

  His lips returned to hers in a crushing kiss, and thrusting his free hand against her womanhood, he vigorously rubbed her clit, then spanked the soft, tender flesh of her inner thighs. The hot sting took her by surprise, but her muffled squeals didn’t stop him. Moving his palm to her sex, he slapped her swollen pussy. She tried to close her legs, but he abruptly jerked up his head and glowered down at her.

  “Don’t you dare! Spread them! Now!”

  His voice was deep. Stern. Threatening.

  An erotic thrill shuddered through her body.

  “Leave your legs apart and your eyes on mine.”

  Her breath a series of gasps, she hastily opened her legs and squeezed her eyes shut as the hot, prickling slaps on the inside of her thighs began anew.

  “Sir, it hurts! Have I been bad?”

  “When you interfere I must start again. Remember that in the future. A few more, then I will turn my attention back to your wet womanhood. Trust me, Connie. Trust me and prepare yourself.”

  His hand continued to land with its hot sting, moving ever close to her sex.