Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, sucking in a deep breath.

  The first smack hit, then the second and third, but abruptly the slaps accelerated.

  Pain and pleasure swept her away.

  His teeth bit her nipples.

  Heat flamed through her body.

  Spasms seized her.

  Scintillating tingles coursed through her limbs.

  Her euphoric yelps filled the chamber, then slowly dissolved leaving her breathless and spent.

  * * *

  Gazing down at Connie’s limp body, Malcolm soothed her womanhood and thighs with a comforting caress. Slowly opening her eyes, she stared up at him and let out a contented sigh.

  “Malcolm, that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

  “Not nearly as amazing as you,” he said softly, lowering his head and gliding his lips over hers in a warm, loving kiss.

  “I never knew I could feel so much.”

  “You’re about to feel even more,” he whispered, pushing his finger into her drenched channel. “You’re ready for me.”

  “I, uh, I want you inside me so badly, but, uh...”

  “Connie... have you changed your mind?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You must never be afraid to share what’s in your heart. Tell me.”

  “I know I said I didn’t care about society’s rules, and I don’t—it’s just—how do I say this?”

  “You don’t have to,” he said knowingly. “In spite of everything that’s happened, you want your first time to be on your wedding night.”

  “I don’t understand why I feel it so strongly. I didn’t before.”

  “You’ve been living in a constant state of confusion and fear. Now you’re safe, you can think clearly. Being with me completely is crossing a line from which there is no return. It’s the ultimate gift. One reserved for your wedded husband.”

  “I’m so sorry. I do love you with all my heart, and I do so long to be with you.”

  “Never apologize for being true to yourself.”

  “You’re not upset with me?”

  “No, my love, of course not—but,” he continued, a wicked grin curling his lips as he tickled her clit, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  “Ooh, that feels so good.”

  “Place yourself on your hands and knees.”

  “Must I move?”

  “I just gave you an instruction,” he said sternly, pinching her thigh.

  “Ouch. Sorry, Sir.”

  As she rolled on her stomach and rose up on all fours, he pushed her legs apart, kneeled between them, and wrapped his fingers around his stiffened cock. Feasting his eyes on her full, plump cheeks, he stroked himself for a moment, then placed his member between her thighs, tantalizingly close to her entrance. He heard her gasp.

  “Fear not, sweet Connie. I won’t enter you.”

  “I know,” came her whimpered reply. “More’s the pity.”

  “Squeeze your legs together.”

  As her luscious inner thighs closed against him, he grabbed her hips and began thrusting, her soaked pussy coating him as he pumped. Increasing his speed, he released one of her hips to smooth his hand over her beautiful backside.

  “Much too pale,” he muttered, landing a solid swat.

  “Ow!”

  “I hope that wasn’t a complaint,” he said gruffly, landing another on the opposite globe.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Your bottom will be as red as I wish,” he added sternly, delivering more hot slaps as he continued to vigorously pump against her womanhood.

  He wanted her to enjoy another climax, and with every thrust his rigid rod brushed against her clit, but he was nearing his release. Her gasps and moans told him her arousal was growing, but lagged behind his. She needed a boost—a thrill—something to push her over the edge.

  “You’re going to climax, Connie,” he declared, slipping his thumb between the cleft of her cheeks and touching her rosebud.

  “Oh-oh-Sir—”

  “Now!”

  Issuing the command, he sent his thumb into her dark, forbidden hole. Her shocked shriek echoed through the room, but a moment later she let out a wild, euphoric cry. Writhing violently, she bucked back against him, sending his thumb deeper into her prohibited passage.

  His orgasm seized him, his essence spewed between her thighs, and his deep groans filled the room. Crackling sensations shot through his limbs, then abruptly waned. But her feral gyrations continued unabated until he carefully pulled his thumb from the decadent portal, and with a soft moan, she dropped on her stomach.

  Collapsing beside her, he brought her into his arms. Still catching his breath, he listened to her soft sighs, then closing his eyes he joined her to drift in the serenity of their post-orgasmic bliss.

  “Lunch?” he finally murmured.

  “Will Mrs. Henderson be wondering where we are?”

  “Probably, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll show you to your room. It’s next to mine. We can freshen up then go to the dining room.”

  “I’m absolutely ravenous,” she muttered, then with a giggle, she added, “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Always so cheeky. I’m hungry too, but I have an idea,” he said solemnly, propping himself up on an elbow. “Connie, there’s something very special I want us to do tomorrow.”

  Lowering his lips to her ear, he whispered his thought.

  “Can we do that?” she asked breathlessly as he lifted his head. “Really? You want to? Can we?”

  “Yes, we can, and yes I want to... if you do. I can send a footman into the village with a note.”

  “I think it’s the best idea in the history of ideas,” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this moment for as long as I live.”

  * * *

  Back in London, Samuel and Roger stared down at the dead rats in shocked silence.

  Samuel had ordered his study closed until he had proof of the rats’ demise. It had taken over an hour for Hackworth to corner each of them and dispatch them to their maker, but as he’d scooped them up to toss them out the window, he’d spotted something that made his blood run cold. Urgently pulling the bell cord, he’d waited anxiously for the door to be unlocked and his employer to enter, but it was Partridge who walked in the room.

  “They’re dead, they’re dead,” Hackworth exclaimed. “I must see His Lordship. It’s extremely urgent.”

  Wordlessly Partridge had left. To Hackworth’s great relief, Samuel marched in just a few minutes later.

  “What is it?” Samuel demanded, Roger peering through the door behind him afraid to enter.

  “Are you sure they’re dead?” Roger bleated. “Absolutely one hundred percent sure? There aren’t any more of them in that bloody bag?”

  “They’re dead,” Hackworth assured him, then realizing he hadn’t thought to check the case, he quickly closed it.

  “Tell me what’s so important?” Samuel said brusquely. “Haven’t we had enough to deal with today?”

  “Your Lordship, as much as I’m sure you don’t want to look at the rat—”

  “Of course I don’t want to look at the damn rat,” Samuel barked. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

  “Uh, there appears to be a message written on it.”

  “What the devil are you talking about? What do you mean a message?”

  “Look for yourself, Your Lordship,” Hackworth replied, pointing to the fireplace hearth. “I left it there. I didn’t think you’d want it on your desk.”

  Letting out an aggravated grunt, Samuel strode across the room and stared down at the dead pest, then slowly turned his eyes to the door.

  “Roger, you need to see this,” he said gravely. “We have a problem.”

  Hurrying to Samuel’s side, though he cringed, Roger dared to look.

  The animal was gray.

  Two letters, painted in black, graced its side.

 
M R

  “Oh, no,” Roger whispered. “You think that stands for Monty and Roger? Do you think he knows?”

  “Monty?” Hackworth repeated. “Who’s Monty?”

  “Get that damn thing out of here, you fool,” Samuel shouted, scowling at his henchman.

  “Samuel, I’m going back to the salon,” Roger muttered. “I need another drink.”

  “I’m coming with you. We have some serious thinking to do.”

  But as they turned to leave, Partridge entered carrying a silver tray bearing an envelope.

  “Excuse me, Your Lordship. This has just arrived.”

  “Now what,” Samuel groaned, snatching it from the tray and tearing it open.

  Hello, M and R,

  I know the terrible things you have done.

  All of them.

  If you or your servants come near my home or my staff again, I will sink you in scandal so deep and so fast you won’t be able to take a breath before you drown.

  There is a letter with a friend. If I should fall victim to an unfortunate demise, the news will be sent to all and sundry outlining your crimes.

  MM

  Reading the note over Samuel’s shoulder, Roger let out a gasp.

  “Oh, no. What now?”

  “I don’t know,” Samuel growled, “but I’ll think of something. I always do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After a delicious lunch, Malcolm and Connie donned thick coats, pulled on warm gloves, and set off for a walk. It was nippy, a breeze danced around them, and slate-gray clouds floated across the sky.

  Connie was elated.

  She was outside, strolling in the countryside without fear.

  “I never thought I’d ever see a day like this again! Thank you so much for bringing me here,” she exclaimed, clutching his arm. “I’m desperately happy, but I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

  “I feel the same, and I hate to break your happiness bubble, but we have a great deal to talk about.”

  “Yes, we do, and I’m glad we’re finally alone. I’ve been dying to tell everything I remembered. I didn’t get a chance while we were in that secret room.”

  “No,” he said with a grin, raising his eyebrows. “We had other things on our minds.”

  “We certainly did,” she replied with a giggle, “and I couldn’t say anything with Mrs. Henderson serving lunch. Where do we start?”

  “You go first. What do you remember?”

  “Every last detail. It was so extraordinary how it all came to me. I’ll start from when I first heard Mother scream.”

  Relaying her story, she forced herself to take her time and make sure she didn’t leave anything out. It wasn’t easy, and more than once she had to pause to take a breath or wipe away a tear.

  “Now you know everything,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Stanford would have seen the French doors wide open, and I wasn’t holding anything, certainly not a garden shovel. I don’t understand. He’s been our butler for years, and Father was always so good to him. Why did he lie like that? “

  “I don’t know, Connie,” Malcolm said, shaking his head. “I’m shocked anyone would bear false witness against you. It’s absolutely dreadful.” Then pausing, he added, “I also find it hard to believe no one else saw or heard anything.”

  “Stanford would have kept all the servants away, but you’re right, they should have heard my mother scream, and I’ve often wondered why the neighbors didn’t report anything, especially Kendrick. Then there’s Roger. He made everything worse. I can only think it was because I ended his hopes of marrying me, and that was his despicable revenge.”

  “Roger, yes,” Malcolm muttered. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that. Prepare yourself. Roger and Samuel Mountbatten—the respected Earl of Landenbury who we now know is the infamous Monty—have been working together. Roger is Monty’s partner in crime.”

  “No!” Connie said, stopping abruptly, utterly aghast. “I know they’re friends from the historical society, but I never saw them as particularly close.”

  “They were and they are! At the dinner party Edith told me Roger and Mountbatten have been deeply connected for some time, and you know it was Roger who broke into my house.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I also saw him coming out of Mountbatten’s home and arguing with Hackworth, but I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s my turn to tell you everything that I’ve learned, and what I’ve done.”

  “The bag! Malcolm. Did you booby-trap that bag?”

  He couldn’t suppress a grin.

  “Clever girl. I certainly did. I’ll tell you about that too.”

  They ambled through the forest as he talked, and by the time he’d finished, they’d reached a meadow and a small pond. The wind rippled the water, and away from the protection of the trees, the gusts were quite a bit stronger.

  “I’ll bet this place is lovely in the summer,” she remarked, hugging herself against the chill. “I hope we can come back here for a picnic one day.”

  “You can bet on it,” he said softly, wrapping her up in his arms. “Connie, you must stay strong. We will win this battle.”

  “You’ve given me reason to believe that. It’s uncanny how you sense things before they happen, like the way you knew Hackworth would steal your bag.”

  “I didn’t know for sure, but these are desperate men, and desperate men take chances. Hackworth was watching the house. If they believed I might have the statue, seeing me leave holding a bag the way I did would be an opportunity they wouldn’t dare pass up.”

  “How on earth were you able to catch that rat and paint MR on its back? Just the thought makes me queasy.”

  “You keep forgetting, I was raised on the land. Catching the rodents was easy. I had the black paint from covering the plaster of Paris over the statue, but marking letters on a rat? Let’s just say I could have used another pair of hands.”

  “I’m certainly glad I wasn’t around!”

  “It didn’t help that I was in a hurry. When I finished my biggest worry was the paint getting rubbed into a big black blob.”

  “Oh! I hope it didn’t.”

  “The note I had delivered would have cleared up any confusion, but I must admit,” he said with a chuckle, “I’ve been imagining the mayhem when they opened the bag and the rats came out. I wish I could have been there!”

  “Roger hates anything like that,” Connie said with a giggle. “He would have had an absolute fit.”

  “I certainly hope so!”

  “Me too!” she exclaimed, then let out a sigh and leaned against him. “You’re brilliant, Malcolm. It’s absolutely remarkable you were able to uncover so much in such a small amount of time.”

  “I don’t deserve too much praise. Any detective worth his salt would have known you were innocent in no time. The officer on the case must have been coerced into covering up the truth.”

  “If you hadn’t come along,” she murmured, placing her arms around his waist and leaning against his chest, “I can’t imagine what would have become of me.”

  “And if you hadn’t come into my life on that rainy, windy night, I wouldn’t have discovered what it means to feel all the things I’m feeling right now.”

  “Which is?” she teased, pulling back and looking up at him with a Mona Lisa smile.

  “You know exactly,” he growled, abruptly gripping her wrists and holding them at the small of her back. “If it wasn’t so cold and gusty, I’d remove your clothes and cover every inch of your skin with kisses. I bet you’ve never been naked outside.”

  “Of course not,” she whimpered, loving his strength.

  “You will be,” he promised, nuzzling her neck. “The first chance I get I’m going to bring you back here, strip you bare, and throw you into that pond.”

  “Ooh, Malcolm, you wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, I would, and yes, I will,” he vowed, “and the thought of it thrills you, doesn’t it, Connie? Tell me the truth!
”

  “It does. Malcolm, please, will you kiss me?”

  “Try and stop me!”

  But just as he lowered his head, a sudden whoosh of wind swirled around them. Darting his eyes up to the sky, he abruptly pulled her under the trees. Seconds later, the skies opened up and the rain began to fall.

  “How did you know?” she asked breathlessly.

  Spinning her around, he pressed her back against a tree.

  “I can read the clouds, I can hear the creatures in the forest, and I can sense danger. Do you know what else I can do?”

  “Make my heart race,” she panted, feeling it skip in her chest as he leaned over her.

  “I can see the truth in your eyes. I saw it that first night I brought you into my home. I’ve always believed in you. Connie, I’ve admired you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve never been interested in parties, but there was one I attended a couple of years ago at Clemington Hall. You were dressed in a glittering emerald gown. Connie, you took my breath away.”

  “I remember it well,” she said softly. “I remember you too. Why didn’t you approach me?”

  “I’m embarrassed to say I found myself unable to pluck up the courage. I’ve never felt comfortable in high society at the best of times, and you were surrounded by young men vying for your attention, but you stayed in my mind. Over time I’ve discreetly asked about you, and when I heard you had an eligible suitor I wanted to kick myself. Then the news broke about your parents. I didn’t believe for one moment you were guilty. I wanted to race to your aid, but you had disappeared.”

  “So when you pulled me away from Lord Cavendish...”

  “I’m sorry to say I didn’t recognize you, though in my defense I hadn’t seen you in months. Not to mention it was completely out of context and you looked so different. But I did sense a familiarity. I realized a short time later it was you.”

  “Malcolm, after that night at Clemington Hall, I asked my mother to invite you to one of her parties, but my father wouldn’t hear of it. He said you had a reputation for being a ruffian. When you came to my rescue on the street when Lord Cavendish was wrestling with me, I couldn’t believe it was you.”