Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  Her channel was tight.

  She gasped, then cried out.

  He slowly pulled back, paused, and pushed back in.

  “Take a deep breath,” he said softly. “You’re tense. You must relax and surrender.”

  “You’re f-filling me,” she sputtered. “You’re filling me so completely.”

  Carefully withdrawing, he waited, then stroked again, but leaving himself buried, he rested his torso on top of her, and wiped the hair from her face.

  “You’re mine now, Connie, body and soul. You belong to me.”

  “Yes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “I do. I feel it, and I do.”

  “You’re still anxious.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.”

  He smiled, then softly gliding his lips over hers, he began to thrust. Her arms came around his neck. Their kiss took fire. Her body began to move beneath him, and suddenly her muffled moans took on new life. Breaking their kiss, he stared down at her.

  “The passion has you in its hold,” he murmured. “Now I can ravage you.”

  “Yes, please, I want more, I want so much more.”

  Raising back up, he grasped her waist and pumped with slow, but strong strokes, each one evoking a loud moan. He could see her eyes were focused on his chest and arms, and he realized his powerful physique was feeding her passion.

  “You’re so strong,” she whimpered, as if confirming his belief. “I love that you’re so strong.”

  “Strong enough to handle you,” he growled, quickening his pace.

  “Ooh, Malcolm...”

  Her chest flushed crimson.

  She was on the brink.

  He wanted nothing more than to surrender to his climax, but it was too soon. Coming to an abrupt stop, he carefully withdrew.

  “No, oh, no,” she whimpered. “If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. Please...”

  “You’re doing everything right. Don’t worry. I haven’t finished with you yet.” Grabbing her ankles, he effortlessly flipped her over. “Up on your hands and knees, and spread your legs wide.”

  As she scrambled into position, he spied the red line across the center of her backside. He grinned. She’d tested him and paid the price, but as her charms came into view his focus shifted. Using his thumbs to part her velvet nether lips, he lined himself up, snaked his way back into her hot, wet depths, then clutched her fleshy cheeks and pumped. Though he managed to keep his thrusts slow for the first few minutes, he knew, once he quickened his pace, there’d be no stopping his climax.

  “Malcolm...”

  Her voice was soft, so soft he wondered if he’d imagined it, but she was looking at him over her shoulder.

  “Please, may I ask...”

  “Anything,” he replied, beginning to accelerate.

  “Can you do it harder, like—”

  “Like this?” he growled, pumping with a barrage of vigorous thrusts. “Do you want your pussy pummeled? Do you want to be utterly ravaged?”

  “Yeeesss...” she wailed, throwing back her head. “Ooh, yeeess...”

  Tightening his hold, he rammed his rod with power and speed.

  As her back arched and she cried out his name, he pulled a hand from her waist and blasted her bottom with hot slaps, catapulting her into her orgasm. Her pussy walls closed around him, and forced to surrender to his own powerful climax, his groans joined her elated howls until the violent seizures finally released their hold.

  Drained, spent, and out of breath, they collapsed on the mattress, rolling into each other’s arms and drifting away on a cloud of euphoric serenity.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Stirring from a deep doze, Connie slowly opened her eyes to find Malcolm propped up on an elbow and staring down at her.

  “Did you have a nice nap?” he asked, smoothing the hair from her face with his fingertip.

  “The best I’ve had in a long time. What about you?”

  “The same. I just woke up a minute ago.”

  “Have we been sleeping long?” she murmured, stretching and letting out a yawn.

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps an hour or so. How do you feel?”

  “Mmm, at peace, yet elated. I love this cottage. It’s so cozy, but why did you decide to bring me here?”

  “I wanted to carry you over the threshold into my home. My real home!”

  “You don’t consider Flemming Hall your home?”

  “Not like this cottage or my place in Knightsbridge, and when we have the legal wedding in London, I’ll carry you over the threshold there as well. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy spending time at Flemming Hall, especially when Edith and her mother are around. It’s almost like a family reunion,” he said wistfully, then lowering his voice, he added, “I do miss the earl. He was a wonderful man.”

  “He must have been to do so much for you, even if you did rescue Edith.”

  “That day was terrifying for him. She was his only child, and his wife was unable to carry more babies. You can imagine how he must have felt standing on that riverbank. Even my father, who knew how strong I was, believed Edith and I would never survive the furious waters. I admit there were moments I thought we were done for too.”

  “Will you take me there?”

  “I’d already planned on it if the weather was good, and happily this is a perfect day. I even have a change of clothes ready for you. I knew you’d have nothing with you, and your lovely gown and shoes aren’t suitable for the walk.”

  “You think of everything.”

  “I do my best, but going to the river was supposed to be a surprise. You beat me to the punch.”

  “It still is a surprise. Can we go now?”

  “I think we should. This is the right time of day. It’s a lovely spot. You’ll never want to leave, and the river will be high from the rain we’ve had.”

  “That sounds a bit scary.”

  “You’ll get a sense of its power, but it won’t be anything like it was the day I went in after Edith. Before we get up, I’ve been curious about something. Why did you continue to use the name Connie after you ran away? I know it’s not Constance, but it’s close enough.”

  “It wasn’t an easy decision,” she said solemnly. “I knew it was risky, but that horrible man had not only taken my parents and my home, he’d wanted to take away my freedom.”

  “Ah, I understand,” Malcolm said, placing his arms around her. “You weren’t about to let him strip you of your name as well.”

  “I couldn’t, and Constance was my mother’s middle name. I wanted to keep it for her too. I simply had to.”

  “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, you’re a very brave girl, Connie Clifford. Oops, Connie Mead. Actually, it’s Constance Mead.”

  “Mrs. Constance Mead,” she said with a happy sigh. “Gosh, I’m a married woman.”

  “Yes, you are! You’re my wife!”

  “How simply marvelous!”

  “Roll on your stomach, wife!” he said gruffly, but grinning as he barked the command.

  “Maybe in a minute. I like being cuddled against you.”

  “Maybe in a minute?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “I just gave you an order. Are you asking for a visit from my rod?”

  “Oh, I see,” she said indignantly, sitting up and frowning at him. “Every time I voice my opinion, you’re going to threaten me with that nasty stick. That’s not very fair.”

  “Hah. Brave and reckless are often close friends.”

  “Now you’re calling me reckless?”

  Throwing back his head he laughed out loud, then with startling speed, he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her over.

  “You’ll be still, my naughty wife,” he warned over her squeal. “I wish to see my rod’s lovely mark across your bottom, and if you give me any trouble it will have a second to keep it company.”

  “You are ferocious.”

  “I certainly can be,
” he said firmly as he straightened up. “Does it still hurt?” he continued, running his fingers over the red line.

  “A bit.”

  “Striped by my stick. The perfect way to begin our life together. Spread your legs so I may look upon your pretty pussy,” he murmured, his voice falling soft as he moved his fingers into her sex. “Are you sore?”

  “Not exactly. It’s more like, I can feel what happened, but there’s no pain.”

  “Tonight in my chambers you’ll sit on me, then ride me while I enjoy your lovely breasts.”

  “Ooh, Malcolm...”

  “But for the moment...”

  His voice trailing off, he rolled her on her back, then pressed his lips on hers in a long, leisurely, loving kiss.

  “Mmm, that was heavenly,” she purred. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Do you indeed?” she said, looking up at him with naughtiness in her bright green eyes.

  “Yes, I do.”

  His voice had been soft, but husky, and abruptly gripping her hair, he pulled her head to the side and bit her neck, eliciting a yelp.

  “You didn’t tell me you’re part vampire!”

  “There are many things about me you don’t know.”

  Before she could respond, he climbed off her and strode across the room. Watching his muscles ripple beneath his skin, she let out a long happy sigh. Why she loved his tough, rough side, she didn’t know, but it made her toes curl.

  * * *

  Though he’d controlled his demeanor when the subject had come up, the reminder of Samuel Mountbatten’s evil deeds had sent Malcolm’s blood boiling. As much as he wanted to remain at Flemming Hall for several days, he was eager to clear Connie’s name and expose the villainous duo. That could only happen back in London. Edith’s note had been intriguing, and he hoped when they returned to the house a letter would be waiting with the news that she and Edward were on their way.

  “Malcolm?”

  “I’ll be right there,” he replied, realizing he’d been lost in his thoughts. “I was trying to remember which drawer to open. I should warn you, these clothes will be different to anything you’ve worn before.”

  “Different how?”

  “You might find them outrageous, but I really do recommend you wear them. They’ll be safer and much more comfortable. My sweet mother was a small, gentle woman,” he declared, pulling out a garment and turning around, “but she loved working with my father on the grounds. Skirts and dresses were cumbersome, so she made herself several pairs of trousers.”

  “Trousers!”

  “Trousers,” he repeated, holding them up. “I gave away much of my parents’ clothing to charity, but there were several items I simply couldn’t part with, including these.”

  “With a mother prepared to wear trousers, it’s no wonder you turned out to be so independently minded.”

  “In spite of her placid nature, she held very strong opinions. Anyway, there is a long-sleeved blouse to go with them, and a pair of solid boots. I hope they fit. There’s a cap too. She used to pull her hair to the top of her head and cover it. She said it stopped it falling over her eyes.”

  “What an extraordinary woman. I’d be honored to wear her clothes. It will be fun to wear a man’s pants!”

  “You’ll need the suspenders to keep the pants up,” he said, handing them to her, along with the clothes.

  “What about you, Malcolm?”

  “I’ll be wearing my father’s old work pants and shirt. The shirt’s too tight, so I leave the buttons undone.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she said with a wink. “If only my former friends could see me now, pulling on a pair of trousers.”

  “I’m looking forward to that day.”

  “You mean when I walk into a ball dressed in trousers? That would cause a scene to remember. I can think of several ladies that might faint.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I meant when you walk into a ball with the noose no longer around your neck. You’ll put everyone to shame. I predict they’ll bend over backwards to make amends.”

  She paused, let out a sigh, and raised her eyes to meet his.

  “Malcolm,” she began softly, “just a short time ago I didn’t think it possible, but now I firmly believe that day will come, and all because of you.”

  “I believe it will come too, but not because of me, because of us. We’ve been brought together to right this terrible wrong. We can’t bring your parents back, but we can make sure justice is served. And we will!”

  * * *

  When Hackworth left London, the weather had been cold and damp, but his jacket and pants were too warm for a sunny country afternoon, and his mood wasn’t helped by the hellacious trip he’d endured.

  The walk from the train station to the village had been endless. Several times he’d thought he was on the wrong road. Finally reaching the small town and entering the village inn, he’d quenched his thirst, had a bite to eat, and was shown to a room at the top of a narrow flight of stairs.

  Though he’d considered bringing a change of clothes, he’d decided against it. If something went wrong and he needed to make a quick getaway, he didn’t want to be saddled with a suitcase, and he certainly didn’t want to leave anything behind. When he’d stood in the small room in his hot, uncomfortable garb, he’d regretted his decision.

  Not wanting to be seen on his way to Flemming Hall, he’d trudged through the brush on either side of the road. It hadn’t been easy, but after so many mishaps in London he wanted to be extra careful. Finally reaching the majestic home, he’d checked the drawing Roger had given him, then headed to the back gardens darting through the trees.

  The many windows and wide terrace matched Roger’s description of Mead’s quarters. Watching for a while, Hackworth expected to see some sign of life. When there was none, keeping low and using the gardens for cover, he hurried to the terrace and peered through the windows. There was not a soul to be seen. Gaining confidence, he continued along the patio and looked through to the next room. Still nothing. Then he heard the arrival of a carriage. Peeking around the side of the wall, he was surprised to see Lady Edith Whitby, Malcolm Mead’s de facto sister, and Edward Simington, a man he knew to be a member of the historical society. They were climbing from the coach, but Malcolm Mead did not step out to greet them!

  Hackworth’s head began to spin.

  Was the arduous trip a complete waste of time?

  Had Mead’s trip taken him somewhere other than Flemming Hall, or was he simply visiting a neighbor?

  “Maybe I should break in and do a thorough search,” Hackworth muttered. “It might be my only chance... no, that’s a bad idea. It’s daylight. There could be servants about.”

  The sun blazing down on his head, and his body sweating beneath his heavy clothing, he decided to return to the woods until nightfall. If Mead’s apartment lit up, it would mean he was there. Breaking in would be very risky indeed.

  Too risky.

  Hastening to the trees to escape the heat, he gratefully entered the shady woods. The further he traveled, the cooler it became, until he found the ideal spot to rest. Peeling off his jacket and placing it on the ground, he sat on top of it and leaned against a tree. Removing his hat, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wearily wiped his sweating brow. Finally settling in to take a much needed nap, he let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes.

  His respite was short-lived.

  The sound of crunching leaves snapped them open.

  A man’s laugh.

  Quickly rising to his feet, he spun around and stared through the forest. A short distance away, he spied a tall, wide-shouldered man with a smaller man next to him, both dressed in slacks and shirts and wearing caps.

  Hackworth let out a sigh of relief. It was just the groundskeeper with his lad, but wanting to play it safe, Hackworth grabbed his hat and jacket and scurried closer to the house.

  It took a few minutes,
but he finally came across a small ditch. Climbing down and making himself comfortable, he closed his eyes, but as he dozed off, he prayed Mead’s quarters would remain dark. If he had to tell Lord Mountbatten he’d been unable to break in and there was nothing to report, he might be better off not going back to London at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Standing on a viewing platform set back from the river’s edge and offering a spectacular view, Connie stared down at the fast-paced water.

  “Malcolm! How did you both make it out? Actually, how did you find the courage to jump in?”

  “I saw Edith fall and I just reacted.”

  “You said it was worse than it is now?”

  “We were having a terrible storm. The water was much higher and moving at a mighty clip.”

  “What on earth was she doing here in a storm?”

  “She’d sneaked out of the house before the storm rolled in. When the alarm was sounded I had a feeling she’d be here. She liked standing on those rocks,” Malcolm continued, pointing to a grouping of boulders on the bank. “She was very lucky she didn’t bang her head against them when she slipped.”

  “Why didn’t she stand on this platform?”

  “It wasn’t here at the time. The earl ordered it built after the accident. He hoped it would be more inviting than the boulders. My father and I built it. We made it as solid as the rocks. It’s not going anywhere. We also tied those ropes around the trees.”

  “Ropes? Oh, yes, I see them now. I didn’t notice them.”

  “If there is ever another mishap, they’ll be in place for the rescuer, or even the victim to grab if they’re able to. My father came up with the idea. That was a big problem on the day Edith fell in. I had nothing to help me.”

  “I can understand why she liked it here. It truly is a beautiful place,” Connie remarked softly. Turning around, she placed her arms around Malcolm’s waist and gazed up at his handsome face. “I am so proud and honored to be your wife.”

  His forehead crinkled, and his eyes held an expression she couldn’t read.

  “You’re a baron’s daughter. If I were to meet you in society, how would I address you?”