Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

“Ah, yes, of course! Clever Connie, that’s my new nickname for you!”

  * * *

  Malcolm needn’t have worried about Hackworth’s compliance. The moment Malcolm and Connie entered the room, he rose to his feet and profusely thanked them.

  “I’ve had enough of these months of drama,” he declared, shaking his head. “I’m relieved the whole thing is over, and I’ll tell the police anything and everything they want to know.”

  “I’m sure that will help your case,” Malcolm said.

  “It won’t matter. The earl and Poole had friends everywhere. I’m a dead man.”

  “I suspect both men will find themselves too worried about their own skins to be concerned with yours.”

  “Mr. Hackworth,” Connie interjected, “we need you to write another note to Lord Mountbatten.”

  “Give me the paper and I’m happy to do it.”

  The new letter only took a moment to pen, and while Malcolm stayed with him, Connie left to fetch Frank waiting in the drawing room. Leading him to the room, she opened the secret panel, then joined Edith and Edward outside as they kept watch for the constable. He arrived a short time later in an odd-looking carriage. It resembled a large back square box on wheels, and was drawn by a single horse.

  “I say,” Edward muttered as it rolled to a stop, “that looks grim.”

  “It certainly does,” Connie agreed. “I’ll go and tell Malcolm and Frank it has arrived.”

  A few minutes later, escorted by the detective with Malcolm following, Hackworth walked calmly out of the house, climbed into the ominous black coach, and was locked inside.

  “Continue to cooperate and your wife and son will be cared for,” Malcolm reminded him, stepping up and speaking to him through a row of thick bars, “but if you give us any trouble now or in the future, the deal’s off.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Mead. I’m finished with Mountbatten and the whole sorry business, and like I said before, I’m glad it’s over.”

  “Now we can have a wonderful dinner and toast your nuptials,” Edith said happily as Malcolm strode back to them.

  “There’s something else we can celebrate as well, but I’ll explain at the table,” Malcolm declared, raising his eyebrows mysteriously. “If we’re quick about it, we might actually be dressed and at the dinner table on time. I know the cook works hard to serve everything when it’s just right. She can’t do that if we’re late.”

  * * *

  With her clothes still in her bedroom, Connie and Malcolm parted company in the hall, but not before he grabbed her around the waist, yanked her into his body, and kissed her passionately.

  “My gosh,” she said breathlessly as he pulled back. “What was that for?”

  “No other reason other than you’re utterly irresistible. I’m going to devour you all over again tonight.”

  “You can try,” she said with a twinkle in her eye and a cheeky grin.

  “Try? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t you remember? I said I was going to challenge you on our wedding night?”

  “Oh, yes. I shall look forward to that.”

  “Not as much as I will,” she quipped, then tilting her head to the side, she said, “Will you wear an ascot tonight, rather than a bow tie?”

  “Rather unconventional for a celebration dinner.”

  “Exactly, and ours was an unconventional wedding. You can wear the formal clothes when we marry again in London. Please? For me? I love ascots.”

  “I’ll wear it for you. Now hurry up and call Mrs. Melville to help you get changed,” he said firmly, then turning her around and opening her door, he gave her a swat.

  “Ouch!” she said, but with a giggle, then disappeared into her room.

  Pulling the bell cord to summon Mrs. Melville, she decided to wear the gown in which she’d been married, but with her hair long and loose around her shoulders. Mrs. Melville had just finished preparing her when Malcolm arrived. Connie glanced at the clock. It was five minutes before seven. They’d be on time.

  * * *

  After a sumptuous meal served with champagne, a double-tiered cake baked and decorated by Mrs. Henderson was brought to the table. Connie sliced the pieces herself, and placed them on large round plates, but before anyone could take a bite, Malcolm rose to his feet.

  “I feel compelled to say a few words,” he began. “Connie and I are both delighted to be sharing this special evening with you all, and while there will be a much grander wedding in London soon, I can’t imagine it could be any happier. As far as I’m concerned, Constance Clifford, the daughter of Baron Clifford of Cloverdale, is now Mrs. Constance Mead, and I ask that you join me in raising my glass to my beautiful bride.”

  The glasses were clinked, the champagne sipped, and the delicious cake eaten, but when they retired to the drawing room for coffee, the conversation returned to the Statue of Kharute. Malcolm laid out Connie’s new plan to catch all those responsible for its theft and her parents’ untimely demise.

  “I would never have thought of anything like that,” Frank declared. “I might just bring you into Scotland Yard. That plan is sheer genius.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Connie beamed. “It came to me in a dream.”

  “I don’t care where it came from, it’s marvelous, but what will you use as the statue?”

  “I have a rather unattractive black abstract piece about the same size. It can sit covered in a black pouch,” Malcolm replied. “They’ll be none the wiser until it’s too late.”

  “Hopefully they won’t insist upon seeing it,” Edward said thoughtfully. “I suppose this means we should return to London right away?”

  “Definitely. We need everything in place,” Malcolm replied solemnly, “and remember, there’s one part of this scheme that still has to be nailed down.”

  “But I’m not worried about that at all,” Connie piped up. “It won’t be a problem at all.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but I’d be more comfortable returning to London as quickly as possible. One never knows what might happen,” Malcolm remarked. “David Manning and Josephine Mountbatten may be out of town, but Samuel Mountbatten and Roger are not. When they receive the letter they may do something unexpected.”

  “Like what?” Edith asked.

  “I don’t know,” Malcolm said, rolling his eyes, “that’s why it will be unexpected.”

  “I have to agree,” Frank said gravely. “I’ve been in this job long enough to know twists and turns happen all the time. The sooner we get everything lined up and ready to go, the better.”

  “I was hoping to stay through tomorrow night,” Connie said with a sigh, “but I know I’ll feel better once we have everything in place.”

  “Connie,” Edward began, “your idea is masterful, and I’ll do whatever I can to help. I want to bring these dreadful people to justice.”

  “Thank you, Edward. After living in the shadows for so long, I appreciate your support more than I can say.”

  “I wish I could be a fly on the wall when they receive the letters,” Frank muttered with a grin. “They won’t believe their eyes. What a shame we don’t actually have the statue!”

  “I think Malcolm and I should embark on another search,” Connie declared, starting the part of the ruse that only she and Malcolm shared. “I can think of a couple of nooks and crannies that may have been overlooked.”

  “By all means,” Frank said enthusiastically. “You should. Absolutely!”

  “Do you want to, Malcolm?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “Yes, of course. Who knows,” he replied with a wink, “we might get lucky.”

  * * *

  The small party eventually broke up, and Connie and Malcolm returned to his bedroom and found Mrs. Melville had moved in Connie’s few belongings.

  “She is such a thoughtful woman,” Connie remarked. “She must have known all along who I was, yet she couldn’t have been kinder.”

  “My staff m
ay be small in number in comparison to most, but I’ve been fortunate in finding very good people.”

  “That’s because you know good people when they cross your path.”

  “I like to think so,” he said softly, slowly unbuttoning the bodice of her gown. “I certainly knew that about you.”

  As she continued to remove her dress, allowing it to slip from her body and drop in soft folds around her feet, he glided his lips against hers, pressing lightly, then slipping his tongue between her teeth. To his surprise, she abruptly pulled away.

  “Malcolm, may I ask a favor?”

  “Any favor you want.”

  “I want to undress you.”

  “This wouldn’t be part of your challenge, would it?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she replied coyly, “but you wouldn’t deny your new wife such a request on the night of her wedding, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, and I’d love you to undress me.”

  “Wonderful. Sit on the bed and I’ll start.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  As Connie began sliding off Malcolm’s jacket, he could feel his member stirring to life. He was about to suggest she remove his trousers when he caught a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “Connie, do you have something naughty running around that very clever head of yours?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she purred, taking the coat and laying it on a nearby chair. “Thank you for wearing this ascot for me tonight,” she continued, removing the pearl pin, then untying the silk fabric and taking it from around his neck. “I think it makes you look dashing. Bow ties can be so stuffy.”

  “I’ll remember that next time I have to wear one. I’ll try to think of something that will unstuffy me.”

  “Something to unstuffy you?” she repeated with a giggle as she lowered his suspenders. “I believe I have the answer. Buy a purple one.”

  “I might just do that.”

  “Now your vest.”

  Climbing on the bed behind him, she reached around, unfastened the buttons, and sliding it down his arms, she tossed it aside.

  “Are you enjoying this?” she murmured, nuzzling his neck above the stiff shirt collar.

  “I think I’ll have to fire Baker and make you my valet,” he said softly, then abruptly turning his head, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and ardently kissed her. “Yes, definitely. Baker is gone and you’re taking his place!”

  “Let go of my hair, please, and sit straight so I can remove your shirt.”

  “Maybe I won’t fire Baker after all,” he retorted, releasing her and facing front. “He doesn’t order me around.”

  “Malcolm,” she whispered, her fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt, “I haven’t even started.”

  His shirt was open halfway down his chest before her breathy words registered. Suddenly jerking it down and trapping his arms at his sides, she hastily tied the ascot scarf around his eyes.

  “There! Blindfolded and stuck! Now you’re at my mercy for a change,” she exclaimed, laughing out loud as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backwards onto the mattress. “Now the question is, what am I going to do with you?”

  Whether by accident or design, the sleeves held him at exactly the right point. Try as he might, he couldn’t move his arms, then he realized he could pop the remaining buttons by arching his back and using his strength to push against the strain. But he did nothing.

  “No ideas?” she asked, whispering in his ear. “You said earlier you wanted me to sit on you. I think I’ll lay down on you instead!”

  “I’d be very careful if I were you,” he warned as he felt her straddle his waist.

  “Oh, Malcolm,” she purred, stretching out and rest on top of him, “of course I’ll be careful. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never do that. Have I ever told you I think you have lovely lips? They’re so thick, and I think I have to kiss them right now.”

  Tracing her fingertip around his mouth, she was planting a soft kiss when he suddenly flung his legs around her torso, pinning her against him.

  “It appears, naughty wife, we’re both trapped,” he declared as she squealed.

  Though he was unable to see anything, he could feel her urgently wriggling, but she was no match for his strong thighs.

  “Ooh, you’re squeezing the life out of me. Let me go.”

  “Is that better?” he asked, loosening his legs a tad, worried he might be holding her too tightly.

  “Thank you, yes, much better, but I’m so uncomfortable.”

  “Your arms are free, are they not?”

  “Yes, it’s just my body I can’t move.”

  “Reach up and take the scarf off my eyes.”

  “Um... I will, but only if you let me go.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation, young lady. Remove the scarf, or I’ll tighten my legs again.”

  With a grunting protest she managed to do as he asked, but her huffing and puffing made him grin.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded as he stared up at her.

  “We’re at an impasse. What do you suggest we do about this?”

  “You have to let me go. I can’t undo the rest of your buttons if you don’t.”

  “Connie, I don’t have to do anything,” he replied, lowering his voice.

  “Then, uh, I suppose we’ll just stay locked together forever,” she retorted, her eyes growing wide, blazing with challenge.

  “Didn’t you vow to love, honor, and obey?”

  She frowned.

  “It’s a yes or no question, naughty wife.”

  “I am not a naughty wife.”

  “No?”

  “No!”

  “If you’re not a naughty wife, what are you?”

  “I’m a playful wife.”

  “A distinction without a difference.”

  “Excuse me?”

  His legs suddenly released her, and bursting into laughter, she hastily climbed off his body and stood at the side of the bed.

  “I believe I won!”

  But even as the triumphant words left her lips, he raised his chest and pulled against the shirt. The buttons snapped off and flew through the air.

  “Won what exactly?” he asked, abruptly sitting up and looking at her with a wicked grin.

  “How did you do that?”

  Lunging forward and grabbing her arm, he yanked her onto the bed, rolled her onto her back, and pinned her wrists above her head.

  “Playful wife, you are about to receive your comeuppance.”

  * * *

  Connie had known Malcolm would get the better of her, but she didn’t think it would happen so quickly. With butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach, she summoned her most woeful expression.

  “Please, Malcolm, don’t spank me again. I’m still very tender.”

  “Don’t you think you should have thought of that before you decided to take me on?”

  “It was just a bit of fun.”

  “Yes,” he said with a grin, “it was just a bit of fun. You can play with me like that any time. In fact, I welcome it.”

  “So... you’re not going to spank me?”

  “Am I wrong, or is that disappointment I hear in your voice?”

  “Not disappointment,” she said hastily, “it’s surprise.”

  He paused.

  “Actually, Connie,” he murmured, securing her two tiny wrists with just one of his large hands, “I’m not going to spank you. I have something else in mind.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Fun! Isn’t that what you said? You wanted to have some fun?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Then I’m going to give it to you!”

  Climbing over her and straddling her waist, he began tickling her with his free hand.

  “Ooh, Malcolm, stop,” she shrieked, laughing as she pleaded.

  “Stop? My dear, playful wife, I’ve barely begun.”

  Releasing her wrist, he used both hands to tickle unde
r her arms, across her body, and along the sides of her ribs.

  “No, no,” she howled breathlessly, writhing and flailing as he mercilessly tortured her. “I’m sorry, please, no more.”

  “Yes, a little more. I’m enjoying myself too much to stop.”

  “You’re a beast,” she shouted, laughing hysterically as she tried to punch him. “You’re a cruel, mean beast.”

  “I can be,” he admitted, finally coming to a stop, “but I’d never be a cruel, mean beast to you.”

  “Malcolm, I love you so much,” she panted. “So very much.”

  Lowering himself onto her body, he held her head and locked her eyes.

  “And I love you, my dear wife.”

  His heart swelling with love, he kissed her with deep passion, devouring her lips as he pressed his hardness against her pelvis.

  “I want you desperately,” she breathed as he pulled back. “Please, Malcolm, take me.”

  * * *

  Hurriedly peeling off Connie’s clothes, Malcolm stood at the side of the bed and quickly stripped. His manhood rigid and ready, he was about to climb between her legs when he had a sudden thought.

  “I’ll just be a second,” he promised, leaning over her and kissing her quickly.

  Hurrying to a small writing desk against the wall near the fireplace, he reached underneath and pushed a panel releasing a secret drawer. Snatching its only contents, he returned to the bed.

  “What do you have there?”

  “Something I brought with me just for you, and you’ll find out exactly what soon enough,” he promised, leaving the items under the pillow. “Now, my beautiful bride, I’m hungry for your beautiful bosom.”

  To the sounds of her sighs and moans, he fervently sucked her nipples, kneaded the plump, soft flesh, then tongued his way up her chest to gobble her neck. As she bleated for his cock and raised her knees, he slid his hand into her womanhood.

  “So wet,” he murmured, thrusting his fingers into her channel. “So wet and so open. Ride me,” he ordered huskily, falling on his back.

  As she climbed over him, he grabbed her waist and helped her into position, then held his turgid shaft as she lowered herself down.

  “Bend over and put your hands on my shoulders, then move your hips back and forth.”