Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  She slowly bent forward, and he sensed her hesitancy. Clasping her hips, he guided her movements until her soft cries told him she was losing herself in the pleasure.

  He was too.

  Her bountiful breasts hanging so close to his face, and her hot sex wrapped around him, sent glorious waves of erotic energy through his loins. Suddenly feeling an intense desire to pummel her pussy, he ordered her to slide off him and place herself on all fours.

  “Now I shall take you.”

  He’d growled the words, and kneeling behind her, he clutched her hips and jerked her into his pelvis.

  “Yes, yes, ravage me,” she stammered breathlessly. “Ravage me hard.”

  Her prurient plea fueling his burning fever, he placed his stiff shaft at her portal and plunged forward.

  Her cry echoed through the room.

  Staying still and buried, relishing her warm, moist depths, he gazed down at her blotchy, red behind. Releasing her hips, he roughly grasped her chubby cheeks.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it, when I grab your red, punished behind?”

  “Ow, yes, Sir.”

  “But you like it, don’t you, Connie?”

  “Very much, Sir.”

  He began to stroke, slowly at first, then gathering momentum, quickening his pace as he listened to her gasps and groans.

  The minutes ticked by.

  Her utterances of pleasure grew higher in pitch, signaling her ballooning climax.

  Abruptly pausing, he leaned over her body, reached under the pillow, and closed his fingers around the hidden items.

  “Malcolm,” she mewled breathlessly, “I love this so much.”

  “I know, and you’re about to love it even more.”

  Taking a moment to press his lips on hers in a fiery kiss, he straightened up, placed the objects on the bed next to him, then grasping her waist, he thrust slowly, but forcefully, eliciting a wild cry with each stroke.

  “Please go faster,” she suddenly begged. “Please... I’m so close.”

  He smiled.

  “I will, but I need to take care of something first.”

  Picking up the tiny container, he popped open the lid, coated his finger, and pulling her left cheek to the side, he smothered her rosebud with the slick balm. Ignoring her whimper, he reached for the small phallus, placing it against her and slowly pushing it forward.

  “Malcolm, ooh...”

  “Trust me and accept it.”

  She moaned, then wriggled in protest.

  “Behave!” he said sternly, landing a sudden, hard smack.

  “Sorry, Sir. It’s just so... strange.”

  “You have to trust me and accept this.”

  Though she stopped wriggling, she moaned loudly as he continued to move the unwanted intruder in and out, continuing until it was fully embedded.

  “Malcolm, it feels so strange. Must it stay there?”

  “Yes, it must. This is the first step in your training.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.”

  Resting his thumb against the flange of the dildo, he held her waist with his free hand, and quickening his pace, he listened to her woeful moans become pleasurable cries. On the verge of his own release, he clenched his teeth as he held back his climax, but she suddenly let out a loud wail.

  Her orgasm had seized her.

  With a loud, grateful groan he surrendered to his climax, and as the scintillating ripples shuddered through his body, he closed his eyes, sinking into the glorious spasms.

  * * *

  Bathed in the fire’s golden light, their limbs entwined, they drifted on a cloud of bliss. Finally stirring, Connie let out a heavy sigh.

  “I can’t believe we’ll be going back to London in the morning. I never want to leave this place. I love it here.”

  “We’ll come back.”

  “I know, but...”

  “But this has been a special time,” he murmured. “I agree. It can never be repeated, but we’ll have other special times. Many of them.”

  “Malcolm?”

  “Yes, Connie?”

  “Do you think we can pull off this plan against Mountbatten and his cronies?”

  “There are no guarantees, but yes, I do.”

  “Even if we’re successful, they have powerful friends.”

  “Do you know what thought came into my head when you said that?”

  “I can’t imagine. Tell me.”

  “I believe you have power on your side too. A power far greater than any Mountbatten or the Duke of Hatley might have.”

  “Who do you mean?”

  “You have the truth... and whatever force is helping that brilliant mind of yours.”

  Goosebumps popped across Connie’s skin.

  “Malcolm, I believe you’re right.”

  * * *

  Surrounded by guests at the dinner table in his father’s majestic home, Roger wasn’t feeling well at all. The rat bite hadn’t healed, and in spite of the doctor’s ministrations, the pain was becoming worse. Though he nodded politely and contributed to the conversation as best he could, he suddenly felt a wave of intense nausea.

  “Uh, I’m frightfully sorry, but I’m not feeling particularly well,” he mumbled, rising unsteadily to his feet.

  “I say, you don’t look right at all,” the man next to him remarked.

  “No, I’m not,” Roger stammered. “In fact I’m—”

  Before he could finish, a stream of vomit spewed from his mouth, landing not only across the finery of the table, but on several very expensive gowns and suits. As he collapsed on the floor, his mother rushed to his side, and his father yelled at the butler to fetch a doctor.

  “Roger, Roger,” his mother moaned earnestly, trying to wipe his mouth with a serviette. “What on earth’s the matter with you?”

  “The rat,” he groaned. “It must be from that blasted rat. It poisoned me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Waking with Connie’s warm, naked body snuggled beside him, Malcolm felt deeply blessed. Wishing they had the entire morning to make long, leisurely love, he had to satisfy himself with planting soft kisses across her body, then riding her into a quick, though satisfying climax. As she sank breathless in his arms, he silently vowed they would soon find themselves alone in a sumptuous bedroom and able to dally as long they wished.

  For Connie’s plan to work, Edward and Malcolm could not be seen together, so over breakfast it was decided Frank, Edith, and Edward would travel back to London on a later train. The trip to the station was uneventful, but sitting in the compartment on their way to London, Malcolm’s mind raced. Connie’s plan was brilliant, but he was taking nothing for granted.

  “You look deep in thought,” she remarked. “Are you worried?”

  “No, I’m not worried. I’m just going through everything in my head. Connie, when you pretend to find the statue under the floorboards in the shed, I think Frank should be the one to pull it out. That will add an extra touch of authenticity. We must not forget he’s a detective.”

  “That’s a good idea. Here’s hoping the plaster of Paris comes off easily.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Malcolm said confidently, “but when I visit Kendrick this afternoon I think you should come with me. It will be easier for us to smuggle the statue back today, rather than tomorrow when Frank’s men will be around.”

  “Yes, it would, but how will we do that?”

  “As soon as we get home, we’ll break off the plaster of Paris, then I’ll tie the statue around your waist so it will be hidden under your coat.”

  “It will be awfully heavy,” she declared. “Do you think you can do that?”

  “I know about ropes, remember?” he said with a wink. “You’ll only have to carry it for a short time. You can put it back under the floorboard in the shed while I’m speaking with Kendrick.”

  “What about the broken pieces?”

  “I was thinking we should put them in your old be
droom. I’ll put them in my bag.”

  “I could say I had it there for safekeeping and I dropped it.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Malcolm declared. “Once you have the Statue of Kharute back in the shed, I’ll race to the station and fetch Frank with the great news that you found it.”

  “That’s the first part of the plan worked out. I’m glad we’re doing it all today.”

  “I think you being there will help me with Kendrick as well.”

  “Dear Kendrick,” she said with a yawn. “I hold him no ill will. I cannot wait to ease the conscience of that poor man.”

  “Are you tired?”

  “Apparently I am,” she replied with a sigh.

  “It was a very exciting couple of days. Why don’t you lean back and relax for the remainder of the journey.”

  Taking his advice, she closed her eyes and let the train lull her into a doze, but it seemed only a short time passed before Malcolm gently shook her shoulder.

  “Connie, we’re pulling into the station.”

  “Already,” she mumbled, squinting as she looked out the window. “Goodness, that went fast.”

  “Do your best to keep your head down until we’re in the carriage. I know if a policeman stops you it will only be to tell you all is well, but he might want to take you to the station and make it official. We can’t afford to spend any time doing something like that,” he said, as the train squeaked loudly to a stop. ““I was thinking, when we get home I’ll duck in quickly and grab the statue, then we’ll go directly to your house. Is that all right with you?”

  “Absolutely. The sooner we take care of things, the better.”

  The door was opened, they climbed from the car, and were quickly joined by Mrs. Melville and Baker.

  “I’ll see to your bags and a carriage right away, sir,” Baker said.

  “Thank you, Baker. “

  “Of course, sir,” he replied, turning and hurrying off.

  “Do you need anything from me?” Mrs. Melville asked.

  “No, thank you,” Connie replied, “and I won’t be getting changed when we get home. Mr. Mead and I have an errand, so we’ll only be there for a short time, then leaving again.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” Mrs. Melville replied. “I’ll mention it to Baker on the way home.”

  As the housekeeper walked off at a fast clip to catch up with the valet, Malcolm scanned the platform. There were no policemen loitering, and he saw no one paying them any attention. Starting forward, he noticed Connie kept her head down, but he could see her eyes keeping a sharp lookout for anyone she might know. Leaving the platform and moving through the crowded station house, he quickened their pace. Just a short distance ahead he could see Baker and the safety of the carriage.

  “Malcolm!”

  Connie’s alarmed whisper was accompanied by a tug on his sleeve.

  “What it is?”

  But she had already turned and was walking quickly toward a tearoom. Hurrying after her, he caught up as she stopped and pretended to read a notice in the window.

  “Connie, what is it?”

  “You won’t believe this,” she whispered urgently. “I just saw Josephine Mountbatten and David Manning.”

  “What? Are you sure? Where?”

  “It was definitely them. They were following a porter out to the street with a great deal of luggage.”

  “Did they notice you?”

  “No, they were too busy, but they would have if we’d continued to the carriage.”

  “What a stroke of luck,” he muttered. “That means they’ll be with the earl. We don’t have to worry about a letter reaching them out in the country.”

  “It appears fate is on our side once again.”

  “It is indeed. We’ll wait until they’ve had enough time to leave. The minute I get home I’ll write the notes and take them over to my lawyer’s office for delivery, then you and I will head off to your home. Are you sure you’re all right going back there?”

  “I admit the thought of walking inside does make my heart pump a bit, but, yes! I do want to go. I want to go very much.”

  * * *

  Kendrick had never come to terms with the choice he’d made many weeks before. It had been late at night when a man flashing a badge and identifying himself as Detective Hackworth had knocked on the door. He’d demanded to speak to anyone who had witnessed anything unusual from the house next door.

  Upset and anxious, Kendrick had described a woman’s scream, and seeing a tall intruder rush into the Cliffords’ backyard, grab a shovel, then run back inside. What the detective had said in response sent a chill through Kendrick’s entire being.

  “Repeat what you just told me to anyone, and I’ll arrest you and the housekeeper here for theft. Mavis Parker I believe is her name. I’ll make sure you’ll both end up disgraced and in prison. Do I make myself clear?”

  A threat to himself Kendrick might have risked, but he could not put his dear friend in such grave peril. He’d known the woman for over a decade, but when he’d heard Constance had been accused of her parents’ murder, he had weakened. He adored the baron’s daughter. Bright, cheerful, and kindly, he’d known her since she was a young girl. Following several fitful nights with no sleep, he’d decided to bring Mavis into his confidence and report the incident to his employer.

  Then Kendrick heard Constance had disappeared.

  He’d decided to hold fire.

  He’d found no peace living in the dark shadow of his silence, but he had learned to live with it... until Mr. Malcolm Mead had arrived and asked to view the Cliffords’ house. The heavy burden resurfaced, becoming almost too much to bear.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon. Kendrick was supervising the cleaning of the ornate silver candelabra when he heard the bell. Moving through the house and opening the door, he found Mr. Mead carrying a rather large satchel, accompanied by a young lady standing behind him. Her head was down, but a pang of pain sliced through Kendrick’s heart. Though he couldn’t see her very well, something about her reminded him of Constance.

  “Mr. Mead,” he managed, trying not to stare at her. “You wish to see the Clifford house again?”

  “Indeed. I hope it’s not inconvenient.”

  “No, sir, not at all. I’ll fetch the key,” Kendrick replied, moving to the hall tree and lifting it from a china bowl. “It might interest you to know,” he continued, “I heard from the agent. He’s due back in a few days.”

  “Thank you for telling me, and yes, that is of great interest.”

  The young woman had left and entered the front yard of the Clifford home, but she was gazing up to the second floor, and her back was to him. Moving out into the street and up to the front door, he unlocked it and held it open. Mr. Mead guided the young woman ahead of them, but she continued to stare at the floor, and the brim of her hat concealed her features.

  “Feel free to remain as long as you need to, sir,” Kendrick said, wishing she would raise her head so he could steal a quick glance.

  “Kendrick, could you please stay a moment?”

  “Certainly, sir. My household is quiet at the moment. How may I be of help?”

  “Actually, it would be me you’d be helping,” Connie said softly, lifting her eyes to meet his.

  “Miss Clifford. My goodness,” Kendrick stammered. “I’m at a loss. I thought it was you on the step, but I told myself that was impossible. How well you look. Heavens above! I’m just so pleased to see you, but is it safe? Of course I’ll help you. I’ll help you however I can.”

  “I’m sure you have many questions,” Malcolm interjected, “and we will answer them all, but you needn’t worry, Constance is quite safe. She’s been cleared, but the terrible business is not yet over. That’s why we’re here. Shall we go into the front room, remove the sheets from the couches and sit down?”

  “An excellent suggestion, sir. I would be grateful. I’m quite taken aback.”

  * * *r />
  With the dust covers off, Malcolm and Connie sat on one couch with Kendrick across from them on another. Though Malcolm could see Kendrick was uncomfortable sitting in the presence of a gentleman and a baron’s daughter, the butler was unnerved, and he needed to be off his feet.

  “Kendrick, I’m going to make this as easy for you as I possibly can,” Malcolm began. “I’m aware a man calling himself Detective Hackworth threatened you into silence following the death of the baron and his wife.”

  Kendrick’s frown grew deeper, and for a moment Malcolm thought he might actually cry.

  “I’m so terribly sorry, Miss Clifford,” Kendrick said woefully. “I have struggled and lost endless nights of sleep from that dreadful decision. I was about to risk confiding in my employer, but the very day I’d made up my mind to do so, I heard you had disappeared. I wanted so badly to speak up. I’ve held nothing but the fondest of feelings for you through these many years.”

  “Kendrick, I don’t blame you one bit. You were forced into an impossible situation. I know Hackworth didn’t just threaten you, he threatened Mavis as well.”

  “Yes, he did. I would have put myself at risk, but Mavis...”

  “We understand,” Malcolm continued, “but the truth is, Hackworth wasn’t with the police at all. Detective Poole provided him with the badge.”

  “He did? I’m astounded. How? I mean, why? Silly questions, please excuse me. I honestly cannot believe what I’m hearing.”

  “I’ll get right to the point,” Malcolm said, lowering his voice and looking at Kendrick intently. “Would you like to be involved in the capture of the men behind all this?”

  “Very much, sir, very much indeed,” Kendrick said earnestly. “Do you know who they are?”

  “We do. The case was reopened a while ago and I’m working with the new detective in charge, but with no witnesses, and so much time passing since that night, it’s been difficult for him.”

  “He has a witness now! Tell me where I can give my statement and I will.”

  “That would be extremely helpful, but the man behind it all is an American, and we have nothing solid on him. However,” Malcolm said, pausing dramatically, “we have concocted a scheme to trap him and everyone else involved. Kendrick, if you’re willing, we would very much like your help. Your role will be pivotal.”