Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  In the drawing room after dinner, Connie’s parents and Malcolm were discussing Stephen Beaumont’s suggestions regarding the rest of their story, while Connie was idly turning the pages of the paper.

  “My gosh, listen to this,” she suddenly exclaimed. “A former detective named William Poole has been fished from the Thames. He had been arrested for corruption and was awaiting trial, but escaped from the local jail late last night. His body is reported to be badly battered and his death is under investigation.”

  “Heavens!” Margaret muttered. “That dreadful detective may have escaped his cell, but he didn’t escape his comeuppance.”

  “That’s odd,” Malcolm remarked. “Frank didn’t mention anything about Poole when he was here this afternoon. Perhaps he didn’t know.” But a moment later it dawned on him. The detective didn’t want to burden him with the disturbing news of Poole’s escape, or upset the peace Connie and her parents had finally found.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Connie declared. “He’s dead now. The last evil villain of the group has met his maker.”

  “Do you realize Roger Witherspoon, David Manning, my brother, and possibly Detective Poole all passed away last evening?” Arthur said. “I find that most interesting.”

  “And Roger jumping out of his window,” Connie’s mother murmured, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine it. He always seemed such a reserved young man. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have the courage to do such a thing.”

  “This is finally over,” Connie said with a heavy sigh.

  “Now the good part is just beginning,” her mother remarked with a smile. “It’s time for us to start planning your wedding.”

  “Indeed,” Arthur declared, but Malcolm immediately noticed he was wearing a frown. “To that end—”

  “Oh, no,” Connie said sharply, cutting him off. “Whenever you start something with to that end, it means you’re going to say something I won’t like—though I’m so happy you’re here I don’t think I’ll mind a bit, whatever it is.”

  “Thank you, my dear. Malcolm, as much as my wife and I are most grateful for your hospitality, we want to go home.”

  “When?” Connie asked urgently.

  “Tomorrow morning, sweetheart,” her mother replied. “All our clothes are there, just as yours are. I want to get the house back in order right away.”

  “But what about staff? Who’s going to cook and clean?”

  “Last night Kendrick told us most of our servants have been working for Matthew. I’m sure they’ll be eager to come back.”

  “We intend to visit his home first thing,” Arthur declared. “I have no doubt by the end of the day our house will be cleaned, the kitchen will be humming, and things will be getting organized.”

  “Then I wish to be married tomorrow!” Connie exclaimed.

  “Connie,” Malcolm said solemnly, “it takes time to get a license. Quite a bit of time.”

  “Actually,” Arthur began, “my second cousin is a bishop. I’m sure he’d be delighted to oblige us with a license, and perform the ceremony as well. If we keep the guest list small, I’m sure we can organize everything in a few days.”

  “Excellent,” Malcolm said, immediately brightening up, “and we can have the wedding here. I’ll bring in extra help if need be!”

  “Wonderful,” Connie beamed. “The sooner the better.”

  They spent the remainder of the evening discussing the arrangements, then everyone retired to the chambers. Weary but thrilled about the pending nuptials, Connie and Malcolm climbed into bed, but as she kissed him urgently, he didn’t respond as he normally would.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Your parents are just down the hall, and we’ve spent the night talking about our wedding, as though we’re not already married. I feel awkward.”

  “But tomorrow I’ll be going back with them,” Connie bleated. “We won’t be together again for a whole week. Remember what you said last night?”

  “God willing, there will never come a night we won’t sleep in each other’s arms. Perhaps I spoke too soon,” he said with a sigh, but seconds later a devilish grin curled his lips. “Connie, you’ll be here with your mother almost every day. There’s nothing stopping us from catching time alone in daylight hours. Doing that will feel very different to the way I’m feeling now. Hold your kisses, my love. They will be welcomed and returned with fiery passion very soon.”

  “Ooh, Malcolm...”

  So began a hectic week of illicit encounters.

  Connie would slip away to dash around the house in search of Malcolm. Whenever possible they’d devour each other, their cries hushed, and their garments left on. Though he wouldn’t risk the sound of his slapping hand, he kept the small clothes brush in his pocket, and didn’t hesitate to quickly heat up her backside when he felt it was needed.

  Edith threw herself into helping with the arrangements, making copious notes in preparation for the planning of her own wedding to Edward in a few months. One afternoon, running into her as she was about to leave, Malcolm asked her to join him in his study for a quick chat.

  “Do you need my help selecting a gift? You are getting Connie something, aren’t you?”

  “Of course! This has nothing to do with Connie. I’ve been wanting to ask you about the dungeons at Flemming Hall and I keep forgetting. Tell me, why are they so clean?”

  “If you ever accepted Mother’s invitations to join us you’d know all about it, but you’ve been living like a hermit.”

  “With Connie as my wife that’s about to change, but please tell me.”

  “Mother uses that dungeon for novelty dinner parties. You know it’s closer to the kitchen than the dining hall.” Then abruptly pausing, she broke into a cheeky smile and shook her finger at him. “Malcolm! You thought something wicked was going on down there. What a bad boy you are!”

  “You can go now, Edith.”

  “Where are you taking Connie for your honeymoon?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because if you’re going back to Flemming Hall, you should know the door to the dungeon can’t be locked, and it’s cleaned every other day.”

  “Goodbye, Edith.”

  “Goodbye, Malcolm. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

  Malcolm kept his face serious until she’d left, then chuckled and sent her a silent thank you. He intended to take Connie back to Flemming Hall for their wedding night, and he had planned to visit the dungeon for some naughtiness. If the spirit moved him, he’d use the secret room instead.

  * * *

  Mary Hackworth and her son Jack moved into Malcolm’s home the day before the wedding. Mary was thrilled to help with last-minute arrangements, and learned she would be tasked with moving Connie’s clothes and precious belongings into Malcolm’s house while they were away on their honeymoon.

  Though Jack was beside himself with excitement to be a page boy, when the time came, he performed his job with the utmost solemnity. Edward was Malcolm’s best man, and Edith stood beside Connie. Frank attended with his wife, and several of Margaret and Arthur’s closest friends were invited.

  So was Kendrick.

  As the day drew to a close, and Malcolm and Connie were getting ready to leave, Kendrick approached Connie carrying a small box.

  “Thank you so much for coming, Kendrick.”

  “I’m truly honored you invited me. I wish you and Mr. Mead the greatest happiness,” he said, handing her the gift. “I’m not sure when our paths might cross again, but I hope they do.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “A distant cousin in Scotland, a man I spent a great deal of time with as a young boy, has passed away and left me a remarkable inheritance. He lived in a castle. It’s not a big castle, but it is a rather special place. It’s near a village, and sits above a loch.”

  “Kendrick! That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

  “I’m looking forward to this change immensely, though how I fell into such good fortun
e is beyond me.”

  “No one deserves it more, and thank you for the gift.”

  He paused, and a slight flush crossed his face.

  “When you were a little girl,” he said, lowering his voice, “I would often run into you in the park with your nanny.”

  “I remember it well. You always had a little toy horse with you. Bobbin. That was his name.”

  “Yes, well, Bobbin is alive and well, and he’s in that box.”

  “Kendrick! I shall treasure him. Thank you.”

  “I thought perhaps one day, you’ll have a little girl of your own and she will enjoy him too.”

  “You touch me deeply,” she murmured, tears brimming, “and I shall miss you. Please promise me you’ll stay in touch.”

  “Indeed I will. I’m very complimented you would ask me to.”

  “You look deep in conversation,” Malcolm declared, walking up and joining them.

  “Kendrick has just given me a wonderful gift. I’ll tell you about it later, and his amazing news.”

  “I look forward to it, but our carriage awaits, Mrs. Mead.”

  “Goodbye, Kendrick.”

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Mead, Mr. Mead, and all my very best for your future life together.”

  * * *

  With winter fast approaching it wasn’t the time to journey to Europe, though Malcolm planned an extended trip in the spring. Wanting to be alone with Connie and left undisturbed, he had sent word to the Hendersons asking for the cabin to be cleaned and stocked with provisions for two days, then he and his wife would return to his private quarters for the remainder of their visit.

  Longing to be naked and back in each other’s arms, the train seemed to take forever. When the carriage finally arrived at Flemming Hall, Malcolm ordered the footman to leave their bags inside the door of the main house to be collected later. Sweeping Connie off her feet, he carried her across the lawn and through the forest at a fast clip. The cold wind whistled above their heads, and a light rain began to fall, but as they entered the cottage they were greeted by a low, warm fire.

  “Now, Mrs. Mead, I have you at my mercy,” he declared, marching through the living area into the bedroom.

  “Yes, please,” she groaned, her arms clinging around his neck. “Do with me what you will.”

  Tossing her on the bed, he hastily removed her clothes, tore off his own, then leapt on top of her.

  “How I’ve missed you,” she bleated. “Every night I—”

  But his lips smothered hers, cutting her off in a crushing kiss as his large hands traveled over her body, roughly kneading her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and squeezing her inner thighs.

  “I’m going to take you hard,” he growled, moving his mouth to her ear, “but first...”

  Suddenly straightening up, he jerked her over his lap and landed a hard smack.

  “Malcolm! What are you doing?”

  “Don’t you know why I’m going to spank you before I ravage you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Sir!” he scolded, landing another.

  “Not really, Sir.”

  “You promised Frank, and more important, you promised me, you wouldn’t leave your room the night of the auction.”

  “Ooh, Sir. I talked to the constable and—”

  “I know all about that. You convinced him watching you would be enough. As you learned, there was a very important reason Frank instructed you to stay in your room, but you decided you knew better. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I should have done as I was told, Sir.”

  “What else?”

  “I should be punished. Please, Sir, will you spank me for being willful?”

  “Indeed I shall. A spanking you won’t soon forget.”

  His hand rose and fell with force and speed, traveling across the width and breadth of her naked bottom. Scolding her as he spanked, he warned her he expected better in the days ahead.

  “You’re going over my knee once a week!” he promised, continuing to spank her vigorously. “That’s what I’ll do with you until I know you’re able to control your childish defiance.”

  She yelped and squealed to no avail, but as abruptly as he began, he stopped, then moved her back on the bed and brought her into his arms.

  “My goodness,” she said breathlessly, “I didn’t expect that!”

  “You thought there’d be no consequences?”

  “Once that night was over I didn’t think about it at all.”

  “You will next time, won’t you, Connie.”

  “I hope there’ll never be a next time like that!”

  “You know exactly what I mean, cheeky girl,” he quipped, moving his hand to her bottom and squeezing her hot cheeks, “don’t you?”

  “Ouch, yes, Sir, I do.”

  “My lovely wife, you are far too clever and naughty, but I confess I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” he murmured, sliding his finger between her legs. “And always so wet.”

  “Take me... please...?”

  Diving his mouth to her breasts, he ravenously sucked her nipples as he pumped her channel with his long thick fingers, then rolling on top of her, he grabbed her hips, pulled them into his pelvis, placed his rigid rod in position and plunged forward.

  * * *

  Letting out a joyous wail, Connie closed her eyes and surrendered to his powerful piston. He pumped vigorously, his hands tightly clutching her waist, holding her still as he quickened his pace, bringing her to the brink, then slowing down to artfully tease her.

  Without warning, he pulled himself out and flipped her over.

  “Now I’m going to possess you!”

  Erotic excitement rippled through her body.

  She knew what he meant, but she didn’t know if she was ready.

  His fingers dug into her left buttock and pulled it aside.

  “My cock is covered in your wetness. It should be enough. If it isn’t I have a bottle of slick oil hidden away.”

  With his manhood still buried deeply inside her, he pushed his thumb into her dark portal. Though she gasped, she felt no desire to resist.

  “Good girl,” he muttered, his voice husky. “Now a finger. Relax and accept it.”

  Taking a breath, she let it out as he pressed forward, then sucked in several more as he moved the intruder in and out.

  “You’ll be rewarded for being such a good girl. Perhaps that hard spanking is already having an impact,” he remarked, removing his finger and placing his cock at her forbidden hole. “I’m going in now, Connie, and I expect you to take me... all of me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Though her heart raced, and her stomach somersaulted, she continued taking in the long, deep breaths, telling herself to relax as he slowly immersed himself inside her back channel.

  “Now you are mine,” he growled. “I own you properly and completely. I told you I would possess you, and now I do. Can you feel it?”

  “Yes, Malcolm, so much,” she mewled as he began to thrust. “Ooh, you’re filling me. I feel so...”

  Consumed by the overwhelming sensations, her voice failed her, and all thought evaporated. There was only his pounding cock, her thundering heart, and the slow, purposeful swelling of an almighty orgasm.

  Time stopped.

  It could have been five minutes, or ten, or twenty. His hard palm occasionally slapped her stinging backside, but it was a delicious pain.

  A sharp, unexpected pinch nipped her clit.

  The giant climax, hovering over her like a huge wave, began to crest.

  A second pinch.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  The third.

  Scintillating sparks gushed through her being. He was calling her name, but she could barely hear him over her rapturous cries. The crackling sensations repeatedly washed over her, then suddenly he was holding her, his hands were in her hair, and his lips were planting kisses across her face.

  “You are forever mine,” he whispered, �
��my beautiful, naughty wife.”

  “As you are forever mine, Malcolm Mead, my handsome, heroic husband.”

  Epilogue

  Frank returned the Statue of Kharute to the museum by himself and with no fanfare. Standing in the curator’s office, he thought the man was about to burst into tears. His name was Bernard Covington, and for the first few minutes he just stared at the priceless relic unable to speak.

  “I am quite beside myself,” he finally managed. “You were right to come here quietly as you did. No one knew. It kept the statue out of danger.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Detective, I don’t know if you’re happy at Scotland Yard, but I’d like to offer you a position here. We need a man like you, and I can promise you an excellent salary.”

  Frank’s first reaction was to turn him down, but as Bernard talked about what the job entailed, the more tempting it became.

  “You’ll also deal directly with Buckingham Palace,” the curator said proudly. “The royal family often lends us works of art. I’ve never been happy with our security arrangements, and the man in charge is always so nervous he makes everyone jumpy.”

  “I’m very flattered, Mr. Covington,” Frank said gratefully. “I’d like to accept your offer, but it’s a big step and I must discuss it with my wife. I promise I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Detective. Thank you very much indeed.”

  But Frank already knew how thrilled she would be, and as much as he enjoyed working with his fellow officers, he had seen enough of the darker side of man’s nature to last him the rest of his days.

  * * *

  One week later Connie and Malcolm returned to London. While Malcolm had avoided social commitments in the past, he was now looking forward to arriving at the finest homes with Connie on his arm.

  Her first order of business was to sort through her clothes—deciding what to keep and what to donate to charity—so she could embark on her great shopping expedition with Malcolm. The chore lasted three days, and there was great excitement as the carriage transported Malcolm, Connie, and Mary to Harrods.