The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (17 page)

Lord Denby looked nervous. “Is he?”

“I heard he once shot the pips out of a playing card by candlelight, missing not one,” Helena assured him.

“Well, then perhaps I will not call him out, though I would like to teach the lout a lesson. What would you have me do?”

“I did not ask you here to punish Lord Wroxton. But what happened has made me realize that your plot some years ago worked far better than I thought it would.”

“Miss Keighley, I know what I did was wrong, but I must plead that I was driven mad by my love for you,” protested Lord Denby. “You would have none of me, and I was desperate to make you mine.”

Helena suppressed a shiver of revulsion. “I thought some other man would understand that I was yet a virtuous woman, but now I realize my reputation was irreparably harmed. If I ever wish to leave my brother’s home, to be a wife and a mother, I must consider your suit.”

Lord Denby looked pleased. “I would be delighted were you to accept my offer of marriage. I can obtain a special license immediately.”

Helena’s eyes widened. “No, not yet,” she said quickly. “I am still not sure I can forgive you for your actions in the past.”

“What can I do to convince you I love you?”

Helena bit her lip and tried to look maidenly. “Perhaps we can start again?”

“Start again?” echoed Denby. “From the beginning?”

Helena cast her eyes down modestly. “If you indeed love me and wish to protect me from the advances of wicked men such as Lord Wroxton, you must earn my trust and respect.”

“I can do that after we are married. The results will be the same no matter what, will they not?”

Helena summoned up a vision of a very silly woman she had known as a child and tittered. “You must humor me, my lord. I fear that I, as a mere woman, still harbor thoughts of romance.”

“Ah. Romance.” Denby looked perplexed. “You wish me to woo you?”

Helena, having run out of nonsensical phrases about courtship, merely nodded.

“But if we marry now, I will be able to honor you as my wife. You might enjoy that. I know I would.” He leered at her, and to Helena’s horror, he advanced on her and took her in his arms.

“My lord, we are not alone—the servants and others are about,” she protested, pushing at his shoulders and turning her face away. Her eyes widened as she saw over Denby’s shoulder the panel by the fireplace open a crack, and Malcolm’s face appeared in it. He looked extremely displeased.

“No, don’t,” she said before she thought.

“But my dear, you must let me convince you,” said Lord Denby, trying to fit his fingers around her chin so he could turn he face toward his.

Helena saw Malcolm’s hand close around the edge of the panel and prepare to slide it open, and she decided she had to make an end to the little scene. She brought her slipper-clad heel down sharply on Lord Denby’s foot with all her strength. Lord Denby released her and staggered back with a muttered oath.

“Oh, my lord, I am so sorry,” Helena cooed. “I was so startled I scarce knew what I was doing. You must forgive me.”

As Denby leaned over to inspect his foot, Helena frantically gestured at Malcolm to return to the priest hole. With a scowl, he retreated, sliding the panel almost closed, though she noted with dismay that he left it open a crack. Clearly, he had no intention of leaving her to Denby’s ministrations.

“Blast it, that hurt,” said Denby.

“How clumsy of me,” purred Helena. “You took me quite by surprise. You must know, above all people, how very inexperienced I am. I scarcely know what to do when a man offers me affection.”

Denby looked up to see her gazing at him innocently. He sighed.

“Very well, Miss Keighley. I shall court you.”

Helena tried her best to look grateful. “Oh, thank you, Lord Denby,” she murmured. “I am so honored.”

There was a small silence. “How shall I go about it?”

Helena blinked. “I—I suppose you should call on me again tomorrow,” she said brightly. “We can—we can stroll in the garden.”

“That sounds delightful.” Lord Denby sounded a bit grim. “Until tomorrow, Miss Keighley.”

“Until tomorrow.”

Denby possessed himself of her hand rather gingerly and pressed a kiss to it before turning to leave the room, limping slightly. Helena rolled her eyes and gave a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him, and then ran to the hearth, where she turned the quince and waited for the panel to slide back.

“You are impossible,” she said as it moved. “You almost ruined everything.”

She gazed into the dark space, astonished. Malcolm was nowhere to be seen.

Helena stood transfixed, staring into the empty priest’s hole. “Malcolm?” she called. “Where are you?”

Silence greeted her, and she stepped into the cavity, looking around anxiously. She smelled a whiff of smoke, then noticed the open tinderbox on the floor. She smiled slightly, as she recalled leaving it there as a child, along with candle stubs she had begged from the housekeeper. Clearly Malcolm had lit a candle, but how he had managed to disappear she had no idea.

“Malcolm?” she called again.

“Yes?”

She jumped, tapping her head on the ceiling of the cubbyhole as the voice came from behind her. She turned to see Malcolm lounging in the door of the drawing room, a satisfied grin on his face.

“What—” she said.

“What indeed,” he replied. “What in the hell were you getting up to with Denby?”

“I am trying to find out what his role is in the smuggling ring,” she said.

“It looked to me as though you were trying to fight off a lecher,” Malcolm observed. “My only consolation is that you respond to me far more prettily than to him.”

Helena flushed. “I have no interest in Lord Denby, as you well know. But this is our only hope to gather information.”

“I could beat it out of him in minutes,” he observed. “You sell me short, Helena.”

“There is no need to resort to violence—” Helena began.

“Nor is there a need for you to subject yourself to the insults of man such as Denby,” said Malcolm. “I very nearly came out of that damn priest hole and punched him. But it appears you can fend for yourself.”

She gave a gurgle of laughter. “You see, my lord, I am not completely defenseless.”

“I don’t like it,” he said flatly. “I won’t have you putting yourself at risk like this.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Malcolm tilted his head and considered her statement. “I wonder if I can.”

“How did you get out of the priest’s hole?” asked Helena, eager to turn the topic.

He stepped into the room and grinned at her. “Yes, I thought that might surprise you. It certainly shocked poor Chalmers when I came through the hall again.”

Helena was unable to suppress her laughter. Malcolm grinned at her smugly.

“But how did you get out of the hole?” she demanded.

“I knew there had to be another way out,” he said. “Since you were determined to embroil yourself with Denby, and I had no stomach for watching it, I set about finding the other exit. Your tinderbox and candles from years ago were a great help, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed Helena.

“There’s a false back on the cubbyhole. It didn’t take long to find it.”

“Truly?” she said, entranced.

“Truly. Shall I show you?”

Malcolm held out his hand, and Helena, after pausing a moment, placed her own in it. He led her to the fireplace and, giving her a conspiratorial glance, turned the quince. The panel slid open, and Malcolm led her into the tiny opening.

“The people who built these were very clever. They created this outer space, knowing that if it was found and was empty, the searchers would stop. But there is another way out.” He slid his fingers along the back wall of the cavity. “There is a hidden catch here,” he said, pausing to show it to Helena. He lifted it, and the wall became a door, hinging silently out and revealing a dark tunnel, barely wide enough for one person, heading into the walls of Keighley Manor.

“Where does it go?” she asked, peering into the gloom.

“I’ll show you.” Malcolm winked at her and lit another of the candle stubs that were strewn on the floor. “Did you never have a full sized candle?” he asked teasingly.

“The housekeeper counted them! She saw no reason why a child would need a candle, and of course she thought I would burn the house down if she gave me one.”

“This will do for now. But if you mean me to hide in there often, I expect better amenities.”

He took her hand and led her into the passage. It was pitch black and smelled of old wood and stone.

“I had no idea this was here,” said Helena.

“No, I imagine it’s been forgotten over the years. The occupants of Keighley Manor have had no reason to hide of late. It’s full of cobwebs; it must be a century or more since anyone has been in here.”

“How very clever of you to find it.”

“I’ve had some experience with these sorts of things.”

“When?”

“Oh, here and there,” Malcolm replied casually. “There was this castle in Germany—well, it hardly matters.”

Helena was about to demand more information, but he spoke again. “Be careful, there are stairs now. They are narrow, but seemed to be sturdy enough when I went up them before. Whoever built this did good work.”

They climbed the stairs slowly, Malcolm going first, holding the candle high. At the top of the stairs was a door; he turned the handle and opened it a crack, peering out.

“All seems to be clear,” he said and, pushing it open, stepped out. Helena followed him, looking around.

“The Queen’s Room,” she said in surprise.

“The what?”

“The story is that when Queen Elizabeth visited Kent she stayed at Keighley Manor. I have no idea if it is true; there were not enough nights in her life for her to have slept everywhere the claim is made. But we still call the room by her name.”

Malcolm looked around the elegantly appointed bedroom. “It’s quite lovely. She must have been pleased. I wonder if she had company.”

“The Virgin Queen?” asked Helena.

“Yes, the Virgin Queen. “I wonder who her lover was when she was here. Leicester? Essex?”

He turned and closed the door they had come through; Helena noted that it disappeared into the ornately carved paneling without a trace. She walked over and let her fingers trail along the wall, seeking the secret to opening it.

“It’s here.” Malcolm had joined her, and she could feel the warmth of his body as he stood behind her, almost touching her. He reached over her shoulder and pressed a cunningly rendered wooden leaf; the door opened a sliver, just enough to slide a finger in and pull it open.

“But we have no need of it now,” he said, gently pushing it closed again. He wrapped an arm around Helena’s waist and pulled her back against him so she could feel his growing hardness against her bottom. She gave a little sigh.

“She had red hair too,” said Malcolm softly in her ear.

“Who did?”

“Elizabeth.” One of his hands splayed across her stomach, while with the other he moved a ringlet aside so he could press a kiss to the side of her neck. “I wonder if Leicester—or Essex—came to her through that passage. Her ladies would have prepared her for bed, or course, but then she would have dismissed them and sat alone in that enormous bed, anticipating, hungry for him. And then, after a little time of waiting, the door would swing open and he would be there, ready to pleasure his queen.”

Helena closed her eyes as Malcolm’s lips travelled across the back of her neck, leaving a tiny trail of fire, and his hand inched up her stomach to cup her breast. His thumb lightly teased at her nipple, which already strained against the bodice of her dress.

“I’m sure you’re more beautiful than Elizabeth ever was,” he continued. “And while I am assuredly no Robert Dudley, I can still make you a very happy woman.”

Helena groaned deep in her throat and allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder as his hand slid around to cup her other breast, his fingers gently teasing at them, building pleasurable sensations within her.

“I wonder how one made love to a queen regnant,” Malcolm said idly. “Did you have to ask her permission?” He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss Helena’s cheek. “Your majesty, may I undo your bodice?”

“Will you stop thinking about Elizabeth?” said Helena crossly.

“Oh, I’m not thinking about Elizabeth, believe me,” he assured her. “I’m thinking of you, and how magnificent you are. Also how pleased I am that passage opened into a bedroom, and that you asked me to show you where it went.”

He slid a hand slowly down her stomach until he reached the juncture of her thighs, which he lightly cupped through the thin fabric of her skirt. Helena moved against him, seeking greater contact.

“Are you wet yet?” he asked conversationally. “You seem very eager. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I—I don’t know,” panted Helena. She moved her bottom against him, seeking relief from the coiling tension in her body.

“You must learn to tell me what makes you happy,” said Malcolm. “Yesterday you were so lovely, and it all happened so quickly. I took you hastily because I had been wanting to since I first kissed you. But today, you will tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know how to say it,” Helena ground out, frustration in her voice. Her hand slid down his arm to where he still cupped her, and she pulled him more tightly against her, grinding against him as the tantalizing pressure built.

“You don’t always need words,” whispered Malcolm. “You have just told me very plainly what you want.”

The hand that had been slowly teasing at her breast reached down and lifted her skirt, revealing the long white length of her legs. “Here, hold them up for me,” he urged, and she clutched at the billowing muslin that frothed around them.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, watch.”

Helena looked down, mesmerized, as Malcolm’s hand floated over the fiery curls he had revealed between her legs. He slowly stroked them, then slid further, parting her tender flesh until he touched what seemed to her to be the very center of her being. She gave a tiny gasp of relief.

“I asked if you were wet. Shall we see?”

Helena gave a little nod and he allowed his hand to drift farther.

“I think you must be,” he whispered. “As I said before, you seem very eager.”

So slowly that Helena felt she might scream with frustration, he slid a finger into her. She clenched around him immediately, seeking to draw him in further.

“Ah, I was right, darling.” He moved his finger in a gentle rhythm as his thumb plucked at the core of her. “I think you can take another, don’t you?”

When she said nothing, he paused, his hand stilling. “Tell me.”

“Yes, I think I can,” she said in a small voice. “Please.”

“You say that very sweetly. You deserve a reward.” Malcolm kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear and then, again with tantalizing slowness, a second finger sank into her, moving in that seductive undulation that made her think she must go mad.

“Is that enough?” he asked. “Or do you want more?”

She gave a tiny gasp of anticipation. “More, please.”

He nipped at her ear. “Are you still watching?”

She nodded.

“I want you to watch so that you can see how beautiful you are.” With exquisite tenderness, he slid a third finger into her, spreading her slightly, moving across her slick surfaces gently, building her fires ever higher. “I can’t wait until I have my cock inside you,” he growled in her ear. “You are the warmest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his words, and then he raised his thumb and stroked the pearl that nestled just above his hand as he nipped simultaneously at the nape of her neck. Helena gave a cry as the wave of passion she had been riding crested and she gave herself up to the pulsing that crashed over her. Malcolm held her trembling against him as her knees grew weak.

Some moments passed and Helena stirred slightly in his grip. He slid his fingers out of her, but they continued to tangle gently in her downy curls.

“That was lovely,” he said. “You are lovely.”

She tried to shake her head, but he slid a hand up her neck, tilting her head back against him, holding her still.

“Never deny this,” he said simply. “Neither of us can.”

She rested a moment, her breath slowly returning to normal, and then Malcolm turned her in his arms. “Now, my dear, I want to feel you around me. I believe I mentioned that, and you found the notion very pleasing. I need to be inside you, and soon.”

He took her hand, guiding it to the front of his breeches. Helena cupped him, and then allowed her wandering fingers to trace the outline of his erection as she felt him swell and lengthen further. She sighed her approval.

“This dress is lovely, but I really think it must come off.” Malcolm’s hands moved quickly over the fastenings of her gown as he slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall into a puddle of muslin on the carpet. Her chemise followed it, and he cupped her breasts in his hands, delicately rubbing the swollen pink tips before taking one in his mouth, where his tongue teased it to a point. Helena moaned, and her hand tightened over him.

Malcolm raised his head and looked down at her, one hand gently squeezing the taut crest of a breast until she felt a shock of desire shoot through her body.

“Do you want more of that?” he asked.

She nodded.

“It’s yours,” he promised.

Helena glanced down and tentatively undid his breeches, slipping her hand inside to feel the smoothness of his silky skin over the demanding hardness. She stroked her hand up and down, feeling Malcolm’s tremors of pleasure, pleased to know she could bring the same overwhelming sensations to him that he gave to her. She lifted his thick weight in her hand, freeing it from its confinement, pushing at his breeches in an attempt to gain greater access to him.