The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (22 page)

Malcolm put his hands on her shoulders, and then ran them down her arms, guiding her hands forward. “Put them here, my darling,” he murmured as he indicated the arm of the chair on which she been sitting. Helena, in a daze, complied and leaned forward, and Malcolm lifted her skirts again, pushing them up onto her back. He paused a moment to enjoy the view of her round white bottom framed by foaming yellow muslin, while the dags of the vandyked hem made him think of wine colored arrows pointing to paradise. The sight of her gently swaying breasts, freed from the bodice of her dress and corset, made him grow still harder.

He stepped forward and passed a warm palm over her buttocks, allowing a finger to play lightly over the drenched folds hidden between her legs. Without his urging, she spread her legs wider and made a frustrated sound as he toyed with her gently, stroking and teasing, but not penetrating her.

“In a minute,” he said quietly. “I need to know you are ready for me.”

He went down on one knee, and bit one white cheek, hard enough to startle her, but not enough to hurt, and then slid one finger inside her as she gave a sob of relief. He nipped at the other side, and then slid in a second finger. Helena pushed back against him, even as she gasped at the slight pain of the bite. Malcolm slowly removed his fingers, reaching around her to caress her breasts, his fingers damp with her own essence.

“You’re drenched, my beauty,” he breathed. “You must want me very badly.”

Helena, overwhelmed by rapacious desire, moaned as rapture spiked through her sense.

“Tell me,” he urged, wondering at his sudden need to hear her say the words.

“You’re unkind,” she panted.

“I want nothing more than to be kind to you,” he promised. “Tell me.”

“I need you deep inside me,” she whispered, overcome by the arousal that coursed through her.

There was a pause as she heard him rise and unbutton his breeches, and then, fitting himself to her, he drove without resistance into her honeyed passage.

Helena, who had felt for some time as though all she wanted was to have the aching void his lovemaking had created in her filled, released a deep sigh of contentment, and pushed back hard against him, rising up on her toes and lifting her hips, wriggling as though seeking a special fit.

“Slowly, my sweet,” Malcolm said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “I am in no hurry to end this delicious anticipation.”

“I am,” she responded candidly. “I feel--I want--I need to be filled by you,” she said as though searching for the right words. “I want to feel like you are part of me.”

“I think I am reasonably well-endowed, my love, but that sounds a bit unreasonable,” Malcolm said with a gasp as she pushed against him again. “But it is always my wish to please a lady.”

He thrust into her hard, and withdrew as far as possible, only to ram into her strongly enough for the sound of his hips meeting her skin to sound like a slap. He reached around to take possession of her breasts, kneading them gently and squeezing her nipples, as he continued his measured strokes, seeking the perfect pitch and speed that would feed her passion. When he felt her start to clench around him, he removed one hand from her breasts, and reached between her thighs to find the little bud he had kissed so ardently earlier. He pressed his thumb against it as he moved in and out a few times more, and then as he felt the beginnings of her orgasm, he leaned forward to bite the top of her shoulder.

Helena screamed her pleasure and immediately spasmed around him, her muscles clenching his rod so tightly that he surrendered to pleasure as well, pumping into her forcefully. For a few minutes, silence reigned in the picture gallery, Malcolm trying to catch his breath as he leaned over Helena’s back. A beam of sunlight caught her fiery tresses, and he fancied for a moment that he heard a ghostly laugh, and thought that if he looked up at the portrait of the first Countess of Wroxton he might see a smile on her face.

Malcolm stirred and rubbed his chest against Helena’s back, reveling in the feel of her body warm against his. He leaned over still further and kissed her temple lingeringly. He slowly slid out of her and turned her toward him, clasping her tightly against his chest

“You amaze me,” he said softly. “Each time is different—and better—than the time before.”

Helena refused to meet his eyes and said nothing.

“What, are you suddenly shy, my dear? You are not often at a loss for words.” He slipped a finger under her chin and turned her face up to his.

“I am not nearly as accustomed to this sort of thing as you are,” she said with a touch of temper. “Forgive me if I do not know the correct thing to say under the circumstances.”

He laughed gently, a happy sound deep in his throat. “There is no correct thing to say, Helena. You have shown me very passionately what you think of me, so I have no doubts on that front.”

Helena tried to move out of his embrace, but he retained his hold on her, and sank down in the chair, pulling her into his lap. “Must you always try to run away? Today there is no Arthur returning home, or butler to be concerned about. There is only you and me.”

“In the portrait gallery!” Helena protested. “Anyone might walk in.”

“That didn’t seem to concern you a few minutes ago,” said Malcolm, running a finger down the sensitive skin of her inner arm. “What if they had? You looked very enticing. I’m not sure I wish to share that with others.”

Helena flushed as she felt a quiver of desire at his words. “Malcolm, you must not say such things.”

“Do you find the thought exciting?” he murmured. “Next time I will have you in the gardens, where anyone might see us. Would you enjoy that?”

Helena bit her lip and looked away.

“Wanton,” teased Malcolm. “But I have no wish to share your delights with anyone else. It’s a big house; we will make love in every room of it.”

Helena felt a tingle of excitement, despite her best effort to quell it. “This must stop,” she said, in what she hoped was a firm voice.

“By all means,” agreed Malcolm cordially. “It will stop as soon as you make it stop. I’m enjoying it very much, and I think you do as well.”

“You think that I will marry you because I—because I—”

“Because you have what?” asked Malcolm, grinning.

“Because I have allowed you to be free with my person,” said Helena primly.

“Is that what you call it?” Malcolm put his arms tightly around her, urging her farther into his lap. She could feel his cock growing hard as it pushed against the fine curls between her legs.

“Well, I will not marry you,” she said crossly.

“I didn’t ask you today, did I?” said Malcolm casually. He moved one hand to palm and then gently squeeze one of her breasts.

Helena’s brow furrowed. “No, but I know you mean to.”

Malcolm suddenly grasped her waist, lifting Helena, and urging her to straddle him so he could face her. As she gazed at him, he tilted his head and considered her. “You’d best be careful, my girl. I might change my mind.”

“You are being very difficult,” she said crossly.

“You know my desire—for you and for a marriage—have not changed.” He continued to toy with her breast, and she felt its tip begin to harden with excitement. “But I’m growing tired of hearing you say no to the wedding. At least when it comes to this - “ he paused and lifted her from his lap just enough that he could slowly slide into her, filling her until she gasped, “- you are always eager.”

She gave a little cry, and he paused, his hands on her hips, holding himself inside her.

“What if I asked you now?” he murmured.

Her head moved restlessly back and forth. He leaned forward and kissed along her collarbone, slowly and possessively.

“I can’t,” she gasped.

“Can’t?” he asked. He shifted his hips up slightly while pressing down on hers. Helena had thought she could take no more, but she felt her body opening and welcoming him.

“Tell me why not.” Malcolm lifted her off his cock with exquisite slowness, and she groaned at the loss. She clenched her muscles, trying to hold him inside her, while also thrilling to the lithe strength of his arms and chest.

He stopped with the tip of his erection just inside her and waited.

“Tell me again why not,” he said softly.

“You are a fiend,” Helena gasped after a pause.

“You can have what you want if you answer me,” he said quietly. “I’m not unfair, you know. Here, let me give you a taste of you what you’re missing.” He moved in just a fraction of an inch.

“I’ve told you why I won’t marry you,” Helena gasped, “You find me interesting now, but you will want to return to London soon, where there will be other amusements such as your friends, and other women, and there will be no place for me. I don’t want to be the Earl of Wroxton’s neglected countess. It would be best to stay at Keighley Manor, where I have all I need.”

“All you need?” Malcolm grinned. “I don’t think you will have all you need there.” He slid into her warmth languorously, as though he had all the time in the world. Helena rotated her hips slowly, trying to urge him on.

“What about this?” he whispered into her ear. “If you were married to me, you could have this any time you chose. You would only need to look at me, and I would know, and oblige you.”

Helena moaned as Malcolm seated himself in her fully. She tilted her hips forward, welcoming him, and Malcolm obliged her, sliding in that sensational fraction of an inch further. She arched her back as he moved inside her, seemingly knowing exactly what to do to build the sweet friction between them. When nipped on one rosy nipple just hard enough to spike her arousal, she came undone, her cry echoing in the room as she slipped into ecstasy. He gave a little laugh and followed her, releasing himself into her for long moments, then putting his arms around her as her head fell onto his shoulder.

Silence reigned as they recovered; when Helena opened her eyes she saw Malcolm watching her, his bright blue gaze reflecting something she could not quite place. He gave her a half smile.

“There are, I believe, some forty rooms in this house. I’m not sure we could get to them all today, but it would be very pleasant to try,” he said.

“Do you think of nothing else?”

“Sometimes I think of my dinner, and of course you remind me regularly of the free traders,” he said genially. “But when you are about, my thoughts invariably turn to this. I lose track of everything when I am with you. Not only the time, and what I should be doing, but my clothes as well.” He lifted her, setting her lightly on her feet and stood in one supple movement, looking around the room for his errant garments.

Helena gazed at his slender, well-muscled body and was astounded to find herself wanting him again. She looked away hastily, hoping he had not noticed. He chuckled.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” he said. “But I think I should make you wait at least fifteen minutes. Or until we get to the next room, anyway.”

He held out his hand to her and she took it, watching as his strong, tanned fingers closed over hers. She looked up at him, noting the fineness of the golden hair glinting on his jaw and the smile that played across his lips. He gazed back at her, a questioning look in his eyes, and she flushed.

He turned away and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head as Helena attempted to hide her confusion. He returned to her, courteously assisting her to dress. In a few minutes she was once again presentable, if a bit crumpled, and Malcolm stepped back, surveying her.

“Beautiful,” he said. He rescued his coat from the floor and shrugged into it. “Shall we view the other rooms downstairs? We will want to serve refreshments, of course, and perhaps we should have some of the local gentry to dinner before the dancing. You can doubtless advise me who to invite. Your brother and Mrs. Honeysett will be there, of course.”

Helena blinked at him, wondering how he could talk to her so casually of the ball after what they had just experienced. But she only nodded.

“Certainly. You will want to invite your cousin Sir Tarquin Arlingby, and it would not do to forget the Beasleys.”

“Beasleys? asked Malcolm. “What a frightful name. But I am sure they will be delightful.” He led her from the room.

Some hours later Malcolm and Stephen sat in the library of Wroxton Hall. The earl cradled a glass of brandy in one hand and gazed abstractedly into the fire while Stephen lounged in a leather chair. After a few minutes, he stirred.

“You’re damned poor company, Mal,” he said plaintively.

Malcolm turned his head. “I’m sorry, Del,” he said. “I was thinking about—about other things.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows. “I’ll wager I can guess what those things—or the one thing—might be.”

“Is it so obvious?”

“It is indeed. Miss Keighley would distract any man, and you have found yourself thrown into her company a great deal. Not that it appears to bother you. I recall with some wistfulness when you spoke of her as a dragon.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Oh, she is still a dragon. A very fiery one. It is only that I have found she has another side.”

“And what might that side be?” prompted Stephen.

“That, Del, is not something I’m likely to share with you,” replied Malcolm with a hint of humor.