The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (7 page)

“I suppose you think I am very forward in making such a request,” she said quietly.

“I can’t imagine why I should. You appear to be a very intelligent person, which is all that matters to me. My sister, who you know quite well, is not one to follow a man’s lead, and yet I have the greatest respect for, not to mention a quite lively fear, of her.”

“Oh, yes, Rowena. But she has been very lucky and found a husband who finds that sort of behavior charming.”

“Well, he certainly finds something about her charming, I’ll give you that.”

Helena flushed slightly and looked away.

“I did not mean to offend you, Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm gently.

“I am not offended,” she replied. “It is just—well, it does not matter. I am glad you are willing to listen to me, and if Rowena is responsible for that, I thank her.”

“Some of it is her influence, of course, but the life I’ve led has not made me likely to trust anyone at all. I’ve found that men and women can be equally intelligent—and equally dangerous.”

“I had not thought of that,” she murmured. “I suppose I must seem very ignorant to you, having always lived here at Keighley Manor and experienced so little of the world.”

He laughed softly. “I wouldn’t wish my past on anyone, and you have had your share of troubles too.”

She gave him a sharp look.

“Don’t be annoyed. I meant the smugglers,” he said gently.

“Oh, yes, of course. The smugglers.” Helena blinked, having completely forgotten them herself.

“So, we are now back to how we should set about identifying their leader,” mused Malcolm. “I’m not sure I will be much better at that than fighting them off singlehandedly. What a pity you do not want me to cheat them at cards; I could do that quite easily.”

“Do you cheat at cards?” she asked, diverted.

“Only when necessary,” he promised. “It is not something I have done since returning to England.”

“Will you show me how sometime?”

He laughed. “If you wish. Do you have someone you would like to fleece at the tables?”

“I’ve never gambled in my life but I can certainly think of at least one person I would like to take for all I could and it does sound rather fascinating.”

“Only when you’re not trying to make your living at it,” he assured her.

“I suppose you are right. I did not mean to make light of your troubles.”

“Not at all,” he said, with a flick of his fingers. “Now, what steps would you have me take?”

“Steps?” asked Helena. “Oh, the smugglers. Yes. I—I don’t really know how to go about finding out who is behind their activities, I fear. It is like a riddle; I know someone is doing it, but I have no idea how to find out who.”

“I’m at a loss as well, but we must begin somewhere. Perhaps tomorrow you could show me the beach and the caves on my land the smugglers are using?”

“Yes, I could do that. It is a bit of walk down the cliffs though, as the horses cannot go down the path.”

“You seem to have a very poor notion of my abilities, Miss Keighley. I should be able to walk down the cliffs, and perhaps even back up them. I seem to recall doing often as a boy, and I am not yet in my dotage.”

“I didn’t mean that,” protested Helena. “It is just that you—that I—well, that you are no longer used to our country ways and I had no idea if you would wish to do a great deal of walking.”

“You have no idea of the many things I am accustomed to, Miss Keighley,” grinned Malcolm. “Believe me, walking will be no hardship.”

“Oh, of course,” said Helena, flustered.

“Dash it, we do seem to spend an inordinate amount of time apologizing to one another. I propose that from this point onward we each presume the other has only good intentions.”

“That might be best,” agreed Helena. “It would save both time and embarrassment.”

“Then we are in agreement.” Malcolm extended his hand solemnly, and she took it, feeling a slight frisson as she did so. His hand was strong as he shook hers, but his grip was gentle, and she released his fingers with a tinge of reluctance.

“Now Miss Keighley, since we are agreed on our plan and on our determination to see only good in each other, would you care to show me the rest of the grounds?”

“Of course,” said Helena. “If you wish to see them. They are not remarkable in any way.”

“I very much doubt that. From what I have seen, this is a truly beautiful estate. Your brother is very lucky you have taken such care of it.” Taking her hand in his again, he raised her to her feet, and then tucked it in the crook of his arm.

As she stood to walk with him, Helena felt a bit confused. She was not quite sure how he had brokered a truce between them, but it seemed he had. It was impossible to be angry at someone so pleasant and affable. Certainly he was still as irresponsible as she had long thought him, but, if he was willing to assist her in deterring the smugglers, it would not do to be rude to him.

They strolled away from the rose garden, and Helena was soon absorbed in showing him the delights of Keighley Manor’s grounds. Malcolm admired the vegetable garden, and then they walked along the path that marked where the moat had been.

“Why was it filled in?” asked Malcolm. “It seems a moat would be a very fine addition to this lovely house.”

“It was ornamental from the beginning. The need for a defensive feature was long gone by the time the house was built. Apparently fish were kept in it for some years, but I believe it eventually was more work than it was worth. My great grandfather had it filled in.”

“A pity. I imagine that as a girl you might have enjoyed playing in it.”

“Of that I have no doubt. I am sure my governess was glad it was gone!”

“You sound as though you caused a great deal of trouble as a child,” observed Malcolm teasingly.

“No more than you did, I’m sure,” she answered, smiling up at him. It still seemed odd to look up at him; Arthur and her father were much of a height with her, and there were few men in the neighborhood who were taller.

“Ah, but we are not discussing my iniquities,” observed Malcolm. “I believe they have been thoroughly reviewed.” He paused. “What is this?”

“The yew tunnel.”

“It is amazing,” said Malcolm.

Helena nodded, pleased by his wonder. “It was planted at least three hundred years ago.”

Malcolm stepped forward to the edge of the tunnel, astonished. A long series of yew trees stretched before him, their ancient trunks brown and gnarled, their branches reaching over in a high arch to touch the ground again, where some of them were taking root as new trees. Sunlight filtered through some of the branches, sending shafts of sparkling light through the darkness. At the far end, off in the distance, the green lawn could be seen, slanting away towards the cliffs.

“Yews will create tunnels naturally,” said Helena. “But my ancestors encouraged this one, bending the branches.”

Malcolm walked a few feet into the tunnel and looked around in amazement. “Enchanting. They block much of the light. I feel as though I would emerge in a fairyland at the other end.”

“Nothing so unlikely. You will still be at Keighley Manor. But it is lovely, is it not?”

“It is indeed. This must have been a popular spot for lovers’ trysts.”

“There are stories, but I would not know myself,” said Helena primly.

“Stories?”

“I’m sure they’re nonsense. There is a tale that my many times great grandmother had a sister who lived with her, and became enamored of a Spanish prisoner who was quartered here during Elizabeth’s reign. It’s said they met here at night to plot his escape.”

“Did he escape?”

Helena shook her head. “It ended tragically, of course, as these things always do. He was executed, and she pined away for love of him. People claim to have seen their ghosts here in the yew tunnel on moonless nights.”

“Why must these stories always end so sadly?” asked Malcolm thoughtfully.

“Because people so seldom get what they want,” said Helena. “Telling sad stories about others eases the pain.”

“What is it you want, Miss Keighley?”

Helena looked up, startled. “I have what I want. I am very happy here.”

“But surely Arthur will marry someday, and have children. I know you will always be welcome here, but do you not want a home of your own?”

“This is my home,” said Helena shortly. “There is a dower house on the estate. I could live there if I wished for privacy.”

“Ah. I see you have everything planned.”

Helena stopped, and Malcolm perforce had to as well. “What is it you wish to know, Lord Wroxton?”

“I don’t believe I asked a question,” said Malcolm mildly.

“But you clearly find something lacking in my situation,” replied Helena sharply.

Malcolm turned and looked at her. A shaft of sunlight slid through the branches of the yew trees and danced across the muslin of her dress. “I thought we were going to believe the best of each other.”

“You make it very difficult.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Malcolm. “I only meant that a woman as beautiful and accomplished as you should not hide herself away.”

“You know very well why I remain at Keighley Manor and do not venture out of the county,” snapped Helena.

“There is no reason to allow what happened to keep you in hiding. I have lived down far worse.”

“You are a man,” replied Helena in a withering voice. “Ladies are not permitted the same mistakes.”

“Very true. But you seem to be a strong-minded young woman. It seems odd that you accept the strictures of society so meekly.”

“What exactly would you have me do about them? Even though the tales are false, no gentleman of worth will wed me now, and I do not want to be viewed with pity. I do far better here at Keighley Manor. Everyone hereabouts knows my story, but they are kind enough to pretend they do not.”

“My intent was not to be unkind, Miss Keighley. I have every reason to know people are always willing to believe and say the worst of their fellows.”

“Are you saying you doubt the gossips?” asked Helena.

“I am saying I have spent enough time with you to doubt you would be foolish enough to be involved with a man like Denby,” responded Malcolm.

“Indeed?” Helena’s eyebrows rose, and she gave Malcolm a chilly stare.

He chuckled. “One would think I had just offered you another insult, rather than expressing my confidence in your virtue.”

“I have no interest in what you think of me, Lord Wroxton,” she snapped. “My virtue or lack thereof is not your concern.”

“Perhaps not. But if you had so little concern for it, you would not have minded me kissing you yesterday. Yet you did not seem at all happy with me.”

“It could be it was not the kiss, but the person,” said Helena tartly. “Mayhap I prefer Lord Denby to you.”

“Ah, but you did not marry him, when doing so could have saved you. And you responded to me very sweetly. Shall I remind you?”

He released her arm and took her hands in his, leaning forward until his lips were inches from hers, and waited, giving her time to refuse. Her eyes widened, but she did not retreat.

“Is it a challenge then?” she breathed, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of her heart pounding in her chest.

“Not at all. After all, you have indicated your reputation is irreparably harmed. It can hardly matter if you kiss me again, can it?” One hand slid up her arm, and his thumb gently stroked the delicate skin below the ruffles of her puff sleeves. He lowered his head to hers, watching her looking up at him. He saw no fear or anger in her face, and there was a little smile on her lips.

When she did not object, Malcolm touched her lips gently with his, sipping at them, before lifting his head for a moment. Her eyes had closed, and he pulled her closer, kissing her with unsuppressed desire, urging her to open to him. He felt the hesitant tremble as she did so, and allowed one hand to slide down her back, holding her as he stepped closer, pressing her soft bosom against his chest. He slid his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth, enjoying the liquid sensation as it tangled with hers while his other hand glided down her side as he nibbled at her lips a moment, before kissing his way down her throat to the tender skin of her chest. He cupped one breast gently, urging it up towards the ruched neckline of her dress, until a rosy pink nipple was exposed, and took it gently in his mouth, sucking until the tip hardened and she gave a cry of surprise and pleasure.

Helena did not protest, but Malcolm realized dimly that he was in danger of letting things go too far. He raised his head and stepped away, taking a deep breath. Gently, he eased her exposed breast back under her bodice. The same odd sensation that had visited him when he had kissed Helena the previous day came over him. He felt off balance, as though something had imperceptibly shifted.

“You do that very well,” he said softly.

“I have had a great deal of practice.”

“Have you?”

“I have indeed.” She stared back at him defiantly.

“I, too, have had a considerable amount of experience, and that did not feel like the kiss of a jaded woman.”

“Your experience I do not doubt.” Helena turned away, reluctant to let him see that he had shaken her nerve. “Do you intend to make a habit of kissing me, Lord Wroxton?”

Malcolm fell into step beside her and they continued along the yew tunnel. “I did not think so. I suppose I should apologize to you once again.”

“Do not feel the least obligation,” said Helena coldly. “As a ruined woman, how could I possibly object? Besides, I allowed you to kiss me this time.”

“Why did you do so?”

Helena shrugged. “Why did you wish to kiss me, Lord Wroxton?”

“You are a very perplexing young lady, Miss Keighley.”

They emerged from the tunnel and stood in the sunlight, Helena’s dress very white against the green of the trees and the lawn. Her shawl fluttered around her in the breeze, and her hair gleamed where it peeped from under her hat.

“It is of no consequence,” she said, looking out past the lawn to where the bright blue afternoon sky met the horizon.

“It might be of some consequence that I find myself kissing you on a regular basis,” said Malcolm with a glimmer of humor.

“I have no designs on you, Lord Wroxton.”

Malcolm shook his head, then offered her his arm. “Shall we return to the house?” he asked.

Helena placed her hand on his arm reluctantly and allowed him to lead her along the graveled path. She could feel the muscles under his coat sleeve, and she realized with a sense of annoyance that, despite her contempt for his irresponsible ways, he was far more experienced and capable than many another nobleman. He had not been a great deal older than Arthur when he had been exiled from England and had lived by his wits for many years, with no one to turn to for help. The absurdity of the thought of her brother attempting to make his own way in another country made a small smile come to her lips.

“Have I done something to amuse you, Miss Keighley?”

Helena looked up quickly, her eyes still lit with laughter. “No, not at all, Lord Wroxton.”

He drew in his breath. “What a pity,” he said.

“Why is that?”

“Because when you smile, you are truly beautiful.”

Malcolm regretted his statement immediately, for Helena’s eyelids dropped to shield her eyes, and she looked away from him. They continued to walk in silence, until they reached the door of Keighley Manor.

“Thank you for waiting on me, Lord Wroxton,” said Helena formally. “What time can I expect you tomorrow?”

“Do you still wish to visit the caves?” asked Malcolm with some surprise.

“Of course. Why would I not? The smugglers must be stopped.”

“I could post guards and speak to my bailiff, and they would be kept off Arlingby lands. Then I could return to London, and you need not be bothered by me again,” offered Malcolm.

“Nonsense,” she replied decisively. “You did not bother me. I was carried away by the romantic story I told you, and the beauty of the scenery. There is nothing between us that need concern you. It is far more important to me to discover who is leading the smugglers than to be relieved of your presence. We will simply be more sensible in the future.”

“Sensible,” repeated Malcolm. “Of course. If you wish it, I shall strive to be sensible. I will be here tomorrow morning. Is eleven o’clock too early?”

“Not at all. I will ready to ride out any time after nine o’clock. I will meet you at the stables. Would you care to come inside while I have your horse brought around?”

“That will not be necessary, I can walk around and fetch my own horse. Your servant, Miss Keighley.”

Helena nodded her head formally as Malcolm bowed to her and, turning, strode off towards the stableyard.
She watched for a moment, admiring the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders, then turned away hastily, surprised at herself. It would be more than foolish to think Malcolm Arlingby’s actions were anything but the behavior of an impulsive and undisciplined man.