The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (13 page)

“You know very well what I mean, Miss Keighley,” he answered promptly. “I have been in your company exactly four times. Twice I kissed you and yesterday we proceeded rather further. The other time we were in an assembly room full of people, so I had no choice but to behave myself, but, believe me, I was sorely tempted to see what I could achieve under the circumstances.”

“I did not come here to talk about what has transpired between us,” said Helena.

Malcolm straightened and took a step towards her, and Helena glanced nervously over her shoulder and retreated the same distance.

“Did you not?” he asked. “Because I find you - and what has happened each time we are together - a great deal more interesting than your brother.”

“I have no intention of repeating any of those experiences,” said Helena. She took another step back, and felt the wall behind her. Malcolm grinned and leaned forward, placing a hand on each side of her shoulders.

“No?” he said.

“No,” she said firmly.

He looked at her for a moment, seeming to calculate her mood. Then he pushed away from the wall and shrugged.

“Very well,” he said.

Helena’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she surprised herself by blurting out.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “You said no, you did not intend to repeat those experiences. I took you at your word.” He waved a hand at the stall door. “It is not locked.”

“But we have not settled matters between us.” Helena was unable to understand why she didn’t leave, but also unable to acknowledge she might want to stay.

“Oh, I think we have. I am not to corrupt your brother—something I had no intention of doing in the first place—and so we are in complete agreement. Are we not?”

“Yes—no! Yes, I wish you to leave Arthur be, but—”

“But what?”

Helena glared at him. “You are being very disobliging.”

“In what way would you like me to oblige you, Miss Keighley?”

Malcolm moved closer, and she could see the muscles in his arms moving under the thin linen of his shirt. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and looked away.

“Miss Keighley?”

“What did you mean when you said you wished to lead me astray?” she asked softly.

He leaned down to catch her words and she once again noticed the scent of sandalwood and the hint of his natural musk underneath it. She did not push him away, and he gently took her gloves from her grip, dropping them on the floor, and took her hands his own.

“I think you can imagine. Perhaps you already have. I’ve certainly spent some time thinking about it.” He raised one of her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingertips.

Helena drew in her breath sharply, but didn’t pull her hand away.

“After all, you have assured me you are a woman of the world,” continued Malcolm. He turned her hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm, and then, after gently loosening the buttons at her wrist, worked his way up to the spot where her pulse beat wildly.

Helena made a tiny sound in the back of her throat and Malcolm raised his head. Their eyes met, and he smiled.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes wide.

“I thought you might. You are so exquisitely sensitive. I’ve learned that already.” His hand slid up her arm and then his fingers traced their way across her collarbone, hidden under the wool of her habit. “What a pity you’re wearing a riding habit again,” he continued, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. “It is very much in the way.” One hand slid down to lightly cup her breast, his thumb lifting to tease at her already straining nipple, while the other went to the lace trimmed muslin cravat at her throat, where he tugged lightly on the bow until it loosened and fell open. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

Helena sighed and sagged against the wall, her hands raising, it seemed to her of their own volition, to cradle his head.

“Lovely,” he said, his kisses gliding up the column of her neck to her ear, and across her jawline. He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her close against him, then his lips found hers.

Helena, remembering their previous kisses, opened her mouth eagerly under his. Malcolm made a satisfied sound and deepened the kiss, possessing her in a totally unexpected way. Whereas their first kiss had been an exchange of pleasure between two people who did not know each other, their second one of curiosity, and the frantic near-coupling in the cave had been born of frustration, this kiss was knowing, almost familiar, and tantalizingly slow. Their tongues met almost languidly, and Helena felt a wave of heat wash over her as she matched him in fervor, stroke for stroke. Malcolm pulled her closer, his other hand reaching down to cup one buttock, as he nestled her against the growing bulge in his breeches. She moved tentatively against him, and he made a noise, half pleasure and half frustration.

“We must not forget ourselves,” he said almost absently as he rained kisses down her neck and across the delicate skin of her chest. She leaned into him, seeking greater contact, and beginning to understand that the power he seemed to hold over her she also wielded over him.

“Why must we not?” she sighed.

“Because if we do, I’ll take you here in this stall.” Still holding her around the waist, Malcolm loosed her slightly, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing his head down to hers.

“Miss Keighley, I don’t - “ he began, his voice not at all certain, and Helena pressed her lips to his. He gave her what she desired, deep kisses that made her entire body feel on fire. When he loosened his hold she made a noise of protest, but he only laughed gently and began to open the bright brass buttons that held her jacket closed. She shrugged out of it hastily, not caring as it fell to the floor, and reached for him, her fingers closing over his broad shoulders.

“Slowly, darling,” said Malcolm. He raised one hand to cup her breast, feeling its weight under the sheer linen of her shirt, then lowered his head to take the tip in his mouth, his tongue gently circling her nipple, the heat of his mouth and the soft friction of the fabric on her skin making her cry out with pleasure. He moved to the other breast, kissing and nipping at it as she cradled his head in her hands, silently urging him onward.

“I think we will both be much happier with this off,” he murmured, moving her minutely so her back was against the wall, and using both hands to swiftly undo the buttons of her shirt. Soon it was whisked over her head and had joined her jacket on the floor. Before Helena could fully comprehend her nakedness, he had an arm around her waist and gently urged her backwards into a fresh pile of straw. The sweet scent of it floated around them as he covered her, pressing more warm, moist kisses to her neck and lips. His fingers plucked gently at one breast, teasing the already taut nipple to a peak.

Helena, awash in a sea of sensation, wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. But a sense of something missing stole over her, and she pulled at his shirt, loosening it from the waist of his breeches. Her hands skirted under it, splaying across the taut muscles of his abdomen, then winding around to clutch his shoulders. His skin was tantalizingly warm and silky as she urged him forward.

Malcolm sat back on his heels, taking her in as Helena lay sprawled in the straw, her hat discarded, her hair working its way loose from its pins, her breasts rosy from his attention.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “I could only imagine you in the darkness yesterday, but the reality is more than I could anticipate.” Impatiently, he unbuttoned his own shirt and discarded it, then returned to her, drawing her close so that her breasts were against his bare skin. He kissed her again, his breath warm and sweet as his tongue slid over her lower lip. One hand grasped the fabric of her skirt, raising it until her leg was exposed. His fingers traced a path up her inner thigh as she gasped and writhed against him. He lowered his head to her breasts again, taking one pointed peak into his mouth, sucking and licking until she cried out in delight.

“Shhh, my sweet,” he soothed her, speaking softly against her lips. “We don’t need a stable boy to come looking for us.”

As he spoke, Malcolm’s fingers continued their tantalizingly slow journey up the soft skin of her inner thigh, promising more delights, and when he finally cupped the soft down between her legs, Helena gave a little jump of surprise. He nipped at her breast, then licked his way down her stomach, gently stroking her until she relaxed.

“Open for me, dearest,” he said in a voice that seemed to Helena to contain a wealth of knowledge, and she responded instinctively, spreading her thighs slightly. He pushed her skirt up higher, baring her from the waist down and settled between her legs.

“Why, oh why are the skirts of riding habits so full?” he asked teasingly. “They are very much in the way.”

“It is to preserve a lady’s modesty when she rides,” said Helena, a gleam of humor penetrating through the haze of passion.

“Ah, there is very little modest about you now, my dear,” said Malcolm. “I wish you could see how lovely you are.”

Helena flushed a little, momentarily embarrassed, but he placed his hand between her legs again, and all thoughts flew away outside of the pleasure he was bringing her. He gently parted her, sliding one finger into her slick passage, and she gasped, writhing against him in surprise and delight.

“You’re more than ready,” observed Malcolm, his thumb finding the nub at the core of her and gently circling it.

Not pondering his words, Helena arched her hips up towards him, seeking greater contact, and Malcolm obliged her, a second finger sinking into her heat. He stretched her gently, his thumb still teasing at her button of pleasure. He lowered himself onto her and took one breast in his mouth as she moved under him, her senses flooded with delight.

He raised his head and looked down at her, her eyes half closed and her face flushed with sensuality. “Are you sure you want me to go on?” he asked, his voice quiet. “I could stop now. But I won’t be able to for much longer.”

“I’m no innocent,” she said defiantly. “I know you’ve heard the stories.”

He looked down at her doubtfully, and she gently circled her hips. “Let me help you,” she said, and reached up one hand to cup the erection that strained at his breeches.

Malcolm made a noise deep in his throat and pushed her hand away. “Not now,” he said. “Let me help you.” He pulled his fingers from inside her and she made a noise of disappointment, but he instead kissed his way down her stomach, his hands urging her thighs further apart. She jumped when he placed his lips on the soft curls at the apex of her legs, and then kissed his way down one thigh. She reached for him, trying to pull him closer, but he laughed softly and spread her with his thumbs, and then gently blew on the center of her, where she felt an almost unbearable aching.

“Please,” she said.

“You shall have what you want,” he promised, and then his mouth was on her, sucking and nibbling, his tongue diving into her, circling the center of her passion. Helena moaned and writhed under his tender assault, feeling herself melt from the pleasure Malcolm was bestowing, while at the same time tensing with the need to reach something she couldn’t yet identify. As she arched against his lips, he sucked on the nub of her passion and slipped two fingers into her, to press them unerringly against some special spot, and Helena felt herself shatter into uncontrollable shudders of pleasure. As she cried out in bliss, he pressed a hand gently over her mouth.

“We don’t need an audience,” he murmured, raising his head to smile at her. “And now, darling, I mean to join you.”

He raised himself and knelt by her, unfastening his breeches to free his powerful erection. He moved over her, gently nudging its engorged head against her creamy cleft to moisten himself as he suckled at her breast, eliciting another moan of pleasure from Helena. With exquisite tenderness, he fit himself to her channel and pressed in. As she sighed her delight at the slow, thick slide of him within her, Malcolm, overcome by the feeling of her sleek wetness pulsing around him, surged forward. He stopped in shock when Helena squeaked in surprise and pain and he felt the sudden barrier.

He pulled back for an instant, but Helena wrapped her hands possessively around his shoulders. “I won’t make another sound,” she promised, her breathing coming hard. She moved her hips slowly, canting them up toward him. “Please.”

Malcolm swore, but Helena reached up, pulling his head down to hers and kissing him deeply. Unused to denying himself, and driven by her urging, he thrust deeply into her warmth, leaning down to bite at her neck possessively as she gave a cry of surprise mixed with pain.

He paused, hilt deep, and soothed her as whimpers faded, stroking her hair and raining kisses over her lips and cheeks. He murmured to her, apologizing for the pain but promising her lush pleasures that she could barely imagine. After a few moments she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

Malcolm looked down at her, concern in his gaze. She moved against him and he stilled her hips with one hand, not trusting himself.

“Show me more,” she said, and Malcolm was undone. He nipped at one breast and then slid out of her slowly and thrust into her slick heat again, chasing away the last of the pain and leaving her gasping with gratification. He repeated the motion, slowly and carefully, driving in further each time, stretching her untried but willing flesh until she sighed in rapture. After a few minutes Helena began to move with him, tilting her hips up to increase the friction between them, making tiny noises of astonishment and pleasure.