The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  “Blast,” he said, following her gaze. Quickly, he drew her against the wall where the casks were stacked highest. He tested the pile with his hand to make sure it was stable, and then urged Helena behind it, following her into the cramped space.

  “Shhh,” he said.

  “I think I know better than to talk—”protested Helena, and then subsided at the look he shot her.

  Malcolm glanced at the entrance to the cavern one more time, and then doused the torch in a puddle at their feet.

  “How will we get out?” protested Helena.

  “Hush,” said Malcolm impatiently.

  “Did you bring your pistol?” whispered Helena.

  “Why in damnation would I bring a pistol?” asked Malcolm, forgetting his order to remain quiet.

  “Because of this very reason!”

  “No, I did not bring a pistol. You’re lucky I brought a tinderbox. I suppose you might have thought to bring a pistol, if you’re so pleased with the notion,” observed Malcolm.

  “Well, I like that - ” began Helena, but Malcolm startled her by sliding his hand across her mouth.

  “This is not a game, Miss Keighley. I do not wish to see you hurt.”

  Helena stiffened when she realized that in the darkness he had moved behind her, and she was held tightly against his body. It was completely dark except for the glow coming from the tunnel, and she realized that their circumstances were not only dangerous, but wholly improper.

  Malcolm moved again, placing his body between her and the cavern, and urging her down on the ground. “Be silent,” he breathed in her ear, his breath warm on her neck. She nodded.

  Malcolm crouched next to her, his thigh resting against hers. Gradually the glow came nearer, and the cavern filled with a dim light as two men entered, both holding lanterns high. They wore the rough clothes of the local farmers, and Malcolm narrowed his eyes, hoping to recognize them. But their faces and voices were unfamiliar. He suddenly wished he knew the local populace better.

  The men approached the casks, and one pulled the canvas aside. “Excellent,” he said. “Last night’s landing was clearly a success. The master wants it moved out, and the moon will be dark the next few nights. We’ll take it across Wroxton lands again; the Keighley girl is suspicious, and his lordship shows little interest in his estates. We’ll be safer there.”

  “We used that path the other night, and Wroxton is in residence. Do you think it wise to go there again?”

  “The earl won’t notice. He’ll be drunk, I imagine, or playing cards with his London friend. Soon he’ll go back to town and leave us be. He won’t notice,” said the smuggler. “I’m told there will be a still larger shipment in a month’s time, and we want to have this lot out of here before it arrives.”

  “Then we’d best do it,” replied his companion. “The master has a short temper, and I don’t want to be on the bad side of it. How many casks are there?”

  “That’s what I came to see. We’ll need ponies to take it up the cliffs, or many men, I don’t care which.” He pulled the canvas off and began counting the casks. His steps brought him closer to where Malcolm and Helena were hiding, and she felt the earl stiffen, ready to leap out if necessary. But the man turned back before he reached their hiding place.

  “I make it about forty. It’s quite a few, but we can handle it; we’ll just need four or five extra ponies. Be ready at midnight to transport this lot. The wagons will be waiting up on the road.”

  “Aye,” said the second man. “There’s too much money to be made to leave this here long. And we can’t have others finding it.”

  “Midnight, then.” The man twitched the canvas back into place, and turned away.

  Helena felt some of the tension leave Malcolm’s body as the men moved off, the light receding with them. As they entered the passage to the beach, the shimmer faded away, until there was only total darkness.

  Helena gave a sigh of relief, despite her inability to see anything around her. “At least they didn’t find us. I have no idea what we would have done, you being without your pistol.”

  Malcolm made an exasperated noise. “Once again, I saw no reason to bring a pistol. You strike me as being dreadfully bloodthirsty.”

  “I thought the Wicked Earl would carry his pistol everywhere. Perhaps a small one, concealed in his sleeve,” countered Helena.

  “You are full of ridiculous notions. Let me inform you that I have no miniature pistols, and, if I had one, it would not be concealed in my sleeve.” There was a pause. “Where are you?”

  Helena felt the air stir as he reached out, and grasped her wrist. Though the cave was clammy, his hand was warm.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  “A fine idea,” she snapped, pulling her hand away. “Do you have any notion of where the entrance may be?”

  “We’ll have to feel our way along the wall. It’s not a large cavern, and we’ll come to the opening before long. It will be tedious, but we are in no danger—providing no one else comes to the cave today. It appears to be a popular destination.”

  “Very well.” Helena placed her hand along the rough stone of the wall, and stepped forward. She came into abrupt contact with Malcolm, her chest bumping up against his. She gave a tiny cry of dismay as she stepped back, and he reached out to steady her, his hands, in the darkness, settling on her upper arms.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said crossly, annoyed with her awkwardness and uncomfortably aware of his touch.

  Malcolm’s hands tightened slightly on her upper arms, his thumbs moving soothingly over them. “I realize this is a very uncomfortable predicament, but I assure you, Miss Keighley, all will be well.”

  “I know that. If you would get out of the way, we might get out of here sooner rather than later.”

  “If you would allow me to lead the way,” began Malcolm.

  “Of course, you want to lead,” retorted Helena.

  Malcolm’s hands slid down her arms, and he took her hands in his. “You’re cold,” he said absently.

  Helena shivered slightly, as he took one of her hands in both of his and rubbed it gently. “I will be fine,” she said in a small voice.

  “To be sure, you will. Indeed, I think you very fine precisely as you are.” He dropped her hands and unerringly placed his palms on her cheeks, tenderly tilting her head very slightly as his warm, firm lips settled on hers. In the stygian darkness of the cave, Helena knew nothing but the stimulating sensation of his mouth on her sensitive lips, and the feel of his strong, capable hands holding her face still for his questing mouth.

  Her body, anticipating the pleasure it now knew was to come, instantly responded with a rush of desire and she felt her nipples tighten, and a tingling between her legs. Shaken, she tried to step back, but Malcolm pressed her against the casks and seized the opportunity to coax her lips open. His mouth was slow and searching, seeking to maximize the pleasure of the contact. His tongue stroked against hers, unfurling a craving in Helena that had her wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.

  Malcolm lifted his head a bit and gave a little laugh, but his breathing was quick as he ran his hands up her ribs to rest just at the seam between the bodice and skirt of her riding habit as he kissed a path down her neck. His thumbs stroked the sides of her breasts, and then, with a muttered oath, he grasped her around the waist and lifted her as though she weighed nothing, setting her on one of the casks in the pile they had been hiding behind.

  Helena felt the round roughness of the barrel staves and the metal hoop that bound them through the fabric of her habit, and then Malcolm’s knee pressing her legs open as he stepped forward to stand between her thighs. He ran his hands possessively over them and then leaned forward to take her lips again. This time his mouth took command of hers, demanding her response, and Helena found herself unraveling with a hunger for more. She pressed her aching breasts against his hard chest and gripped his waist,
pulling him closer, seeking to sate a craving she didn’t fully understand.

  Malcolm felt for the fastenings of her bodice and hastily opened it, mentally giving thanks that only three buttons lay between him and the buds, firm with excitement, that tipped her breasts. He bent down to nip at one, then circled the hardened tip with his tongue, and a moan was wrenched from Helena as she leaned back to give him better access. He grabbed a handful of the yards of wool that made up her full skirt, pushing it aside, and ran his hand up one calf, then ventured further to stroke the smooth, soft skin of her thigh.

  At the touch of his hand in such an intimate place, Helena’s common sense awoke, beginning a battle with the languorous yearnings that Malcolm’s sensual attentions were producing. He massaged the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, and Helena sighed her pleasure, but as his fingers touched the soft curls at her very core and then slipped between them to slick the fluid collecting there across her most sensitive spot, the bolt of desire that shot through her was so powerful that it frightened her into action. She sat upright and pushed his hand away, then pulled down her skirts, willing the fully blooming desire that was nearly overwhelming her to dissipate.

  “We must stop!” she exclaimed to the blackness around her. “I cannot - you cannot…” she stuttered.

  “I certainly can, and I think you would like to as well,” Malcolm said. She could hear that he was breathing heavily, but even so, there was a touch of amusement in his voice. “But I understand that you believe you do not wish to.” He lifted his hands to her arms, and dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead.

  Helena, using the last remnants of her wits, pulled herself away from Malcolm’s grasp. “My lord, we cannot do this here,” she said.

  “Then where would you suggest we do it?”

  “I suggest we do nothing at all except leave,” she responded, sliding off the cask hastily. She could not see her bodice to arrange it, but she hastily pulled it closed, hoping she was restoring it to some semblance of decency.

  “I suppose not,” he said reluctantly. “You, Miss Keighley, are entirely too enticing, even in the dark, or perhaps especially in the dark. If I could see you, I’m certain I would find it still more difficult to stop.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, patting her skirt and hoping it wasn’t too rumpled. “You know dozens of women far lovelier than me.”

  “I wonder if I do? I think you may be wrong, Miss Keighley.”

  “Oh, please stop,” said Helena impatiently. “We must get out of here, before Macklin begins to wonder if something is wrong. He may have seen those men, or worse, they may have seen him, and I do not want him to be worried.”

  “Very well.” There was a pause, and then Malcolm suggested, “If you will give me your hand, we can move along the wall together. The floor of the cavern is quite even, but be careful not to trip.”

  Helena said nothing, only reaching out to clasp his hand with hers.

  “Shall we begin?” he asked.

  She nodded, and then, realizing he could not see her, found her voice. “Yes.”

  “Come along, then.”

  Malcolm began to lead her slowly along the wall of the cave. Helena bit her lip, not wanting to urge him to move more quickly, as it would be dangerous, but anxious to get out of the darkness. She felt sure that if she could see the earl, he would be far less attractive. There was something about her inability to see that made her feel vulnerable. Surely that was why her response to him was so strong.

  After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, she heard Malcolm make a sound of relief.

  “Here it is,” he said. He pulled her up next to him, his hand going around her shoulders as they stepped into the opening. Off in the distance, she could see the faint gleam of daylight that promised relief from the blackness surrounding them. Malcolm moved into the passage, and Helena followed him closely. After a few minutes, the glow of sunlight became stronger, and she could distinguish Malcolm’s broad shoulders in front of her.

  Chapter 14

  When they finally they emerged, Helena heaved a sigh.

  “That was an experience I do not care to repeat,” she said, gazing across the beach in relief at the blue water and sunlight.

  “None of it?”

  She gave him a stern look. “None of it.”

  “I see.” Malcolm’s eyes slid over her and he took a step closer. Helena flinched slightly as he reached out his hand.

  “I only mean to straighten your skirts,” he said softly. “If it was ‘something you do not care to repeat,’ I imagine you will not want Macklin to guess what we’ve been about.”

  Helena flushed slightly, almost wishing they were back in the dark cave, as Malcolm busied himself adjusting her attire. When he was done, he stepped back with a smile.

  “A pity there are no mirrors here,” he said, “or you could have managed for yourself. Do I look respectable?”

  Helena, who had been looking at everything but the earl, glanced at him. His blond hair glowed in the sun, and his shoulders looked very broad and strong. Refusing to meet his gaze, she glanced down at his body, appalled to realize she felt an urge to reach out and touch him.

  “You look fine,” she said shortly. “Perhaps you should straighten your waistcoat.”

  “You don’t care to do it?” teased Malcolm.

  “I do not.” Helen looked away, although the invitation to run her hands over his muscular torso was tempting.

  Malcolm turned his attention to his waistcoat, and after a moment, looked at Helena again. She was staring out resolutely over the water, as though she found something there fascinating.

  “Miss Keighley, we should discuss what continues to happen between us,” said Malcolm quietly.

  Helena did not turn her head. “You are wrong, my lord. There is nothing to discuss.”

  “Nothing? I would hardly call—that—nothing.”

  Helena turned her gaze on him. “It was a mistake,” she said dismissively. “Perhaps it was not nothing, but it was assuredly an error on my part.”

  “How often do you intend to make this error?” asked Malcolm, frustration sharpening his voice.

  Helena turned and looked at him. “Remember, you are not the only gentleman with whom I have made this mistake. You need have no concerns; you will not be held responsible for my reputation, as I have none.”

  “Miss Keighley, I do not know what happened with Lord Denby years ago, nor do I particularly care,” said Malcolm. He watched as her eyes grew wide with surprise. “I have no reason to listen to speculation and gossip, as I have vast experience with the damage they can do. But I do care about this—about the way we—well, you know perfectly well what I mean.”

  “You must forgive me, my lord,” said Helena. “I should not seek to amuse myself with you. It is wrong of me.”

  “Amuse yourself?” Malcolm gave a bark of laughter. “Miss Keighley, if you were amusing yourself, we would have finished what we started in the cave. I think you would have found that very entertaining.”

  Helena flushed. “We must return to the horses, they will be restive. And we have learned what we needed to know here. The caves are indeed being used by the free traders, and the local farmers are involved. We must think carefully about what to do next.”

  Malcolm glowered at her. “I have certainly not learned all I need to know, and we are not done discussing this, Miss Keighley.”

  “I am,” answered Helena simply. “Shall we go back?”

  She turned and began to walk across the sand, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Malcolm joined her. They walked up the path in silence, Malcolm following Helena and watching the gentle sway of her hips under her skirt with both appreciation and annoyance.

  For her part, Helena, while anxious to no longer be alone with the very tempting earl, was pleasantly surprised that he never indicated a need to stop and rest. The path was very steep, and while she was used to walking a great deal and rode daily, she had thought his lordship a
creature of London drawing rooms. But when they reached the top of the cliff, his breathing was only slightly quickened; indeed, it had come far faster after their encounter in the cave.

  Macklin awaited them, holding the horses’ heads, and gave them a skeptical look.

  “Did you find what you were looking for, Miss Helena?”

  “It was very educational,” said Helena. She walked to her horse, and Macklin moved to assist her, but Malcolm was there first, bending down to throw her up into the saddle. She looked down at him, a vexed expression on her face, but saw only a touch of humor in his brilliant blue eyes.

  Macklin snorted, and Malcolm turned away, mounting his own horse. “Shall we return to Keighley Manor?” he asked. “No doubt your brother is wondering where we are.”

  Helena nodded, and they turned towards her home. The ride was accomplished in silence, as Malcolm and Helena were sunk in their own thoughts. They turned into the stable yard, and Malcolm swung down from his saddle.

  “It isn’t necessary—” protested Helena as he moved to assist her in dismounting.

  “Humor me,” he answered, and she made a tiny face as she slid from the saddle into his waiting hands. He placed her on the ground as delicately as if she were made of glass.

  “Thank you, Lord Wroxton,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. May I escort you to the house?”

  “There’s no need,” she responded, then smiled reluctantly when he laughed.

  “I must go there myself, to find Del, and it would be impolite not to greet your brother. I see no help for it; we must walk there together.”

  Helena took his arm, and they left the stable yard, once again in silence. As they walked up the path to the manor, Helena finally found her voice.

  “I suppose you think me very foolish.”

  “Not at all, but I do admit to some confusion,” replied Malcolm. “But I don’t suppose you wish to explain to me what is going on between us.”