“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.
“Carefully, darling,” said Malcolm. He leaned over her, kissing her possessively, driving in as far as he could and then, sensationally, a bit further. Her nails bit into his skin as he pulsed inside her and held himself there, filling her until she gave a trembling sigh, half joy and half agony. He reached down to where the bodies met and stroked her gently, his fingers tangling in the auburn curls as he circled the center of her with a sweet, gliding pressure.
“Can you feel me?” he asked, the question not needing to be answered as she panted her response. “Do you like that?”
Helena arched up to him, her fingers digging into the small of his back, her breath accelerating as the tension coiling within her unwound. Finally she clenched around him, tremors shaking her as she achieved ecstasy, her velvety passage luring him into his own release. He groaned as he followed her into bliss, dimly aware that this was, somehow different.
Chapter 19
They lay for a few minutes, their limbs intertwined, Malcolm’s head resting in the curve of Helena’s neck. Finally he moved reluctantly, lifting his body and looking down at her searchingly. She gave a tiny mew of disappointment and her eyes opened, her contented gaze meeting his worried one.
“Damn it, you were a virgin,” he said.
She winced at the rawness of his voice. “I—it matters not. Everyone believes me to be a—a woman of the world, and no one would think less of you for it even if they knew--which they do not.”
“I think less of myself,” he countered. “I knew you would never have given yourself lightly to Denby, or any other man. I should not have taken you; it was wrong of me.”
Helena raised herself up on her elbows at glared at him. “Was it so unpleasant, then?”
He stared for a moment at her rosy breasts, mesmerized, and then reluctantly pulled his eyes away to focus on her face. “Of course it was not unpleasant,” he said, his voice softening. “I think my delight in you was perfectly clear, as was yours in me. But that doesn’t make it right.”
“Did I ask you to stop?” demanded Helena.
He grinned at her. “No, you urged me on very sweetly. But I bear the responsibility here; I should have—indeed I did—know better. I simply could not resist temptation.”
“Well you needn’t worry about me,” said Helena.
“On the contrary, after—that—you are very much my concern.” He bit his lip and looked down at her thoughtfully.
Helena pushed at his shoulders until he eased back slightly, and hurriedly pulled herself out from under him. A slight look of amusement crossed his face as he sat back and watched her look around the stall.
“Where is my shirt?” she demanded.
Malcolm grabbed a piece of white linen that lay on the floor next to him. “Is this it?” he asked. He eyed it more closely. “No, that’s mine,” he said sheepishly.
Helena made an exasperated noise as
he stood, fastening his trousers absently while he looked around. He laughed finally and strode to the far side of the stall, where her shirt lay in a white puddle against the green hay.
“I apparently tossed this as far from you as possible,” he murmured, picking it up and bringing it to her.
Suddenly very aware of her nakedness, Helena snatched it from him and pulled it over her head, struggling to cover herself.
“Easy,” said Malcolm. He squatted down next to her and straightened the tangle of sleeves for her, holding her shoulders steady so that the shirt slid down easily. He ran a hand across her back, smoothing the linen, and she shivered slightly, remembering the delights he had brought to her only moments ago.
“It’s a bit wrinkled, but your jacket will hide that,” he remarked. He sat down next to her as she busied herself adjusting the shirt and pushing her skirt down to cover her legs.
“Helena,” he said.
“Where is my jacket?” she demanded crossly, attempting to rise. Malcolm’s hands closed over her shoulders, and he pulled her back down onto the straw. She glared at him.
“Here it is,” he said, reaching out with one long arm to grab the article of clothing, and hand it to her. He watched as she shrugged into it hastily and began to fasten the buttons.
“Helena, you cannot simply throw on your clothing and dash out of here,” said Malcolm.
She glanced up at him. His face was quite serious, but she thought she saw a hint of humor at the back of his eyes.
She slipped the final button through its hole with a defiant air. “Why can’t I?”
“Because we have to talk about this, about us, and our desire for each other,” said Malcolm reasonably. His hand closed around her wrist. “Because I won’t let you.”
“Will you keep me here by force?” demanded Helena.
His fingers caressed the soft skin of her inner arm. “No compulsion will be required. I will just kiss you, and you will stay.”
“You are infuriating,” she snapped.
“But truthful,” he countered.
Helena glared at him. “You are very sure of yourself.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. But I do know that you can’t just storm out of here after what just happened.”
“I don’t know what to say at such a time,” said Helena haltingly.
“I would hope not. Truth to tell, I too am at a loss for words. I have never done that before.”
Helena laughed. “Don’t try to bamboozle me, my lord. I’ve heard the stories.”
He watched with pleasure as her eyes lightened with humor, but he shook his head again. “Yes, I’ve been with many a woman, but I’ve never deflowered a virgin. It is something I have always avoided.”
“Oh.” Helena wrinkled her nose. “I am sorry. I did lead you to believe that I was no innocent.”
He chuckled and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her toward him. For a moment she resisted, but then she gave in, and placed her cheek on his still bare chest.
“You have nothing to apologize for, my dear. It is I who must make amends.” He looked down at her tousled auburn curls. “I think it best we marry, don’t you?”
Helena gave a gasp of surprise and sat up abruptly, loosening his hold on her and scrambling to her feet. He gazed up at her, surprised.
“Marry? You think we should marry?” she asked incredulously.
He blinked and then got lazily to his feet, picking up his own shirt, and sliding it over his head. Helena, despite her consternation, felt a pang of regret as he covered himself.
“Why are you so surprised?” he asked calmly. “Yes, I think we should marry. You are not such an innocent that you are unaware of what I have done in seducing a respectable young woman of good family, who is also the sister of my closest neighbor. I would be an utter cad not to offer you the protection of my name.”
Helena pressed her lips together. “Are you saying that I—that I schemed to trick you into marriage?”
“I said nothing of the sort,” he replied mildly. “Miss Keighley,” he paused and then continued, “Helena, I believe I may call you now, I have done something I should not have. The least I can do is make it right by marrying you.”
Helena felt as though the stall was spinning around her. “Marry me? You cannot possibly wish to marry me.”
He gazed back at her, a bit perplexed. “It hadn’t occurred to me before this moment, but yes, I think perhaps I do,” he said.
“You’ve only known me four days!” protested Helena.
“On the contrary, I’ve known you since you were a girl,” Malcolm pointed out.
“You didn’t remember me!”
“That is certainly a failing on my part. For I find you impossible to forget now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Helena gave a snort of disdain. “I cannot imagine the Wicked Earl binding himself to a mere baronet’s daughter. “
“I must marry someone,” said Malcolm thoughtfully. “It would make a great deal of sense to marry you.”
“Thank you for your gallantry,” said Helena, her voice laden with sarcasm, “but I cannot think that marrying you would make any sense at all.”
“You might be breeding,” Malcolm pointed out.
“Or I might not be. I regret, my lord, that I cannot accept your very generous offer.”
Malcolm looked at her for a moment, noting the color rising in her cheeks and the anger sparkling in her eyes. She looked magnificent, but also did not appear to be in an amenable mood. He took a step towards her and she glanced anxiously over her shoulder, taking a step back.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out and taking her hand in his. It fluttered in his grip for a moment, but she did not withdraw it.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said.
“I know that. Helena, be logical. Our union would make sense; what better wife for an Arlingby than a Keighley? You would be near your brother and his children, which I think would make you very happy. And I have nothing but admiration for you; I would be good to you, I swear.”
Helena swallowed, appalled to find that tears had sprung to her eyes. “How very pretty of you, my lord,” she spat out. “You are kind enough to take pity on the woman you feel you have dishonored. But you forget, I was already ruined; you have no need to save me now. If I wished to be wed, I would have married Lord Denby long ago.”
Malcolm took another step forward, a spark of annoyance lighting his eyes. Helena retreated until her back was once again against the wall of the stall. He leaned forward, resting one hand against the wall behind her, still lightly clasping her hand in his.
“Do you compare me to Denby?” he asked very quietly.
“No—no, of course not,” she said hastily. “I merely wish you to know you do not have to save me from the consequences of my actions. I am quite able to take care of myself.”
He chuckled. “On the contrary, you appear to lurch from disaster to disaster, at least where the heart is concerned. Tell me, do you mean to die a spinster?”
“I do not mean to marry a man because he feels obliged to offer for me,” she said, trying to ignore his closeness. She could feel the warmth of his skin on hers, he stood so near.
“People will talk. I believe the grooms all fled when we began to argue, but I have little doubt they guess what has happened here.”
“I have been talked about for years, my lord, while you have no reputation to lose. And what of Mrs. Lacey?”
Helena had the satisfaction of seeing Malcolm’s expression change from amusement to annoyed surprise.
“Now, who has been telling you about Mrs. Lacey?” he asked. “Damn it, I’ll have Del’s head.”
“It was not Mr. Delaney who told me,” said Helena hastily.
“Then who was it?” demanded Malcolm.
“It’s of no consequence,” replied Helena, annoyed with herself for being disappointed that he acknowledged his relationship with Mrs. Lacey. “But you can har
dly expect me to take on a husband with a mistress.”
Malcolm shrugged. “We have an understanding, but I haven’t so much as written to her since I left London and would give her up if you agreed to marry me. She has no hold on my heart.”
“Mrs. Lacey is safe from me,” said Helena. “Truly, I am honored by your proposal, but you need not bother.”
“I wish you would call me Malcolm,” he complained.
“There is no need for that, as I do not plan on a closer acquaintance with you.”
The smiled returned. “No, I don’t see how we could get much closer than we have,” he murmured. “Though I wouldn’t mind trying, and I don’t think you would either.”
Helena flushed and frowned at him, pulling her hand out of his and inching away down the wall. She stepped clear of him and turned toward the stall door.
“I beg you will forget this morning’s events, my lord.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” said Malcolm with a laugh. “Nor will I forget the duty I owe you,” he added more seriously.
“You owe me nothing,” said Helena firmly
“This debt is not one for you to forgive, Helena.”
Helena looked at him apprehensively, but he made no move toward her, and she adjusted her jacket briskly, and slid the stall door open. “Good morning, my lord.”
“You have forgotten your hat,” said Malcolm.
Helena turned, to see him approaching her, the dashing shako in his hands. She reached out for it, but he put her hands aside, and very gently brushing her curls from her face, fitting the hat over them tenderly. She froze, almost too nervous to breathe, as his long fingers played with her hair, tucking here, pulling a loose bit of straw out there. After a moment, he stepped back and gazed at her.
“You look no more mussed than when you arrived,” he observed. “Only you and I know how much excitement has occurred.”
“You are being ridiculous,” she protested, though her knees felt weak from his touch.
“Am I? It seems rather that you are the one who is nonsensical.” He leaned forward before she could stop him and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was a mere brush, barely more than a touch, but she could feel the promise and possession in it.
The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) Page 14
