His Disobedient Thief Page 2

  But harm had come from the situation, her father was now dead, and Carin intended to find the person responsible and bring him to justice.

  When she’d found the keys, she’d wondered if they had something to do with the unnamed man who had hired her father. Something told her it had. He’d said he’d sold the items, and truly there was nothing left but bits and trinkets.

  Except for the keys, four keys carefully labeled and set aside. What did they mean? They had to unlock something, something of value. She had pledged to find out what.

  She’d already searched the first three and tried the keys in each lock she could find in the house. She’d come up empty.

  “You’re wasting time,” she said to herself as she stared around the room. “If he comes home and finds you here there will be hell to pay.” She thought about it for a moment and decided the risk was worth it. If she didn’t find something here she would be at the end of the only leads she had, if you could call this a lead. She sighed and took a candle from the pocket of her trousers. She lit it and set it on the bedstead and began searching the drawers.

  “I never knew London was so dangerous,” Shelia said, sliding closer to Lord Ellington. “I’ve read in the newspapers that more than a dozen homes have been broken into in the past few days. It’s just terrible.”

  She shivered and smiled at Ellington. He in turn took a sip of his wine and groaned into the glass. He glanced at the clock and wondered what time he could leave without seeming rude to his hosts.

  “Actually, Mrs. McCoy, the burglaries have dropped off as of late. Six months ago, they were quite common. They stopped for a while, and have started again, true, but the losses have been minimal, or so I hear. But one’s servants should be up to guarding the house while their master is away.”

  “You’re so very knowledgeable, just like Lady Essex said. Perhaps we could share a dance after dinner?”

  Ellington’s eyes popped wide open as he felt her hand slide up his thigh, dangerously close to his cock, and gently squeeze. This was much bolder than she’d been before. She obviously expected to end up in his bed tonight. He hated to be rude, but he needed to get himself out of this situation as quickly as possible.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I’m going to stay for the dancing. Perhaps another time.”

  Shelia pouted, squeezed again and then smiled at him. “Of course, milord. I’m to attend the Duke of Roth’s crush tomorrow night. Will you be there?”

  He usually liked to attend parties, but now he wished he could think of a reason to stay home. He could say something suddenly came up, he thought, but if it was sudden he wouldn’t know about it tonight. He would think of an excuse tomorrow. Until then he would tell her yes. He confirmed that he would be and then felt relief sweep over him as Dalton stood to announce that dinner was over. Shelia excused herself and Ellington made for the doorway.

  “Leaving already?” Dalton came up behind him and clasped him on the shoulder. “Don’t like this latest prospect either?”

  Shaking his head, Ellington smiled. “I have to hand it to your wife, Essex, she is persistent. I appreciate the thought, but I’m afraid that perhaps my years of love are behind me. I’m happy now that Charity has a husband and house of her own. The house is empty without her, but I think I can find things to occupy my mind. Horses and such, you know. Some gambling. Perhaps I’ll spend more time at my home in the country.”

  Essex smiled. “We’re having The Club meeting here next Monday. Will you be attending?”

  “Of course,” Ellington replied. “There is always The Club. I may be over age for finding love, but I can find a nice bottom to spank, and a nice quim to fuck. Amelia is always willing. Perhaps I can give her a double dose of what she likes.”

  The two men laughed.

  “Perhaps you should think about marrying her. She would make a good wife. And it would make Charity happy to think that you’d found someone. She told me at her wedding that it would be wonderful to think her father had found someone to love.”

  Ellington shook his head. “I enjoy Amelia’s company, but I’m afraid I’m too old to start over with a new wife.” He wanted to tell Dalton that it wasn’t every day that a man found true love, and Dalton was lucky to have found it. Ellington just had to live with the fact he would be alone.

  Essex laughed. “Don’t let Charlotte hear you talk like that. She’ll double her efforts in trying to find you a suitable wife.”

  “In that case, I think I should be off. Please give Charlotte my thanks for a wonderful evening.”

  Ellington made fast for the door before Charlotte could come along and detain him.

  Once inside his carriage he shook his head. Perhaps young Mrs. McCoy wouldn’t be too bad. His cock had stirred, just slightly, when she’d squeezed his thigh. He thought of taking her over his knee, raising her skirts and revealing her bare bottom. The idea did not cause him to smile and he groaned softly. His cock should have hardened at the thought, but it did not. Perhaps he was setting his standards too high.

  As the carriage rolled along he closed his eyes and thought about bending Shelia McCoy over the dining room table in full view of the members of The Club. Would she beg for him to fuck her? Would she scream with pleasure when he stuck his hard cock in her backside?

  Something told him no. She didn’t seem the sort, but then again neither did Charlotte, and she had proven to be a perfect match for Dalton.

  He had to take the chance, or he would be alone for the rest of his life. He would call on Mrs. McCoy tomorrow and take her up on her offer for a ride in the park. But they would do it in his carriage and not on horseback. Maybe he would order her to use her hands, or even her mouth, to bring him to climax while they rode. That would show her true colors, how she would react to being ordered to pleasure him while others were around.

  Ellington decided, he would make her use her mouth. He imagined the look on her face when he told her to get on her knees and take his prick in her mouth. If she refused their relationship would never start. But he wouldn’t tell her that. He was not the sort of man to use threats to make a woman do what he wanted.

  He preferred to let them know he was in charge, and to see what happened next. Yes, tomorrow would be the perfect day to get his dick sucked. His cock actually hardened at the thought. Whether it was from seeing Mrs. McCoy on her knees or having an orgasm that he didn’t have to produce himself he wasn’t sure. But he would find out soon enough.

  Carin looked around the room and shook her head. She’d been in Ellington’s bedroom for more than an hour. Not one piece of paper that indicated Ellington was the man who hired, and then murdered, her father. There wasn’t anything. The key didn’t even fit anything.

  It was another dead end, and it made her angry. She sat down on the floor and covered her face with her hands, tears silently slipping down her face. Her father had been gone four months now. Four months since the Inspectors had shown up to tell her that he’d been found dead in the park. This was her last clue, and it had proved fruitless.

  She wanted to be strong, wanted to stop crying but she couldn’t. He hadn’t been the perfect father, but he had loved her, and she had failed.

  What would she do now? Maybe she should start over. Going back to the houses and having another go around might prove useful. There were, of course, rooms that she hadn’t searched. She hadn’t had the time.

  She sat up and wiped her eyes. That was the thing to do, go back to the beginning of her search and do it again. Maybe she would find something on the second go-round.

  She stood and stretched. She looked around the room to make sure nothing was out of place. It all seemed the same to her.

  Carin moved toward the doorway and then stopped in her tracks as voices filtered through the portal.

  “Milord, you’re home early.” A woman’s voice rang out. “I’m sorry, I’ve yet to turn down your bed or light the lamps. Let me see to it, straight away.”

  A deeper voi
ce came, and Carin nearly melted on the spot, her heart leaping into her throat. Ellington was home. It wasn’t even midnight and he was here. She felt as if her heart might leap out of her chest.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Walker. I can take care of those things myself, take yourself off to bed.”

  Carin wheeled around, looking for a place to hide. The room was large, filled with a huge bed that sat high off the floor, a wardrobe and desk. She looked at the French doors and the balcony. She didn’t think she had time to open the doors and climb down the balcony stairs before Ellington appeared.

  Her breathing became labored as the doorknob turned. She moved quickly toward the bed, ducking down and throwing herself under the frame of the huge four-poster. She lifted the bed skirt and watched as a pair of black boots walked along the floor right near her face, and then she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand to try and stifle the sound.

  The candle. She’d left it on the bedstead. A stupid mistake. He would see it and know that something was amiss. She heard him mutter to himself softly. Then he lit the lamp on the bedstead and moved toward the doors. He opened them, and cool evening air flooded the room.

  Carin held her breath as he moved around, opening and shutting drawers, mumbling to himself. She gauged whether she could make it to the window before he saw her and decided against trying. He hadn’t raised an alarm so maybe the candle had not seemed strange to him.

  She could hear the rustle of clothing, and it was obvious to her that Ellington was undoing cuffs and buttons. She lifted the skirt and watched as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the chair. She watched as he took off his cuffs and laid them on a dressing table. When he took off his shirt she put her hand over her mouth to hold back a moan. He really was a most excellent specimen of a man.

  He stood near the doors and looked out, wearing only his pants. After a few moments he moved back to the dressing table and took out a piece of material and a bottle of something. Then he sat down in a large chair near the fire, opened his pants and put whatever was in the bottle in the palm of his hand.

  He started to stroke himself, moving slowly at first. Carin stared, her mouth watering at the sight. He increased his speed, his breath coming in hard, uneven gasps as he obviously neared completion. Carin’s excitement rose with his; her nipples hardened, and her quim was wet. He held the cloth in front of him at the end, obviously catching his semen.

  He hadn’t said a word during the entire event. Now that it was over he let his head loll to the side. Carin watched as he fell asleep. She knew now was the time. As quietly as possible she got out from under the bed, snatched up her candle and made for the open doors.

  She was down the stairs in seconds, her heart racing. She started around the house, careful to watch for any sort of guard. She needed to get out of here and do it as quickly as possible. Then she would, as she’d decided, start over again. It was the only thing to do.

  Chapter 2

  Carin left her rooms early the next morning. She wanted to get to work early, because she knew there were three dresses that needed to be attended to and finished as quickly as possible. But she also wanted to miss talking to her landlady. Mrs. Fisk was sweet, but once she started talking it was hard to get her to be quiet.

  More to the point, Carin had not slept very well last night after almost being caught in Lord Ellington’s bedroom. Her nerves had been on edge after she’d made her quick getaway. But her body had been on fire as memories of his hand stroking his cock kept replaying in her mind. He’d looked so incredibly sexy, and when she finally got home she’d been shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was her near miss, or the memory of him pleasuring himself. She still wasn’t sure.

  Big Ben tolled seven bells, and Carin’s stomach rumbled. She had no food in the house right now, which meant she needed to stop at a bakery near the dress shop where she worked and pick up some scones and a loaf of bread that could be used for afternoon tea. Something told her it was going to be a long day.

  She hurried to buy the things she wanted, and then almost sprinted down the street to where Margaret Thompson, her boss, was unlocking the door.

  “I’m happy to see you’re early,” Mrs. Thompson said as she pushed opened the door. “We have a lot to accomplish today.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carin said. “I brought scones, and a pot of that gooseberry jam that you like so much.”

  “How thoughtful,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I’ll set the kettle if you go in the back room and make sure the dresses we need to work on are ready.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carin said. She hated being so deferential to a woman who was just three years older than her, but she owned the shop, and Carin depended on her for her position. If she wanted to, Mrs. Thompson could terminate Carin’s employment, which would mean she would have nothing. Finding this position had been hard enough. Trying to find another one would prove difficult.

  They ate their breakfast, and then settled into work. Carin found her mind wandering, and more than once she pricked herself with a needle and had to pull her finger back before she bled on the material. When it was time for tea she had coverings on all her fingers, and had ripped out a great deal of her work because her mind kept going back to last night.

  All day she’d had a recurring daydream about crawling out from under the bed, kneeling in front of him and finishing the job he’d started. In her fantasy he’d stroked her hair and said, “Carin, your hands are so soft. Make me spend, sweet one. Make me explode.”

  Of course the reality of it was he would have yelled at the sight of her and then tackled her to the ground. After that he would have sent for the authorities and right now she would be in a prison cell instead of sewing a dress for a spoiled socialite. The material in the dress cost almost as much as Carin paid weekly for her rooms.

  What would it be like to have that amount of money? Or to wear a dress like this? Or a corset that was soft as satin instead of scratchy like the cheap cotton ones she made for herself.

  “You’re gathering wool,” Mrs. Thompson said. “You’ve been doing it all day. Is something wrong? Do you need an advance on your wages?”

  “No,” Carin said sharply. “I just had trouble sleeping last night. For some reason I tossed and turned.”

  The reason was the sight of a big, fat cock that I couldn’t get hold of, she thought to herself.

  “Well, push whatever it is aside and get busy,” Mrs. Thompson said. But then she demurred. “Of course, it is teatime. Perhaps we should take a break. If you’ll put on the kettle and cut some bread I’ll go down and buy us some clotted cream to go with our jam. A treat that will, hopefully, spur us on to finish our work tonight.

  “That sounds delicious,” Carin said. She put the dress down, taking care to lay it flat so it didn’t wrinkle too much. She hated steaming the dresses when they were finished.

  She put the water on to boil and then cut several slices of bread before she opened the gooseberry jam. She sniffed in the aroma of the jam, savoring it. If she were married to Lord Ellington would she have something like this everyday? Something told her she would. She would never have to worry about where her next meal was coming from, or what would happen if she didn’t have her rent at the beginning of each week.

  There was also that cock. Even in the firelight she could see that it was something she’d like to play with, something that she’d like to take in her mouth. She imagined it going in and out, filling her, making her hungry for more.

  After a few moments she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Even if he did have a body that would provide pleasure, he was one of her suspects in her father’s murder. That made him evil as far as she was concerned, which wasn’t something that pleased her. Not that he would look at the likes of her. She was not of his standards, which meant it wouldn’t do her any good to even think about what it would be like to lie with him.

  She thought about taking out her reticule, where she had the four keys. She also had notes that she’d
made at each house. She hadn’t had the time to do one on Ellington’s house last night.

  It came to mind that she should do it now, but she wasn’t sure when Mrs. Thompson would be back. Plus, there wasn’t that much to add to his sheet, just the words, “Nothing found. Caught. Go back.” That wouldn’t take long to write. She figured she had at least five more minutes before her employer returned.

  She crossed the room and took out her bag, finding the kerchiefs that she had wrapped around the keys and notes, one for each house. She found Ellington’s and unwrapped it, her eyes widening as fear shot through her.

  The key was gone. Had she left it at his house last night? That was the only answer. The paper was there, but there was nothing else. Fear shot through her. What would Ellington think if he found it? She told herself not to worry about it. There was really only one place it could be, and that was under his bed. She’d had it in her hand when she dove for cover, and there was no reason for him to be there.

  She had been planning on going back to his house, to search other rooms. But she didn’t want it to be the night after her disastrous event from the night before. But now she didn’t have a choice. She had to get that key back.

  Tonight.

  Tristan sat down in the dining room and picked up his fork with one hand, and the newspaper with the other. He ate a good portion of his food and scanned the headlines, politics about the upcoming election. Tristan didn’t give a damn about politics. Things never changed, no matter whether the party was led by the Conservatives or the Liberal Unionists.

  He scanned the headlines but ignored the stories. Farther into the paper he found things more to his interest. Robert Louis Stevenson had a new book out. That meant he needed to stop by the shops and purchase a copy for himself, and one for Charity. He knew she loved to read as much as he did.