The Duchess and the Highwaymen

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A lost duchess finds peril in a dark wood.
6.7k words
4.54
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 11/04/2017
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Willamina conceded that she was hopelessly lost. She must have been walking for hours. Her feet ached within her pretty pink shoes which were clearly designed more with fashion than function in mind. Her lungs were burning beneath the tightly cinched corset that encased her waist. Somewhere in the distance a cuckoo called out for a mate. As she made her way through the tangled maze of trees, tears blurred her view of the meager path before her.

In truth, she had no idea where she was going when she first ran into the woods. It was perhaps not the brightest decision she had ever made but she just had to get out of the stifling confines of the opulent carriage and away from her husband.

It had only been three months since Willamina had wed Giles Worthington the Duke of Hereford. She had such high hopes for the union. After all, what girl doesn't wish to marry a handsome young duke? On paper they were a perfect match. His massive fortune married quite well with her family's desirable connections to King George.

Unfortunately, their personalities hadn't married as well as their pedigrees. In the girlish fantasies of youth Willamina dreamt of a husband who would hold her tightly and love her passionately. In reality, Giles hardly ever held her at all. And as for passion... the activities within their marital bed could be described as perfunctory, at best.

She had supposed her husband was merely a cold fish until she heard the latest bit of gossip making the rounds of the Asterley's ballroom that evening. Word was that while the ink was still drying on their marriage license the duke had installed the infamous courtesan Lucrecia de Mornay in one of his London houses.

Hurt and humiliated, Willamina confronted Giles on the journey home, expecting him to at least have the decency to muster up a convincing denial. Not only had he refused to deny it, he announced in no uncertain terms that he intended to keep his very public mistress wherever and however he pleased. He went on to inform her that her opinion on the matter was of no concern to him whatsoever.

"It is not a wife's place to judge the behavior of her husband but merely to obey him and bare his children." He declared in a decidedly ducal tone.

It was at that point in the horrid conversation that Willamina pounded on the carriage door until the driver was obliged to stop. Not feeling particularly obedient, she slipped out the door and, ignoring Giles' brusque orders that she return immediately, beat a hasty retreat into a nearby copse of silvery birches.

She had been wandering around the woods ever since, pondering just how very lost she was. How dare he humiliate her so publicly! All of society now knew that the Duke of Hereford had no interest in his new wife. Was she really that undesirable? She didn't think so. Her delicate features and vibrant red hair had been admired by many gentlemen and she had received more than one envious glare from the ladies of the ton as she waltzed around the ballroom in her tightly fitted blue gown.

Still her husband hardly ever glanced her way. His only interest in her involved the production of heirs. As if she was nothing to him but a well-kept broad mare. Fresh tears pricked at her pale blue eyes. She was still young, after all. Only twenty. Far too young to resign herself to a dull existence devoid of any passion. There had to be something more out there...

So wrapped up in her own dismal thoughts, Willamina burst into a clearing and blundered right into something hard and broad. She looked up to discover that something was a man's chest.

"Pardon me, sir." She blurted and quickly paced backwards to put some space between her and the stranger. Unfortunately, that only brought her closer to several more equally hard and broad looking men. They swiftly and efficiently encircled her.

"Forgive me gentlemen for interrupting your evening." She managed to squeak out though her voice caught in her suddenly tight throat. "I'm afraid I'm a tad lost."

"I'll say." One dangerous looking fellow growled. "We don't get many fine ladies around these parts."

She counted four, five- no six. It was difficult to keep track of the number as they continued to circle her. They were all big and tall, their ample muscles visible beneath their slightly shabby clothes. A few of the men looked quite young, no more than twenty while the others appeared closer to middle age.

Nervously, she surveyed the swords and pistols that dangled from their belts. They were all surveying back her with equal interest. Their predatory stares made her feel distinctly prey like. The feeling sent a peculiar shudder down her spine.

Willamina had heard of such men; highwaymen. The King's advisors frequently grumbled about lost goods and stolen levies along the roads to and from London. Not to mention the lurid tales of pistol wielding villains and terrorized travelers that were passed freely around the drawing rooms of bored, blue-blooded biddies.

Surrounded by these infamous thieves, Willamina's mind tried to process the perilous predicament she had suddenly found herself in. Fear knotted her stomach and tightened her lungs. It seemed to infect her whole body, burning through her veins and muddying her thinking. Yet that fear was tempered by a certain degree of curios anticipation.

They were closing in fast. Willamina turned on her heels but that only made her head spin. Suddenly someone seized her by the right arm. Then another took hold of her left arm.

"Unhand me, you brutes!" She shrieked.

But they did not. They are very rough in their handling and her resistance only served to make them rougher. She was being pulled this way and that, becoming more disoriented and hysterical by the second. An unexpected cuff across the cheek jerked her head to the side. The startling jolt of pain brought her to her senses and she instantly stilled in their grip.

"That's enough!" A deep voice boomed.

Everyone froze and turned in the direction of the sound. Out of the shadows stepped a tall man. With dark, steely eyes and a chiseled jaw covered in thick stubble, he looked as dark and wicked as the devil himself- and just as tempting. From the commanding tone of his voice and the way the other men parted for him Willamina supposed he must be the ringleader of this motley crew.

Atop his head of long black hair sat a tri-corner hat with a large white feather. His long black coat matched perfectly with his sparkling black eyes. Willamina let her gaze wander further south. The view of muscles straining through his buckskin breeches made Willamina's heart flutter wildly beneath her breast.

Her stomach turned summersaults as she watched him sidled towards her. Up close he seemed larger than life, his body tan and fit from a rough life of riding and fighting.

"Well, what have we here? What's your name, little nymph?" He said in a deep, clear voice that was at once commanding and playful. She met his eyes rebelliously but kept her lips tightly shut. "Very well, little nymph will have to do."

"I am no one of consequence." She quickly added, fearing that they might try to ransom her if they knew her identity.

"I've never met someone so inconsequential with such a substantial diamond round their neck." In one swift motion he plucked the necklace from her throat. He dangled the sparkling jewel in front of her eyes before dropping it into his pocket with a wink. He patted the pocket and continued as if nothing happened. "No, I know quality when I see it and you, my dear, are most certainly quality."

On closer inspection his eyes weren't black at all. They were a rich, deep russet with tiny gold flecks that glimmered in the light. As he raked her body with those glimmering eyes she felt color and heat rush to her cheeks- as well as other places...

"That's a lovely gown. Silk, isn't it?" Boldly, he reached for her and felt the bright blue material between his fingers. "Worth a pretty penny I'll bet."

"It's worth more than your life." Willamina glowered, trying to look brave even as she trembled. Not an easy task but she was still a Duchess after all.

He whistled his rebuttal. "That is quite a bit according to the crown. What is the bounty up to now boys? £150."

"200, now boss." A gruff voice called out from somewhere behind her.

He held out a hand and after a few moments a roll of paper was placed in his palm. Unfurling it with a bit of theatre, he held the poster before her eyes. The sign read WANTED John 'Black Jack' Turner. Next to a rather long list of his crimes and a promise of a £200 bounty for his capture was a sketch of his face.

The likeness didn't really do him justice. It failed to accurately portray the strength of his chiseled jaw or the aquiline elegance of his nose. The glossy black hair and the sharp shadowy eyes were nearly right. But the one feature the poster captured perfectly was the mischievous grin that even now played upon his full lips.

"But where are my manners. I haven't introduced myself. I've been called by many names. Black Jack, the scourge of the King's road, the merry bandit. But you may call me Jack." His grin widened further, and he doffed his cap with a debonair flourish.

"I've heard of men like you." She raised her chin defiantly trying to ignore the strange fluttering effect that alluring grin seemed to have on her insides.

"There are no men like me." He pronounced with a lively arch of his brow.

"Highwaymen," she scoffed, pushing the flutter aside to focus on her anger. "Dastardly thieves and cutthroats."

"We prefer gentlemen of the road."

Willamina let out a bitter laugh. "You're no gentleman."

"As opposed to your perfumed lords who steal bread from the mouths of peasants so they may dine from silver plates? I worked for men like that when I was a lad. Serving long hours for meager scraps. That is, until I discovered that the gentry only seemed to find their charitable nature at the point of a pistol."

"I suppose you fancy yourself a veritable Robin Hood."

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'd hardly call myself a folk hero but there are much bigger crooks in this world than I. With deceptively honorable titles."

"If you are so much more honorable then you would release me." Willamina ventured.

"I'd be facing a revolt if I let a prize as valuable as this slip through my fingers. This is my forest, little nymph, and all trespassers must pay the toll" He swept a hand suggestively down her ample curves. Willamina's big blue eyes grew bigger with fear as she began to imagine exactly what payment might entail. Seeing the fright on her face he seemed to take pity. "But I'm not as cruel as your greedy nobles. Let's make a deal, shall we? You have my word that once you've satisfactorily paid the toll I'll send you on your way home good as new. Or nearly so." He added a mischievous wink.

"What is the word of a thief worth to me?" Willamina replied in her haughtiest tone. The one she had practiced to perfection on bungling servants.

"I hope you are not calling me a liar." In return, his voice grew huskier, more serious.

"I am calling you a scoundrel!" She countered. Her indignant shriek scared a flock of blackbirds from a nearby elm tree, yet Jack hardly batted an eyelash.

"There you may be right." He chuckled, unbothered by her scorn and returned his attention back to her gown. More specifically to its plunging neckline. "As fine as it is, I don't think your dress is quite worth the price of passage. But I can think of something that is." He grabbed a handful of bosom that practically spilled over the top.

Outraged by the ungentlemanly act, Wilamina spit in Jack's face.

He wiped the spittle from his cheek, the sly smile never leaving his lips. "You are far too overdressed for a nymph. Gents, why don't we make the lady a bit more comfortable."

Many hands fell on her- untying, tugging, tearing. In the space of a few moments they did the work of undressing her that would have taken two lady's maids a quarter of an hour to accomplish. Soon she found herself standing before a band of leering strangers in nothing but her stockings and a thin shift.

Jack took a small knife from his high leather boots. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as he brought the blade to the neck of her shift. Carefully but concisely he cut the flimsy garment from head to hem. He repeated the process until the shredded ribbons fell to the ground at her feet.

Now nude in front of so many dressed men, the vulnerability of her position began to fully sink in. The soft breeze chilled her flesh and contracted the tips of her breasts to hard pearls, making her feel even more self-conscious. Panic enveloped her so that when Jack approached she sprang backwards. Her feet staggered a few stepped back yet her flight was abruptly halted when her back collided with the substantial trunk of an ancient oak. She was quickly cornered after that. Before she could react both of her arms were being held firmly at her side so that she was obliged to clutch the tree from behind.

Jack advanced once more. She struggled but she quickly ceased her thrashing when he raised his knife to slide it along the curve of her breast. She barely dared to breath after that while he lightly ran the cool metal along her bare flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Willamina let in a loud inhale when the sharp point of the blade just grazed the sensitive pink peak of her nipple.

"Don't touch me you villain." She seethed, trying but failing to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Hush now. I wouldn't dream of marring such love merchandise. What delicate skin you have, my dear. Milky and soft with not a mark of illness or injury upon it. Like the costliest white velvet." He touched her very slowly, deliberately, as if feeling a piece of material to judge its quality.

The other men crowded around to marvel at her soft skin. They groped and squeezed and pinched. Running fingers through her copper-colored locks. Appreciating the delicacy of her finely shaped limbs. They handled her as if she was an exotic curiosity. A precious object- but an object nonetheless.

With all those ravenous eyes and searching hands upon her, appraising and admiring, Willamina felt exposed and afraid but at the same time her traitorous body reminded her that the feeling wasn't altogether unpleasant. Mixed with the fear and humiliation was an undeniable spark of arousal low in her belly.

"Hold her legs open, lads." Jack ordered.

All too eager to oblige, two men quickly grabbed Willamina's legs and forced them up and apart until her feet left the ground. The two gruff men at her side increased their grip on her already secured arms. Suspended thusly, she wriggled like a fly caught in a web but she could hardly move an inch with so many strong, callused hands holding her just where they wanted her.

Much to her horror, being held in such a defenseless position made heat and moisture rush to her core. She increased her defiant struggles, desperate to convince everyone, especially herself, that she didn't want this.

Spread open before him, Willamina felt Jack's gaze drop to the dark triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs. His dark eyes narrowed to pinpricks of lust. Knife raised, he stepped into the space between her open legs. To her relief he slipped the little blade back into his boot. Yet that relief was short-lived as he used his now free hand to part the lips of her sex. They both let out a hiss of air as he eases a finger inside. "Very snug fit. But nothing a bit of breaking in can't remedy."

The men erupted into barks of mocking laughter.

"What are you going to do to me?" She asked, both excited and afraid of the answer.

"What generally happens to pretty little nymphs when they are caught by the hunter." As Jack said this he wrapped a hand around her throat and gripped it with just enough force to make her gasp. "But not to worry, I know just what your kind craves."

Suddenly his lips were upon hers. The searing warmth of his kiss was shocking. Yet the first tremor of surprise was quickly replaced by a flood of heat straight to her sex. Willamina found her lips parting on their own accord to admit his tongue into her keen mouth. He tasted and probed, kissing her with a burning urgency that left her breathless. It was nothing like the sedate kisses her husband reluctantly bestowed. This was raw, unrestrained, uncivilized. The way she had always imagined a kiss should be.

While Jack's mouth continued to claim hers, his thumb stroked the column of her neck in an obvious sign of dominance that seemed to turn her insides to jelly. As their tongues tangled the heat in her belly grew and spread like a wildfire until she feared she might combust right on the spot.

Her palms yearned to reach out and touch his solid chest. To run her fingers through his long, ebony hair. But she could do neither with her arms still immobilized. She could only explore him with her curious tongue, and explore she did. Finally, after what may have been hours or only seconds, he broke the embrace with a playful nip that left her bottom lip red and swollen.

Before she could begin to work out the strange emotions the kiss had kindle within her, his mouth was working down her throat to her chest, leaving a trail of fire and confusion in its wake. Abruptly he sucked an erect nipple into his mouth, engulfing the sensitive bud in wet, hot pleasure. Reflexively, she arched into him, feeling a sizable bulge pressing against her thigh.

She was still reeling from the shock of his clever mouth when he released her nipple and began opening the fall of his pants to withdraw the source of the considerable bulge she had detected. It was long and thick and very hard. He ran his rigid manhood across the slippery seam of her sex. Slowly, deliberately, he gathered up her juices on his ready cock. The breath caught in her throat as she felt the blunt tip press against her opening.

He was so hard, so rugged, so categorically male. In her sheltered upbringing Willamina had never met a masculine specimen like this one. His dominant aura seemed to call to a hitherto dormant part deep inside of her. It awaked a dark desire. The desire to surrender.

Yet Willamina had to remind herself that she was a proper duchess not some common hedge-whore. The thought of being held down and taken out in the open by a notorious highwayman should have filled her with revulsion. Instead of the shameful excitement that was currently coursing through her.

"Tell me you want this." He hissed, his breath hot in her ear. "Tell me you want to be fucked long and hard and rough."

His words inflamed. Willamina felt wetness slicking her thighs. As her body writhed against the hand around her slender neck, her mind fought to recall all the reasons she should resist. But the unbearable ache between her legs was swiftly drowning out such trivial things as reason and sound judgement. All the while Jack waited patiently, observing her inner struggles with obvious amusement.

Mustering her last shred of willpower, Willamina finally managed to form the word "No." Her voice came out clear, but the tone held no conviction.

Jack leaned in until she could feel his warm breath on her face and then gave her a knowing smile. "Now who is the liar?"

He plunged into her, his entire length sliding in easily due to her abundant wetness. Tangible evidence of her falsehood. She wanted this. They both knew it. Slamming into her three times to show her his power, he then settled into a steady driving rhythm. With each thrust she felt the slap of his firm abdomen against her as he drove into her harder and deeper.

All around her rough hands held her down, giving her no choice but to take what Jack was giving her. Their brutal fingers dug into her flesh, adding a sharp twinge of pain to the other sensations. Coarse bark scraped against the delicate skin on her back, but she hardly cared. Quite against the will of her mind, her body was responding to the pain.

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