Captured by Him ~ The fourth novelette from "Different Desire", a Gay Victorian Romance and Erotic novelette collection Read Free

chin and tackle him to the ground. In fact, Milton was almost starting to enjoy the pure madness and turmoil when he suddenly realized that something had gone horribly wrong on the way. He hesitated for a short second, still straddling the other man, with his fist in the air ready to punch him again.
    The highwayman noticed what was wrong first and swore.
    “That was very, very stupidly done,” the villain said in his hoarse voice, which was tight with anger.
    Milton was almost ready to agree with him as he looked down on his bare chest and saw the hilt of the rapier sticking out from his left side, just by the ribs. Blood was already flowing freely from the wound. His valet would have a fit when he saw what Milton had managed to do to the carefully selected and brushed grey breeches, Milton noted absentmindedly as the fabric started to soak up the blood. Strangely there was no pain, even though the there was quite a lot of blood.
    Was that not odd, that it did not hurt? Milton thought and felt almost giddy. All the anger had left him. Surely a wound like that should have hurt quite a bit, yes?
    “It is rather cold today, is it not?” Milton whispered softly to the highwayman for no reason at all.
    Rea li ty seemed to waver a couple of times before it winked out. This truly must be the worst day ever , Milton thought before the dark veil of unconsciousness crept up around the edges of his world and oblivion wrapped itself around him , and he resolutely collapsed into the arms of the cursing highwayman.
     
    *
     
    Gradually Milton emerged to consciousness again and opened his eyes slowly. He had been dreaming, or at least he thought so. He remembered short sequences of fragmented memories: strong arms around him, holding him tightly on horseback. Someone carrying him with ease, calling at him to stay awake when he was so tired, so exhausted. And then later , a husky voice who gently told him that “This is going to hurt.”
    T hen it had felt like someone had tried to tear away a large piece of flesh from his ribcage , and there had indeed been pain just like the husky voice had warned him. Lots and lots of pain. Until reality went away again.
    But now , he was lying flat on his back in an unfamiliar cool room , which smelled faintly of winter apples. The room had absolutely nothing in common with his usual room at Huntington Hall. The ceiling was wrong to start with. Instead of seeing the normal view of the intricate pattern of the carved rosewood ceiling in his bedchamber, Milton stared up at an unfamiliar , slightly arched stone ceiling. Small pieces of green moss grew in the crevices between the uneven grey stones. He noticed further that his luxury four - poster bed and goose - feather mattress had been exchanged for some sort of pallet made of a lumpy straw mattress and a thick , blue , woollen blanket , which smelled strongly of horses.
    Where on earth was he , and how had he ended up here? He had no recollection o f what had happened or how he had gotten there.
    Milton tried to hunt his memories into making sense , and with a mild wave of sick recognition , he remembered the terrible marriage proposal to Miss Constance Bradwardine and her happy agreement to it. He also remembered crying wretchedly later in the horse carriage, wishing deeply that things could be different and that he could be like everyone else.
    … And then there had been an ambush of highwaymen? An attack of some kind? An accident?
    The memory was still patchy and refused to make sense completely. Ignoring a short stab of pain , he propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at his surroundings.
    It must be some sort of cellar or a storage room, he thought because the small stone room lacked any kind of windows. Only a little sunlight was able to steal through the broad cracks around the closed wooden door at the opposite end of the room, ca st ing most of the room in a faint dimness. But Milton’s attention was caught by the sight of