A Regency Ravishment Pt. 02

CAPTAIN WENTWORTH EMBROILED IN SCANDAL AGAIN!

Anne's heart thumped as she saw the gossip column's headline. She had cut all ties with London, transferring most of her wealth to her aunt with the help of her lawyer. She only needed a modest income to survive as a widow anyway, and her investment in the local mines was more than enough to support her and Edward. No one knew where she was. Her lawyer had been instructed to never tell anyone. As far as London was concerned, she had vanished into thin air.

In the small mining town of St Trin, the only indulgence she allowed herself was reading the newspaper from London. It was always two days old but it sufficed to keep her in the know. For years, she had heard no tell of Oliver, but here it was, his name on the front page, beneath a ghastly caricature of him grabbing and kissing what looked like a ghastlier caricature of her, while an angry woman with a bulbous nose glared at the two of them.

Dear Reader

One wonders at Captain Wentworth's ability to entangle himself in all sorts of trouble. Why, it seems like just yesterday that all of London was gossiping about his hand in the disappearance of one Miss Anne Musgrave. Scandal rocked the two families when Sir Phillip Musgrave challenged him to a duel, only for Captain Wentworth to not turn up. And then Captain Wentworth challenged Sir Phillip to a duel the next day, roaring that he would find out where the young baronet was hiding Miss Musgrave or kill him. Sir Phillip barely escaped alive, and the ordeal left both parties enraged and none the wiser of Miss Musgrave's whereabouts. So perhaps we ought to have taken Miss Dalton's word that Miss Musgrave eloped with her footman.

Speaking of Miss Dalton, scandal visited the house party of Lord and Lady Elliot when she was caught in the bedroom of Captain Wentworth in a state of deshabille. Witnesses say Mrs Dalton fainted on the spot and Mr Dalton ordered Wentworth to marry his daughter.

Wentworth, however, swore soundly that she was trying to trap him and refused.

"My heart already belongs to another," he was quoted as saying, "and I would not sully it by attempting to lay with this disingenuous young lady."

What do you think, Dear Reader? Is there more to the story of Anne Musgrave and Oliver Wentworth than met the eye? One thing is for sure though. I would not wish to be in the shoes of the poor footman she married, lest the angry Captain gets his hands on him...

Anne sighed. "Oh Oliver, when will you let me go?"

"My lady," Mrs Johnson, her housekeeper called out. "There is a manservant seeking to hand deliver a letter to you."

Frowning, Anne went to take the letter. This was odd. Her lawyer was not due to write to her for another fortnight, and he was not the kind to splurge on sending a manservant when regular mail would have sufficed. For a heart stopping moment, she wondered if her family was sick or in trouble. She hurried out to meet the man. He looked exhausted, but his horse seemed in worse condition.

"Good God, man!" Anne exclaimed. "Have you ridden through the night?"

"Urgent post, Ma'am," the servant said. "Mr Lawrence said time was of the essence."

Confused, she tore open the letter.

Dear Miss Musgrave

I write to you in great haste. Our mutual acquaintance has been taking great pains to discover your man of business for the past few years, as you know already, and today, he finally found out about me. He stormed into my home and threatened my wife and child if I did not disclose your location to him. I gave him the address of a Post Office in a town in the opposite direction, claiming he would find you there, but I fear for your safety.

You must take little Edward and flee. As for me, I will also send my wife and child....

Anne stopped reading, her blood running cold. He had found her lawyer. He would find her, too.

"Mrs Johnson!" she said, forcing her voice to stay calm, "please see to it that this man is well compensated and has the chance to rest at the inn for a while."

As Mrs Johnson nodded, Anne turned on her heel and dashed indoors. "Edward! Edward, where are you?"

Her son came out, his golden hair falling into blue eyes wide in confusion. "I was only playing, Mama."

"Oh Edward, thank heavens!" She was on the verge of tears as she hugged her child. "Listen to me, dearest. You and I are going on an adventure!"

His brow furrowed, making him look maddeningly like his father. "An adventure? Like in the stories you read me?"

"Yes! Exactly like that. Except we have to hurry. Go wash yourself and pick your favourite toy. We will leave in an hour."

Beaming, he ran up the stairs, leaving her to go over the logistics of her impending travel. They would pack light and travel fast. Mr Lawrence had given her enough time to escape before Oliver could find her.

"Ma'am?" Mrs Johnson's voice jerked her back to reality. "Ma'am, you have a visitor. All fancy-like too. Says he's your cousin."

Phillip?

"Show him in, Mrs Johnson, please," she said, mind whirling again. "And bring us a pot of tea."

Mrs Johnson bustled away and Anne made it to the drawing room, waiting to see the family she had abandoned all those years ago. But it was not Phillip that entered the room. It was -

"You!" she hissed, furious.

"Ahh, dearest cousin. It has been too long." Before she could resist, he had grasped her firmly and kissed her cheek. "What's the matter, Mrs Bennett? Are you surprised to see me?"

"How did you get here so fast?"

The smile he wore was painful to see, given how much he was seething. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were blazing. A nerve jumped on his forehead. "That's the thing, Anne. Instead of taking your foolishly honourable lawyer at his word, I decided to follow his manservant. And he led me straight to you! Is that not wonderful?"

Tears started to stream down her face. "Why will you not leave me alone? What grave sin have I committed which makes you burn for revenge the way you do?"

He was drinking her in. The last four years had changed her once more. Anne was in her second bloom, glowing despite the clear terror on her face. She had also regained some of the weight she had lost, her body now filled out in the right places again. Tearing his gaze away from her form, he forced her to meet his eyes. "You dared to run away from me, Anne. Not once, but twice. How many times must we go over this? You do not belong to yourself. You are only mine, to do with as I please."

"Please, Oliver, just let me go! You have Miss Dalton eating out of the palm of your hand. Marry her, beget heirs, forget about me. Just let me live the rest of my days in peace!"

"You talk as if you were close to your deathbed, foolish woman," he griped. "Miss Dalton - that stupid chit - means nothing at all to me. I would have one of you over a hundred of her."

Her heart, treacherous as it was, thumped wildly. "W-what are you saying?"

"Nothing, except I will have you. There is no escaping me, Anne. Come, let me look at you. You are glowing. Widowhood suits you, fake though it may be."

Reluctantly, she let him twirl her. Her mind was racing as she thought of Edward, upstairs, obliviously choosing his favourite toy. "Oliver, do you want to take a turn about the gardens with me?"

He smirked. "That is what landed gentry do in the countryside, don't they? Take turns about their grounds with their guests? No, Anne. I have no interest in your rose bushes. I only wish to see you."

He began to unlace her dress, gently and carefully, as though she were made of delicate porcelain.

"Oliver, please! Mrs Johnson will be here any minute with the tea!"

"I suppose she will get a good view, then. Good thing I did not tell her I was your brother, for she would surely be scandalised."

She gasped. "Oliver!"

"Hush," he admonished, his hold tightening. "Submit to me, my darling. I will make you feel so very good."

Wordlessly, she let his body envelop hers, anything to get the nightmare over with quickly.

"Did you miss me, my dear Anne?" He lowered his face to nuzzle her neck, the soft graze of his lips a stark contrast to his iron like grip. "Did you lie in bed late at night, wishing fervently that I would find you and claim you?"

"I fervently wished that your carriage would overturn and you would die."

"Feisty as ever." His laugh tickled her throat. "But I would have come back and haunted you, my love. I will always find my way back to you."

"How romantic," she remarked dryly, unsure where her courage was coming from. "Old age has made you soft."

"Only for now, Anne." He nipped at her collarbone, then licked her to soothe the pain. "I will properly punish you later. But first... tea!"

He stepped away from her calmly, just as Mrs Johnson entered.

For a brief moment, her housekeeper hesitated, looking at Anne's flushed skin and tousled hair, before meeting Oliver's gaze. What she must have seen there made her pale and she bobbed a low curtsy and hurried towards the door.

"Mrs Johnson!" Oliver called out behind her. "See to it that we are not disturbed during our...cosy chat."

With a peep of what sounded like assent, she all but ran out, leaving the two alone again.

As Oliver stalked back to Anne, she hurried over to the settee and sat down. "Tea, Captain?"

"No, Anne. Tea is not what I thirst for right now."

He knelt before her, drawing her skirts up and making her shiver. He landed soft butterfly kisses on her ankles, then her legs, eventually moving up to her thighs.

Her fingers snaked their way into his hair and tightened. She wasn't sure if she wanted to guide him towards her hot core or pull him away.

His teeth caught the delicate skin of her inner thigh, making her jump. "Still so sensitive, my love!" His voice was a mixture of wonderment and fondness.

"Oliver, the servants-"

"-will stay away, if they know what's good for them." And saying thus, he finally put his mouth on her quim, making her mewl with pleasure.

His tongue was hard and unyielding, licking her from bottom to top, and then back again, before thrusting inside her. "Your cunt is so sweet, Anne. And dripping for me."

Ashamed and aroused, she tried to squirm away from him, but his fingers dug into her thighs, stopping her. "Aaahhh, Oliver..."

His tongue flicked her nub relentlessly, building the pressure within her until she was certain she would burst.

"Scream for me, my little whore," he said, then bit down on her nub.

With a cry, she came, feeling nothing but his touch and the waves of pleasure threatening to tear her apart. "Oliver, yes!" She started to weep from the pleasure and the torment as he continued nibbling and tonguing her.

"Mama, mama!"

The sound of a child's voice broke through her haze of pleasure. Before she even knew what was happening, her skirts were pulled back down and Oliver had got up and moved a respectable distance away from her.

The door opened and Edward peeked through, holding his favourite stuffed bear.

"Edward!" she exclaimed, panicking. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you shouting when I was coming to show you my toy, Mama. I thought you needed help." Frowning, her boy looked at Oliver. "Did you hurt my Mama?"

But Oliver did not respond. His face was ashen, his brows furrowed as he examined Edward's features and did some mental calculations. And then his eyes met hers, and they blazed with fury and vengeance.

Anne jumped up and rushed to her son. "He did not hurt me, Edward. I cried because he... brought bad news of your Mama's investments."

Edward's eyes widened. "Are we to be poor, Mama?"

She winced. Oliver was staring at the drawing room in disgust, as if only noticing his surroundings now. What had seemed cosy and comfortable to her must seem dowdy and threadbare to him. There seemed to never be enough sunlight, the settee was stained with jam and paint thanks to Edward, and the tallow candles they used instead of wax emitted an awful smell. It was a far cry from the luxurious life she had left behind.

Slowly, menacingly, he stalked towards Edward, whose blue eyes, the exact same shade as his own, widened. "Don't worry, young man," he said, keeping his voice calm despite the fact that his clenched fists were trembling with rage. "You will not be poor, not while I'm alive."

"Who are you?" Edward inquired.

"I am your fa-"

"Oliver, stop it!" Anne hissed. "Edward, this is your father's friend, Captain Wentworth. He was in the Navy, just like your dear Papa."

"But he didn't die, unlike Papa?"

Oliver looked like he could strangle her to death in that instant.

"Edward, run along to the kitchen. Tell Mrs Johnson I said you can have two extra biscuits today."

"No," Oliver snarled. "He's not going anywhere."

"Oliver, please," she whispered, anguished. "Not in front of him. You have my word I will not have him taken away behind your back."

"Your word means nothing to me; you have broken it far too many times," he shot back, but let Edward scamper off in his quest for biscuits.

He waited a heartbeat, then strode to the door with a chair in hand, locking it and setting the chair in place so no one could open it from the outside. Then, he rounded on her, eyes promising harsh consequences. "You were absconding with my son."

"He is not your son!"

"His looks and age say otherwise."

She inhaled and squared her shoulders. "Do not fool yourself, Captain Wentworth. He may be of your seed, but it was I who birthed him, I who took care of him and provided for him, I who was there for him all those long nights when he suffered from terrors or ran a fever-"

"Because you hid him from me!" He thundered.

She shrank back as he advanced on her, balking at the rage she saw in his face. His usually calm mask had cracked open, his entire face contorted in anger and pain. He looked like he could murder her, like he wanted to murder her.

"You bitch," he spat. "Your cruelty knows no bounds. You shattered my heart and denied me the joy of fatherhood."

"P-please," she stammered, attempting to get a hold of herself, "all of England is probably littered with your bastards, knowing your... propensities."

He raised his hand as though he was going to hit her, but then he clenched his fist and roared, punching the wall beside her.

She shut her eyes in fear at his wrath.

"Always with the allegations! And what did I do to deserve them?"

"You raped me," she cried. "You ruined me and forced me to hide."

"I fucked you, Anne. I fucked you and you liked it. Because you are the whore, Anne. Not I."

She burst into tears at that, shame mingling with hurt.

"Shush, now." His voice was softer as he wiped the tears from her face, before tilting her chin up to look at him. "I have never spent myself inside anyone, Anne. It has only been you. Every time I fucked a woman, I imagined it was you. I took them all from behind, closing my eyes and telling myself it was you who was screaming my name."

"Stop it," she shouted. "I don't want to hear it!"

"If you will so readily believe the worst of me, then you will hear of my affairs," he growled. "God, Anne, if I didn't love you so much, I would have brought a whore and fucked her in front of you."

"Y-you lov-?" She could not complete her sentence, for he had trapped her in a rough kiss, hungry and demanding.

As he bit her lip, drawing blood, his hands ripped apart the rest of her bodice. Before she could protest, his mouth was upon her, sucking at her neck, biting her collarbone. His hands found her nipples and pinched them, making her yelp in pain. He twisted them, pulling them until her breasts hurt. "Yes, damn it, I have loved you, ever since I was a young lad of 22. I wanted to marry you and give you the world, but you never gave me a chance."

"Oliver, please, I-"

"I should have taken you right there, on your father's grave. Forced you to marry me. Punished you for tormenting me. But I was too honourable back then. And I have suffered for it, Lord knows I have suffered."

His teeth nipped at her skin, breaking it. His hands tore open her stays and forced them to the floor, before touching her core, lining himself against her. "Are you ready for me?"

She shook her head. He was scaring her too much and the fear had made her dry.

"Good," he growled, and pushed himself inside her.

She screamed from the pain. He continued to thrust into her, oblivious to her struggle, almost seeming pleased with her agony and terror. She tried to fight him off but he captured both her hands in his and pinned them to the wall above her.

"You will submit to me!" he roared. "Stop crying, you heartless bitch. Your tears don't move me."

In spite of herself, her body started to respond to him, juices flowing to ease his passage in and out of her. With every thrust, she felt the entirety of his raw power, no longer restrained. With every pump, he claimed her and conquered her. Her knees turned weak and gave way, but he lifted her legs and wrapped them around himself, forcing her to cling to him while he fucked her against the wall.

"You. Will. Never. Leave. Me. Again," he growled between thrusts. "Say. It."

"Aahhh," she moaned. "I will never leave you - aahhh - again."

As he continued to fuck her, his mouth found her ear, licking and nibbling on the lobe while he spoke. "You are mine and mine alone. Say it."

Tears of pleasure-pain streaking down her cheeks, she panted. "I am yours and yours alone."

He withdrew from her, leaving her feeling bereft, before walking her to the settee. He pushed her on all fours and entered her from behind, spanking her bottom as his pelvis slapped against her.

In this new position, he was rubbing that spot again inside of her, the one she could never reach with her fingers, and which sparked such a deep ache within her. It made her squirm and wiggle her bottom, allowing him to go deeper. The slaps on her globes only served to heighten her arousal as he fucked her relentlessly. All too soon, she was coming again, screaming his name.

He paused spanking her for a moment, his hands soothing her red skin, before fingering her other opening.

"No," she gasped. "Oliver, what are you doing?"

Before she knew it, his cock was out of her cunt, pushing into her backdoor. She clenched in pain. "Stop it! Stop, it hurts!"

"Shhh, my darling," he whispered, stuffing his fingers into her mouth to silence her. "Relax and unclench. It will pain less. You will beg me to fuck you up the arse by the end."

She tried to do as he said, but it still hurt. Through a haze of tears, she begged him to stop again, her pleas muffled around his fingers.

He did not slow down, but his hand snaked its way to her cunt, thumb circling her nub while his long finger pushed inside her tunnel. "I will make you feel good, Anne. Trust me."

He inserted another finger, and then another one, until he was fucking her with his hand. Despite the pain, pleasure started to overtake her. She felt so full, with his cock in her arse and his fingers in her cunt, that she felt like she would burst.

And just like that, with a loud moan, she came once again, causing her entire body to seize and clench, making him come inside her. She collapsed on the settee, and he allowed himself to fall upon her, the weight of his body heavy but not unpleasant.

They lay in silence for a while, before he turned her head so he could kiss her on the mouth.

"Marry me, Anne," he whispered, voice almost reverent. "I was a fool for asking you to be my mistress. Let me love you for the rest of your life. Let me be a good father to Edward and provide for you two. Let me fuck you till you fall apart every day. Say you will marry me. Say it."