The Duchess and the Highwaymen Pt. 02

At the threshold she stopped and turned back to wrench a bottle of brady from the warden's hands. The look of slack-jawed astonishment that Mr. Stokes gave her as she sashayed out of the room was well worth the trouble.

Mr. Marlow lead as they made their way down a series of long dark corridors. The further they ventured into the bowels of the prison the worse the conditions became as though they were descending the circles of Dante's Inferno. All the various sins were on display- greedy thieves, slothful debtors, wrathful murderers, all awaiting the day of judgement in that dismal place. Willamina pressed on, fighting the urge to hold her nose against the stench of rotting food and unwashed flesh.

"Hey pretty lass." A leering prisoner called to her. "Why don't you give me a rummage through that basket of yours. I promise you won't regret it."

"I'm afraid the fare would prove too rich for your meager tastes." Willamina countered pertly.

She peered into another cell to find glassy eyes looking back at her from a gaunt, dirty face. The poor desperate creature reached an arm out from between the bars only to have Marlow cruelly rap the boney appendage with his truncheon.

Without skipping a beat Marlow gestured at her basket with his club, a cruel smirk curling his lips. "I do hope Mr. Turner enjoys his last meal. Tomorrow he'll be a meal for crows." When she gave no answer, he pulled her in close so that she could feel his hot breath on her skin. "You know they piss themselves at the end."

She tried to block out Marlow's hateful words. They were reaching the end of the last row of cells. The closer she got the more nervous she became. Though she had known Jack for a single day she had never forgotten her dark and dangerous highwayman and the way he had awakened her to a world of forbidden pleasures. Her heart faltered and raced all at once every time she imagined his handsome face. Yet part of her feared that the fevered infatuation of youth had caused her to imagine something more to their one meeting then was really there.

Perhaps it had meant nothing to him. Perhaps he wouldn't even remember her after all these years. But those fears were swiftly allayed when he first clapped eyes on her. The look of recognition in his sharp, brown eyes was unmistakable as well as something deeper. Was it affection she saw there? Or was she still the same hopeless romantic she had been in her youth.

"You have a visitor, miscreant."

A playful smile graced Jack's full lips. "Ahh, my little wood nymph."

His clothes were tattered and dirty and his face had a thick layer of stubble but apart from that he appeared unchanged. He possessed the same glossy black hair that she remembered and dark eyes that perpetually twinkled with amusement as if life was nothing but a series of delightful diversions. He practically shined out like a beacon in that dreary place.

"Mr. Turner." She stammered.

Marlow urged her into the room with more force than was strictly necessary. She couldn't help but flinch when the door clanged shut behind her. He called that he'd be back in an hour and then he was gone and they were alone.

Willamina looked around timidly. Apart from rusty bars and damp stone, a straw mattress and two wooden stools were the only things in the small cell. Very little light or air filtered in through the single tiny window.

"Life must have been very kind to you for you haven't changed a bit." Jack said as he looked her over. She blushed under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling shy.

"And how has life treated you?" She asked sheepishly.

He shrugged. "I've had my ups and downs but on the whole life has treated me better than I deserve."

They settled awkwardly onto the stools and she offered up the basket. He tucked into the provisions with enthusiasm, his spirits and his appetite clearly untouched by his confinement. He drank deeply from the bottle of brandy before offering it to her. She took it gladly and downed a few mouthfuls for courage.

"Pardon the mess. I hadn't expected to entertain a duchess, Lady Worthington"

Willamina sputtered and nearly coughed up the brandy. "You know my name?". She had been so careful not to reveal her identity to him or anyone.

"I have known it all along. I recognized the family jewels out in the woods that day." He eyed her black gown. "I see his Grace had the good manners to die before he became a nuisance. I suppose he gave you a brood of towheaded children first."

"I have one son." She answered somewhat evasively. "He's nine. Would you like to see him?" She opened a locket that hung around her neck to reveal the miniature within. The likeness staring out from the portrait had the dark brown eyes and black hair that were so very different from her late husband's delicate fair features and so very like the man seated before her.

Jack studied the image closely, his brow creased. "What is his name?"

"John... after his father."

At that the look of confusion was replaced by an expression of dumbfounded recognition. A pregnant pause ensued. Just when Willamina was beginning to think he had lost the power of speech he broke into a broad grin.

"I have a son!" He burst out. His laughter filled the air.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and he spun her around the tiny cell till she was giddy and breathless. When they finally stopped spinning he dropped onto a stool so that she landed in his lap straddling him, face to face. He beheld her, his dark irises black with desire.

Before she could find her bearings, he had twined his fingers into her fiery locks and was pulling her in for a passionate kiss. When their lips touched a powerful current of energy passed between them. She inhaled sharply as his tongue slipped between her lips to mate with her own. The feel of his skillful tongue delicately tracing the contours of her lips was driving her wild.

A staggering wave of lust struck her, followed by a rush of wetness to her core. Her body flushed with heat, the blood boiling in her veins. She had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Jack. Then and there in that filthy prison cell.

He was pawing at her chest through the layers of black silk while she worked on the front buttons, fingers clumsy with lust. Eventually he grew impatient and ripped it open. The buttons rolled every which way and she remembered with a chuckle that her clothes never seem to last long around Jack.

Her breasts, full and round, spilled out of the gaping neckline. He cupped the now exposed swells, making her moan and arch to press the soft mounds further into his palm. To her delight, she felt his manhood twitch in response. He seized a pert pink nipple between thumb and forefinger and applied steady pressure. Her moan was louder this time.

Eager for more, she raised up to align his cock to the wet lips of her sex and then carefully lowered herself. Gravity took its course, impaling her on his pikestaff bit by bit till they were fully joined. Then his hands moved to her hips to guide her into a steady swaying motion. Happily she rode out her pleasure, vaguely aware of the eyes of other prisoners drinking in the spectacle of their lovemaking. Let them look.

The pair rocked against each other. Jack buried his face into the curve of her neck and nipped playfully at the sensitive skin he found there. Next, an artful tongue flicked the hardened nub of her nipple. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head when he reached between their entwined bodies to strum her throbbing clit.

He knew just what to do. His mouth devoured her milky flesh while his deft fingers worked her hypersensitive bud. Soon she was writhing in ecstasy. As the pleasure seized and shook her violently, she dug her nails into Jack's shoulders and held on for dear life. He clutched her tight as the orgasm poured through her.

Watching her come apart seemed to bring out some primitive part of Jack. Before she would recover from her release he had pulled her down onto the floor and pinned her beneath him. He hovered over her, hungrily devouring her mouth.

Then with one swift lunge of his hips they were reunited. A low moan escaped her at the bliss of being ravished so thoroughly. Roaring deep in his chest, he took full control. He was forceful, demanding, taking her with powerful thrusts. Using one strong hand he pinned her wrists above her head, making his mastery of her body complete. She struggled against his unyielding hold, not to free herself but to feel the full extent of his dominance.

She wrapped her legs around his midsection and pressed her heels into the small of his back, angling him deeper with each stroke. He growled in approval and plunged deliciously deep as she bucked beneath him, trying to meet him thrust for thrust. Her inner muscles clenched around his hard shaft as he worked it in and out of her, causing her to let out a series of mewling sounds.

Spurred on by the urgency of her cries he picked up the pace so that he was rutting her like a wild animal. He drove her into the hard ground, fucking her in a frenzy as though it was his last day on earth.

Her cries and moans of pleasure mixed with the hoots and hollers of prisons as they looked on through iron bars. She wasn't bothered. it was simple to drown them out. Behind her tightly shut eyelids, the other men disappeared. The dirty cell vanished. There was only Jack. Only this moment. The shadow of the gallows no longer hung over them. Everything dropped away as if she and Jack were the only two people on earth.

Willamina's eyes shot open as she felt Jack's strong hands grab her by the jaw, forcing her to stare directly into his dark eyes. The depth of emotion she saw there robbed the air from her lungs.

"I love you." He uttered.

She sucked in a startled gasp. The enormity of the declaration crashed over her like a tidal wave, followed quickly by the blinding realization that she loved him as well. She always had. Willamina opened her mouth with the intention of returning his words but only a low moan escaped her lips.

Before she knew it her pleasure was cresting, the waves of bliss caused her whole body to buck wildly. The rapturous sensation that poured through her was almost frightening in it's intensity. Soon her frantic movements and keening cries triggered Jack's release as well. She was still locked in the throes of her climax when she felt a rush of warm liquid soaking her cunt.

He held her through the small, shuddery aftershocks until their heaving breaths subsided. Then he leaned down to kiss her swollen lips. She softened against him, feeling profoundly calm and sated. Tenderly he touched his forehead to hers and once again the world melted away around them.

The sound of a club striking iron bars burst right through their perfect bubble of contentment.

"Time's up." Marlow's steely voice snapped the rest of the world back into harsh focus.

They pulled away reluctantly. Jack helped her to her feet and they quickly made themselves presentable. He turned to hand her a lost button. It was then he noticed a tear running down her cheek.

"Now, none of that lass." He gently wiped her tears away. "I've always known I was likely to finish my days at the end of a rope. Truth be told, I've done more than my fair share of living." He smiled thinly. "Besides we all must pay our toll."

"But I don't want to leave you." She wrapped her arms around him tightly. "I love you."

"My only regret is that I cannot die in your arms." He kissed her then, bruising her lips with his violent passion. They clung to each other fiercely but with no small effort Marlow eventually managed to pull them apart.

"I said time's up, lovebirds." He sneered.

Marlow grabbed her roughly and began dragging her away. Jack seemed to take exception to his treatment of her, so he shoved Marlow. It all happened so fast. First Marlow threw a punch then Jack returned it. Marlow took out his club in response. He began hitting Jack until he fell to the floor. That was the last thing Willamina saw as she was ushered from the cell in a state of numb shock.

***

The next day Willamina found herself in a similar state of shock as she stood amongst a mob thirsty for blood. John was by her side. A public execution certainly wasn't the ideal way for a child to meet their father, but it was his last chance. And it was hers as well. So she was determined to brave the horrid scene even if every fiber of her being was screaming for her to run the other way.

The crowd was rough and boisterous, and the atmosphere was somewhere in between that of a carnival and a funeral. Amid the jostling throng she clutched her son's hand tightly. John looked up to her with a brave expression on his face and Willamina felt a swell of motherly pride. He was such a little man sometimes.

Still he gripped her fingers a little bit harder when they saw a chained and gagged convict being shoved up the steps of the gallows. The prisoner cut a rather pitiful figure with a dirty white cap covering his glossy black hair and a rough linen binding wrapped around a bruised and busted jaw.

The hooded hangman stood before the baying rabble and proceeded to recite a long list of his crimes. "The convict John Turner having been found guilty of burglary, poaching, horse theft, highway robbery, murder committed in the course of the furtherance of theft..." He bellowed in a gruff voice as pleasant as the grave.

As the lengthy charges were read the impatient crowd jeered and tossed garbage. Others cheered and eagerly bought up one penny pamphlets relating the exploits of "The Legendary Highwayman Black Jack Turner".

Willamina tried to catch Jack's eye but he was staring blankly into space as he swayed restlessly on the platform, the rope already looped round his neck. He was mumbling loudly from behind the bandage as if he was desperate to say something. But with his jaw bound his last words would have to die with him.

Willamina admittedly didn't know Jack for very long but the frightened, shaking prisoner before her did not fit the image of the daring, cocksure rascal she had known. Perhaps the fear of death had finally caught up with him.

The hangman approached with heavy step. From her distant vantage point she could just make out the whites of Jack's eyes as they opened wide with fear. Then his face was covered by a black sack and she could see his eyes no longer.

Without further ceremony the hangman yanked a lever and the platform fell away. The body dropped. A great cheer went up. Then Willamina was forced to watch in silent horror as the love of her life choked and writhed at the end of a rope.

It seemed to go on for hours though it was over in a matter of minutes. As soon as Jack ceased his kicking they were already dragging out the next condemned man. But Willamina could stomach no more. Dizziness and nausea rippled through her. She had to get out of there!

The bile rose swiftly to the back of her throat as Willamina pushed through the crowd, her son in tow. The smiling faces of the townspeople surrounded her, their mirth mocking her grief. She looked back to see that John's own face had gone completely white. In that moment the little man was gone and a scared little boy had taken his place.

With long faces and misty eyes, they made their way towards their carriage. All the while Willamina tried to tell herself that two days with their true love is more than most people get. Still the notion proved cold comfort to her broken heart.

When they finally reached the grand carriage, marked by a glittering ducal crest on the door, she hoisted her boy up and climbed in after him. What she found inside nearly caused her heart to stop. There seated casually in the opposite seat, wearing the bright red coat of the prison guards was Jack, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Jack!" She threw herself onto his lap and touched him all over to be absolutely sure he was real. "But how? I just saw you-"

He pressed a finger over her lips. "Let's just say Mr. Marlow managed to be useful for the first and last time in his life."

Overcome with joy, she locked her lips onto his and they kissed until Willamina heard John clear his throat uncomfortably. "Oh, where are my manners. Jack Turner, meet your son."

The two regarded one another silently for a beat before Jack slowly offered his hand. They shook hands stiffly, almost shyly, and then suddenly the boy rushed into Jack's arms. After a moment's pause Jack melted into the hug, the persona of manly adventurer swiftly falling away. In that instant he was simply a father embracing his son. The sight was enough to bring tears to any mother's eyes.

"But won't the law be looking for you?" Willamina wondered as she glanced apprehensively out from behind the carriage's thick velvet curtain.

"Haven't you heard? Black Jack Turner is dead. But the Baron von Liebig Is very much alive." He said, affecting a heavy German accent, "and newly arrived in English on the lookout for a wealthy widow with hidden passions. Preferably one with a charming raven-haired son. I don't suppose you know anyone who matches that description?"

As he spoke he got down on one knee and took her hand. With a wink he slipped a humble brass band around her ring finger.

"I believe I do." Willamina smiled and signaled to the coachman. "To Gretna Green on the double, my good man!"