Stand and Deliver (11 page)

“She was going to marry me. She would’ve married me in the end, if you hadn’t come along and taken what wasn’t hers to give you.” He put his head in his hands and broke out into huge, despairing sobs that racked his bony shoulders. “She was going to marry me, and you as good as put the musket to her head that kil ed her. If she’d saved herself for me, as she ought of, she’d stil be alive. If she’d not played the slut with you, I never woulda cal ed the magistrate.”

His trigger finger itched to put the boy out of his misery.

So, this stable boy was the louse who had informed on him.

“Where is she?”

“What’s it to you? Haven’t you done her enough harm?”

He reached into his greatcoat, the palm of his hand lingering on the butt of his pistol. How easy it would be to dispense his own brand of justice, right here and now, and send Bess’ kil er to the hel he deserved. “Answer me.

Where is she?”

In the face of Jack’s fury, the boy’s defiance was short-lived. “Her ma turned out al the customers and put the coffin in the parlor. She’s to be buried this afternoon.”

Soldiers or no, he would be at Bess’ funeral, though they shot him down where he stood. Her ghost was due that mark of respect from him. “In the churchyard yonder?”

The boy sobbed anew. “Won’t have her in the churchyard, I guess. They’l have to bury her outside the wal s, iffen they even let her that close. Suicide’s a powerful sin. I woulda married her. She should never of done it.”

Even as Jack walked away from the lad, sickened to the marrow of his bones, the boy kept his muttered litany of despair and grief. “She shoulda married me. She shoulda saved herself for me.”

The coffin was indeed in the parlor, as the boy had said. Jack knelt down beside it, his hat in his hands. “I’m sorry, Bess. I’m sorry.” In the face of such a tragedy, his words were impossibly inadequate, but he had nothing else to give her. Nothing else but a love that came too late to save her.

Behind him, he heard a door open and shut, but he did not turn around. Let whoever it was come in. If he were to be shot dead now, it was no more than he deserved. It ought to be him lying there, cold in his coffin, not Bess. The boy was right. It was his fault that she was dead.

A tear prickled down his cheek and he wiped it away with the back of one gloved hand. Crying would do her no good. Better that he revenge himself on those who had dealt her the fatal blow and lose his life that way than through a useless sorrow.

His knees stiff and sore from the hard ride, he clambered up from the ground. Today would be as good a day as any to die.

Bess’ mother stood by the door, just watching him.

He stopped in front of her. “Where are the soldiers?”

She did not answer. He could see the indecision in her face.

“Where are the soldiers?” he repeated. “Are they stil here?”

“Rocks,” she whispered, tilting her head at the coffin.

He stared at her blankly.

“It’s not Bess in there. It’s rocks. Wrapped up in flannel and then packed with straw so as they don’t rol and rattle and give the game away.”

“Then where’s Bess?” he demanded. “What have you done with her body?”

“She’s not dead. Leastways, she wasn’t just a few hours gone when I put her on to Old Silas’ donkey cart myself to hitch a ride to the turnpike where she can catch the stage.”

His head felt light al of a sudden. “You mean she’s alive?”

“As alive as you or me.” She walked over to the coffin and tapped it lightly with her fingertips. “The soldiers were not pleased that you escaped their net. Bess could not have stayed here in any safety. This seemed like the best way of putting them off the scent.”

She was not dead. He stil had a chance to find her, to thank her for saving his life and to make a life with her in the Americas as she had wanted. For certain she would not be able to return to her mother’s inn now. There was nothing to stand in the way of their happiness. The shock of it al made his knees tremble. “Where is she now?”

“We thought a big city would be the best hiding place – even if they learned of our little trick, the soldiers wil not bother to chase her so far. She’l be rattling her bones on the stage to London.”

A smile crept over Jack’s face. God wil ing, Bess would be in his arms again before the night was out. If there was anything he knew how to do, and how to do wel , it was stopping coaches.

Bess leaned back into a corner of the coach, closed her eyes and tried once again to sleep. Despite her weariness, the rattling and bumping and swaying of the heavy coach would not al ow her to do more than doze fitful y. Each time she sank into a dream, one of the wheels would go over a particularly large stone, or bounce over a deep rut, and she would be shaken wide awake once more. How she envied the older gentleman opposite her, from whom a series of bone-shaking snores regularly emerged.

It could only have been a few moments later when she was rudely woken by a confusion of shouts outside and the coach shuddering to a stop.

Were they at another of their stopping points already? It seemed only a moment ago that the horses had last been changed and the fresh horses had started off again with a new enthusiasm and new jolting. She peeked outside, but no welcoming lights beckoned her with the promise of a steaming hot pasty and a mug of warm ale to take the chil from her bones. Sighing, she wrapped herself deeper into her blanket. The thirty miles to go to London had never seemed so long or so wearisome as they did then.

Just then, the door was wrenched open. “Out,” a harsh voice demanded. “Al of you. Out.” The silhouette of a pistol waving at them gave his words an extra persuasive power.

The large lady sitting beside Bess gave a squeal of fright and even the elderly gentleman opposite her ceased his snoring and woke with a rude start.

Bess held tight to her smal traveling valise as she clambered out of the coach. It was al she had in the world, and no one, not even a highwayman, would take it from her.

Waving his pistol, the highwayman had al the passengers line up before him in a row. Bess found herself in between the elderly gentleman, now no longer snoring, and a young girl in a maid’s pinny whose eyes were white with terror.

The highwayman stalked up and down the line. Bess stared at him. Though she had not recognized his voice, he looked somehow familiar. His stance, the looseness of his stride, even the shape of his hat reminded her of Jack. Of course, it could just be that al highwaymen looked vaguely alike when they were robbing coaches.

“Are you going to kil us al ?” the large lady, a little further down the row, asked in a quavering voice.

“Kil you al ?” He stroked his chin thoughtful y. “That’s a rather bloodthirsty thought for a lady. Here I was hoping that I could get through tonight without kil ing anyone.”

“I have twenty guineas on me that I was taking back to my husband,” the large lady said, her voice shaking with fright. “But you’re welcome to it if you’l let us al go free.”

“A kind offer indeed, madam, and a brave one.” The harshness of his voice dropped away. “But I was after something a good deal more precious than gold tonight.”

Bess stepped forward. It was Jack’s voice. She knew it was him. He had somehow found where she was and had come after her. “Take it then, if you want it so badly.”

The elderly gentleman beside her tugged her backward. “Don’t do that, Miss,” he whispered urgently in her ear. “I’l chal enge him to a duel and fight him to the death before I’l let him ruin an innocent young lady. I may look old and useless, but there’s a bit of fight in my bones stil .”

Jack sauntered down the line to stand in front of her, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Pretty Miss Bess. You’re quite right. I’d rather have you than two hundred gold guineas. Come, we have a long way to ride tonight if we are to make our crossing.”

Bess turned to the elderly gentleman, her heart singing with happiness. “Don’t fret. He’s no more a highwayman than you are. And I wil go with him with al my heart.”

Jack swung on to the back of his horse and pul ed Bess up behind him. She clasped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. Jack had come back for her, as he had promised. He had found her.

She had come home.

As he wheeled the horse about, Jack reached into his pocket and tossed a coin into the large lady’s basket. It gleamed gold in the moonlight. “For your generosity on behalf of your fel ow passengers.”

Then, with a touch of the spurs, they cantered off into the darkness, to the ship that would take them off to the Americas to start a new life together.

The warm Boston summer sun streamed through the open French doors, splashing across the rumpled bedding.

Snuggling up to her man, Bess could scarcely believe how her life had changed over the past four years since their flight from London. Even with Jack’s savings, it hadn’t been easy starting afresh, bur how their work had been rewarded. She understood wel now why America was cal ed the land of opportunity. She gazed dreamily across the expanse of fields and wooden fences.

“Just look at that, Jack. Al that is ours, earned honestly, wel , mostly. As far as we can see belongs to you and me.

Highwayman Horsetraders has come a long way thanks to your knowledge of horses.”

“And to your excel ent business sense, Bess, my beloved wife. Any why this sudden thoughtfulness?”

“Wel , me Ma’s ship is due to arrive this week. I’m just trying to see our new world through her eyes. I reckon she’l scarcely recognize us in our finery when she docks. Then when she sees her little guest house, she’l faint with the shock of it al .”

“No she won’t, she’s a tough old bird. Just like her daughter.” Jack did his best to duck under the covers as a large feather pil ow pummeled his head.

“Who are you cal ing a tough old bird!?” Bess abandoned the pil ow as he burrowed deeper, instead choosing to half-heartedly pummel him with her fists. She squealed, abandoning her attack when he started tickling her, instead wriggling to escape when he blew a raspberry against her stomach. Then she felt him caress her mound, and al thoughts of escape fled her mind as she lay back, enjoying his touch.

He caressed her slightly rounded stomach. “Our baby’s in there. In six months, we’l be parents. Who’d have thought old Jack Hal would be a father one day?”

She couldn’t resist teasing him in retribution for his old bird remark. “Wel , you wil be. And you’d better get your fun now,” she urged his hand back down between her legs once more, “‘cos once the little one arrives there’l be no more of this for quite a while.”

Needing no further invitation he threw back the bedclothes. As he knelt above her she enjoyed the sight of his cock, semi-rigid, swol en with his obvious desire for her.

Lying back on the soft mattress she moaned as he knelt between her bent knees and brought his tongue to her wet slit. She clutched the sheets as he licked lightly on her clit, little flicks that caused her breath to come in short gasps.

The morning breeze felt wonderful on his skin, the sounds of the fields drifting into the room. With longer licks he continued tasting her cunt, starting at the very wet entrance, teasing inside briefly before continuing up to her hard engorged clit.

He was forced to stop momentarily as Bess shuffled round on the bed so her head was close to his cock. He gazed once more at her ripe nakedness. Always a beauty, her pregnancy had only increased her sexiness, her figure nicely rounded and somehow more aglow than ever.

Beneath him she lifted her head and licked at his bal s, urging him with her hands to move, bringing his now hard cock to her mouth. He bent over to once more tasting her clit, while she licked at the head of his cock, her tongue sending waves of pleasure through his body as she concentrated on his sensitive glans.

“Come around here, I want to real y taste you properly.”

Hastening to obey, he moved around so she could ful y get him in her mouth. Al owing her to guide him with her hand at the base of his cock he slowly pumped, her wet lips and tongue massaging him almost causing him to come there and then. It took only a few more strokes before he had to pul out for fear he would come too soon.

Needing a moment to cool, he turned his attentions to her breasts, now ful er than ever with her pregnancy. He loved the softness, the way her nipples stood so proud when tickled and lightly pinched. Once more he admired her lying in the summer light, her eyes closed as he brushed his hands over her breasts and down to the navel.

Taking her hand he guided it to her pussy, where she ran her fingers through her soft hair before slowly sliding two fingers into her wet cunt. He loved watching her enjoy herself. And he knew she knew too, as she always made sure to make as much of a show as possible.