Indecent: 15 Erotic Victorian Romance Story Box Set (4 page)

Wild
Love

Chapter 1

Elizabeth sat in the corner of the coaching
inn feeling very alone. The place was filled with people escaping the driving
rain and yet she knew no one and nobody knew her. So this was the famous
friendly Yorkshire welcome, she thought. Why did Aunt Agatha have to die and
force her to come here, so many miles from everyone and everything she knew?

A barmaid brought over a plateful of what she laughingly
called stew. “There you go love.”

“Excuse me but does it ever stop raining in Yorkshire?”

The barmaid laughed. “It’s dry enough in here isn’t it?”

“I know that but I’ve been travelling for a week and I
haven’t seen a single hint of sunshine.”

The barmaid shrugged. “It’s not that bad,” she said, turning
and walking away.

Elizabeth finished her meal and stood up, leaving a small
pile of coins as payment before making her way towards the door. As soon as she
opened it the howling wind and driving rain rushed past her, trying to get
inside. Setting her head against the gale, she ran for the coach and dived
inside, sighing and wiping her brow with the sleeve of her long coat.

The driver set the horses in motion and they made their way
back onto the rutted and mud covered track that someone with a sense of humour
had designated the main road onto the moors. Climbing slowly upwards Elizabeth
stared out of the window as the grey of daylight began to shift into the dark
grey of evening. The rain kept falling.

She could see little of the sweep of the moors, the rain
reducing her view to the few stumps of heather and ferns that lined the
roadside. Her head ached from the constant rattle and jolt of the coach and she
wondered again why her. Why was she the one to arrange Aunt Agatha’s affairs?
She barely knew the woman, having met her only once ten years before.

A mere child then, Elizabeth recalled a domineering and
angry woman who seemed to care about nothing but the mud Elizabeth had traipsed
onto her kitchen floor. Was this her final revenge all these years later? Her
will specifying that her niece arrange the sale of her cottage in person. Was
she laughing from heaven right now at her wonderful joke?

The climb ended as if they’d reached the top of a cliff,
Elizabeth was thrown forwards, terrified for a moment that they were tumbling
into oblivion. As she righted herself she realised they were heading down the
steepest hill imaginable, the driver yelling at the horses, doing his best to
control the speed of their descent.

The wind seemed to be doing its best to push them down into
the valley ever faster, the rain falling ever heavier until Elizabeth could see
nothing out of the window at all other than thick droplets of water finding
their way in at the cracks and gaps of the aging coach and pooling at her feet.

As they at last levelled out at the valley bottom, Elizabeth
frowned, the water level on the floor seemed to have risen far too fast. She
was about to call out to the driver when the coach came to a halt, the only
sound that of the roaring of the storm. Pulling the window down Elizabeth
looked out, shocked to find they had stopped in what looked like the middle of
a raging river. Over the howling wind she could just hear the driver yelling at
the horses and then there was an almighty wrenching sound followed by the thud
of an impact into the wheel of the coach.

“What was that?” she yelled over the gale.

“A rock hitting us underwater,” the driver called back.

“Why on earth did you drive into a river?”

“The beck’s swollen and swamped the road.”

“Can we get out of here before we drown?”

“The wheel’s buckled. “We’re not going anywhere. I’ll go
fetch help. You wait here.”

“I’m not waiting here!”

She pushed open the coach door and took a look at the
churning muddy water racing past. It doesn’t look that fast, she thought. “How
far to my destination?”

“Aggie’s house is half a mile onwards.”

“I can walk that distance.” She stepped down into the icy
cold beck and immediately regretted it. Merely keeping her feet took a
tremendous effort and taking a step towards the driver made her leg muscles
ache with the effort.

“You’ll be drowned!” the driver cried, holding his hand down
to pull her up.

She pushed it away. “It is only a few feet to shore,” she
cried, taking another step. There was a jolting motion by her feet and
something underwater crashed into her leg, sending her sprawling sideways. If it
had happened in a stream she would soon have regained her balance but the
driving rain combined with the force of the torrent to whip her between the
back legs of the horse and the front of the coach, her last sight of the coach
being the driver’s flailing arm dangling towards her as her head went under and
she was washed away downstream, her lungs threatening to burst as panic rose up
within her. I’m going to drown, she thought as her head twisted downwards and
slammed into something hidden in the depths, all hope extinguished as blackness
took her. The rain continued to fall.

Chapter 2

The telegram which called her to this remote part of the
country, the same missive which would send her swirling downriver a short time
afterwards, came at the best possible time.

“I wish to marry your daughter,” Richard Carlisle had said,
setting down his teacup and turning to Elizabeth’s parents. She sat in the
corner of their parlour utterly astounded. He’d never made mention of marriage
to her, not in the entire time they’d been courting. In all honesty, she had
been thinking of ending it anyway. It wasn’t that Richard was a bad person, he
just wasn’t right for her. All he ever talked of was his work and how good a
mother Elizabeth would be.

“I’m not sure I want to be a mother just yet,” she’d
replied. “I have barely begun my own life, let alone prepare to bring another
into the world.”

“Nonsense. It will be the making of you, I am sure of it.”

There were other signs that they weren’t right for each
other but only Elizabeth seemed to notice them. He had almost lost his temper
when she was late for one of their meetings, seemingly close to striking her
before the smile returned to his face and he merely said, “See it doesn’t
happen again my little songbird,” and took her hand in his, kissing it softly.

Elizabeth looked at her parents, willing them to reject his
offer. Just as her father was about to speak, there was a knock on the parlour
door and a maid entered, curtseying as she did so.

“Begging your pardon Mr Henderson but there’s a telegram
here for Miss Elizabeth.”

“Pass it here,” Henderson replied. He opened it and read it
before passing it across to her.

“What say you?” Richard asked. “Do I have your consent to
take her hand?”

Elizabeth looked down at the telegram.

AH DECEASED STOP WILL INSISTS EH COMPLETE HOUSE SALE STOP
TRANSPORT ARRANGED STOP NINE THIRTY TOMORROW STOP

“Who on earth is AH?” she asked, reading the telegram again.

“Your aunt Agatha,” her mother replied. “Do you remember
her? We visited her when you were young.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Of course you do. She lived in a cottage near Whitby. Set
in a valley surrounded by trees, we had no end of trouble getting you down from
an enormous oak you’d insisted on climbing.”

A hazy memory came swimming into Elizabeth’s mind. A tiny
white stone building with smoke curling from the chimney, chickens pecking
around outside, a sleeping dog by the fire inside. The tree, the oak tree.
She’d leapt from branch to branch with her parents admonishing her to return to
the ground. Her aunt apoplectic at the mud she’d traipsed into the house. How
had she forgotten that?

“If you don’t mind,” Richard said. “We were in the middle of
a conversation.”

Mr Henderson waved his hand to silence their guest. “That
will have to wait I am afraid for a coach comes for my daughter tomorrow
morning and we will have to help her back for it is a long journey to Yorkshire
and back.”

“Yorkshire? Why is she going there?”

“Be patient young man. You will have a lifetime together when
she returns. A few weeks here or there will make no difference.”

The next morning she bid her parents farewell as her cases
were loaded onto the top of the coach. A tear rolled down her cheek as she set
off. Not only was it her first time travelling alone, it would also be the
furthest she’d ever been from home. At least she would be away from Richard for
a while. She felt sure her parents would accept his offer for he came from a
prominent family and was expected to take over the entire estate soon enough.

The journey to Yorkshire seemed to take an eternity, the
weather getting worse with every passing mile until she reached the last
coaching inn before the cottage, a storm raging outside. She felt sure as she
travelled the last few miles that things could get no worse but then she hadn’t
anticipated being washed away down a swollen beck.

Elizabeth felt nothing at all until a strong pair of arms
grabbed her dragged her out of the water, dropping her onto the grass beside
the beck. Opening her eyes she was aware only of a dark shadow above her. “You
alive miss?” a voice said.

She tried to reply but failed, a bout of violent coughing
taking over, making her lungs ache with the effort.

“If you can cough, you can breathe. Can you sit up?”

She nodded and tried, still unable to see much of anything
at all. Her hand fell onto something wet and slippery, cloying mud that seemed
to cling to every inch of her. She felt hands under her arms and then she was
on her feet, leaning on the shadow in the darkness, rain splashing on the two
of them.

“Into here,” the shadow said, guiding her past a flaring
lantern and into a carriage. As soon as she was inside the sound of the storm
grew louder, the rain drumming onto the roof as she felt someone climb in
beside her and pull the door closed.

“Was there anyone else in the water with you?” the voice
asked.

“N….no,” she replied. “Just me. W….wh….who are you?” she
asked, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper, her teeth beginning to
chatter as she trembled violently.

“In a minute,” the shadow replied, coming into shape as she
blinked repeatedly. It was a man, she could make out that much but little more
in the gloom. “Drive on,” he called out, tapping the ceiling of the carriage.
There was a creak of wheels and they began to slowly move forwards.

“Drink this,” the man said, passing her a bottle. She sipped
at the contents, alcohol burning its way down into her stomach and taking the
edge of the chill. “You must be frozen solid.”

You almost died, Elizabeth thought as she leaned back
against the wall of the carriage. You stupid fool. You nearly drowned.

“Do you remember how you came to be in the water?” the man
asked, passing her a blanket and wrapping it round her shoulders.

“I was in a coach, we got stuck. I tried to climb out but
the current was too strong. I think I was washed away. Where am I?”

“Two miles from Sleights. Where were you headed?”

“My aunt’s cottage,” she replied, her head spinning.
“Roseneath.” A wave of dizziness washed over her. “My bags. All my things. They’re
on the coach.”

“Do not worry about that for now. First we must get you warm
and dry. We’re not far from Roseneath. Are you a friend of Agatha?”

“Her niece.”

The man leaned out of the window and called up to the
driver, telling him to detour to Roseneath. He sat back down, water running
down his face as Elizabeth took a proper look at him.

His manner was confusing. He looked like a farmer but he
spoke and acted as if he were landed gentry. Wrapped in a black longcoat with
black hat, he seemed more shadow than man, his broad shoulders the only thing
she noticed about his body. His eyes were dark, smouldering gleams of light,
above firm cheekbones and a neat beard. He seemed on the verge of smiling at
every moment but unable to quite bring himself to do so.

“I’m sorry for troubling you,” Elizabeth said.

“I’ve never received an apology from a drowning woman
before.” The carriage turned left and the feel of the road changing, becoming
bumpier and more jarring.

“We’re on the track to the cottage,” the man explained.
“Soon get you dry.”

“I have no clothes to change into. They were all on my
coach.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something. Are you here to visit your
aunt?”

“Not quite. She has passed away and I’m here to arrange the
sale of her cottage.”

“I see. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you but in all honestly I hardly knew her. We only
met once when I was very young. I don’t even know why she wanted me to do this.
I’ve never sold anything before.”

They drew up outside the cottage and the man leapt down to the
grass. “Wait here a moment,” he said, vanishing from view. Elizabeth pulled the
blanket tightly around her, feeling water dripping onto her feet from her
sopping wet clothes.

Chapter 3

He returned shortly afterwards and helped her down from the
carriage, supporting her arm and leading her into the cottage. He’d lit the
candles and the fire, a flickering glow coming from the logs as they began to
spit, the kindling flaring up beneath. It wasn’t warm yet but it soon would be.

“You did this?” she asked.

“Need to get you warm and dry do we not? Sit there.”

She sat in the worn armchair by the fire, holding her hands
towards the flames and feeling them begin to thaw. “I must not keep you any
longer,” she said, turning to him as he brought over a candle and set it on the
mantelpiece. “I thank you for your kindness. I don’t know what I would have
done if you hadn’t saved me.”

Let’s get you fed and changed first,” he said. “I’ll have a
look for some clothes.”

He headed into the bedroom, leaving the door open. She
watched him rummage in the drawers before he finally returned. “It’s not much
but it’ll do until that dries or we retrieve your bags.” He held out a white
cotton nightdress with frilled sleeves. “I’ll wait in the bedroom whilst you
change.”

He walked away, closing the door behind him and leaving
Elizabeth alone by the fire. She folded the blanket and set it down on the
hearth, watching steam rise from it as her trembling fingers fumbled with her
jacket. It took far longer to undress than it would but her limbs were still
thawing. She glanced at the doorway as she pulled down her laddered stockings
but it remained tightly shut. At least he’s a gentleman, she thought as she
pulled off her knickers. She took a step closer to the fire and allowed the growing
flames to warm her naked skin for a few moments, turning in a small circle
whilst a thought entered her head from nowhere. What if he came back out now
and saw you naked? She blushed as she tried to ignore the thought, the very
idea was so shameful. And yet she remained naked for a minute longer, almost as
if hoping he would appear. At last she slipped the nightdress over her
shoulders, brushing it down into place, surprised by how short it was. You must
be taller than Agatha, she thought, not sure how she felt about so much of her
legs being on display.

“You’re changed then,” the man’s voice said behind her and
she jumped in fright.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Let’s make you something hot,” he replied, ignoring her
question. “I can see no food here but there is tea so that will do for now.”

He went outside with the kettle. Whilst he was gone,
Elizabeth climbed back into the armchair and curled her legs under her. He
returned a minute later. “Freshly filled from the stream,” he said as he set it
in place on the hook above the raging inferno the fire had become.

“You need stay no longer,” she said, feeling the bareness of
her legs beneath her. “I am quite well.”

“Nonsense. There is no food here nor any clothing until
yours dry. You shall come with me once we’ve had tea and dine at my home.”

“I couldn’t possibly impose.”

“I insist. What kind of gentleman would I be to leave a lady
hungry, cold and alone?”

“I’m no longer cold,” she said, the heat of the fire at last
spreading through the room. “My clothes will soon dry and I can eat in the
morning.”

He looked offended. “Does my company irritate you?”

“Not at all. I merely do not wish to take up any more of
your time.”

“I would not offer if I did not want to. Now let me make the
tea.”

They sat drinking in silence, Elizabeth feeling on edge, as
if she’d offended the man. She realised she didn’t even know his name. “Who are
you?” she asked at last.

“James Franklin, but please call me Jim, everyone does.
Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you ready to travel on?”

“I surely cannot visit your home wearing only a nightdress?”

“That is true,” he said, pulling off his longcoat and
wrapping it round her shoulders before shoving his hat onto her head. She
looked at his body for the first time, thoughts filling her mind which made her
blush deeper than ever. He looked so strong, the broad shoulders above enormous
arms in a plain white shirt. His legs were like sturdy trunks of oak and yet
there was a lightness to his movement as if he floated rather than stamped his
way through life. “My coat suits you,” he said with the flicker of a smile.
“Shall we?”

“My shoes are not yet dry.”

“I have a simple solution.”

Ignoring her protests, he effortlessly picked her up in his arms
and ran for the carriage through the rain before diving inside. Elizabeth
landed in the corner and Jim slipped as he joined her, tripping forwards and
landing on top of her. She blinked up at his face mere inches from her own. “I
do apologise,” he said, staring into her eyes as he slowly sat up.

“It’s fine,” she breathed, butterflies fluttering in her
stomach. What is it about him? She looked at him as the carriage began to move.
She’d never felt anything akin to this with Richard. It was an excitement, a
desire to be close to him, a gladness that he was a mere foot away from her
mixed with a yearning for him to move closer, to take her hand in his. She
shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

The rain slackened as they travelled slowly up a hillside
but Elizabeth could see nothing in the darkness. She wondered how late it was
and how far they had to travel but she could not bring herself to ask any
questions, afraid the words would tumble out as , Take me now and ravish me,’
if she were not careful. Better to remain silent, she thought than say
something so inappropriate. He was bound to be married anyway, no one as
handsome as him would remain single for long.

They crested the hill and then weaved their way down the
other side before finally stopping by the side of a gatekeeper’s cottage.

“Welcome to my home,” Jim said, opening the door. “And look,
it’s finally stopped raining.”

He stepped down and again took her in his arms, carrying her
inside whilst the carriage began to rattle away up the drive. “Where is it
going?” she asked.

“To the big house. I can’t stand it up there. Avoid it as
much as I can.”

“Who owns the big house? Your employer?”

“He is a sorrowful man but that is a story for another time.
For now let us decide what to eat.”

He set her down by a roaring fireplace and left her there,
opening a cabinet and pulling out a bunch of carrots. “How does stew sound?”

“I could eat a horse.”

“It just left I’m afraid, carrots and potatoes will have to
do.”

In no time at all the air was filled with the smell of herbs
as he doled out two bowlfuls and called her over to the squat table, scarred as
it was through years of use. “How long are you staying for?” he asked as he
spooned the stew into his mouth.

“I anticipate a week to arrange the sale though unless I
retrieve my bags I must return home sooner for they contained all the papers
pertaining to the sale.”

The door to the cottage scraped open and a man stepped in,
hat held in his hands. “Sorry to disturb you Jim but there’s a calving not
going so well. Can you come?”

He sighed and stood up. “I’m sorry but I must go. Calvin,
can you arrange the transport for my friend here back to Roseneath?” He turned
back to Elizabeth. “I will come and visit tomorrow morning and we will find
your missing luggage.”

“You have already done far too much for me sir.”

“I insist. Until tomorrow.” He took a fresh hat and strode
out of the door, leaving her with an empty bowl of stew and a sense of loss
that she couldn’t explain. Do not even think about falling in love with him,
she thought to herself. You are here for one purpose only and then you must
return home. Do not fall in love.

As she rose from the table a voice whispered back to her.
Too late.