Chapter 13: The Bride

The girl was as lovely as any I had seen in a long time, but she looked scared and unhappy. She sat at a corner table with two British officers when I entered the tavern. I had seen the carriage outside and wondered whom it had brought. The driver and what I supposed was a guard or footman, neither in uniform, sat at another table. Since the tavern sat in the area between what Washington controlled, mainly the hills, and what was Howe's and the German's, the flatlands and coast, it was unusual to see Redcoats out in plain sight, basically unarmed and without a company of dragoons as guards. I guessed they probably had some safe conduct papers.

Since I was scouting and studying the lay of the land east of our position, I saw no reason to go on without solving this minor mystery, besides she was a feast for the eyes, dark and slim, doe-eyed and long-haired, well-dressed and mournful-looking. She nibbled at her food and sipped her cider while the two at her table ate and drank in some haste, all but ignoring her.

When the driver and other fellow went outside, I followed. "Where you headed?" I asked as they checked the harness chains.

"Who wants to know?" said the lean man I took for a guard, pulling a small pistol from the back of his belt. He cocked it.

"Whoa, just curious," I said, taking a step back and bumping into the lead horse.

"Into the city, New York," said the driver. "Relax, Henry," he said to the tall man with him who still glared at me as if I had insulted him.

"Who's the girl?"

"Damn if I know. Looker ain't she," the driver said with a smile.

"That's the truth," I said.

The two officers emerged with the young woman in the long cape between them. I looked into her face and her eyes seemed to plead for help, but she stepped into the carriage silently and the men followed quickly. The driver climbed up to his seat and took his whip from the socket. I followed the other man to the back, spun him around, hit him in the belly and then the chin, rolled him into the ditch, grabbed his hat and climbed to the high seat with his small pistol in my hand. I had hidden my musket before I went into the tavern so I was only leaving it and my pack and bedroll behind. As long as I had the big blade on my belt I did not care. Almost all the King's muskets were the same.

"Ready, Luke?" the driver sang out without looking back.

"Ready," I called back, coughing and waving. The whip cracked. I wondered what I was doing, but my curiosity and appreciation of beauty led me on.

A few miles down the dusty road, the carriage swayed to a stop and the two Redcoats got down and headed for the woods, undoing their tight-fitting breeches as they went and laughing with each other. The driver followed, and I could not resist the opportunity so I jumped down, climbed to the seat, popped the whip and got the team galloping, following where my cock and curiosity led, as usual. I heard the door slam behind me as we jolted forward, and the girl cry out something, but I did not slow down until we had done a fast two or three miles and the pair of greys was puffing and lathered. Then I let the team blow and walk for a bit before stopping so they could drink at a small stream the road crossed at the bottom of a hill.

I opened the carriage door and stepped up. The girl huddled in a corner, her hand to her pink mouth.

"Are you in trouble?" I asked, halfway into the carriage, resting my elbow on the seat and trying to look pleasant.

"Who are you?" she said in a weak voice.

"Continental, a soldier," I said. "I won't hurt you. You just looked, well, scared back there."

"So you stole me, rig and all?" she said, a bit more surely.

"Borrowed," I said with a smile. "Didn't know how else to find out if you needed help. I'll take you back if you want."

"I'm not sure," she said. " I'm going to be wed, to marry a man, in New York, a man I haven't met. And that's none of your business."

"That still happens," I said. "We'd better be going. You think about it. I'll find a place to stop 'fore long and you can explain."

I closed the door, mounted to the seat realizing I had attained an erection from just looking at her and set the team to a fast walk, looking for a side road or lane where we might hide the carriage from the main road and talk. Mile after mile we went on as the sun began fading behind us. When we rounded a curve and I saw the lights of a tavern ahead, I stopped.

"You got any money?" I asked the girl when she stuck out her head out to see what was going on. She shook her head. "But wait," she said. Then she held out a large purse, and I grabbed it. "It was theirs, those men that were with me, the officers he sent," she said. The thick leather bag was half full of coins, several of them gold, and some folded papers. We had plenty of money.

I drove around to the back, asked the stable boy to take care of the team and the young women and I used the necessary and went inside to eat our supper, the most mismatched pair in New York. She looked like the fashionable, wealthy daughter of some rich merchant, and I looked like a poor farmer without a shilling to my name. A shitkicker and a princess.

We ate and talked in dribs and drabs, and I discovered that her father, a rock-bound Tory if there ever was one, had lost his investment in several ships because of the war, was deeply in debt and had consented, for a hefty payment, that his daughter, Angelica, without a farthing of dowry, marry General Sir Philip Ridge-Warrington, MP, who was on Howe's staff in some capacity.

"Angelica?" I said, savoring the name in my mouth.

"Nobody calls me that," she said with a smile, her first smile.

"Are you going to go through with it?" I asked.

"He's forty-something," she girl said, wide-eyed, "fat and a widower. I've seen his picture, a good miniature, on ivory. Awfully wealthy, we're told and well mannered. a gentleman. He evidently saw me at a ball in London two years ago. Lord, I was only fourteen or fifteen then and had at least two left feet."

"Do you want to marry him?" I asked.

She did not answer, but looked down at her plate and then shook her head slightly. I took that for a no.

"Stay here," I suggested, "and I'll go scout out the land ahead, see what I can find out about your intended."

"You're going to leave me?"

"For a bit, no more than a day, I hope," I said with a smile wishing I could climb in bed with her and do wonderful things. "Did you think I'd bed you?"

She did not answer, but she blushed, and we finished our meal.

I went to the tavern owner and asked his advice on finding a pair of trustworthy men. Then I walked out to the smith's place and talked with him. For a gold guinea, he promised to have a man at the girl's door night and day for two days and longer if needed. I gave him another gold coin, a smaller one. "This is for silence," I said, "in case anybody comes asking about her." It was a pleasure to spend money so easily gained.

Then I rented a horse and rode on in to New York, that den of Tory power, in places still smoldering from the fire that both sides blamed on the other. I first stopped at Mrs. Von R--'s place and there found out a good deal about the girl's intended Her bridegroom-to-be and his reputation were a wide-spread scandal. As I was about to leave that mansion and go into the city, I heard my name called, and there was Margo.

"Liar," she said, stretching up to kiss me and rub her lush body against mine.

"I said I'd be back," I said, patting her firm bottom and wondering if I could spare the time.

"Quick," she said, pulling me out to the vine covered gazebo. Just watching her run was enough to arouse a statue, and by the time she turned, breathless, to face me and opened her arms, her chest barely covered, I was ready. I pushed her back to the bench, tossed up her skirt and petticoats, knelt and released my steel-hard member. I was at her and in her before she could say, "Wait."

Up came her legs, and I rogered her hard and deeply from my knees, long strokes, many of them. She squealed, shaking and laughing in a few minutes, and we panted and sighed together. I wanted more but straightened her clothes, promised to return and ran for the stable before she could yell, "Stop."

I spurred my mare back to the tavern where I had left the beautiful maiden, feeling like one of those knights in the stories. I was lucky again for just as I arrived, there was some sort of fracas in the stable area.

"Here, here," I called, dismounting in a hurry. "What's going on?"

The stable lad, to whom I had also given a gold coin thus making him a friend for life, looked to me as his savior. "These here men say that it's their carriage, sir, an' their team," he sprayed out as the young Redcoats turned to face me. Both hissed out their swords in a brave manner, and I shot the bigger one in the belly and took on the other with my bayonet when he stumbled over his groaning comrade in his hurry to get at me.

It was a short and brutal fight that ended with the young man lying on his back with his throat pierced and his blade under my foot, his mouth fluttering like a fish. I checked on the other subaltern, found him still breathing despite being gut-shot and cut his throat to match the other. Then I spent another British coin to have the bodies disappear into the night after sharing out their purses and donating their fine boots to the stable hand and his friend.

In the tavern, I recognized the driver and came to stand beside him. "Long walk was it?" I asked, my big, still-bloody blade at his ribs where only he could see and feel it.

"Indeed," He said, "but I've had longer."

I found another crown in my pocket, handed it to him and suggested that he should be ready to leave soon. He smiled at me, pulled his forelock and took the coin.

"Now listen," I said to the girl after I ran up the steps only hitting three of the seven. She sat on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap, looking about twelve, a ravishing twelve. "Here's what I found out, and I'm Bible-sure its true. Sir Philip, your financé, also known as General Ridge, is a well-known pederast, glutton, fornicator, drunkard and rake. He is fifty-seven, give or take a year or so, and has a wife, well-connected, his second or third, and seven or eight legitimate children, including at least two who are older than you are. He has fine homes in Sussex and London and one long-term mistress in someplace called Highgate. He is associated in the House of Commons with several noted sodomites as well as with Lord North and his notorious bunch. He is rich, vain and dangerous. A very bad lot altogether. Your father should be ashamed of himself."

"Did I hear a shot?" she said, round-eyed, a finger to her lips.

I nodded. "I'm afraid they have found us."

"Now what?" she said.

"Up to you," I replied. "The driver is waiting, but the two Redcoats, the officers, are very dead."

"Oh my," she said, and turned to look at me. "You understand, my father has sold my maidenhead to him. What should I do?"

"He did what?"

"My virginity, it pushed up the price; he sold it to this man, this general, promised him I was untouched. He needed a lot of money, my father did."

"Hm," I said, "well, suppose you could not deliver what your father has sold?"

"Sir?" she said, looking squarely at me. "Do you mean to take it?" She pulled her shawl about her body and moved sideways a bit, but not far.

"If you wish?" I smiled and took her hand. "It would be a pleasure."

"Then he might refuse me," she said, wrinkling her brow. "I'm not sure."

"He might, if he is a fool. But remember, he really cannot marry you. He has a wife and family. He must have lied to your father. I suspect he has other plans for you, unpleasant ones."

"Oh," she said. "Yes." She released my hand.

"Is there somewhere else you might go, a relative perhaps?"

She shook her head and stood. "No, I think you have the right idea. If you take it, if you do it to me, then I cannot bring it to this man, no matter what."

"How much did he give your father?" I asked, standing to face her, holding both her hands and ignoring the blood roaring in my ears.

"I do not know, a great deal perhaps. Is it worth so much?"

"To some," I said.

"Does it hurt?"

"Briefly."

"Will you?" She looked like a frightened fawn.

"Of course, if you wish. If you are sure." There was nothing I wanted more in the world at that moment. The erection I had developed as a result of the brief fight was just starting to fade.

"I think so." She stood on tip-toe and kissed me gently, ignoring my long-unshaved face. I was aroused and ready to prong her well into the night, to enjoy the feel of her blood on my aching rod. "Let me sleep on the idea, until tomorrow,"she said, turning away.

"If we do not go, more men will come looking for us, for you. Two have already died."

"Is he such a bad man?"

"Yes, and remember, he is married. He cannot marry you, only use you."

"Oh," she said as if the fact had finally reached her conscious mind, "that's right. So I don't have to ... Let me think. Please."

I went back to the tavern and drank myself sleepy thinking of the ripe, young beauty resting above my head.

In the morning she had decided. She would go face the man and tell him that she was no longer a maiden, that she had been raped by highwaymen who killed her guards. It was a wonderful story, thought I, but hardly believable without some serious efforts.

"All right," I said. "I'm going to fetch some blood. I want you to scratch yourself here and there, including your breasts, arms and thighs, break your nails." I touched her ribs. "Get rid of your stays and tear your shift. Mess up your hair and throw away those combs."

"They were my mother's," she said quietly, tears in her eyes. "Aren't you going to take me?"

"No need. We can fool him. You can keep your maidenhead, I hope. Give me your combs and get to work."

I hurried down to the kitchen, found some fresh beef blood, splashed a bit inside the coach and took the rest up to the girl's room. She had a bleeding scratch on her cheek and her hair was wildly cascading down her back. She handed me her combs and I pocketed them.

"Take off your dress," I said "and pop some hooks as you do, tear that lapel. Rip off a button or two. When we get outside, kneel in the dirt."

She turned her back and wriggled her jacket off and then stepped out of her heavy skirt. "Sit on the edge of that chair," I said. I poured a handful of blood into her lap and told her to stand. I looked at the result, and then tore her shift in the back and ripped off one strap revealing a plump breast and rosy nipple. "Now," I said, turning her around as she held her torn garment to her chest. "Now, I'm going to hit you in the face and while we are on the way down to the city, I want you to bruise your thighs a bit, really beat on them, high up, and your groin." I pinched her breast and she squealed.

She looked at me, frightened, and I held her shoulder and hit her in the face with my open hand, making a terrible noise and knocking her to the floor. I helped her up and held her while she sobbed, and then I looked at my handiwork. Her nose was bleeding and she was going to have a fine bruise on her cheekbone, a swollen lip and, if we were lucky, a black eye. I gave her my kerchief and she spat blood into it and looked at me, shocked. I pushed her away.

She sniffed and got her clothes back on, the blood on her shift still wet. I admired her lithe, young body and wondered why I did not take advantage of her when I had the chance.