The Pits of Passion

by Amber Flame

  “Trevor!” she screamed. “Why are we stopping? Ride on, before those cutthroats catch up to us!”

  “Sorry, madam,” Trevor sniffed. “There’s one blocking the road.”

  “Well, ride over him!”

  “Sorry, madam,” Trevor said. “He has a pistol leveled at me.” Elizabeth watched in dismay as the riders bore down on the carriage. The masked men assembled in front of the door and a large burly man came forward.

  “Everybody out!” he commanded.

  Quaking with fear, Elizabeth and Christine emerged from the carriage. Christine clutched her purse to her breast and was already whimpering over the loss of her new jewelry. The headman strode over to her and snatched her purse away, leaving Christine crying. The man then turned to Elizabeth.

  “And what do you have of value?” he sneered.

  “Nothing that I would let your filthy hands touch,” Elizabeth retorted. Her emerald eyes flashed in anger. She had had too much put upon her and would not take any more. If she must live as a shut-in wife and never see Benjamin again, at least she would have her dignity.

  “Oh, is that right?” the masked man said. He stepped so close that Elizabeth could smell the ale on his breath. “We’ll see about that.” He reached out a dirty, gnarled hand and grabbed her chin roughly. Holding her firmly, he surveyed the beautiful face while Elizabeth tried to pull away. Finally she spat in his face and he let go.

  “You’ll be sorry for that,” the man said. He swung his fist around and clouted her on the chin, sending her sprawling on the dirty ground. Dizzy from the blow, she lay still for a moment.

  “All right, Fancy Dan!” the man said to Trevor. “Hand me over that watch there, and that stick pin, too.”

  “Well, I never!” Trevor said. Sniffing loudly, he handed over the items.

  “You got anything else pretty on you?” the highwayman asked. He jerked Trevor’s coat open and turned out his pockets. A glitter of gold fell out of one. “Here, what’s this?” The man picked up a pair of gold earrings with mother-of-pearl and amethyst inlaid in the glittering clips.

  “Well, well,” the man sneered. “Ain’t these nice?” He pocketed the earrings and moved back away from Trevor. “Okay, you two!” he said, “Get back in the carriage and head out.”

  “But, but, what about Elizabeth?” Christine wailed. “We can’t leave Elizabeth!”

  “Yes, you can,” the highwayman laughed. “Get in the coach afore I help you in!” He produced a wicked looking pistol and brandished it about. Trevor hopped up on the box immediately and then Christine climbed inside. Looking about fearfully, the pair set out on the road again.

  Elizabeth still lay on the ground, looking about with her mouth open. Her anger had been replaced by fear and now she was terrified of what would be done to her. As the coach drew away, four pair of eyes turned toward her and she shrank back.

  “Here, now,” the leader said, “don’t go looking like a scared rabbit. The only reason I kept you was because you had some fire in you.” He strode over to her, his big belly shaking and a grin cracking his dirty face.

  Well, Elizabeth thought, if I must die at least I’ll die with dignity.

  Before the man could reach for her she jumped up away from him.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said. “Stay away.”

  The man laughed and closed in on her. “Come on, me beauty, you’re fair loot and I’ve claimed you, so don’t give me a fight. You’ll keep my bed warmer than that yellow mongrel I’ve got now.”

  With speed Elizabeth had not thought he had, the man reached out and grabbed her wrist. She twisted and pulled away but to no avail. The man dragged her to him and wrapped his other arm around her, planting a wet kiss on her tender lips. Elizabeth thought she was going to barf, which wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Instead, she struggled vainly against the man’s chest while he laughed at her.

  “Come on, Moe,” one of the other highwaymen said. “Let’s get back to camp.”

  “Oh, all right,” Moe said. He dragged Elizabeth to his horse and pulled her up in front of him. While she was forced to lean back against him, she hated any contact and her flesh crawled at his hand at her waist. They started out and his hand crept up to fondle her heaving breast and she thought she would scream. The thought of this vile, filthy man caressing her unblemished flesh drove her to distraction, and besides, he was letting a draft down her dress.

  They rode for hours. The countryside all seemed the same to Elizabeth as they rode, stretching into endless fields. Occasionally they passed peasants, but the men never rode close enough for Elizabeth to scream for help. They rode until she thought she would drop off the saddle from exhaustion, and she wondered if her nipples would be permanently erect from all the fondling they’d received. Darkness fell, and she was afraid they would ride all night, but then that was probably better than stopping for the night.

  Two hours after dark, they entered a forest and slowed down. The riders picked their way through the trees. Elizabeth didn’t know where they were going, and she was too tired to care, so she dropped her head and stared down at the ground. She just hoped that if they killed her they would do it quickly.

  When Moe drew rein and stopped, it jarred Elizabeth out of her drowsiness. She looked around and saw a shabby camp with a tiny smokeless fire. There were a few pieces of clothing tossed across the bushes and a blanket laid here and there around the fire. At first she thought the camp was empty, but then one of the blankets began to move.

  “Lindy!” Moe cried. “Up, girl! We want food after our long ride.” He slid down off his horse, carrying Elizabeth with him. She had hoped to be free of his grimy hands, but he kept one paw on her all the time. She wondered with a shudder if his foreskin was as dirty as his fingernails.

  “Lindy!” Moe bellowed. The blanket was thrown back at the sound of his enraged voice and a thin, dirty girl stood up. Her hair hung in strings about her face and her bony frame was barely covered with filthy rags. Elizabeth could almost see lice crawling on her. She was a real dog.

  “Get us some dinner, girl,” Moe ordered. He planted a wet sloppy kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek and sent her sprawling toward the fire. “And show Blue Stockings here what you’re doing so she can help next time.”

  Lindy stood staring angrily at Elizabeth while she stood up and brushed the dirt from her dress. The skinny girl spat uncomfortably close to Elizabeth’s booted foot, then began to rummage in a rucksack. She ignored the rucks but pulled out a large pan and put some green tinged meat into it over the fire. Then she pulled out some crusty dough and threw some of it alongside the meat, picking a weevil from it as it cooked. Elizabeth felt sick. The skinny girl leered at her from behind her stringy, unruly hair, and Elizabeth could see blackened stumps where her teeth should have been. She shuddered again.

  “Here,” Lindy said, shoving a pot at Elizabeth. “Make some coffee.” Lindy threw a bag at her, but Elizabeth failed to catch it and the coarse coffee spilled on the ground. “Look what you’ve done,” Lindy cackled. “I’m going to tell Moe you spilled the coffee and see how he likes that.”

  Elizabeth scooped up as much coffee as she could manage in the weak firelight, thinking she was probably putting as much dirt in the sack as coffee. Finally she poured some into the pot and added enough water to almost fill it. She sat the pot on a rock close in by the fire and wondered if Moe would beat her for wasting coffee or for putting dirt in the pot.

  “Moe is my man,” Lindy said suddenly. She glared at Elizabeth threateningly.

  “That’s fine with me,” Elizabeth said. She was tired of these filthy people. “I don’t like his dirty hands on me anyway.”

  Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Elizabeth was horrified to see Lindy leaping toward her with an infuriated snarl on her face. The wench landed squarely on Elizabeth, kicking and clawing and spitting like a cat. Elizabeth tried to keep her off, but Lindy was quick and used to fighting and had torn Elizabeth’s gown before anything cou
ld be done. Finally Elizabeth took hold of Lindy’s straggly hair and yanked it until she pulled the girl’s head back and her Adam’s apple stuck out.

  “Here, now!” Moe cried suddenly. The men had run up and began to drag the girls apart. Moe pulled Elizabeth to her feet while the other stood Lindy up. Lindy tried to lunge at Elizabeth again, but the men held her back.

  “There’ll be no more of this,” Moe said. He looked pointedly at Lindy. “You girls are going to have to get along. And you, Lindy, can move your blanket over by Larry’s.”

  Lindy’s face fell at his words. Before the entire group she had been demoted, pushed aside, aced out. Her anger flared in her eyes when she looked again at Elizabeth.

  “You’ll pay for this,” she spat. “You’ll be sorry you ever set foot in this camp.” Elizabeth knew by Lindy’s twisted face that every word she snarled was true.

  After the men had eaten their dinner, they sat around the fire and smoked and drank coffee.

  “Best coffee I’ve ever tasted, “ Moe said to Elizabeth.

  “She spilled it all over the ground,” Lindy snapped. Moe stared at her threateningly.

  “If you want to save your skin, you’d best teach the girl not to be wasteful,” he said to her. “It’ll be up to you to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Lindy sulked.

  Moe pulled Elizabeth close beside him and offered her some of his coffee. She shook her head and remained staring into the fire. Moe’s hand rubbed her arm and toyed with the shreds of material Lindy had ripped away from her gown. Elizabeth was painfully aware that the swelling roundness of her breasts lay exposed to Moe’s wandering eyes, but she was afraid that any effort to cover herself would result in an active assault. Instead, she suffered his hand tantalizingly close to her tender flesh and prayed when he made his bed he would command Lindy to lie in it instead of her.

  Her prayers were not answered. When the men had said their goodnights and squeezed the last burp out, Moe pulled Elizabeth over to his filthy blanket and shoved her down on it. Her eyes grew wide as, with a horrible grin, he began to tear his own clothes off. She gasped in shock as Moe’s hairy body was revealed and his ugly purple trouser snake advanced toward her. She fell back on the blanket, terrified of the huge dark shaft that threatened her.

  Suddenly a cry went up and there was a sound of hoof beats and thrashing bushes. Moe jumped back away from Elizabeth, facing whatever it was that was thundering through the forest.

  “Curly!” he bellowed, “Larry! My sword!”

  He waited impatiently while the other two men disentangled themselves from the orifices of Lindy and pulled their pants on. Finally one clawed around until he found Moe’s sword--his fighting sword--and tossed it to him. By the time the avenging horseman burst through the bushes, all three men stood ready at arms.

  Elizabeth was startled to see a huge black horse erupt from the darkness with a small black clad figure on its back. The rider whipped out a sword and cut down Larry in one swell foop. Curly was a better swordsman and the stranger parried and thrust until he found an unguarded spot, then drove his blade home.

  “All right, you,” Moe screamed. “You’ve killed my men but you won’t kill me. Come on, you coward! Let’s see how you fence against a real swordsman.”

  Moe jumped up and down, his swords waving as he yelled, one flashing in the dim firelight and one swaying darkly. Elizabeth was afraid he would have the stranger’s head before the night was through, but maybe that would be better than her giving him head.

  “So you’re a real swordsman, are you?” the dark rider asked.

  “Yes!” boasted Moe. “Come on and kill me if you can!”

  He stood facing the stranger, waiting for the charge. Instead, a blast ripped the air, and Moe was hurtled backward by a pistol ball that took him squarely in the stomach. Elizabeth watched horrified as he lay in his death throes, his wanger gone suddenly very limp.

  “Come on!” shouted the rider to her. He sheathed his pistol and sword and leaned down to pull her up behind him. Neither one of them looked back at the disheveled camp as they crashed through the bushes and away.

  Tired and confused, Elizabeth allowed herself to lean against her rescuer’s back and rest. She was too tired to care who he was or why he had saved her so long as he didn’t force himself upon her. All she could tell about him was that he was a small man. She linked her arms around his waist and fell asleep to the rocking motion of the horse.

  When she blinked awake, they were still loping easily over the French terrain but Elizabeth had no idea where they were. The moon had risen like a pale glowing sliver in the sky or a fluorescent Cheshire Cat’s smile. The countryside was dark and quiet and Elizabeth had time to wonder where they were going.

  Finally the horseman turned north, and Elizabeth realized they were riding along the coast. She could see the beaches down over the cliff foaming in the slight moonlight, and she wondered if they were headed for port. Maybe this man had been sent by Benjamin to rescue her! Maybe he would be waiting at port for her! Her hopes soared.

  They rode on, and in the filtering moonlight Elizabeth, could make out a ship riding the swells. Could Benjamin be down there now, waiting for her? She hoped so. She would proclaim her love for him and plead with him to never send her away again.

  The rider turned the horse down a narrow winding trail that Elizabeth had not even seen, and they wound their way down to the beach. She could make out the black-hulled ship laying low on the waves and then realized there was a dingy drifting in the tide and three men stood waiting on the beach. The horseman rode straight for them and only drew rein when he had reached the dingy.

  The men assisted Elizabeth down off the horse and bundled her in a warm blanket. Then they herded her into the dingy, and the small man who had saved her gave an order to row for the ship. His face was wrapped in a hood, but Elizabeth thought his voice was somehow familiar. She tried to remember any of Benjamin’s servants who might sound like that, but no one came to mind.

  The men rowed silently for the dark ship, and Elizabeth was content to huddle down into her blankets and keep warm. Although she had slept on the horse, she was still tired and her bones ached from the rough handling she’d received lately. She heartily wished she could lay down in a soft feather bed and sleep for a few days.

  When they finally bumped against the ship, a watch in the crow’s nest shouted the alert.

  “Dingy! Dingy!” he yelled.

  “There goes bloomin’ Walter thinking he’s a bell again,” one man grumbled.

  “Shut up,” said the short man. “Captain’s waiting.”

  A rope ladder was unrolled over the side, and Elizabeth was helped up it. She thought it awfully nice of them to let her go up first, until she looked down and saw them all grinning up at her. Swallowing her embarrassment, she climbed to the top and over the ship’s rail.

  There she was immediately surrounded by four burly men who blocked any avenue of escape, and she was forced to wait until the other men had come up the ladder behind her. When the short man stood on deck, she was led, with her bodyguards, down below and stopped before a door. The short man knocked and Elizabeth heard a voice--could it be Benjamin’s?--admit them. The short man swung the door open and motioned her through.

  The cabin was lit only dimly by one small candle and she could not see well. The tall broad form she remembered so well stood before her. She flung herself into his arms.

  “Oh, Benjamin!” she said. “I’m so glad you found me. I was kidnapped by highwaymen and almost raped and this girl was going to scratch my eyes out and I was so afraid. Please don’t ever send me away again, please.” She looked at him beseechingly and the slow, handsome grin she remembered spread across his face. His arms tightened around her and she felt at peace.

  “Here’s a new candle, Captain,” the short man said suddenly from the door. Elizabeth turned and her mouth dropped open in shock.

  “Mr. Pramburg!” she said.
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  “No, no,” he said. “I told you my name is Farnbuck.”

  Realization dawned on her, and she twisted around in the arms that held her. She tried to push away but she was held fast.

  “What’s the matter, pet?” he laughed. “First you beg me never to send you away and now you fight me. Don’t you love me anymore?”

  “Franklin, you bastard! I don’t love you and you know it! I thought you were Benjamin. Let me go!”

  “Not this time, pet. You and that goody-two-shoes brother of mine have humiliated me enough, and I intend to come out on top. On you, that is. Benjamin was never much my type. Anyway, you might as well accept the fact that you are here to stay this time.”

  “How did you find me? Benjamin sent me away to keep me safe from you. You’re still supposed to be in Paris or somewhere.”

  “That’s what I wanted him to think. I let his bodyguards catch one of my spies and he told them I was in Paris plotting to kidnap you. I planned on Benjamin’s playing the martyr husband and sending you away, and I had Farnbuck waiting to waylay your coach. However, I did not plan on your being kidnapped by highwaymen.”

  “Well, I was and it was awful! There was this horrible hairy man with a big purple--eh, never mind. Franklin, let me go.”

  “No, love. Not this time. This time I’ll take you somewhere where Benjamin will never find you.”

  Franklin’s mouth came down and claimed Elizabeth’s, and his tongue invaded her mouth like a stealthy bandit. Before she could resist, she was caught up in the glorious pleasure he was imparting, and she knew she was lost. Franklin’s hands moved hotly over her, running through her hair, kneading her flesh until she felt weak in the knees. She had forgotten how he could do this to her.

  “Well,” Franklin said finally. “I was going to rip your dress off you but I see someone else already started the job.” He fingered the scraps of material that hung from her heaving bodice.

  “Yes,” she said. “It was that awful girl. She was so jealous of me that she attacked me and tore my dress. That’s the first time a woman ever ripped my gown.”