by April Jane
“Do something,” she hissed at her maid, trying to shake her out of the stupor that she had been put in seeing Alice dragged off by a man sporting a gun and strange accent—and also the power to make her feel as if she were able to bear his touch and looking directly in his eyes.
Gertrude simply stared, her mouth propped comically open. If the situation had been any different, Alice would have taken the liberty to laugh. It may have been rude, but she looked exactly like one of the melodramatic players in an opera.
However, the situation was no different than it currently was, and she was apparently being kidnapped by a man that she didn’t even know the name of, and Gertrude wasn’t doing a single thing about it.
“What is your name, darlin’?” the man asked, tugging her along.
“Let go of my wrist,” Alice said in reply, trying to tug it from his steely grip, but to no avail.
He turned back to her, that damnably beautiful hair falling into his eyes, and despite everything, she had the urge to reach forward and push it off of his forehead so that she could gaze upon his insanely green eyes without the interruption of the light-consuming black of his hair. “Interesting name, darlin’. I must ask, was your mama drunk at the time she had you?” Alice simply gaped at him, unable to think of a comeback quickly enough before he began speaking again. “I believe I shall keep with darlin’, if you do not mind. I find it much better suits you.”
Alice bit her tongue so that she did not curse at him. Infuriating man. Where was he taking her? “And what might your name be?” she asked instead of cursing him a moment later when she had managed to pick up the logical train of thought once again beyond the blinding flash of rage that she had felt.
They paused in front of the door to the next car and the man swept a quick bow that looked much too elegant for a kidnapper. “William Smith, at your service,” he said, doffing a hat that didn’t exist on his head, and then reaching out with his hand once more and clamping it around her wrist. He shoved her through the open door, closing the first one behind her.
Alice felt sick as she saw the ground moving beneath then, with only the closure that kept this car and the next connected to stand in the way of her and it. “Take me back inside,” she shrieked, backing up against—against a hard, muscled body. She shrieked again and leapt forward, only to lose her balance and waver precariously near the edge of the platform that stood between her and certain death.
William—if that was truly his name, it sounded much too common to be his actual name—grasped her around the waist and pulled her tightly against him. She felt her cheeks warm, but it wasn’t fear that made her blood sing. Alice closed her eyes and gritted her teeth on another scream as he leapt over to the next platform. She was not hysterical; she refused to scream, though she truly wanted to.
As the noise and the wind that had blown the intricate braids Gertrude had executed this morning out of their neat and pristine rows abruptly stopped, Alice opened her eyes.
“Are you completely insane?” she asked, beating a fist against William’s chest. “You nearly killed me!”
William frowned down at her, which did nothing to diminish his good looks as it did to her when she wrinkled her forehead. “Dove, I believe I just saved you from your certain death.”
Alice growled out a half-intelligible curse, no longer concerned with looking like a lady and stomped away from William.
“Where are you going?” he asked good-naturedly as she continued towards the end of the car. “Your seat is back there, darlin’.”
“I am aware,” she snapped without turning to face him long enough to spit the three words, and looked into one of the compartments. Empty. She opened it and slid into the seat nearest to her. She closed her eyes and rested her fingers against her forehead, attempting to ease the building pain that was threatening to cause a headache that would split her skull in half. How long had it been since she had gotten one so bad? Oh, yes, that time that her brother had shown up at their doorstep with three drunken angry men on his tail, begging for refuge. Yes, this situation was equally as stressful, so she was entitled to the headache.
She heard William’s boots, low and dense, on the floor of the train, heard him exhale and the jingle of the chain hitting the wooden armrest as he sat down across from her.
“So tell me,” he said after a few moments. “What brings you to the train that we are hijacking?”
Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him from across the space that separated them; not enough, though. She wished that he were across the country. No, she wished that she were back home, away from this accursedly hot train and this enigma of a man. Yes, that sounded much better. “Tell me your reasons for hijacking a train, and I may tell you my reasons.”
“I did ask first.” His tone was light as if this entire thing were a joke to him.
“It is the gentlemanly thing to do to grant a lady’s requests,” she snapped and closed her eyes once more.
“But my kind lady,” he said, and his voice was closer than it had been before. She opened her eyes once more to see him leaning forward, the smile that graced his face the kind that only tilted up half of his lips. She wanted to smack it from his face and trace its shape with her forefinger at the same time. “I am not a gentleman.”
He held her gaze, eyes impossibly green and mischievous, doing strange things to her stomach. She felt as if the organ was flipping itself over and over, causing her to feel lightheaded. She felt the stain of a blush spread from her cheeks to her hairline and disappear into the neck of her dress, but couldn’t—for the life of her—look away. She was trapped in those cursedly beautiful eyes, and had the urge once more to reach out and clear his gaze of the ends of his unruly hair that bordered on curly. Her fingers were doing just that, she found a few moments later, though she couldn’t remember lifting her arm to execute the motion.
His hair was incredibly soft, she found as she failed to fight her arm back to her side, and that lopsided smile widened into a just as lopsided grin. He brushed his cheek deliberately against her fingertips, and she could feel as well as hear the coarse stubble rubbing against her fingertips in an utterly foreign sensation. She snatched her hand back.
Something occurred to her in the time that it took to pull her hand back to the safety of her own body: that was the first time she had deliberately reached for a male who was not related to her. Just as he was the first man she had been able to hold a conversation with and who had intrigued her long enough to keep the fear at bay.
“I am to be married once I reach a settlement out in the West,” she said sharply, partially to remind herself of the fact, and partially to see the smile on his lips go away.
“Oh?” to her chagrin, it didn’t. If anything, it simply widened. “What is the name of this lucky man?”
Alice opened her mouth, searching for a name, any name, but only his name stayed in her mind. She closed it a moment later and looked out the window. “I cannot remember,” she muttered.
“Arranged?” William asked, leaning back.
“Something of that nature,” Alice said, nodding. Then, she snapped her gaze to him, but kept it planted firmly on the tiny mole located underneath his right eye so that she wouldn’t have to gaze directly into those soul-stripping orbs of the most intense green. “I have told you my business, what is yours?”
William leaned forward once again, and she caught the flash of his white teeth once more. “There is someone who stole something from me and my men who is riding on this train. I plan to find him and take it back from him with whatever force is necessary.” His easy and slow drawl was lined with the kind of silken danger that should have sent shooting pricks of fear up Alice’s spine, but she simply blinked and glanced back out of the window.
“And why are you hijacking the train to accomplish this?”
“Because his men are here as well and we need the train in our control when worst comes to worst.”
That sounded menacing, and fin
ally, a prickle of fear went up Alice’s spine. She suppressed a shiver. “And my part in all of this?” she asked after a moment.
William smiled at her then, the spark of danger that had darkened his eyes for a moment gone in a beat. “Why, darlin’, you are my hostage to make sure that everything goes smoothly.”
“Hostage?” Alice asked, the word coming out of her lips a few octaves higher than it should have. William nodded once, tapping the barrel of the gun that was still clutched in his right hand against his cheek.
“You simply have to act as if you are scared for your life and I will hold this gun to your head until he gives me what I want.”
“And if that does not work?” Alice asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice. She wasn’t sure if she quite managed, but perhaps it was enough because William didn’t attempt to calm her down. She wanted to attack a second question: will you shoot me? However, she didn’t dare, for she wanted to believe that the answer would be no. She had no guarantee that he would provide her with that answer, however, and wanted to stay ignorant of the true answer as long as possible.
“It has to,” he said, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
Marvelous. He had no black up plan. “Why did you pick me?” Alice asked.
William shrugged, lowering the gun to his lap once more. “You weren’t too hard on the eyes and Robinson can never resist a pretty face.”
###
Alice turned away from him in an attempt to hide the blush that spread across her cheeks once again. No one had called her pretty before. With her curves that were enough for one and a half people, most tended to look over her. Damn her blood and its ability to rise to the surface of her cheeks so quickly and easily. She would make a fool of herself all throughout life, blushing the entire way.
“Very well,” she said a moment later when the blush had gone down enough for her to look him in the face once again. “I will go along with your plan. If I do end up dying, it will be better than the fate I am resigned to.”
“Die?” William asked, confusion clouding his countenance momentarily. “I will protect you to the death, darlin’, I give you my word. There is no need for you to fear for your life. The gun is for show, anyhow.” He clicked something on the contraption and showed her the inside. She wasn’t quite sure what it was she should be seeing, and glanced up at him blankly. “Empty,” he clarified after a moment. Ah, Alice thought. That was why Alice hadn’t known what to look for; it was what wasn’t there that was what was supposed to be capturing her attention.
Alice relaxed back into her seat. “Do they know that the train is being hijacked yet?” she asked, looking out the window once more. “The people you are after, I mean.”
“Not yet. The train will stop in the middle of the plain and I am sure that they will realize something is wrong. We are attempting to find out which car these men are in. They may be spread out as well, but I am looking for one and one alone.”
“Robinson,” Alice said. “I am assuming, at least.”
William gave her a wry smile. “You are quick, darlin’.”
“My name is Alice,” Alice admitted, halfway to get him to stop abusing the word that she would never be able to hear without thinking of his lopsided grin. The other part, she didn’t dare think about, not yet when she was looking into his eyes. Perhaps later, when she was alone with her own thoughts, she could consider it.
“And here I was certain it was ‘Let Go of My Wrist’,” William said, flashing her another quick smile before standing once again. He stowed the empty gun in his pocket once again and held out a hand that Alice regarded blankly for several moments. “Now that we are on a first name basis and know what we need to know about each other, do you trust me to get you over to the next car?”
Alice smiled slightly and reached forward, taking his hand. It was rough against her fingers, which she pampered each night with at least three different kinds of creams that each cost as much as her amethyst earrings. She didn’t mind the texture. She didn’t mind anything about this man, not that he was quite possibly an outlaw who had kidnapped her to use as a hostage, and not that he was risking her life. She didn’t even mind that he didn’t scare her. Surely she was meant to meet someone that she wasn’t scared of once in a lifetime?
What would she do when they got to the next train station? That would be her stop, and she would be destined to spend her life stewing in misery, married to a man that she most likely wouldn’t even be able to look in the eye. Her fate paled into further bleakness as she realized that these few moments that she had spent in William’s company that she absolutely detested the idea of being the perfect wife, the person she should have wanted to be.
William pulled her up and let her pass in front of him, not letting go of her hand as he led her to the end of the next car and pushing the door open. The wind instantly whipped Alice’s hair into her face. She tensed, remembering the fear that had nearly frozen her as she looked at the ground.
“Close your eyes,” William said, his voice close to her ear, oddly intimate, though they were both fully clothed and in the process of hijacking a train. She did as she was told, and his hands grasped around her middle once again, pressing her corset painfully against her ribs. She drew in a breath to ask him to loosen his grip, but then her feet were touching down again, and she opened her eyes to find that they were on the other side of that gap of death.
As William moved to open the door, he ducked out of the way of the glass and pulled Alice against him. She began to protest as her nose nearly collided with his cravat, impeccably tied and starched to a near standstill, even in the quickly moving air.
“Robinson is in that car,” he murmured in explanation. “I cannot wait until the train is stopped any longer. Do you trust me, darlin’?” he asked, tilting Alice’s chin up with one finger.
“Call me Alice,” she began to respond, but before she could utter a syllable, his lips were against hers. Alice’s lips softened in pure shock. She fought to get away, but his hand that had tilted her chin up had twined in the hair that sat at the base of her skull, keeping her lips pressed firmly to his. She relaxed a moment, rather liking the way his lips moved against hers, almost as rhythmic as a dance.
This man had stolen her first kiss as well, she realized in and amongst the sensations that she had never felt before. Pleasant sensations, she thought distantly, and then William pulled back, and she found the barrel of the gun pressed to her stomach. Despite the fact that she knew it was empty, and even though he had given his word that he would protect her, she couldn’t help the fear that zinged through her entire body.
It was no hardship to take in panicked breaths that bordered on screams as he opened the door and moved the gun to her head. The man who was supposedly Robinson had been a hulking man in Alice’s mind. In reality, he was more mouse than man, all greying dull brown hair and watery eyes that had a wicked gleam to them. Even his face was triangular, centered on the nose to make it look as if it flowed into that pointed snout. Alice instantly disliked him.
“Robinson,” William drawled, making it almost an insult rather than a name. The man froze, eyes flicking between the gun and William’s face. “Long time, no see.”
“Yes,” the man said in a quavering voice. How was he able to hold something against William? Alice could run one of her hips into him and have him fall over. It would be quite a beautiful display, watching his twitching hands scramble to attempt to find a way to stop himself from falling.
Instead, she whimpered as if she were truly afraid that she would be shot. The man’s gaze returned to hers. “What do you think you are doing on this train, Smith?”
“Taking back what is mine,” William said with conviction, pressing the barrel of the gun into Alice’s temple a bit harder. She didn’t have to completely have to fake the sound of pain, and he eased up just a bit. She could feel his fingers digging into the flesh along her side and closed her eyes.
“What you gave,” Robinson said,
putting emphasis on the word, “is not here, and it never will be.” His voice quavered almost comically, as if he were the one with the gun trained on him instead of pressed against Alice’s head.
“I know for a fact it is, you filthy liar,” William spat, and Alice was glad that she was not the recipient of that anger.
There was movement inside of the train car then, that caused Alice’s eyes to open once more. The commotion was the sound of the two closest compartment doors opening. Four men with guns that were probably quite loaded and useful poured out and into the cramped space.
Alice drew in a sharp breath and felt William’s fingers tighten around her waist momentarily before he let her go and stepped away—no, not away, slightly in front of her, as if to protect her from the bullets. He was keeping his word, even though he had said it with that joking smile.
Alice decided that she could love this man—if they could somehow get out of this situation.
“The only thing that you will surely receive here,” the mousey man said, voice still quavering dangerously close to a squeak, “is your death. It is a long time that you are put down, you mad dog.”
“I only ask that you give me my money and then I will leave, and spare the lives of you and your men,” William said, his voice just this side of panicked. He still held his composure and his sure posture, but when Alice glanced down at his fingers that were clenched around the empty and quite useless gun, they were shaking ever so slightly.
Alice closed her eyes once again. They would kill him. Would they kill her as well? Or would she be forced to continue on her ride to her future husband?
The idea seemed preposterous. She could no longer imagine getting off of the train at a dusty and half-rotted platform and meeting a man who was nearly old enough to call himself her father. She could only imagine William’s eyes, the feel of his lips against hers, and the way he had given her a series of first times for everything in the matter of a few minutes.
She wanted other firsts with him—and only him.