Big Bad Cowboy: A Billionaire and a Virgin Romance

by Tia Siren

  His mother wasn't much of one for the English stiff upper lip, and she nodded in agreement. When she was gone, Roberts came and cleared the table. He left some brandy and brought tea for Victoria.

  Edward cleared his throat as if he was preparing to address the Queen. ''Victoria, dear Victoria. I have been thinking about the estate and indeed about you.'' Victoria daren't lift her tea cup fearing her tremoring hand would spill some over her borrowed dress. ''You are a very beautiful woman, and I am enormously taken with you. I have been able to think of nothing else but you, since the moment you walked into this house.'' He looked at her trying to gauge what her reaction mighty be, but her expression remained passive. ''It would be proper for me to ask your father if I may approach you, but your poor father is no longer with us, and I am unable to do so. Victoria, I would like to know if you would be amenable to the idea of becoming my wife.''

  Victoria was stunned. So soon? Was it too early? She felt something for him, but did she love him? Did she love him like she knew her mother had loved her father?

  Before she had a chance to say anything, he spoke again. ''If we were to marry, you could manage the estate.''

  Victoria could not believe what she was hearing. ''Was it not your intention to hand it back to me as the rightful owner? You led me to believe you would,'' she asked.

  ''I wouldn't need to hand it back to you if we were joined.''

  Victoria exploded. She stood up and threw her teacup into the fireplace. ''If that's what you think, then you can keep the estate, you're welcome to it. Marry me and make me the manager, indeed,'' she scoffed. ''I can see you're not better than that father of yours. He was dishonorable and dishonest, and your are worse because you are taking advantage of a lady's delicate situation.''

  *****

  ''Who is it?'' the innkeeper shouted. ''I'm coming, stop hammering on the door.'' He unbolted the door and looked outside. He was surprised to see a young woman carrying a travel bag. ''It's awfully late for you to be out alone, miss.''

  ''Can you please give me a room for the night,'' Victoria asked.

  When she stepped into the candlelit hallway, the innkeeper noticed she had mud on her shoes, and that the hem of her dress was wet, and mud splattered. ''Come along now miss, I'll get the wife to help you. Out at this time alone, well I never,'' he restated.

  His wife appeared in a dressing gown and a pair of slippers. ''Oh miss, what a mess you're in, come along with you.'' She led Victoria up the stairs and into a small bedroom at the end of the corridor. ''Where have you come from at this time?'' she asked.

  ''From Easingborough Hall, over the fields.''

  The Innkeeper's wife looked quizzically at her. The old Duke was dead, so it wasn't one of his women.

  ''Is there a coach from here to York tomorrow?''

  ''Yes, it calls here every day at nine am.''

  *****

  ''Three days, three whole days,'' Mr. Picford shouted. ''Where have you been all this time?''

  ''Pleas sir, I've been at home. I wasn't too well.''

  ''Nonsense. On the second day, Mary went to see where you were. You were not at your cottage. Where were you, and I want the truth?''

  Lizzie had told Victoria to expect a showdown when she went into the mill but she hadn't told her that Mary had been to the cottage. Perhaps she didn't know. She would have to think of an excuse and fast. ''I have an aunt, in Haslemere. She's gravely ill. I went to visit her,'' she lied.

  He was walking around her as she stood in the middle of his office. He leaned into her and sniffed her scent. It reminded her of a dog, and she began to feel faint. ''Well whatever the truth, you have missed three days. You will not go back to work in the mill.''

  ''But, Mr. Pickford, please.......''

  ''Today is Friday, on Monday morning, you will report for work in my cottage as one of my assistants. If you refuse, I will have nothing more to do with you.'' He smiled before delivering the rest of his terrifying message. ''You will not work at the mill, and you will not live in one of my houses. You will be on the streets. Is that clear?'' She nodded.

  Victoria waited for Lizzie on the wall at the entrance to the mill. Lizzie was covered in dust when Victoria saw her. ''What happened to you?'' Victoria asked.

  ''Mary had me cleaning out some of the air pipes, they're full of dust and rat droppings.'' Lizzie took Victoria's arm, and she wanted to pull away. Rat's droppings didn't sound too healthy. As they went down the hill towards the village, Victoria told Lizzie all about her trip to the solicitors and then to Easingborough Hall. When she came to the end, Lizzie was in tears. ''You mean, you refused the Duke's offer?''

  ''Yes.''

  ''You're mad,'' Lizzie said.

  ''He's just like all the others. He should have given it back to me, expecting me to be the manager is.....well I don't know, but it isn't honest.''

  Lizzie wanted to say that it was her father's fault really, but she refrained.

  ''Pickford wants me to start work in the assistants house on Monday.''

  ''Jesus Victoria. Go back to the Duke and accept his offer.''

  ''No never. He's just as dishonest as his father,''

  Lizzie didn't understand. ''You’re bloody headstrong, and it's not good for you.''

  At the village green, Jack was waiting. Lizzie kissed Victoria goodbye and went towards her house.

  ''Can I walk with you Victoria?'' he asked.

  ''Yes I'd like that,'' she said. He almost jumped in the air, it was a result he wasn’t expecting. They walked together without saying anything until they reached Victoria's cottage. ''Thank you, Jack, that was nice,'' she said.

  ''It's my pleasure. I was wondering if you would like to walk with me on Sunday, after church? he asked, holding his breath.

  ''Yes, Jack, I'd like that very much,'' she said. When she closed the door behind her, she slipped to her knees and began to cry.

  *****

  On Monday morning, Victoria was not dressed in her usual mill workers clothes, but in her best dress. She'd picked some daffodils and put one in her bonnet. It was gone eight, and if she'd been working in the mill, she would already have been at work for two hours. Nine o'clock was her new start time. At eight forty, she was ready to walk up the hill to the first street on the right, Calderdale Avenue. Number three belonged to Mr. Pickford, and she was to report there. She put on her bonnet and took the bunch of daffodils. She went to the kitchen took a carving knife and hid it in the flowers she was carrying.

  When she arrived at her new place of work, she was greeted by three other women, all equally well dressed. They showed her to what they called, her room. It appeared each of them had their own room. ''When Mr. Pickford comes, he chooses one of us, and we go with him to our own room. He likes it that way'' a woman called Isabella said.

  At nine thirty, Mr. Pickford knocked on the door. ''Splendid, Victoria, you're here. I've been looking forward to seeing you all weekend. Show me which is your room.''

  Victoria didn't say anything as she walked up the stairs with him behind her. When they entered the room, the daffodils were lying on the bed. ''Please sit down next to me on the bed,'' she told him.

  His breathing began to get faster and shallower, but his excitement was interrupted by a loud bang on the door, and another one. He got out and shouted down the stairs. ''Who the devil is it?''

  After a few seconds, one of the girls shouted up the stairs, ''It's a man called Mr. Jones. He says he wants to speak to Victoria.''

  ''Tell him to go away,'' Pickford shouted back.

  ''That's not a good idea, he's got a large threatening man with him.''

  Pickford went back downstairs closely followed by Victoria. ''Mr. Jones,'' she exclaimed. ''What on earth....?''

  ''It has taken me a very long time to find you,'' he shouted. Victoria remembered his voice and how loud he had been in Haslemere. ''I went to the mill first, and they were very reluctant to tell me where you were,'' he looked at a chair and sat down to catch his brea
th. He was wearing the same red breeches he had a few days ago. ''It was only after Mr. Jesop intervened that they were forthcoming.''

  ''Ah yes, Mr. Jespon, hello,'' Victoria said.

  ''Hello, Miss,'' he smiled.

  ''What's all this about. She's one of my employees, and she should be working, so say what you have got to say and go,'' Pickford stated.

  ''Victoria,'' Jones began. ''There has been a development in you favor. I am here to hand you the deeds to the Landsborough Estate.''

  Victoria didn't say anything she just stood there with her mouth wide open.

  ''Don't you want it?'' Jones asked with a kind smile on his face. “It's yours again if you want it.''

  ''Of course, I want it,'' she squealed. ''Oh Mr. Jones how can this be happening?''

  ''You should ask the Duke, Miss. He instructed me last week to make the estate over to you, with no conditions whatsoever. Mr. Jepson here gave me a lift here in his coach, and if you so wish, he is willing to take you and your belongings with us back to your rightful home.''

  ''Goodbye, Mr. Pickford, you will be hearing from me in the future, I can assure you. Just count yourself lucky you didn't lay a hand on me today.''

  *****

  Landsborough Hall was in a state of some disrepair. It wasn't uninhabitable, but it had a leaking roof and damp walls. Victoria had no idea what she should do about it, just as she had no idea how to run the estate. When she arrived, she found she had two servants. One of them was Rosie.

  ''What on earth are you dong here,'' she asked.

  ''The Duke asked me to look after you. I am a ladies maid, and there is no lady at the Hall, so I am better employed with you. If you are agreeable.''

  ''Of course, I'm delighted. In fact, a bit overwhelmed.''

  ''The Duke asked me to tell you that his advice is to hand over the running of the estate to a firm called Stephensons Land Agents in Haslemere. They will do the day to day running for you, leaving you free to make the big decisions and enjoy your new life.''

  ''Splendid,” Victoria said. ''But why can't the Duke come and tell me that himself?''

  ''Oh Miss, the Duke is ashamed to come and see you. That's what he told me.'' Rosie shifted from one foot to the other.

  ''He thinks he wronged you when he didn't just give you the estate in the first place. And if you ask me, Miss, he's love sick. He does nothing but mope around; it is very sad to see.'' Rosie took a deep breath happy that she'd unburdened herself.

  *****

  When Roberts answered the door, he was delighted to see Victoria. His boss had been intolerable since she had left the house so suddenly a few days ago. ''Miss Victoria, oh how lovely to see you, please follow me.''

  Edward was in the library, staring into space. When Roberts announced Victoria, he jumped off his seat and almost ran to her. At the last second breeding took over and he gently shook her hand.

  ''My Lord, thank you for the great act of generosity you have shown to me. You have made me happier than you know,'' she said.

  ''I'm very pleased. I'm sorry about the first time I.........''

  She stepped towards him and put her finger to his lips. ''Shh, it's alright, I understand. Any man who is able to see the error of his ways and change direction without being too proud to do so is a brave man indeed.''

  He looked down at his feet and contemplated an answer. He was afraid to ask for what he really wanted, but Victoria was not.

  ''Will my Lord please kiss me?''

  *****

  ''I left Rosie at home,'' Victoria said as Edward walked with her up to his bedroom. We are both adults and no one need know what is about to take place. Need they?''

  ''No quite,'' he answered. ''Once we are married it won't matter, will it?'' She shook her head.

  In the bedroom, Edward was suddenly very unsure of himself. Victoria had been around enough earthy women to have picked up a few tips, and she took the initiative.

  ''Get out of your clothes,'' she commanded. He did so eagerly. When he pulled his trousers and underwear down, she gasped at the size of him. It was the first time she had seen a penis and in his, she was impressed. When she touched it, she remembered what Mary and the girls had always said men enjoyed. When Edward felt her hot mouth on him, he moaned and pulled her hair. He felt long and smooth, and it turned her on.

  She was eager to feel his body on hers, and he looked on, as she stood up and began to undress. When her breasts fell free, he sucked greedily on her nipples, making her gasp. She stepped out of her garments and stood before him, ready.

  He pushed her to the bed and lay next to her. His hand caressed her breasts and stomach, hardly daring to go where he most wanted it to. ''Touch me there,'' she whispered. It was all he needed to hear and his touch electrified her. She played with him as he stroked her. The texture of his manhood fascinated her. The coarseness was totally alien to anything on her body.

  When she could bear his strokes no longer, she opened her legs and pulled him to her. When he lay on her, she rubbed her hands over his back and buttocks, down to his hairy thighs and up again. His hard angular body felt strong on her, and she liked the feeling of giving herself to him. She felt his penis prodding at her, trying in vain to find her opening. She helped him, and when his penis was at her entrance, he thrust hard into her, making her cry out. He wasn't gentle; he was passionate. She took his pounding body and even thrust back at him, urging him on. She felt her body begin to tighten and had no idea what it was except it felt pleasurable. Every time he made a down thrust, she felt a wave coming from her womanhood. The longer he thrust, the more the pleasure until she could stand it no more. She exploded. She cried out his name and dug her fingers into the skin on his back. The sight of her breasts shaking uncontrollably at her orgasm excited hm so much. He came immediately after. The warm surge she felt inside her was the best feeling she had ever known, and she clung to him and kissed the side of his face until his breathing returned to something like normal.

  *****

  ''What the hell are you doing here,'' Mary asked as Victoria walked into the mill. ''I thought we'd seen the last of you.''

  ''In two minutes you will have,'' she answered. She walked along the line of bobbins that were spinning at a terrifying rate, and past a pool of women working on sewing machines. She had almost forgotten what a noisy place it was. She walked down past another row of women and into the next building. It was the packing department, and it was always cold. The machines in the main mill kept people warm but in the packing area, there was no warmth. Lizzie was standing at the end of a line of women, packing thread into boxes.

  She looked at Victoria and screamed. ''What are you doing here?''

  ''I've come to get you. You're never setting foot in this place again. I need someone to help me run my house and the estate.''

  ******

  On the twenty-first of June eighteen hundred and fifteen, Victoria Lambert/Landsborough, became the Duchess of Haslemere. Lizzie was her bridesmaid, and Mr. Jones gave her away. Mr. Jepson was the Duke's best man.

  Lizzie lived in Landsborough Hall when Victoria moved to Easingborough Hall. Lizzie married Lieutenant David Wilkinson. She had three children, all boys. Victoria had four children, two girls, and two boys.

  Mr.Pickford was attacked by an angry father three years after Victoria's wedding. He died of his injuries a year later.

  ****

  THE END

  A Rake’s Revenge – A Regency Romance

  Her Majesty's Prison Conway was built on the edge of a marsh in the Thames Estuary. In winter, it was often inaccessible due to flooding, and in summer the inmates and staff were eaten alive by bloodthirsty mosquitoes. It was built in seventeen thirty-six, with room for two hundred criminals. On the day Emily Lucas first visited the prison, it held over four hundred inmates in the worst situation of overcrowding ever known in an English prison.

  At nineteen, Emily was a beautiful young woman with fair hair and a fresh complexion. There was only one h
orse-drawn coach a day from London to the prison, and as it was always full, a place had to be reserved well in advance. As Emily looked out of the window, she saw over the marsh to a large gray building surrounded by the mist of a damp spring day. She shivered and pulled her shawl around her slender frame.

  ''Ain't no escapin' from here,'' the woman next to her said as she nodded in the direction of the prison. ''My husband’s been here for six years. He was a fine-looking man when he went in. Now he's half the size, and he's riddled with worms from the bad meat they serve 'em.''

  Emily thought about asking what the lady's husband had done, but she didn't really want to know. Perhaps he'd murdered someone, and she would have it on her mind for the rest of the day, if not the week.

  When they arrived outside the forbidding facade, the coach driver helped the women down and gave them their luggage. Emily had brought apples and some fresh bread and butter. A large man with a barrel chest and a huge mustache came out to greet them.

  ''Who hasn't been here before?'' he asked. Only Emily put her hand up. ''Right then Miss, you stay close to me.'' He led them to the enormous oak door and opened a smaller door within it. When Emily stepped inside, she felt her heart sink. It was dark, cold and noisy. Very noisy. It wasn't pleasant noise like the chug machine or birds in a dawn chorus; it was the shouts and groans of male voices.

  They were standing in a huge stone corridor between the main entrance and the prison. As they walked towards another large door, the sounds became louder, and Emily wanted to go back. But she'd promised herself. The warder opened the next door and showed the women to a room on the left. It had stone walls and no source of light except for a few candles hanging on the walls. Every few yards there was a table and two chairs.

  ''Right Miss, you sit here,'' the warder said, pointing to a table in the far corner of the room. ''He's not a violent man like some of the others.'' He nodded to the tables closer to the door. ''We keep those tables for violent men. When they start being aggressive, we can shove them back into the prison more easily from there.''