An Outlawed Heiress and Her Duke

by Denise Daye

  George nodded with an understanding faint smile on his lips.

  “I was in the military myself. I understand perfectly well.”

  The General studied George’s face, looking for the former soldier in him. Ultimately, he seemed to have found him, slowly nodding with pursed lips.

  “So how can I be of service to you?” he asked in a curious tone. George leaned forward to make strong eye contact.

  “I need to be on that train to Chama tomorrow.”

  General Patterson thought about it for a second but then shook his head.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. We have strict orders. Military personnel and cargo only. No one else is allowed in or out of Chama.” His voice was strong and clear, leaving no doubt he would not bend. George looked down at his hands, as if debating his next move. Esther started to wonder why he wouldn’t follow their plan and make something up about Jones, telling the General that he was here to push the agreement onto Jones for the sake of his mine. But George did none of that. Instead he decided to go a totally different route. He locked his serious gaze on Patterson.

  “I shall not waste your time by telling you fairytales.”

  The Major General now stopped eating, raising his brows.

  “You don’t deserve that horseshit, as they say around here.” George leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “But the fact is, you do not strike me as a man who enjoys soaking the desert ground with blood.”

  For a moment there was silence between the two of them. Esther almost expected the General to laugh, or at least ask who the hell George thought he was to just walk in here and demand for the rules to be bent, but for some strange reason, he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared George down into tiny little pieces. From toes to head and head to toes. He then locked in on George’s gaze with dark, meaningful eyes—the kind of eyes of a man who could find a needle in a haystack on any given day without much effort.

  “I could have you home by the end of the week without a single drop of blood spilled,” George declared, breaking the silence.

  The Major General crossed his arms, giving George now his undivided attention.

  “Tell me about your time in the military,” General Patterson asked, catching George and Esther both off guard.

  “My time in the military?” George repeated in surprise. General Patterson nodded.

  “Yes. That is what I asked.”

  George looked down at the table as if an invisible hand had pulled him back into his army years right there and then. Whatever memory had just haunted him, it filled his eyes with emptiness, despair. He shook it off again, put it back into the box he must have locked it all away in.

  “My time in the military…” George mused, straightening in his seat. “I’m afraid, Sir, you might not like my answer.”

  “Try me.”

  There was another heavy moment of silence between the two of them before George gave in. “Very well. My time in the military… I’ve been to war. I’ve seen men shot and blown to pieces, seen mothers hold the lifeless bodies of their children, and heard grown men cry in their sleep like little babies.” George locked his gaze back on General Patterson. “And with all due respect, at some point, blood is just red, no matter what side it’s from.”

  The air between the two fogged up like a cloudy spring morning before a storm. Esther tried not to stare over to them, but she just couldn’t help it. Was all lost now? And just when she thought that the Major General would get up and walk off, he picked up the knife and fork from his plate again, nodding the whole way through.

  “You shall be on that train tomorrow, George Astley, Duke of Aberdeen.”

  A tingle of excitement made its way through Esther’s stomach. He did it! He really did it! Not even a Major General could resist this man’s charms.

  George kept his calm and composed demeanor, but Esther had a feeling that he was cheering on the inside just as much as she was. But just when things finally seemed like they were going according to their plan, insane or not, just when Lady Luck finally seemed to have joined them for a little while again, the Major General added: “But I am afraid you might not have much time. I am expecting marching orders any day now.”

  “Marching orders?” Esther blurted out without thinking, her face frozen and pale. She was instantly greeted by the Major General’s clear disapproval of making herself noticeable. But he answered her, nonetheless.

  “The Jicarilla Apache. To put an end to all of this.”

  Just as expected, the room was simple. The walls were made of wood panels. The whole furniture and décor pretty much consisted of no more than a bed barely big enough for one, a wash basin on a small table with two chairs, a dusty, round rug on the floor, and a window covered by dusty, red curtains that looked more orange than crimson.

  Esther closed the door behind her, hanging her head down like a beaten dog. Her initial worry about being in a room with George had been replaced by a deep, sulking sadness. General Patterson could receive a telegraph at any moment now, which would not influence her own, dire circumstances as she would still find Jones, but it almost felt unimportant to her now that an entire tribe’s future was at risk. Her legs were starting to betray her. The poor natives would not stand a chance. They would be forced off the little land they still had left, or even worse, the whole tribe could be wiped off the map for good. The times where the military would take hostages and send them to white farmers to work, like they had with her mother, was over. The natives had fought back, more than once, to reject the white man’s demands and defend the bodies, souls, and land which rightfully belonged to them. Every thought pulled Esther deeper into murky darkness, trapped in the midst of an unrelenting quicksand.

  George walked over to her and stopped right in front of her. He gently lifted up her chin to make her look into his tender, sky-blue eyes.

  “We still have time. Tomorrow morning, we will take the train to Chama and I promise you, I shall not waste any time. The moment you are safe with Jones I will get the fastest horse money can buy and make it out to the natives to settle this.”

  Esther stared back at him, unconvinced with her brown eyes that seemed to have now turned black. But he did not give up so easily.

  “The cards are still in our hands. If I can arrange to return the land, to mine the gold for them, the government won’t have much grounds to insist further on claiming this land for a handful of small prospectors. I am certain nobody else was foolish enough to purchase as much land as I did.”

  Esther nodded hesitantly.

  “And if need be, I could offer the government a share in the profits as well. What do they care about winning back land for a few miners if they can fill their own pockets with gold without the bad publicity of a massacre?”

  This new attempt at cheering her up sat rather well with her.

  “You think they would agree to that?” Her big eyes flickered with hope.

  “Are you jesting? Governments love getting their pockets filled with free gold.” He smiled warmly at her.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain in her shoulder made her jerk up her arm.

  “Your wound.” He lifted her vest and shirt at the side of her neck to discover a blood-soaked bandage. Riding a horse like the devil was after her was most likely not the best idea she had ever had, especially not with an open wound, but then, she also hadn't had much of a choice.

  “It’s nothing.” She brushed him off. But George locked his hand around her wrist and pulled her to the bed with the wash basin and fresh towels next to it.

  “Don’t even start with that again.” He took his hat off and nodded at her to sit down on the bed. The strict tone in his voice did not leave much room for defiance. He poured water into the basin and soaked one of the clean towels in it.

  “I will get some of the hundred-proof; please take off your vest and shirt,” he said before leaving the room in big, hurried steps.

  While he
was gone, Esther debated whether to listen and take her shirt off or not. Her skin tingled thinking about George seeing her chest almost naked with nothing more than a bandage wrap around her breasts. But then, it wasn’t as if she currently was in any shape or form desirable—at all. She took her hat off and examined the reflection starring back at her in the round mirror that leaned against the wall across the room. She looked awful. Her beautiful, thick hair was cut at ear length and she had shadows under her eyes that made it seem as if she hadn’t slept in months, which in all fairness she hadn’t. There was not even the slightest possibility that George would see anything else in her than a guide boy, even now that he knew the truth. With the heavy feeling of disappointment sitting on her chest, Esther carefully undressed herself.

  The door opened and George stepped in with a bottle of John’s rotgut, almost dropping it when he first saw her sitting half naked on the bed with nothing more than a wrap around her breasts. He hastily closed the door behind him again.

  “Th-this one has mushrooms in it for some unexplainable reason,” he stuttered, staring at the bottle he was holding. “It might help to prevent an infection.”

  He walked over, kneeling in front of her. She couldn’t tell if he was avoiding eye contact while using the wet towel to clean the wound, because she herself was avoiding him for sure. Her whole body was on fire before the darn rotgut had even touched her. It was the most amazing feeling that she had only ever felt around the man who was now closer to her than ever.

  “This might burn…a lot,” he said before pressing a towel soaked in liquor onto her shoulder. And by God it did. Without thinking, Esther snatched both her arms up, pulling him closer. Her jaw clenched in pain as her grasp forcefully closed in until the sensation of raging flames in her wound slowly wore off.

  She opened her eyes, only to realize she had pulled George so close; his face, his eyes, his lips, they were only inches away from her own. He wasn’t moving, only breathing slow and heavily, as if he wanted to freeze this moment in time forever. Heat curled down her spine, arousing a desire that had fought to come to light the first time he had smiled at her. His breathing has become incredibly fast, as fast as hers. She dared to tilt her head back enough just to gaze into those beguiling eyes that shimmered with a fire she had never seen in him before. Was that longing she saw in them? And before he could even dare to pull away from her, to apologize, to compose himself, she gave in to the dreams that had filled her head every night when she lay awake in that train car, smelling his scent of fresh soap, listening to the very breath that she could now feel on her skin. Her whole body on fire, she leaned forward and softly brushed her lips with his. An electric shock wave sent a painful longing to the area in between her legs, as if she would never feel complete again if she did not satisfy it.

  “Esther,” he whispered, gently running his arm up her naked waist, pulling her closer. His lips descended onto hers, gently pushing them apart to enter her mouth with his warm, delicious tongue. His kisses deepened, passionately pushing and stroking her tongue.

  Aching with pleasure and as if she were bewitched, she got off the bed and slowly lowered herself onto his lap, wrapping her legs around him. She gasped the moment her longing heat found his big erection. It was hard and long and pushed a bit into her opening through her clothes. She started rubbing herself against it to ease the painful longing his steel formed at her wet center. George buried his head in her neck, growling as if he too was in joyful pain.

  “Esther, we have to stop,” he moaned, releasing his tight grip around her waist.

  But Esther was far beyond reasoning. She was a grown woman who knew what she wanted, craved.

  “I can’t…” she whispered against his lips, intensifying the pressure of her rhythmic motions on his erection. George’s eye’s darkened with lust as he carefully pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs with his knee.

  “I can’t control myself much longer,” he begged while softly running his lips down her neck. But Esther didn’t stop. She threw her head back in pleasure, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips.

  “Then don’t,” she demanded, looking at him with half-shut eyes as she continued to rub herself against him. All of a sudden, George let out a sharp breath, as if he’d just let go of all reasoning himself, pulling down her trouser and underpants in one motion. His hand was running up her inner thigh to the very place she craved him the most. “You are so wet,” he moaned against her lips as he slowly slipped his finger inside her waiting lady part. Esther threw back her head to let out a loud moan. She reached for his pants, anxiously fumbling at the buttons to open them. George’s trembling hand rushed to help her, pulling down his pants without parting his lips from hers. And before she could beg for making this painful, hot feeling between her legs go away, she felt his hard member at her wet core, gently entering her with a loud and lustful growl. At first, she felt a sharp sting, the initial pain of giving her maidenhood, but that faded quickly to give way to this incredible, tingling longing that demanded to be relieved no matter the cost. And as she lay there, her whole body moving in the rhythm of her lover’s gentle thrusts, tears of happiness formed in her eyes. She loved this man with all her heart, soul, and now, her body, too.

  George couldn’t breathe. Feeling Esther’s wet center wrapping around his shaft was more than he could handle. For a moment he had to stop, or he was afraid his heart would stop beating, so amazing did she feel. His flesh tingled like never before, his heart scattered as if it was a racing stallion. He slowly started moving again, looking down at the beautiful woman who was aching for him, calling his name under heavy breaths every time he gently thrust into her again. George’s movements became faster, felling that tingling buildup that demanded to be pushed over the edge. Her body understood perfectly well, and she dug her fingers into his buttocks, holding him tight in between against her core, moaning and panting in pure pleasure. The exciting sensation of her heat tightening around his shaft pushed him closer and closer to climax. And just when he threw his head to the side in a desperate attempt to hold his own relief back to wait for hers, Esther’s whole body trembled and twitched as she threw her head back to let out a loud cry. Right at that moment, he too climaxed, pulsating his seed into her twitching warmth with a loud moan, collapsing onto her lips to finish their most intimate moments with a loving, passionate kiss. And when he slowly opened his eyes again to gaze at the beauty underneath him, there was no doubt in his mind that he loved this woman, with all his heart and soul, and if she asked it of him, he would cross the wildest oceans and fight lions with his bare hands. He gently rolled himself off her warm body, looking deep into her bewitching, brown eyes that sparkled like a thousand ice crystals.

  But as the sun slowly made way to the colorful plays of twilight, reality started to kick in again. What had he done? Panic briefly flashed across his face. Like a youthful fool guided by lustful urges, he had just claimed a woman to whom he could offer absolutely nothing if the natives rejected him. To make things even worse, she had five children to feed as well and couldn’t afford to be the wife of an impoverished duke looking for employment in a country that had just come out of a civil war, leaving hundreds of thousands of men without work. And as things stood financially right now, he couldn’t even afford a ticket back to England for one person, so how the hell would he care for all of them? What was he thinking, losing control like that? The very thing he always prided himself on, his composed nature, had just gone out through a dusty saloon window in a matter of seconds. This woman had indeed bewitched him.

  Esther seemed to have noticed the change in his mood as she now locked in on his gaze, studying his eyes with a faint smile.

  “Isn’t the woman the one who should have regrets?” she tried to joke, sitting up to reach for her shirt and pull her pants back up. George pulled his pants up as well and got up to grab the white bedsheet off the bed. He inspected it before she started tearing it into long shreds.

  “I wo
uld only have regrets with Egan,” he grinned kneeling next to her, “but not with an outlawed gunslinger woman of the wild frontier.” Truth was, as foolish as it sounded, he could not think of any other woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with but her, five children or not. And by now, he’d learned to love Milton as if he were his own. Certainly, he would love the other children just as much… But how would he provide for all of them? And what about his poor sister? He would never allow her to marry that foul smelling pig, no matter the outcome with the natives.

  He kept a strong façade for Esther, but the truth was, his life and everybody else’s now depended on this gold mine, or more precisely, striking a deal with the natives and preventing the government from slaughtering them.

  George was smiling, but something was the matter. His mind kept wandering off to far-away places. Was he worried he would have to offer her his hand in marriage? That he was now trapped, dragging along five street children? Esther looked at her handsome lover wrapping the torn bedsheet around her chest and over her shoulder to make a pretty decent makeshift bandage, considering what he was working with.

  “George,” she said, gently placing her hand on his, stopping him in his tracks. “I do not expect anything from you. Not marriage, not money, not to take care of me and five children.” Her voice sounded tender and sincere. She knew this man before her would do the honorable thing and marry her, even if that meant his own unhappiness and ruin. But what had happened between the two of them was her doing, not his. “Besides,” she shrugged, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and heart, “I have absolutely no intention of getting married soon.”

  “No?” one of his eyebrows shot up.

  “Not in the least. I value my freedom and once I find Jones, I shall take over my father’s business from that thief and provide for myself.” She tried to sound jolly, hiding her true feelings. Of course, it had creeped into the farthest corner of her mind that George could be the one to marry her after she turned twenty-one—if Jones didn’t find a way out of Morris’ fraud of a will that is—a distant dream she pictured at night to fall asleep with a warm and fuzzy feeling in her stomach. Mr. and Mrs. Astley, a happy family, together until the end. But that was before she seduced him, forcing him to marry her without love.