Those Sensuous Colonists

MARLEYHEAD-DECEMBER, 1776

Elizabeth and Ethan were only fooling themselves in thinking no one knew about their illicit liaison in her suite that night. Jill, who changed the sheets, was aware of what had happened, as was Lord Burton. The shrewd, worldly-wise older man had to take only one look at Elizabeth's healthily glowing countenance the day following Ethan's welcome home party. He recognized her expression, God knows he had seen it at the dawn on enough satisfied women in his lifetime.

"She's been screwed, and the blasted boy's done a good job of it, I would say," he growled to himself as he sat alone before the huge fireplace in his study. In one way he was angry at his younger son, in another he felt a certain pride that the beautiful young widow had chosen a Burton. He downed a glass of sherry, then refilled the goblet.

"I can't very well send him to France again," he mused, then grinned. By God, the young pup has been sniffing around that choice piece for seven or eight years now. And he's finally been able to bury his bone. Still, though, deep in his heart the Master of Marleyhead Manor wished the girl had met his oldest son, Robin. They would be like flint and steel together, something to watch and ponder over as the boy tamed her. Ethan, he knew, would never be able to dominate her as she needed to be: Elizabeth would pussy whip him in short order, and in time she probably would come to detest the poet in him which made him act in a gentle manner.

As for Jill, incorrigible as ever, she slyly . added another large goose down pillow to Elizabeth's bed that day, then saucily flounced out of the room pleased as pie. The young widow spent at least thirty or forty seconds trying to figure out why her bed looked different, but then she finally spotted the extra pillow and her face flamed with embarrassment. Hurriedly she went to the mirror to inspect her face, looking for signs of change or guilt. There was none that she could tell, but Jill had known! Who else?

When Ethan came to her room later that night, there was no coyness on her part. She was in bed, waiting for him. This time, when his warmly pulsating penis slid up inside her welcoming cunt, 'heir love-making was not a thing of desperation or fury, but something that lasted a long delicious time, with each savouring the other's body to its fullest.

He was there the following night, and the next ... but then Elizabeth's mother and father returned. Mother's knowledgeable eyes evaluated her daughter's complexion and glowing good looks, and her lips tightened in grim determination. In spite of the couple's obvious sexual attraction to each other-which has reared its ugly head again after seven long years, she thought in dismay-the older woman could not permit her daughter to throw herself away on a person destined to be not only a wastrel and a degenerate, but someone who probably would not live long enough to be hanged. Ethan was weak; Elizabeth was a female who needed a firm hand. William, her dead husband, had yielded such a hand, and although he obviously had not been able to tame or dominate her, he was at least her equal.

Much to Elizabeth's disappointment, her mother and father moved into her suite and used the extra bedroom.

"I can't stand it," Ethan whispered to her in the hallway the following morning. "I'll go mad unless I see you."

The young blonde widow had put a finger to his lips. "Shhh," she crooned as if speaking to a child, "I miss you, too."

"What are we going to do?" he asked.

"There's nothing we can do, dear Ethan."

"Then come to my room tonight after everyone has gone to bed."

"I can't. Oh, please don't ask me; I can't! Someone will see me."

"No one will."

Elizabeth sighed deeply. "You should know that my mother suspects us."

"Oh, Christ!"

"Wait for a day or two, until she's satisfied nothing is going on between us, and I'll come to you."

"You promise?"

Quickly Elizabeth put her arms around his neck and kissed him with a hungry passion. They both guiltily sprang apart seconds later as they heard a door opening down the hallway and the older's woman's voice calling, "Elizabeth! Where are you, dear?"

"Coming, Mother," she replied, and then stifled a giggle as Ethan whispered lewdly, "I wish you were cumming ... and me, as well."

Now that she had experienced sex again, Elizabeth found it almost impossible to live without it. Day by day during the next week her frustration grew until she was snapping at her mother. And a visit to Ethan's room late at night was apparently out of the question because on two occasions when Elizabeth had been tiptoeing across the rug after midnight her mother had called out from the extra bedroom, "What's wrong, dear? Can't you sleep?"

"I'm merely fixing the fire, Mother," she had replied the first time she was challenged. The second time, two nights later, she answered waspishly, "No, I can't sleep."

"Take a sip of Madiera, my dear. It will calm your nerves."

Fuming, the sex-starved girl had stormed back to her lonely bed, slamming the door viciously behind her.

The young couple had only three or four occasions when they could be together alone, and these were always stolen moments lasting only a few seconds ... a minute at the most before someone came looking for them. It was as though the entire household were plotting against them, Ethan complained in a strained whisper as they hid one afternoon in a closet near the downstairs pantry.

"You poor dear," she said softly.

"You don't know how hard it's been on me," he stated petulantly, and then groaned as he pulled her hand down to his bulging crotch. "See how hard it's been."

Without being asked, Elizabeth quickly unfastened his breeches and wormed her hand inside the gaping opening to wrap her fingers around his hot, rock-hard shaft of throbbing male flesh.

Ethan groaned low in his throat and pumped his hips back and forth a couple of times. "Take it out," he pled.

"Oh ... no, we shouldn't, Ethan. Someone is sure to come into the pantry."

"Please?" he whispered.

Elizabeth quickly glanced around the darkness as if she expected to see someone watching them. Then, her fingers trembling with a combination of nervousness and excitement, she pulled his warmly pulsating penis out into the open.

She immediately began stroking her hand up and down on the jerking organ, feeling the scruffy foreskin moving over the ridges and veins of the lust-hardened instrument. As the younger Burton's groans became more desperate, she could feel the hot pulsating tube of flesh growing larger and warmer in her encircled fingers. Instinctively, she began a smooth rhythmic stroking, trying to bring him relief this way-as she had done that summer seven years ago.

Something was different though about this time. Ethan was pushing downward on her shoulders as though he wanted her to kneel in front of him. Then, her rhythmic strokes stopped as he muttered something.

"What did you say?" she asked in a shocked low voice, knowing very well that her ears hadn't played tricks on her.

"Suck on it! Please suck it."

"Ethan! My God, do you know what you're asking?" Her fingers pulled away from his hotly pulsating cock as though it had poisonous spines sticking out all over it.

The younger Burton tried vainly to pull her face closer to his lust-swollen penis, but she yanked backward.

"Look," he whispered desperately. "I did it to you. You loved it when I put my mouth on your cunt. Do it to me ... please, Elizabeth ... please. You must."

She shook her head just a little bit at first, but then with increasing strength for emphasis, her long blonde hair flailing from side to side. "I can't do such a thing."

"Oh, shit. Then finish what you started."

Something had gone out of the moment, and Elizabeth knew it. She had absolutely no desire to touch his penis again, but then his abject whispering plea made her change her mind.

He groaned as her fingers encircled his throbbing hardness again and started stroking up and down on the lust-swollen shaft. Her hand began moving faster and faster when she realized he was close to cumming, and then the trembling youth groaned, "Now ... I'm there."

Elizabeth could feel the burgeoning heat of his wildly jerking penis as the fleshy spear grew in her hand, and simultaneously she felt the undeniable return of excitement in her wetly throbbing cunt as the first spasmodic shot of sperm spewed from the tip of his cock to splatter against the far wall of the closet. She watched, mesmerized, as the thick pearl-colored glob slowly oozed down the raw board. His spasming shaft continued to spurt out gush after gush of white hot semen until there were at least eight or ten different streams of cum dribbling down the opposite wall.

Then, as she continued stroking, he groaned one final time and put his hand down to stop her. "Oh God, no more," he quavered, his eyelids blinking in pleasure.

Elizabeth stared up at his face as she tried to regain control of her emotions. Her cunt was full of a liquid fire now, and her knees felt as if they were about to collapse under her. The wild pounding of her heart, her rasping breath, her wetly quivering vagina, were all indications of her urgent need. Finally, in a weak voice she was able to put her thoughts into words. "This is madness, Ethan. We can't keep on doing this."

"I know. But what are we to do?" he asked in his little boy's voice.

She sighed, then closed her eyes in decision. "I'll come to your room tonight."

"Dearest! You promise?"

She reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him passionately and grinding her fire-filled pussy against his limp and useless penis. "I promise ... no matter what."

But Elizabeth wasn't able to keep her promise because Robin arrived that afternoon at darkness ... and his father, shrewdly reading the signs of distress on Ethan's face, astutely put the older boy in the same room as the younger under the pretext that Robin's chambers would be needed for guests who would be arriving in a day or two.

Ethan greeted his brother in a manner which, at best, could only be termed as churlish. "Your sense of timing, dear brother, is infallible," he said sarcastically.

Robin glanced at him, then grinned. "I've interrupted something. A new play! I know, a new poem you're writing."

"Don't be foolish."

"Ah ... hah! You devilish rogue! You've had someone else sleeping in the room." Robin sniffed the air as if he were sampling it. "Upon my word, I do believe ... can it be ... Jill? Oh that unfaithful little baggage. She promised to remain faithful to me while...."

"Oh be quiet," Ethan said in disgust. He carefully straightened his silk scarf in front of the mirror, brushed his hair for about the third time, then turned and went to the door. "Do hurry up and get rid of those stinking clothes and come downstairs. We were ready to announce dinner just as you arrived."

Amused, Robin smiled at him. "Go on without me. I'll eat in the kitchen ... with the help."

"Don't be a nit! Father's waiting to greet you."

The young naval officer nodded seriously. "Okay, I'll be only a few minutes. I have to bathe and shave. Give my apologies to Mr. and Mrs. Webster and Miss Webster."

"Her name is Elizabeth Mason now."

"And her husband?"

"Dead."

"Oh?" Robin sighed, then nodded. "I'll be only a minute." He waited until Ethan was in the process of closing the door, then said with a completely straight face, "How shall I act if Jill comes into my bath, thinking that it's you?"

Ethan stared incredulously at him for a moment before he realized his brother was teasing him. Then he said, quite succinctly, "You are being absolutely loathsome, brother dear." He slammed the door to the accompaniment of the older youth's guffaws.

Robin's laughter died away almost as soon as the door was shut. It felt good to laugh, he thought, then stared around Ethan's room. "It's good to be home," he said to no one in particular. "Damned good." A load had been taken from his shoulders now that he was at Marleyhead. Now he could go on with his plans. He had been in almost a manic-depressive state for over two months, ever since he had made that fateful decision to resign from the Royal Navy the day he buried the infant at sea. His moods swung from a wild enthusiasm for his forthcoming freedom to despair at the thought of having to tell his father that he would be renouncing title, country, and family in order to live in America. Lord Burton must be informed of his decision before the resignation was handed into the Navy; the boy was honor bound to do that much.

Robin had a deep and abiding affection for his father; he knew the love and respect was reciprocated. The elder Burton had none of the airs of newly rich and newly titled merchants. He was more country squire than Londoner, yet he had an endearing charm and a poise and appearance that made one realize he was in the presence of the true aristocracy, someone whose roots and blood went back four and five hundred years. As a tribute to his personality, the manor was filled with all sorts of guests during the more benevolent seasons like late spring, summer, and early fall. Everyone wondered why the older man hadn't remarried following the death of Lady Burton fifteen years ago. Apparently, Robin was the only one who knew that his father realized he could never replace her, thus made no effort to even try.

Marleyhead Manor would be filled for Christmas, as it usually was. This year, in addition to Admiral and Mrs. Burton, there would be the Websters from America whom he had met and their daughter Elizabeth. All he knew about Elizabeth-aside from the fact that she was already widowed-was that she must be about 20 years old by now, and that Ethan had been exiled to France because he had gotten too interested in her while she was still only twelve. Robin had heard this whispered scandal when he had returned home that same fall and one of the more agreeable maids had snuck into his room late one night. The maid had described the twelve-year-old American girl as being "skinny and tall, with thin legs, and really quite ugly with stringy blonde hair and freckles like the pox."

Robin was thinking about this as he completed his bath and hurriedly put on a dress uniform, then went downstairs to the study.

His father greeted him at the door with an exuberant bear hug that almost broke his ribs. The older man held him at arms length inspecting his face. "You've changed a bit in the last eighteen months, lad," he said, his voice full of affection.

"For the better, I hope, father."

Lord Burton nodded his head firmly, "For the better, definitely for the better." He took him by the arm and turned him toward a middle-aged couple. "You remember Mr. and Mrs. Webster."

"Of course I do. And with affection. Madame! Sir!"

"Hello, Robin," they said in unison, then Mrs. Webster added, "yes, indeed, you have changed since that brief visit you had with us in Charlestown ah ... ah ... ?"

"Nine years ago," he added. "On my maiden voyage as a member of the Navy."

Lord Burton was watching his son's expression closely as he led him toward the fireplace where Ethan was sitting casually and possessively on the arm of Elizabeth's chair. He saw a puzzled frown cross Robin's face, then his older son glanced briefly around the room as if he were expecting to find someone else.

"Elizabeth, may I present my other son, Robin," Lord Burton said, much too casually, and he was in time to catch the startled look on the boy's face.

"Madame," Robin made a half bow, trying to keep a straight face as he recalled the earlier description of this girl being "skinny and ugly." He was really quite unprepared for the vision of loveliness dressed in a maroon velvet gown from which her magnificent breasts looked as though they might spill at any moment. In the reflected light from the fireplace her lips looked fuller, more sensuously inviting than he could have ever have believed. Even sitting down, as she was, it was all too obvious that she had a stunning figure full of curves and promises. In his mind he could see that long blonde hair spilling across her naked shoulders and hiding her lushly ripened breasts like a golden veil as she lay in bed waiting for ... waiting for? My God, he thought. Ethan! That's why Ethan is so damned unhappy with my arrival. They're sleeping together!

He glanced over at his younger brother and saw him glaring at him.

Elizabeth watched the interplay of expressions on the face of Ethan's brother. At first, she had been sure he was amused at something. Then had come the undisguised admiration which she was used to receiving from males. Finally that quick speculative look toward Ethan, as though he suspected something had transpired between her and the younger Burton.

She knew her face was beginning to redden, and once more she was sure that her guilt was there for all to see.

It was Lord Burton who broke the uncomfortable silence by suggesting they go in for dinner. He deliberately seated Robin and Elizabeth across from each other and then sat there, pleased with his own brilliant conniving as he saw-just as he had suspected-the steel and the flint create sparks. There was no doubt in his mind at all that the sparks would ultimately start a fire ... and he decided to help it along....

Ethan was furious when he met Elizabeth the following morning. "Blast him," he said. "Blast my father."

"Ethan! What's wrong?"

"I'm not a bloody messenger for him. And that damned brother of mine was up at dawn and out with the gamekeeper to hunt. He's nowhere to be found."

"I don't understand."

"Father is sending me to Craxmore on business. I'll be gone the day and half of tomorrow."

Elizabeth gazed at him, not really understanding his anger. "The weather's good for a change. I'd think you would enjoy the outing."

"Use your head, dear Elizabeth. If my brother went in my place ... he would not be in my room tonight. Right?"

The young American widow dimpled. "That explains it. Well, can't your father wait until Robin returns? Is the business that urgent?"

"He claims it is."

"Then you have no alternative," she said, feeling something akin to relief. Ethan did need to get out of the house, he had been cooped up for almost three weeks. But Elizabeth had noticed that Ethan really wasn't an outdoors person. Robin was though, definitely, like his father ... and like me, she thought. Since his arrival from London she had suggested to Ethan at least three times that they go for a horseback ride along the beach, but he had begged off each time because it was too wintly or too cold. The one instance when she insisted on taking a walk along the sea, he had come grudgingly and complained most of the time. He would rather sit in the study or her sitting room and recite poetry or sing songs to her, accompanying himself with a lute that he had purchased in Pisa last year. She didn't deny that he was delightful company; his conversation was witty, he hinted at the most scandalous gossip, he knew everyone of importance in London, and he was intelligent and gifted. The fact that he and she were also lovers added a bit of extra spice to the moments ... even if Mother always managed to be in the sitting room with them, crocheting, humming to herself in the corner.

"I don't like it one bit," Ethan grumbled, his handsome features twisted in a pout.

"Boy! Ethan boy," his father shouted from the bottom of the stairs. "Where are you? Your horse is ready."

"Fuck the horse," he said in a low voice that only she could hear.

"Ethan!" Elizabeth whispered in shock.

"Boy!"

"Coming, Father," he yelled back. "Right away." Then muttered under his breath, "Goddammit."

Elizabeth glanced surreptitiously around her, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Hurry back, darling. I'll be waiting ... and maybe we can get together for ... for...."

"I don't trust that blasted brother of mine," Ethan interrupted petulantly.

"What do you mean?"

"You and he...."

"Ethan!" The young blonde woman was stunned at the implication, and her voice sounded hurt as she replied, "I'm not a loose woman. I just don't get involved with the first man I see. I have some scruples."

Immediately realizing the mistake he had made, Ethan silenced her with a kiss. "I didn't mean you," he lied. "It's him. He knows about us. Congratulated me on my choice of bed mates. I told him it was none of his damned business. I don't trust him."

"I can protect myself. And for your information, I am not the least bit interested in what your brother thinks. He bores me."

"Ethan," Lord Burton bellowed. "Start moving. The horse will die of old age."

Quickly then, Ethan kissed her again, ran down the stone stairs, and out the open front door. A few seconds later, Elizabeth heard him gallop away.

Elizabeth stood there for some moments thinking about the conversation. Yes, she was disappointed that they wouldn't be able to go to bed together tonight, for it took every bit of will-power she had to blanket the incessant hungry throbbing in her vagina. Her need was so strong at times that she felt surely there was something terribly wrong and wicked about her.

But she had been hurt, and deeply hurt, by his lewd insinuation that she might succumb to Robin's seduction ... if, indeed, he had any thoughts of trying to bed her. She had lied about only one thing, and that had been when she claimed the young navy officer "bored" her. Actually, it was just that she felt uncomfortable for some reason around him. He had a male arrogance about him, and there had been a couple of moments at the dinner table last night when she had found him staring knowingly at her, as if his eyes were boring into her heart and soul and shared every hidden secret she had.

But more important, he was a member of King George's Navy, and as such-in her mind-he was a butcher, a killer, a burner of cities. She wanted nothing to do with him; they had nothing in common except their affection for his father. And, oh yes, they were both outdoors people.

With that last thought, Elizabeth realized there was nothing to keep her inside on this lovely autumn day. She would go for a ride by herself and perhaps the physical exertion would be such that her mind would be taken off her love-starved cunt.

Quickly then, she went to her room and changed into her riding skirt. Mother, having heard that Ethan had been sent away for the day on business, for a change, had no objections whatsoever to her riding alone.

A short time later, astride a beautiful black stallion which Lord Burton had claimed was too "spirited" for her, Elizabeth galloped away from the barns toward the northern boundary of Marleyhead Estate where, it was said, on a clear day you could see the Isle of Man to the west, Scotland some 60 miles to the north and-if one had witch's blood in her veins-the dark coast of Ireland like the yawning mouth of Hell some 125 miles away....

Robin and Marleyhead's chief gamekeeper, Tom Dewlight, had picked up the trail of "Old Nick" shortly before dawn and had been stalking the big boar for at least six hours now. They'd had their chance at more than a dozen fine stags, but they ignored them all, concentrating instead on getting close enough to the wild pig for a decent shot.

Old Nick, though, was elusive....as usual. It was rumored that the big 300-pound pig-with razor sharp tusks which created more havoc than a demented Turk with a two-edged scimitar-had come down from Scotland to make his home in the Lake Country, leaving behind a trail of maimed hunting dogs, crippled gamekeepers, and ruined horses. Tom, himself, had been forced a year ago to cut the throat of a prize mare who had broken both front legs in an effort to climb a tree and escape the charging black fury. One of the stable lads even swore to his drinking companions that he had seen Old Nick dive below the surface of Marleyhead Lake and swim ashore carrying a 40 pound salmon impaled on its tusks. It is a tribute to the local brew and the animal's awesome reputation that no one disbelieved the story.

In the three years the pig had been around, Robin had never caught sight of him; he had, however, seen some of the hunting dogs which had encountered him and had their bellies ripped from throat to anus. Lord Burton claimed, and Tom confirmed, that he had put a bullet square in the middle of Old Nick's forehead but the pig kept charging until both men threw guns and dignity aside and had bolted like the horses.

Then, just half an hour ago, on the other side of a glade, they had seen a shadowy outline rooting in the gully below a strand of oaks. The gully led down to a horseshoe-shaped sandy cove about fifty feet across with both ends being blocked by a rock fall that stretched out beyond the surf line into the sea.

"There he be," Tom whispered.

"We've got him," Robin answered, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Well, now, lad, let's not be hasty. Could be the divil's got us."

"I'm going after him."

"No. Wait a bit. Let him get deeper into the gully, then we'll go after him. We'll niver, as long as we live, get a better chance than this."

So they waited, quietly, and with some impatience as the big black pig pawed up the ground under the oaks looking for acorns. They could even hear him snorting, and once or twice the wind from the sea carried the sound of acorn shells being cracked.

Finally, with the sun already a good hour across the meridian, the boar moved deeper into the shadows of the gully and started working downhill toward the beach.

Both Tom and Robin were checking their guns in preparation for entering the gully when the gamekeeper stiffened and cocked his head as if he were listening.

Then, seconds later, there came the unmistakable "clip-clop" of a horse across the dirt pad at the far side of the glade.

"What the hell?" Tom said in disbelief.

Elizabeth rode unsuspectingly into view. Her attention was focused on the sheltered little cove to her left as she stood up in the stirrups to look down at it. Pleased with the privacy it offered, she made directly for the gully entrance.

"Oh, Lord. She'll spook him for sure," Tom whispered, shaking his head in disgust. "We're going to lose him after all."

Robin stood up and was frantically waving his hat in an attempt to catch the girl's attention, but she was concentrating on helping the stallion pick his way down the gully.

It was only then that both men, apparently simultaneously, realized Elizabeth was actually heading into danger.

Robin shouted, "Don't ride in there. Come back, you stupid bitch!"

Elizabeth looked back in surprise over her shoulder just as the stallion screamed a high pitched sound of terror, stood on his hind legs-almost unseating the girl-then pivoted and bolted up toward the glade again followed by Old Nick. Once at the top, the steed charged for the oaks, and before the young American girl could duck, she was swept off his back by a branch ... she fell to the ground heavily and lay there stunned as the frightened horse raced madly off.

When the wild pig reached the top of the gully he stopped for a moment, sniffing the wind and listening to the retreating horse. His blood-red eyes gleamed and his tusks shone dangerously in the sun as he swung his head from side to side looking for the enemy.

Elizabeth, a few yards away, groaned, and the boar lowered its head to charge. Robin and Tom looked at each other, appalled, then both started yelling as they ran toward the enraged animal. In an effort to distract Old Nick, Tom fired one musket from the hip on the run and threw the one-shot weapon away; Robin held on to both of his guns, knowing he would need the two muskets.

Old Nick swung back toward the two shouting men running toward him across the glade. His brain once again registered an enemy, and he was just getting ready to charge toward them when he caught sight of a closer enemy struggling to rise off the ground near the oak trees. Quickly he turned again.

"Lie still, you stupid bitch. Lie still!" Robin shouted.

Elizabeth, still not sure what had happened, shook her head to clear it and looked around. She saw the motionless black pig only twenty feet away from her, and she screamed in terror.

Old Nick lowered his head again. He took two dainty steps toward her then began his charge, tusks lowered.

Robin and Tom both fired their muskets, the two shots so close that it sounded as one. They saw Old Nick miss a stride, but his charge didn't falter. Robin fired his one remaining musket, saw a puff of dust rise from the boar's back leg, and Old Nick was on the ground, rolling over and over, at a tangent away from the screaming Elizabeth. About ten yards away, the pig managed to get to its feet again, then obviously hurting but not mortally wounded, trotted off at a limp toward the pines at the far end of the glade.

Robin and the gamekeeper both watched unhappily as the pig disappeared into the trees.

Tom took a deep sigh. "Well now. He'll lick his wounds for a day or two and then come back meaner than ever. Too bad. We had that devil for sure."

Robin's anger was growing. They had been so close to bagging the animal. It was all because that meddlesome, stupid ... He ground his teeth in frustration as he stalked toward the fallen girl.

The gamekeeper saw the furious look on the youth's face and he quickly tried to distract him by asking, "Are ye hurt, Mistress?"

"I ... I don't know," Elizabeth quavered, her lips trembling in a combination of fright and pain.

"Ye fell pretty hard. Can ye stand?" He reached down to assist her in rising.

Elizabeth took his leathery old hand and was pulled upright. She grimaced and rubbed her hip, then grimaced again as she lifted her right shoulder. Finally she nodded, "I'm all right. Bruised here and there, I think, but all right." She took a step forward, then staggered and groaned, her eyes filling with tears from the pain. "But my ankle's twisted."

Tom looked from the girl to the red-faced and angry Robin, then back to her again. "I'd best go to the Manor for a horse for ye." He jerked his head in disgust, "The one ye were riding is probably all the way to Solway Firth by now."

He glanced toward Lord Burton's glowering older son. "Will ye stay with her 'til I return?"

"Do I have any blasted choice?" Robin growled.

Tom glanced back and forth between the two of them then pursed his lips. They were going to fight, that was for sure. They looked like a hot-tempered pair, as soon as he was out of earshot they were going to be yelling at each other ... that was for sure. He scratched his head, "Well now. I'm to be back before nightfall." The older man didn't wait for an answer, but turned and trotted away in the direction of the Manor.

Slowly, and with great mental effort, Elizabeth began pulling the pieces together. A part of her subconscious recognized that Lord Burton's older son was angry with her about something, but she was much to preoccupied with her own emotions and aches to worry about him. In her mind she admitted that the accident was her own fault because of the lewd, forbidden feelings she had been experiencing as she rode the horse. There was something fantastically sensual about the powerful rhythm of the galloping stallion, and for the last ten minutes before she had ridden into the glade she had been deliberately scraping her throbbing vaginal mound up and down on the leather saddle, tantalizing her sensitive little clitoris until she felt she was about to explode. She hadn't been able to reach a climax, although twice she had been very close. It was that quest for release that made her decide to ride down toward the beach where she knew she would be unseen; there she planned to finger herself to orgasm. And she had been so preoccupied with that impending pleasure that she was completely unprepared for the stallion's sudden flight. His first rearing motion in the gully had almost unseated her, and that had so bewildered her that she had never regained her seat again.

The usually even-tempered Robin was surprised at the intensity of his own anger toward the girl. He was, and somehow he knew it, close to a "blind rage". It was occasioned by more than Elizabeth's inopportune arrival. It had begun during dinner the night before and had intensified when Ethan and he were having a nightcap in their sitting room.

Ethan, once he knew his brother was aware of the liaison between Elizabeth and himself, had been only too happy to admit it, and had even gone into detail about how passionate she was, how she begged him to fuck her.

Robin, more disturbed than he cared to admit, had asked, "What are your intentions toward the girl? Do you plan to marry her?"

"Marry? Her? My God, brother dear, don't be a fool. Her parents are wealthy enough, I suppose, but they're nobody. I shall take care of her cunt's needs until I tire of her, then you may have her for a dalliance if you wish."

The conversation kept running through Robin's mind now, and his brother's mocking voice echoed in his brain, infuriating him even more. He glared down at the American girl. She was just a trollop, a whore, Ethan's plaything! Why in hell was she out here spoiling a man's life, anyway?

Elizabeth's own unhappiness was increasing as her mind finally cleared. The black stinging clouds of sexual frustration had returned to her body; this, combined with her aches and her close call with death or disfigurement at the tusks of the wild boar, was simply too much. Tears began streaming down her face.

"Stop your damned snivelling!" Robin's voice was like a whiplash, and Elizabeth automatically cringed back from it.

She stared at his hate-twisted features, her mouth in amazement for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed and her chin thrust out as a red shroud of unreasoning anger immediately covered her mind.

"How dare you!" she spat. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"To Ethan's whore."

"Why ... why you...." The girl hobbled two steps toward him and swung her riding crop. Before Robin could raise his arm, she slashed through the air with it and the leather whip struck him on the side of the face.

"You bitch," he snarled. Without volition, his hand came up and he slapped her so hard that she fell sideways. Elizabeth screamed as she fell, then twisted and landed on her hands and knees. She was up with the agility of a cat within a second and her riding crop whistled through the air again.

This time the young naval officer was prepared and he sidestepped the whip, then darted forward to snatch it from her hands. He threw it about twenty feet away, but she was on him with claws extended, scratching his face and drawing blood, using her knees and boots as though he were some insect to be stamped out.

They fought silently until her teeth bit into his arm, drawing blood. That's when Robin cursed loudly and slapped her again. The tall blonde girl didn't fall but she went for his eyes with her fingernails. He was able to grab both arms and twist them behind her back, but she kept using her knees against his groin and trying to bite him.

Elizabeth was far stronger than he had ever believed a female could be. When her knee came up into his groin again, this time he simply kicked her feet out from under her and she fell heavily to the ground, her long riding skirt swirling up to mid-thigh. He was on top of her immediately, forcing her arms behind her back again and using his powerful thigh muscles to keep legs captive.

He stared down at her face, inflamed with the imprint of his hand on the left side where he had slapped her. They were both breathing heavily, trying to regain their wind, with Elizabeth struggling futilely under his powerful body. Some part of Robin's mind registered the fact that some time during the struggle the girl's white silk blouse had come unbuttoned, and her chemise was showing. Her lushly ripened breasts were straining against the almost transparent material, and he could see the brown aureolas of her erected nipples.

When her struggles weakened somewhat, Robin sneered down at her. "Had enough, bitch?"

In reply, she spat in his face.

Brutally, he bent her arms further up her back, knowing he was really hurting her now, wanting to hear her moan. "You'll apologize for spitting at me," he said. "Then I'll release your arms, providing you mind your manners, whore!"

"You'll have to kill me first," she panted, her eyes wide in pain, refusing to let him have the pleasure of hearing her moan. Oh God, though, it felt as if her arms were being ripped right out of their sockets, and she could hardly breathe because he was sitting heavily right on her belly.

"Apologize," he demanded.

The unwanted tears sprang to her eyes and she shook her head negatively. An involuntary gasp of pain was wrenched out of her as he deliberately hurt her even more.

"Go ahead, kill me," she cried. "Killer. Filthy navy butcher. Brute." Her hips heaved up unexpectedly and for a second, Robin was off-balance. Elizabeth utilized the opportunity to twist sideways and one arm came loose from his brutal grasp.

Immediately Robin clamped down again, but this time his fingers caught not her arm but her silk blouse and the top of her chemise. There was a loud rip and her right breast was exposed. He got her arm twisted up in back of her again and then watched, almost mesmerized, as her naked mound of sensuous flesh rose and fell with each labored breath she took. He twisted his head around to look down the length of their bodies. Her blue velvet riding skirt was up around her waist now, and he could see, under her pantaloons, the shadowy outline of her pubic hair and the cleft of her vaginal lips.

It was only then that the young navy officer realized that sometime during their wrestling match his penis had become rock-hard in excitement and was now pulsating almost painfully in the crotch of his breeches. His glance returned to her nakedly straining breast. The little nipple was fully erected. He stared at it then lowered his suddenly salivating mouth and sucked her warm velvety flesh up into his mouth.

"No...." The girl's struggles increased again, but this time he held her completely helpless, and all of her frantic thrashing did no good whatsoever.

The taste of her soft warm flesh-slightly salty from her perspiration-in his mouth triggered an incredible carnal need in the young officer, and abruptly he knew he was going to treat her like the whore she was.

He pulled his mouth away from her wetly glistening breast and tightened his grip on her arms, pushing her wrists together so he could hold both of them with one hand.

"You called me a killer, a brute, a navy butcher." He growled. "You forgot the most important thing ... a rapist."

He saw her eyes widen now, for the first time, in genuine fright, and her panted breath started coming more rapidly. "No ... I won't let you."

"You have nothing to say about it. You're Ethan's slut. I'm going to fuck you."

"No," she cried, as he pulled his free arm out from under her body. Then she was fighting like a tigress as she felt his hand grasp the buttoned crotch of her pantaloons and simply rip it open so that the secret flesh up between her legs was defenselessly exposed.

"No!" she shouted. No ... Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!" The ear-splitting scream of protest howled out of her throat and sent the nesting birds to flight as she felt his finger make a searing contact with her sensitive vaginal lips.

Robin paid no heed to her screams. All of his attention was focused on the message being carried to his brain by his finger. My God, she's so wet dawn there that I'd swear she's been fucking already, he thought, as he felt her moistly heated pussy engulf his finger.

"Nooooooooo," she screamed again as his outstretched middle finger slowly slipped up inside her helplessly cringing cunt. She couldn't believe this was actually happening to her. He couldn't be thinking of raping her. He couldn't!

Robin began fucking his finger in and out of her fevered vaginal opening, deliberately scraping against her clitoris on each stroke. If, as Ethan claimed, she begged to be fucked, then she would be begging within minutes, he thought. The lewd mental image of this haughty little slut pleading for his cock was tremendously exciting. He'd fuck her all right. Quickly he returned his mouth to her rubbery brown nipple and sucked it up between his ovaled lips.

Gradually it began to dawn on Elizabeth that Ethan's older brother was actually going to rape her. Her strength had been spent in fighting him, and she knew that her weakened body was incapable of sustaining any more punishment. But she just couldn't lie there and let that insufferable brute have his way with her. No ... and she meant it, she would rather die first. But, and oh God how she hated the thought, things were happening to her body. Down there between her legs her clitoris was vibrating rapturously each time his impaling finger scraped against it. And her breast, where his wetly heated mouth was sucking with a surprising gentleness, had begun tingling in erotic pleasure. Determinedly, she tried to stifle the unwanted jolts of pleasure that had begun rippling throughout her belly. No ... I won't give in to it. I won't! Oh God, please help me ... I can't.

Robin's finger was sliding so effortlessly in and out of her slippery young cunt that he decided to add another. Two fingers were fucking into her tightly clasping pussy when, diabolically, he began strumming her clitoris with his thumb. Any second now he was sure he would see some signs of surrender.

The struggling young American widow wanted to scream in outrage again, but she knew her protest this time would be at the reaction of her own traitorous body which was becoming almost hopelessly aroused. It took every bit of will power she had to keep from punching her hips up in unison with the lewd fucking motion of his fingers. Her breath increased as his tongue began making wet tantalizing circles around her passion-tautened nipple. With all the suddenness of a thunderclap, she instinctively knew that the savage battle they had fought-the gouging, slapping, scratching, clawing-had aroused her as she had never been aroused before. Not even with her late husband! This insight into her own nature stunned the young widow. This man, this brute, this horrible rapist was subduing her; he was treating her like an animal, and, oh God! there was nothing she could do about it. He was going to dominate her. He was! And the worst part of it all, she wanted it to happen!

Robin pulled his mouth away from her breast, disappointed that the helpless girl hadn't yet given any signs of surrendering. The only indication that he might be getting to her was that her tightly clasping cuntal walls had started rippling around his impaling fingers and her pussy was soaked with her slippery secretions.

They stared at each other silently like two fighters summing up, looking for weakness. Elizabeth fought the urge to spit at him again, but it would have been useless anyway because her throat was dry with what she recognized as a building desire. All her energies now were being devoted to controlling her shamelessly aroused body and making it behave so that he would have no idea of how she felt.

"You're a stubborn bitch," Robin said, a tinge of admiration in his voice.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, unable to look at him and fight her runaway emotions at the same time. Then, unexpectedly, his teasing fingers were pulled from her vagina. Oh God, she thought, maybe he's taking pity on me and is going to stop. But this thought had no sooner flickered through her mind when she felt his hips ease up slightly from her belly ... and she realized he was undoing his britches.

Robin had expected the girl to start struggling again when he eased off the pressure on her stomach, so he wasn't caught by surprise when she began squirming and twisting frantically under him. This time, though, her struggles lasted only a few seconds before she collapsed, panting in exhaustion once more. Quickly then, he completed the job of unbuttoning his pants. With the fingers of his free hand he pulled the opening wider, then reached in and pulled out his thick rigid penis. He stroked the foreskin back and forth over the lust-swollen tip of his cock, and felt his warmly pulsating shaft growing even thicker and longer.

"We'll fuck now," he said.

Elizabeth was determined that he would not be permitted the pleasure of hearing her plead, but in spite of this resolution, she heard her own voice, full of fright, crying, "No ... have pity. No...."

One part of the young navy officer's lust-inflamed mind was touched by her piteous whimper, but he was too far gone now. He couldn't have stopped if he had wanted to.

Quickly then, he shifted his hips slightly so that he was lying full-length on top of her, his hotly throbbing cock beating like a war drum against her cringing belly through her pantaloons.

The helpless young girl tried to squirm away from his pulsating shaft, but all she did was permit him to slide down further on her body. Now his lust-thickened penis was beating at the pit of her belly, and when he shifted again it was trailing through her pubic hair.

Robin's breath was coming quickly and irregularly now. He wanted to look down and see what her cunt looked like, but that was an impossibility because she would have her arms freed then. His excitedly pulsing cock was in place now, he could feel the sensitive tip of it pressing against her wetly heated pussy flesh.

"No...." she whimpered. "Please, don't."

The young naval officer let his thick rigid shaft remain poised just above the tiny opening leading up into her vagina. He savoured the feeling of her pussy hair scraping against the glans until he could stand the building excitement no longer.

He pressed forward and his swollen cock head nudged her fevered flesh. The girl squirmed frantically again, but he stayed with her, and soon she fell silent, breathing rapidly like some trapped and helpless animal with her arms pinned behind her.

Then he was shoving forward, driving his rigidly thickened prick into the liquid heat of her tight young pussy.

Elizabeth felt something much bigger and thicker than she had ever experienced before sliding into her painfully stretched flesh. At first she coudln't believe it was a male penis, but then remembering Lord Burton's massive organ the day he fucked the maid, she realized the boy was like his father. She bore the pain as long as she could, then screamed.

"Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh!" She was being torn apart, split asunder like a log down there.

She stiffened her body and thrust upward in a futile attempt to escape that did nothing except impale her forever-stretched cunt even deeper on his hotly throbbing hardness. Down, down, down went his rock-hard shaft, going deeper than anyone had ever been into her before. Of their own accord her legs spread out in an effort to widen her horribly stretched cuntal channel. And the relentless white shaft of pulsating white male flesh continued its inexorable penetration up into her cringing belly until she felt the swollen tip of it brush against her cervix and his heavily-laden balls slap against her ass-cheeks. He was all the way into her, at least three inches deeper than his brother had been, deeper by far than William had ever been. Her cunt was on fire, a conflagration of pain and shame that surged and flickered like a destructive forest fire with each pulsating beat of her vagina.

"You're a tight little whore," he said, his forehead breaking out in beads of sweat.

That insult, added to her pain, caused her tears to begin flowing again, and above her Robin felt a sudden acute twinge of guilt. Well, it was too late now to be sorry. He'd fuck her rapidly, get it over with ... and maybe try to make it up to the stubborn little bitch later. Slowly then, he began withdrawing his excitedly pulsating cock, feeling her slippery vaginal walls rippling all around his shaft. He pulled out about four inches then slowly, savouring every millimeter of it, began pushing it back up inside her wetly clasping cunt.

"You're hurting me" she whimpered, her breath coming in hoarse pants.

"Yes. I know." Sadistically, he flexed his rigid shaft, making it jump inside her tight cuntal walls.

"No ... don't," she panted.

All of Elizabeth's mind and sensations now were centered down there between her legs. Never before had she been so filled. It was as if her belly was being stretched upward and outward from his thick pulsating cock. Her vagina was bleeding and ripped, she was sure, for she could feel what she thought was blood seeping down between her quivering ass-cheeks Robin knew, though, what that wetness was down there. Not blood, but cuntal lubricants which had automatically started preparing her cock-filled pussy for fucking.

Elizabeth shuddered and took a deep breath, and Robin felt her vaginal muscles quiver around his impaling shaft as he withdrew it partially, before thrusting in again to nudge his swollen cockhead once more against her sensitive cervix. In ... out. In ... out. Speed increasing now, as well as depth of strokes. In ... out ... in ... out. He was fucking his long hard cock in and out of her hotly clasping pussy and, miraculously, Robin felt her vaginal lips beginning to ripple with what was undoubtedly a response. A moment later, he felt her cunt dip slightly on the instroke and he grinned in victory as he knew the hot little bitch was attempting now to scrape her clitoris against his rigid shaft.

Elizabeth was not conscious of her body beginning to react to the rape. She was aware, however, that the pain was going away down there between her legs. She still felt stuffed. There would be no pleasure from this brutal rape ... nor did she want there to be any. He had called her a "whore", and that was exactly what she was. She should never have succumbed to her body's carnal needs with Ethan. Never!

As Robin thrust his lust-hardened penis in and out of the soft slippery warmth of the young American widow's cunt, he could feel her vaginal lips clinging like elastic to his thickened shaft. Again and again he flexed his ass-cheeks, making his prick jump against the head of her cervix. Once, he thought he saw a flicker of pleasure cross her pain-twisted face.

Satisfied he was on the right tract now, he resumed his smooth rhythmic fucking motions in and out of her tight young cunt. Then, suddenly, her pussy walls were massaging his penis, and never before in his life had he felt anything half as erotic. Deliberately he rode a little higher on her, so that he was applying constant friction to her clitoral bud.

When he glanced down at her face again, the pain was being replaced by something else, unfathomable. Her lips had parted slightly; they looked moist and sensual again. Her naked breast was rising and falling, and to his eyes it looked as if it were getting fuller. Certainly the color was changing, becoming almost blue as the excited blood pounded through her erogenous nerve endings.

Elizabeth was fighting her own pleasure now. When she felt his hotly throbbing hardness sliding deep up into her womb, she was surprised how wonderful it felt. She could feel every pulsating vein, every ridge on the corrugated trunk of his huge penis. And as she felt it beating inside her vagina, it seemed almost as if it were an integral part of her.

"Oh ... no," she moaned, as she realized that her body was taking control of her mind. Her cock-impaled pussy rose involuntarily to meet his inward thrust and her hips were grinding in urgent little circles on each of his withdrawal strokes as it sought to scrape and titillate every vibrating nerve up between her legs.

Now she could feel everything! Oh God! Everything! And it felt so wonderful!

Her body abruptly became alive, more alive than it had ever been before. She could feel his powerful stomach muscles rippling against her abdomen, could feel his fingers holding her hands captive behind her back, could feel her cuntal muscles moving in a rhapsodic rhythm against his warmly pulsating prick as it fucked in and out of her, could feel her breasts swelling as though they were about to explode. Oh God! Oh God!

Robin rocked above her, rotating his hips now, driving his swollen cock in at different angles, ramming deep up into her belly until his sperm-laden balls slapped against her quivering inner thighs and ass-cheeks. Her undulating pelvis began matching his rotation movements as her hot young pussy devoured his prick on each inward slice.

In spite of her revulsion at this brutal rape, Elizabeth's mouth was beginning to open and close with a wanton pleasure. She no longer cared that she was being dominated by her lover's older brother, no longer cared what he thought of her. Just let him fuck her and keep on fucking her until she obtained the release that she had needed so badly and for so long a time.

It's hard to tell which of the two were the most surprised when Elizabeth's long slender legs wrapped themselves around his pumping hips, and she began using her boots against his buttocks to drive his long hard cock in deeper and deeper into her screaming pussy. With the departure of her resistance, all she wanted now was pleasure and more pleasure, and she would do anything requested of her to keep that pleasure going.

As the young blonde widow suddenly went wild beneath him, Robin thought for a second that she was cumming. For the first time he felt some of his own self-control leaving. He began savagely ramming his thickened shaft into her tightly clasping cunt, working faster now as her hair-lined pussy rose to meet him with each thrust. Her fevered vaginal lips nibbled at his wetly glistening rod of flesh as he fucked it in and out of her tight little hole. It felt so tremendously sensual that he knew he was losing all control.

Elizabeth was moving into a high plateau of pure pleasure now. She knew that her long-awaited release was only moments away. Her long blonde hair flailed against the grass, and her breath hissed out of her lungs in mewls of wanton passion as she gave herself to him completely. She was reaching for it ... reaching for her climax. This brutal rapist and his massive cock fucking up into her belly had triggered the insane pleasure she could feel screaming throughout every nerve in her body.

Robin watched the passion-crazed girl, fighting his own impending climax. He didn't want this to end yet. Not yet! He had raped her this time, she would never let him near her again ... and he wanted this fantastic pleasure to continue as long as it could.

Elizabeth was almost there. She knew she was only a second away from it. Two more strokes ... then ... then ... She could feel the tears building up in her eyes-tears of pleasure, she supposed-as her cunt began rippling like the ground in an earthquake.

And then, just when she was sure she had it, Robin stopped!

Her eyes blinked open. Her breath came in short desperate pants. "What ... what?"

Robin could feel her tight little vagina nibbling and sucking at his long hard shaft. If that continued, he would cum whether he wanted to or not. With one smooth motion of his hips, he withdrew his wetly glistening prick until only the cockhead itself was inside her slippery cuntal mouth.

"Why ... why are you stopping?" the girl asked, staring up at him with disbelieving eyes.

Robin tried to regain his breath, stalling for time. He couldn't decide whether to go ahead and finish it right now, or string it out and try to make it last.

"Wha ... what's wrong?" Elizabeth asked again, blinking as the perspiration flowed off her forehead and into her eyes. Oh God! What was wrong with him? Did he realize how close she was? Was he being deliberately cruel? Did he want her to beg him? If he did, she would! She no longer cared what she sounded like. A whore. A slut! What did it matter as long as he would extinguish that fire raging in her loins. She wanted-had to have-his hotly throbbing penis back up inside her belly.

"Don't stop ... please," she pled, knowing she was humiliating herself by begging. "Please don't stop."

Robin stared down at her lust-contorted features. Well, it finally happened. He had broken her spirit. She was begging to be fucked. "Please don't stop what?" he demanded cruelly.

She stared up at him, tears of shame in her eyes at having to admit it. Then she was screaming, "Don't stop fucking me. Fuck me.

Fuck me, you bastard." The sound of her own voice wailing out the obscenities made the flames of lewd excitement leap even higher in her belly, and her hips rose to meet his rock-hard shaft as he viciously rammed it to the hilt in her steaming cunt. He fucked into her like a maddened bull, each body jolting thrust going deeper up into her tight little pussy than before. Her legs had locked like a vise behind his pumping buttocks now and she rose and twisted and squirmed like a hooked salmon beneath him, fucking back, fucking as though she couldn't get enough of him.

Robin's first indication that he had released her hands came when she reached up and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him passionately, her tongue swimming into his mouth, sucking his answering tongue. He thrust mercilessly into her heated vaginal sheath as he reached and passed the point where he could stop his climax. She fucked back, meeting each of his strokes, sucking his tongue down her throat as if she wanted a meeting of his cock and his tongue at midpoint in her quivering belly.

Abruptly Robin gave himself up to the wild jolts of pleasure emanating from his balls. He was there, and there could be no doubt about it now. He was cumming. He hammered his wildly jerking cock in and out of her tight young pussy with as much force as he could muster, and he could feel the wet heat of her vaginal walls suddenly growing hotter, slipperier.

Beneath him, Elizabeth's eyes opened wide and her body stiffened. Then she sucked in her breath and began shuddering. "I'm cumming," she gasped. "Keep fucking. I'm cumming." Her body convulsed crazily as her tight vaginal walls began rippling all around his burgeoning cock.

Robin fucked her as he had never fucked a woman before, as though it would be the last fuck ever for him. He battered his ejaculating hardness as far as it would go up inside her belly and felt the waves of pleasure wash over him as he filled her spasming cunt with his heated sperm.

Elizabeth screamed again in wanton delight as she felt the first gush of his semen jet against her battered cervix. She worked muscles deep inside her cunt, milking his thick penis in a hungry attempt to get even more of his life-giving jism. And her orgasm went on ... and on ... and on!

Gradually, though, like a fading sunset, the impulses of carnal delight began to weaken. With it, she felt his virile maledom deflating; it was as though it were melting, dying slowly, inside her belly. She could feel the spasms of his ejaculation growing weaker and weaker ... and then she could feel his shaft pulsating no more!

She was weeping softly in a combination of shame and relief and joy when he finally pulled out of her. She felt the heated flood of semen flowing out of her pantaloons. She had acted like a whore in heat; she had been treated like one. This man had brought her unwanted pleasure, had made her feel more ecstasy, more like a woman than she had ever felt before. He had struck her, brutally raped her, humiliated her, completely dominated her ... so why didn't she hate him? Why?

Robin's anger had drained out of him as the pressure in his cum-filled balls eased. Abruptly, the shameful thing that he had done to this helpless young girl struck him with all the force of a sledge hammer. God! What could have gotten into him? He'd never acted so viciously, so brutally before in his entire life. He stood upright, then turned away to replace his now flaccid penis inside his britches, buttoning up the front again before he turned back. He stared down at the gently crying girl. Her legs were still wantonly spread apart and he could see, for the first time, her golden, corn-silk pussy hair matted with his semen and her vaginal secretions. His glance went to her one naked breast. It was reddened and a bruise was already forming where his teeth had savagely sunk into her soft flesh.

And her face? It was dirty and tear-streaked, but even under the dirt and tears he could plainly see the imprint of his hand where he had so brutally slapped her.

Suddenly he was on his knees beside her, cradling her head in his lap, his voice full of guilt and contriteness, "Oh my God, Elizabeth ... I'm so sorry!" He rained kisses all over her forehead and cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to do this...."

Elizabeth heard his voice and recognized the shame he felt. It didn't make her feel any better though; she had acted like a slut with Ethan, and had been treated like one by his brother. She had responded to this man who had so mercilessly raped her, had responded with a dark vigor that could only come from her own demented soul. She was no better than he.

"Elizabeth?"

She took a deep sigh, and shook her head slowly. "It was my fault, too," she said. "My fault because of the shameless way I acted with Ethan."

"That was no excuse for me, though. I'm sorry I called you a bitch and a whore."

"Why? I am one." It was said sadly.

"No. You're just a woman, with a woman's needs. And I'm a fool." He swallowed loudly and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

Suddenly, for some reason she couldn't fathom, it became extremely important to the young widow that Robin know about her. With trembling voice she told him of William's death at the hands of the British at Charlestown. His reaction surprised her. He was a British naval officer, yet he had responded with genuine heat, and she realized that he was actually pro-American. The more she spoke and observed his reactions, the closer she felt to him.

She dreaded the necessity to confess about what had happened with Ethan, but she felt compelled to tell him everything now. She must have no secrets from him. Her face coloring, she told of her nightly dreams which almost made her go mad. Then of waking up half-frozen to find Ethan lying naked next to her....

"I couldn't...." She closed her eyes and corrected herself. "I didn't stop him. I could have, but it was too late. I wanted him to make me complete again."

"You don't have to tell me this, Elizabeth. I know now what happened. Ethan tricked you. And ... I'm so sorry that I thought what I did about you."

She studied his handsome features hovering anxiously above her. I could fall in love with him, she thought. I'm already attracted to him. Some instinct deep in her loins and heart told her that she could be happy with this man. That made it even more important to tell him everything. She lifted her head from his lap and sat upright, making a little grimace as she shifted her sore hip.

"Even if there was an excuse for that first night, you should know that I welcomed him the next night and the next ... and if my mother and father hadn't arrived, I'd probably still be welcoming him."

Thoughtfully Robin got to his feet. He stood looking down at the sitting girl, then turned and walked a few paces away. A part of his mind was in torment. Was the girl still infatuated with his brother? Should he warn her that Ethan was completely unscrupulous, unfaithful? Had no interest in her as a person? Would use her, discard her. But why should he care what Elizabeth did? Then it came to him, something he instinctively realized now: the reason he had been so violently angry with her was because he, Robin, was jealous.

He turned back to her, noting that she had rebuttoned her blouse and had pulled her skirt down to cover her feminine flesh. "Would you still welcome him now?"

She stared at him for a long time. Then he saw her swallow and her blonde hair shook negatively.

"Why?" he demanded.

Her face colored and she bit her lips. Then she said, huskily, "Do you have to ask?"

Robin couldn't keep the pleased look off his face. All right, he thought, everything is going to be all right. There was still one thing to be set straight. "You called me a navy butcher, Elizabeth."

She cast her eyes down and interrupted. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. You're the first person to know. I'm resigning from the Navy. I decided that on the voyage home." He took a deep breath. "I'm thinking of going to America to live."

The young blonde looked up, sudden understanding in her eyes of the enormity of what he was doing. "But your father?"

"He'll understand." And he would, Robin knew he would. The older man might not like it, but he would accept it.

"When are you going to tell him?"

"I had thought of waiting until after Christmas."

"That's wise."

Robin went back over and sat down beside her. "Now I'd like to tell you about me."

"Everything?" she teased. "Everything!"

"Why?"

"Do you have to ask?"

She blushed again, reading the expression in his eyes. Her voice was soft as she shook her head again. "Tell me then...."

Tom Dewlight found them together, their heads together, talking for all the world like lovers when he returned with three horses two hours later. He scratched his gray head thoughtfully. He'd been positive they would have a fight and start yelling at each other, but instead there they were talking up a storm ... just as if their entire future life depended upon it....

On the whole, Ethan did not take the news too badly, which paradoxically pleased and irritated Elizabeth. It might have been a more embarrassing scene had it not been for the fact that Ethan had returned from Craxmore with some "friends", one of whom was a fellow playwright from London, General John Burgoyne.

"We call him Gentleman Johnny," Ethan told Elizabeth as he introduced the British general to the young American widow in the library that night before dinner.

"General," she acknowledged, nodding her head. "I'm familiar with your work. I saw "Feathers" at the Strand earlier this year."

"Not one of my better works, I fear. But thank you, Madame."

"You're much to modest, Johnny," Ethan said. He sighed dramatically. "I wish mine were half as good...."

"Stop fishing for compliments, Ethan," the General growled. "Nothing wrong with your work. Everyone likes it, and you know it." He scratched a point just below his right ear and added, "A bit undisciplined...."

Elizabeth was amused, in spite of her physical closeness to Ethan. The General was an entertaining man, witty, a raconteur, and she hadn't been lying about enjoying his work. He was one of London's better playwrights. She liked his plays almost as much as those of Oliver Goldsmith.

The three of them turned to the door as Robin walked in. Elizabeth, feeling a warm glow, watched him move toward her.

Ethan's eyes narrowed, only momentarily, then he made the introduction. "Johnny. May I present my brother, Robin. Robin, General John Burgoyne."

The two men shook hands, appraising each other as military men are apt to do.

"We're happy that you could join us, General. My father will be here in a moment. I believe you and he are friends also."

"Oh yes. I've spent some good days here with him at Marleyhead, the last time about two and a half years ago before the troubles broke out in America." He took a sip of his sherry. "Tell me. Has anyone caught that blasted pig yet?"

Robin's glance flickered over toward Elizabeth who bit her lower lip in amusement. The Genral glanced back and forth between them suspecting he had missed something.

It was Elizabeth who said, "Robin and the gamekeeper had him only yesterday noon ... but then I ruined it for them."

Robin added quickly, "We had him going down a gully toward a closed beach. It wasn't Elizabeth's fault; she didn't know we were there ... almost got herself killed when Old Nick came after her. Tom and I put three balls into him, and he trotted off as if he owned the forest."

"You'll never bag him," Gentleman Johnny said. "He's protected by the Devil. Like some of those damned American militiamen."

Abruptly the bonhomie was gone. What could have proved to be an extremely awkward moment was aborted by the arrival of Lord Burton.

"John," he called from the open doorway, then advanced across the room, with his hand outstretched. "How good to see you again."

"Hello, Phillip." The two men shook hands enthusiastically.

"What brings you up to the hinderlands this time of year?" Lord Burton asked, pouring himself a sherry from the decanter.

"I'm assembling an expedition to put down-once and for all-those damned rebels. We'll split them, drive them to their knees, and bring them to their senses. I have Lord George Germain's blessings on the venture."

"And how do you plan to split them, sir?" Robin asked, almost too casually.

"We'll invade from Canada."

Lord Burton glanced toward Elizabeth who had suddenly become white faced and tense. He sighed. "Johnny, you remember Marleyhead's rule about politics at the table?"

"Of course I do, dear chap. And I shall respect it. At the dinner table."

Robin poured the general another glass of sherry, and said, "As a navy man, I'd like to hear more about your plans."

"Certainly. Well, I propose a three-pronged movement of troops. I'll come down from Canada and take Ticonderoga and Saratoga, Howe will send troops up from the Hudson. I'll use Barry St. Leger to strike eastward from Oswego. We'll all join at Albany and...."

He talked. Robin and Elizabeth listened. And Lord Burton, watching the silent interplay between the beautiful American widow and his oldest son, had a sudden foreboding, a chill down his spine as though someone had stepped on his grave. He had no way of knowing that he was witnessing a turning point in history and that in the flickering firelight of his library, the eventual outcome of the war in America was being lost by one man's boastful tongue....

Elizabeth and Robin announced their betrothal on Christmas Day; it came as no surprise to her parents or his father ... as a matter-of-fact the older people seemed to greet the announcement with relief. They all had been uncomfortably aware of Elizabeth's radiantly glowing complexion after she and Robin returned from horseback riding each day.

"Well, they seem like a solid pair," Lord Burton told Elizabeth's father. "It'll last. And you and I both will have grandchildren climbing all over us before too long, I suspect."

Actually, Robin's father was delighted with the match. His pleasure was tainted only by a gnawing uneasiness that grew with each passing day. Robin was changed, but he had been changed when he returned home from his last voyage. The boy was withholding something from him; he could tell! Relations obviously were not the best between his brother-the Admiral-and his oldest son. There had been a decided coolness between them even before the appalling evening a week ago when Robin had insisted reading an article from the London Gazette, at mid-point in which, his brother had gotten up and stalked out of the library.

There had been a determination, a fieriness about Robin that his father had never seen before. The boy's voice was emotion choked as he had read the article aloud.

"This is a letter to the Lord Mayor," he said, tapping the newspaper. "And it says...."

I was last week on board the American privateer called the Yankee, commanded by Captain Johnson, and lately brought into this port by Captain Ross, who commanded one of the West Indian sugar ships, taken by the privateer in July last; and, as an Englishman, I earnestly wish your lordship, who is so happily placed at the head of this great city, (justly famed for its great humanity even to enemies,) would be pleased to go likewise or send proper persons, to see the truly shocking, and I may say, barbarous and miserable condition of the unfortunate American prisoners who, however criminal they may be thought to have been, are deserving of pity and entitled to common humanity.

They are twenty five in number, and all inhumanly shut close down, like wild beasts, in a small stinking hold of a sloop, without a breath of air in this sultry season but what they receive through a small grating overhead, the openings in which are not more than two inches square in any part, and through which the sun beats intensely hot all day.

I do not at all exaggerate, my lord; I speak the truth; and the resemblance that this barbarity bears to the memorable black hole of Calcutta, as a gentleman present on Saturday observed, strikes every one at the sight. All England ought to know that the same game is now acting upon the Thames on board this privateer that all the world cried out against and shuddered at the mention of in Indian.

The putrid steams issuing from the hold are so hot and offensive that one cannot, without the utmost danger, breathe over it, and I should not be at all surprised if it should cause a plague to spread. The miserable wretches below look like persons in a hot bath, panting, sweating, and fainting for want of air; and the surgeon declares that they must all soon perish in that situation, especially as they are almost all in a sickly state with bilious disorders.

The men imprisoned herein are sensible and well-behaved young men; they give a very good account of themselves, having no signs of fear, and being supported by a consciousness of the justice of their cause. They are men of character, of good families in New England, and highly respected in their different occupations; but being stripped of all their worldly possessions and homes by the British burning of towns and other destructive measures of the present unnatural war, were forced to take the disagreeable method of making reprisals to maintain themselves and their children, rather than starve.

Numbers of gentlemen, and friends of government, who were on board at the same time, will confirm the truth of my representation, being very sensibly touched themselves at the horrid sight.

English prisoners, taken by the Americans, have been treated with the most remarkable tenderness and generosity, as numbers who are safely returned to England most freely confess. And it is a fact, which can be well attested in London, that this very surgeon on board the privateer, after the Battle of Lexington, April 19, 1975, for many days voluntarily and generously, without fee or reward, employed himself in dressing the King's wounded soldiers, who but an hour before would have shot him if they could. He even made a collection for their refreshment, of wine, linen, money, etc., in the town where he lived. This is a real fact, of which the most ample testimony may be had.

The capture of the privateer was solely owing to the ill-judged lenity and brotherly kindness of Captain Johnson, who not considering his English prisoners in the same light that he would a Frenchman or Spaniard, put them under no sort of confinement, but permitted them to walk the decks as freely as his own people, at all times. Taking advantage of this indulgence the prisoners one day, watching their opportunity, when most of the privateer's people were below and asleep, shut down the hatches, and making all fast, had immediate possession of the vessel without using any force.

The ship lies opposite to Ratcliffe Cross, a mile and a half below the Tower...."

The room had been silent when Robin finished reading, then Lord Burton had cleared his throat. "You see now, Lad, why Marleyhead Manor has a rule about politics. One should leave their politics behind when they come here. We've had the rule for two hundred years that I know of. Wars and political intrigues may rage in the world outside, but Marleyhead should be-and is, I hope-an oasis where men and women can speak of better things."

And Ethan, who had sat there quietly during the exchange between the Admiral and Robin, now stared speculatively at his brother, as if seeing him for the first time. Well, well. What do you know. I have a radical for a brother. He's a bloody revolutionary. It'll be amusing to see what happens next. For a second or so, he thought that perhaps Elizabeth might have been the reason for Robin's change, but then he realized that for as far back as he could recall, his brother had always been a little soft in the head and strange about the rights of men.

Lazily, he poured himself another cup of Madiera. Maybe he could write a play about it someday. A comedy, yes, of course, that was it ... a comedy about little men with no breeding or knowledge taking over the government. It would be hilarious....

Robin and his father went hunting for Old Nick on the last day of the year. It had rained heavily the evening before, but the day dawned clear and brisk with a good off-shore breeze blowing. The wet ground would help with the hunt because it muffled the sound of their footsteps, and tracking would be easier.

They picked up the boar's trail about ten in the morning and followed it around one of the small lakes dotting the Marleyhead estate. On the hillside where the wild grapes grew they found the ground pawed up, and it had been uprooted so recently that all of the worms had not yet gone back beneath the surface.

They were inspecting the perimeter when they both jumped in startled fright as they heard a loud snap and an angry squealing. Their glances shot toward the strand of walnut trees where they could see one of the trees quivering as though it were being shaken by some powerful force.

Slowly both men started toward the area, each inspecting his gun for readiness. As they approached, they could see the boar struggling, dancing madly on his hind legs, his right front paw caught in a limb snare that had sprang upright when triggered, causing a loop to tighten around the leg and pull it high into the air.

Lord Burton stopped when they got about fifty feet away. Robin went forward a few steps more. He turned back to his father questioningly. "You ... or me?" he asked.

"He's yours," the older man said, his eyes taking in the sight of the powerful animal caught and helpless in the trap.

Robin paused then put his thoughts into words. "I don't want you to think me a fool, but I won't relish the thought of taking him this way."

"Well said, lad." He grinned and added, "Well, you've caught a Devil by the arm, he'll not be happy when you let him go."

"I'll climb the tree and cut him loose from there."

"I'll climb this tree before you start cutting if you don't mind."

A few minutes later, Robin-with knife clasped between his teeth-was easing out on the swaying sapling limb that held the snare noose. His weight caused the limb to bend closer to the ground, and Old Nick, finding some firm footing, began thrashing so violently that Lord Burton was sure the boy would be thrown to the ground.

When Robin finally reached the rope, he readied the knife and stared down at the beady red eyes of the boar, the razor sharp tusks, the mean ugly snout less than five feet away from him. Animal and man stared at each other and then with one slash Robin severed the rope. Old Nick fell backward to the ground and rolled over, then came up charging at the limb which was now out of reach.

"That's gratitude for you," Lord Burton called, laughing.

Old Nick, hearing the voice, spun around and charged toward the tree where the older man was safely ensconced on a branch about seven feet off the ground. The boar trotted around and around the tree trunk several times, gazed balefully up at the human, and then trotted off back in the direction of the grape vines.

When they were sure the beast was really gone, father and son climbed down. With guns being carried casually over the shoulder, they started the long walk back toward the Manor.

They walked in companionable silence until Lord Burton asked, "You know what would have happened if we had just left him in the noose?"

"He undoubtedly would have chewed his own leg off in order to be free."

"Yes, he would have done that. Freedom means that much to some animals."

"To some men, as well, father."

"I've no doubt."

Well, Robin thought, this is as good a time as any to tell him. He swallowed a couple of times, building up his nerve, then said, "I've something to say that ... that may hurt you, but believe me ... I would rather lose my life than to bring pain to you...."

Lord Burton stopped, then smiled sadly. "You've no need. I think I've known it for a week or two. You'll be going to America with Elizabeth."

"I had planned to go before I met her."

"You've thought it all out. You realize what it means, boy? Giving up everything? Career? Eventually a title?"

Robin nodded. "There is only one thing that I could not give up without a heavy heart, and that would be your affection, your respect."

Lord Burton stepped forward and put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "You've no fear of that." He stared into his son's face. "It's just as well, I suppose. You and Old Nick ... if I tried to hold you here by your arm against your will, you'd probably chew it off in order to get away."

Robin felt a lump growing in his throat. "Thank you, father," he said quietly. "When will you be leaving?"

"In February or March."

"All right. Will you and Elizabeth be married before you leave?"

"We would like to."

"So be it." The older man took a deep sigh, tightened his arm around Robin's shoulder for a second, then stepped back. "Come along then. The grouse should be feeding in the meadow by the lake. We shouldn't go home empty handed...."

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