The Gentleman Highwayman

** This is the first story I have ever written, and is dedicated to Countess DeWinter. Thank you for being my inspiration and for giving me the confidence to try something like this. **

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"Lady Martin..."

Her mind barely registered the words, lost in a fantasy world of adventure and dashing heroes, as she tried desperately to forget, if just for a moment, her own unpleasant predicament. She dreamed of the infamous 'Gentleman Highwayman', who was the talk of all the young ladies in town. The newspapers were filled with tales of his daring escapades, how he stole the riches of men and the hearts of ladies, and she imagined what it would be like to meet him, to be swept away by him...

"Tamara!"

The shrill voice cut through her dreams, dragging her back to reality. She looked across the darkened confines of the coach, seeing the disapproving look in the eyes of her aged chaperone Elizabeth.

"A lady does not daydream when she is being spoken too!" she admonished. "You must listen to me if you are to make a good impression on Sir Charles."

Ugh, Sir Charles. She would rather not think about that horrid old lecher. She hated him; the way he looked at her, lusted after her, and she dreaded the thought of having to marry him. But he was rich and of good standing in court, and that was all her father was interested in.

She thought of her father. He had been a good man once, back when her mother was still alive, but after she died he became a different person. They had once been well off, wealthy even, but thanks to his drinking, gambling and other excesses, the family was now almost in ruin. And so, now when he looked at his only daughter, all he saw was an opportunity to get back into the good graces of the nobility and turn around the fortunes of his ailing household.

"Yes Elizabeth." Tamara said sullenly, but she was cut off as the coach lurched to a sudden halt. Elizabeth's head struck the wooden panelling behind her, and she cried out in pain.

"What does that driver think he's doing!?" she said, rubbing the back of her head. "I might have been seriously injured! I shall give the incompetent oaf a piece of my mind!"

She started towards the door of the carriage, but stopped when she heard a gruff voice call out.

"Stand and deliver!"

Tamara felt her heart catch in her mouth at the words, a mixture of fear and excitement surging through her body. Could it be...?

She stifled a scream as a loud gunshot erupted nearby. Another shot quickly replied, and she heard a cry of pain from up where the driver sat. A second or two later there was a loud thud, as something heavy landed on the ground outside.

For the next few moments everything was silent except for her heart, pounding furiously in her chest. She peered out through the window into the darkness, but all she could make out was the nearby tree-line at the side of the road.

She screamed again as a figure appeared at the window, his head covered by a small sack, with holes roughly cut out for his eyes and mouth. He yanked the door open and brandished a knife at the two occupants.

"Get out now!" he shouted. The feeling of excitement Tamara had been feeling quickly disappeared as reality washed away the fantasy image her mind had conjured. Now, she felt only fear.

The two women hesitated, and the man yelled again, "Now!" He grabbed Elizabeth by the wrist and dragged her our of the carriage.

"Get your hands off me, you foul ruffian!" she shouted furiously, as she struggled to escape his grasp. "How dare you!"

Tamara watched on in shock as the man lashed out at Elizabeth and caught her hard in the face with the back of his hand. Elizabeth fell to the floor, unmoving, and the robber turned to her.

"Get out girl, if you don't want none o' the same," he snarled. Tamara complied, trembling as she stepped out into the cold night air. She paled when she saw there were more of them -- two figures stood over the motionless form of the coachman, prodding at him with their boots as he lay on the ground, appearing to be dead. Another headed towards Elizabeth, while a fifth robber stood holding the reins of the coach's horses, a pistol in his hand. The other four carried a mixture of knives and crude cudgels, and were all dressed similarly in rough dirt-stained clothing and sack-cloth masks.

The robber pushed Tamara roughly against the side of the coach. "Give us your valuables girl, and you won't get hurt."

"I...I...don't have any," she stammered, her hand moving unconsciously to her neck, where her dress hid the silver necklace her mother had given her. It was the only reminder of her she had left, and it would break her heart to lose it.

The robber saw the movement of her hand and tore open the neck of her dress, revealing the necklace against her pale skin.

"Please, not that..." Tamara pleaded, but to no avail, as the necklace was crudely ripped from around her slender neck. The robber grabbed her roughly, forcing her chin upwards, the back of her head pressing hard against the side of the coach. Suddenly she could feel the cold steel of his knife against her throat, the sharp blade drawing blood as he pressed it into her flesh.

"You better not lie to me again girl, or I'll cut ya from ear to ear," he sneered coldly. Tamara's eyes began to flood with tears. She was sure she was going to die.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged, "that's all I have."

He ripped the sleeves of her dress open at her wrists, looking for bracelets or other jewellery, but found none. He spat on the ground in disgust. "Just one damn necklace!"

"This one's the same," said another of the brigands, crouching over Elizabeth and searching her for valuables. "She ain't got nothing."

The robber let go of Tamara's throat, and she slumped against the side of the coach, quietly sobbing, as he stalked over and kicked hard at the body of the coachman in frustration. He turned back and pointed his knife at Tamara.

"Take the girl, she's coming with us," He laughed evilly and added, "She still has some treasures we can take..."

Tamara froze when she heard his words. She'd never been with a man before, and had always dreamed that her first time would be with a wonderfully gentle young man whom she would someday meet and fall head-over-heels in love with. Her heart filled with horror at the implied meaning of his words.

The robber crouched over Elizabeth stood up and grabbed Tamara by the wrists. He laughed coldly at her feeble struggles.

"She's a pretty little thing," he sneered.

"Yeah," added another, "I bet she's nice an' tight too..."

"Please, no..." Tamara pleaded, unable to believe what was happening.

The man holding her pressed his body against hers, forcing her back against the coach. She screamed, feeling his hardness pressing against her stomach. "Don't worry girl, maybe you'll like it..."

He yanked her away from the coach by her wrists and started dragging her into the woods, the other robbers following and laughing as they watched her struggles. She resisted with all her strength but he was to strong. She screamed through her tears, hoping someone - anyone - would hear her, and looked back, getting a last glimpse of Elizabeth's unconscious form before the trees blocked her view.

She was dragged for several minutes, deeper and deeper into the woods, until finally they reached a clearing. She was thrown roughly to the ground, and looked up through tear-filled eyes as the five brigands surrounded her, laughing and making crude comments.

"Yer think anyone's had 'er before?"

"Nah, we're gonna have ta break her in."

"I ain't never fucked a noblewoman before, ya think they feel any different?"

"There's only one way ter find out!"

One of them grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to her feet, ripping at the already torn neck of her dress, exposing more of her pale skin.

She wrenched herself from his grasp, stumbling across the clearing, but ran straight into the arms of another of the leering men. His rough hands pawed her body through her dress, groping her breasts and ripping one of her sleeves. She felt another set of hands behind her, squeezing the cheeks of her bottom and lifting up her dress, exposing her slender white stocking clad legs.

"Please...please let me go...please..." she pleaded, but they just laughed at her and continued groping and tearing at her clothing. She felt a hand on her bare thigh, sliding upwards into her undergarments, touching her in her most intimate places, and she screamed as cruel fingers painfully invaded her. She was pushed to the hard ground, her dress riding up around her waist, and she looked on in horror as one of the men stood before her, pulling down his breeches.

"Don't be afraid my pretty, it won't hurt," he laughed, as two of the other men held her arms, pinning her down.

As he loomed over her, Tamara closed her eyes and tried desperately to block out what was happening, longing to be somewhere else, anywhere. Praying that someone would rescue her, a hero...a hero like the Gentleman Highwayman...

She cringed as she felt his hands roughly force her legs apart, bracing herself for the inevitable pain, when out of nowhere she suddenly heard the snort of a horse and the quiet but audible click of a pistol being cocked. A strong calm voice cut through the cold night air...

"You know, it's scum like you that give highwaymen a bad name."

"What the..." exclaimed the man standing over Tamara, as she felt his hands leave her legs. Her arms were also released, and as she cautiously opened her eyes she saw the robbers hastily clambering to their feet and looking around in confusion for their recently discarded weapons.

Tamara peered into the darkness under the trees, trying to discern where the voice had come from, and then she saw him, an almost ghostly figure, mounted on a midnight steed. A voluminous black cloak covered most of his tall imposing form, revealing only a glimpse of an expensive silk shirt under a dark waistcoat. His left hand held a pistol, pointed up into the night sky, and the three-cornered hat that adorned his head combined with the shadowy gloom to obscure his face from view.

"Show yerself!" called out the robber who moments ago had been about to rape her, brandished his knife.

The mounted figure complied, guiding his horse forward into the clearing. Tamara finally saw his face, strong noble features partially obscured by the elegant mask covering his eyes.

"You've had your fun gentlemen, now the lady's coming with me," he stated, nothing but confidence evident in his voice. Tamara's hopes leapt at his words; had her prayers been answered? But he was only one man, how could he possibly fight against all those thugs?

The brigands seemed to have had the same thought, looking more confident when they realised the odds were greatly in their favour. The knife-wielder, apparently their leader, sneered at the newcomer.

"What yer gonna do? There's five of us an' you only got one pistol." They started closing in on the mysterious stranger, brandishing their weapons as they started to spread out. Tamara started crawling backwards, trying to make it to the cover of the tree-line while they were distracted, her eyes never leaving the cloaked rider, feeling strangely drawn to him.

Nonchalantly, the mounted figure raised his pistol, pointed it at the nearest robber and fired, the thunderous shot echoing through the night air. The other men hesitated in surprise as blood erupted from the gaping wound in their compatriot's chest, watching him drop to the ground like a stone. They turned back to the stranger just in time to see him draw another pistol from within the folds of his cloak.

"Not quite right," he said, his lips curled into a tight grin, "now I only have one pistol, but of course, now there's only four of you..."

He spurred his horse into action, pulling back on the reins, causing the magnificent beast to rear up on it's hind legs. His adversaries quickly scattered, fearful of it's dangerously flailing hooves, and he took the opportunity to surge through the gap they had left, placing himself and his steed directly between Tamara and her assailants.

"Take my hand," he instructed, reaching out to her. With barely a moment's hesitation, Tamara quickly scrambled to her feet and placed her small hand in his, gasping as he powerfully pulled her up onto the horse. Sliding in behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly as he turned back to face his foes.

Tamara screamed as she saw one of the men charging at them, a crude spiked cudgel raised menacingly in the air. She turned her head away in fear, burying her face in her rescuer's back, until the deafening roar of his pistol made her look up again, watching as the attacker was spun around by the force of the impact and fell awkwardly to the ground. As the remaining three brigands began to close in, her mysterious saviour gave a yell and the horse set off at pace, heading directly for them. Two of them dove out of the way, but the third, the leader, raised his knife as he blocked their path. Undaunted, the dashing stranger galloped on, and as she tightened her grip around his waist she saw him lash out with a booted foot, catching the villainous bandit across the face and sending him tumbling to the ground.

Never slowing or looking back, they rode on into the woods, leaving the brigands far behind, until eventually they arrived back at the road. Tamara tried to ask the stranger to find and help Elizabeth, but her voice was hoarse due to her earlier screaming and sobbing, and he appeared not to hear. Instead he turned the horse in the opposite direction and they galloped off down the road.

How long they rode, Tamara didn't know, for despite her torn dress exposing much of her skin to the cold night chill, she lost herself in the safe comforting warmth of his body, clutching him tightly and resting her head on his shoulder.

Finally they slowed as they approached a roadside coaching house. Although it was after dark, Tamara could see dim lights though the windows of the bar room. She wondered whether he was just going to leave her there, for the road wardens to take home to her father. Part of her just wanted to go home and try to forget the terrible things that had happened tonight. But the other part...

She was surprised when he turned away from the light, instead heading for the inn's stables. Stopping at the entrance he quickly dismounted and offered her his hands. She slipped down into his arms, and he held her close for a moment, his chest pressing against hers as he looked down into her sparkling blue eyes. She could tell he was handsome, despite the mask that covered half of his face, and she modestly tugged at her torn dress, trying as best she could to cover up her bare skin. She must have lost her shoes somewhere in the woods, and she could feel the cold rough ground through the stockings covering her feet. She shivered, and he removed his long black cloak with a swirl, wrapping it around her shoulders.

He led her silently into the stable, past several travel weary horses, until he found an unoccupied stall, the floor covered in fresh hay. Turning back to face her, he took off his hat, revealing his short brown hair. He looked her up and down, lingeringly.

"Are you hurt?" he asked quietly.

"No, I...thank you," she replied softly. "Thank you for saving me from those foul men."

"My pleasure, Lady...?"

"Martin," she answered shyly, "my name is Tamara." She looked down, anxious but afraid to ask the question that has been burning in her mind since the moment she'd first laid eyes on him. He gently cupped her chin and raised her face back to his, smiling warmly as his blue eyes gazed into her matching orbs.

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful lady."

Tamara blushed at his words, before finally plucking up the courage to ask her question.

"Are...are you the Gentleman Highwayman?" she asked, hope evident in her voice.

His smile became a wry grin as he answered.

"Many know me by that name, yes..."

She felt a tight knot in her stomach as she heard the answered she had hoped for.

"But in truth, I fear I am no gentleman..."

Tamara gasped as, without warning, he seized her around the waist and pulled her tightly to him, crushing her body against his as his cloak fell from her shoulders to the floor. She started to cry out in alarm, but her protests were swallowed whole by the handsome masked stranger, as he kissed her strongly, deeply, passionately. Her hands flailed, pounding on his back as he hungrily devoured her lips. She gasped again as he spun her around and pushed her up against the cold stone of the stable wall, pinning her there with the weight of his body.

Tamara's mind was in a spin - his primitive passion startled and frightened her, but at the same time it awoke emotions and longings from deep within her that she'd never experienced before. His slightest touch was like fire, the heat from his body almost overwhelming, and his kiss threatened to drive her wild with desire. His roving hands were everywhere, caressing her slender thighs, her shapely hips, gliding up over her stomach and cupping her soft young breasts. Her resistance to his advances slowly dwindled until it no longer existed, and she melted into his blistering embrace, savouring every fresh sensation.

Lost in the moment, she barely noticed him tugging at the ties at the back of her dress, slowly unfastening the already tattered garment. Lower and lower his hands worked, until he was able to slide the dress down off her shoulders, kissing his way down over her delicate jaw and willowy neck to taste the newly bared skin.

Tamara sighed at the magical touch of his lips and tongue, gladly allowing him to slide her dress lower and lower, until it fell to the floor at her feet. His attention then turned to her fine undergarments, loosening them and slowly uncovering her nubile young form, kissing each and every newly revealed inch of pale skin. As he freed her firm youthful breasts, he held them in his hands, kneading and squeezing her soft tender mounds. Tamara felt her nipples stiffen at his touch, and gasped as he took one of the rapidly hardening nubs into his mouth, sucking gently as his tongue flicked back and forth over the oh-so sensitive flesh. Bursts of pleasure sparked from his touch, intensifying two-fold as his teeth nipped at the now-prominent button, heating her whole chest and then plunging downwards through her body, leaving a warm tingling sensation pulsing between her legs.

He slowly dropped to his knees, his lips and tongue never for a moment breaking contact with her sweet skin. Tamara closed her eyes and sighed again, relishing his kisses on her stomach, the flick of his tongue into her belly button and his warm hands on her hips as he began to remove her lower undergarments, slowly sliding them down her legs to join her dress on the floor, revealing to him everything she had to offer him as a woman.

She stepped out of her discarded clothing and stood before him, naked but for the pure white stockings she wore, tied at her thighs with smoothest silk. As his hands took to removing his waistcoat and shirt, revealing his strong manly chest, his lips circled the heat throbbing between her legs, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses over her inner thighs and stomach. Her heart beat loudly and rapidly in her chest as her anticipation soared. Surely he wouldn't kiss her...there?

Tamara's knees suddenly went weak and she leant back against the stable wall for support, as to her sheer delight he ran his tongue up along the length of her womanly folds, pushing into her slightly, culminating in a swirling flick over her pleasure spot. Not for the first time tonight she gasped loudly, closing her eyes as she experienced sensations more intense than she'd ever imagined possible.