Willamina conceded that she was hopelessly lost. She must have been walking for hours. Her feet ached within her pretty pink shoes which were clearly designed more with fashion than function in mind. Her lungs were burning beneath the tightly cinched corset that encased her waist. Somewhere in the distance a cuckoo called out for a mate. As she made her way through the tangled maze of trees, tears blurred her view of the meager path before her.
In truth, she had no idea where she was going when she first ran into the woods. It was perhaps not the brightest decision she had ever made but she just had to get out of the stifling confines of the opulent carriage and away from her husband.
It had only been three months since Willamina had wed Giles Worthington the Duke of Hereford. She had such high hopes for the union. After all, what girl doesn't wish to marry a handsome young duke? On paper they were a perfect match. His massive fortune married quite well with her family's desirable connections to King George.
Unfortunately, their personalities hadn't married as well as their pedigrees. In the girlish fantasies of youth Willamina dreamt of a husband who would hold her tightly and love her passionately. In reality, Giles hardly ever held her at all. And as for passion... the activities within their marital bed could be described as perfunctory, at best.
She had supposed her husband was merely a cold fish until she heard the latest bit of gossip making the rounds of the Asterley's ballroom that evening. Word was that while the ink was still drying on their marriage license the duke had installed the infamous courtesan Lucrecia de Mornay in one of his London houses.
Hurt and humiliated, Willamina confronted Giles on the journey home, expecting him to at least have the decency to muster up a convincing denial. Not only had he refused to deny it, he announced in no uncertain terms that he intended to keep his very public mistress wherever and however he pleased. He went on to inform her that her opinion on the matter was of no concern to him whatsoever.
"It is not a wife's place to judge the behavior of her husband but merely to obey him and bare his children." He declared in a decidedly ducal tone.
It was at that point in the horrid conversation that Willamina pounded on the carriage door until the driver was obliged to stop. Not feeling particularly obedient, she slipped out the door and, ignoring Giles' brusque orders that she return immediately, beat a hasty retreat into a nearby copse of silvery birches.
She had been wandering around the woods ever since, pondering just how very lost she was. How dare he humiliate her so publicly! All of society now knew that the Duke of Hereford had no interest in his new wife. Was she really that undesirable? She didn't think so. Her delicate features and vibrant red hair had been admired by many gentlemen and she had received more than one envious glare from the ladies of the ton as she waltzed around the ballroom in her tightly fitted blue gown.
Still her husband hardly ever glanced her way. His only interest in her involved the production of heirs. As if she was nothing to him but a well-kept broad mare. Fresh tears pricked at her pale blue eyes. She was still young, after all. Only twenty. Far too young to resign herself to a dull existence devoid of any passion. There had to be something more out there...
So wrapped up in her own dismal thoughts, Willamina burst into a clearing and blundered right into something hard and broad. She looked up to discover that something was a man's chest.
"Pardon me, sir." She blurted and quickly paced backwards to put some space between her and the stranger. Unfortunately, that only brought her closer to several more equally hard and broad looking men. They swiftly and efficiently encircled her.
"Forgive me gentlemen for interrupting your evening." She managed to squeak out though her voice caught in her suddenly tight throat. "I'm afraid I'm a tad lost."
"I'll say." One dangerous looking fellow growled. "We don't get many fine ladies around these parts."
She counted four, five- no six. It was difficult to keep track of the number as they continued to circle her. They were all big and tall, their ample muscles visible beneath their slightly shabby clothes. A few of the men looked quite young, no more than twenty while the others appeared closer to middle age.
Nervously, she surveyed the swords and pistols that dangled from their belts. They were all surveying back her with equal interest. Their predatory stares made her feel distinctly prey like. The feeling sent a peculiar shudder down her spine.
Willamina had heard of such men; highwaymen. The King's advisors frequently grumbled about lost goods and stolen levies along the roads to and from London. Not to mention the lurid tales of pistol wielding villains and terrorized travelers that were passed freely around the drawing rooms of bored, blue-blooded biddies.
Surrounded by these infamous thieves, Willamina's mind tried to process the perilous predicament she had suddenly found herself in. Fear knotted her stomach and tightened her lungs. It seemed to infect her whole body, burning through her veins and muddying her thinking. Yet that fear was tempered by a certain degree of curios anticipation.
They were closing in fast. Willamina turned on her heels but that only made her head spin. Suddenly someone seized her by the right arm. Then another took hold of her left arm.
"Unhand me, you brutes!" She shrieked.
But they did not. They are very rough in their handling and her resistance only served to make them rougher. She was being pulled this way and that, becoming more disoriented and hysterical by the second. An unexpected cuff across the cheek jerked her head to the side. The startling jolt of pain brought her to her senses and she instantly stilled in their grip.
"That's enough!" A deep voice boomed.
Everyone froze and turned in the direction of the sound. Out of the shadows stepped a tall man. With dark, steely eyes and a chiseled jaw covered in thick stubble, he looked as dark and wicked as the devil himself- and just as tempting. From the commanding tone of his voice and the way the other men parted for him Willamina supposed he must be the ringleader of this motley crew.
Atop his head of long black hair sat a tri-corner hat with a large white feather. His long black coat matched perfectly with his sparkling black eyes. Willamina let her gaze wander further south. The view of muscles straining through his buckskin breeches made Willamina's heart flutter wildly beneath her breast.
Her stomach turned summersaults as she watched him sidled towards her. Up close he seemed larger than life, his body tan and fit from a rough life of riding and fighting.
"Well, what have we here? What's your name, little nymph?" He said in a deep, clear voice that was at once commanding and playful. She met his eyes rebelliously but kept her lips tightly shut. "Very well, little nymph will have to do."
"I am no one of consequence." She quickly added, fearing that they might try to ransom her if they knew her identity.
