Highroad

by Jeanie P Johnson

  Lavonia realized that she did have a certain power over him, that she had not realized she had. “You just want me to beg you to take me,” she accused.

  “I am not going to force you, if that is what you think. You already know what to expect, so it is up to you.” he reached his hand down and ran it through her hair, and Lavonia let out a sigh.

  “I won’t beg,” she informed him in a low voice.

  He gave her a half smile. “You don’t have to beg. A woman can seduce a man, as easily as a man can seduce a woman,” he informed her. “It is plain that you do not wish to be seduced by me. But the night is young, and you may get bored just looking at me this way,” he predicted with a low chuckle.

  “Would you be willing to stand there, and let me touch you all over, without touching me?” she asked, starting to feel a little power in the situation, not realizing that his very act was a form of seduction, which she could not resist.

  “Anything you wish, love,” he whispered. “The night is up to you.”

  Then his cunning was rewarded, as her fingers stretched out to touch him so lightly that his skin shivered at the feel. “You like that, don’t you?” she said, remembering how he had shivered at her touch when she had kissed over his body.

  “In the same way you like it when I do the same thing to you,” he informed her, as his breath started to speed.

  “But you like my mouth on your skin more,” she laughed lightly, “and she leaned closer, as though to put her lips on him, causing him to catch his breath. Suddenly, her head pulled away. “Maybe later, she simpered, as she stood up, letting her breasts, slide against his body, as he tried to refrain from touching her.

  She stood against him, pressing herself to him, as she started tracing her fingers over his muscles, riding them over his shoulders, and down his side, over his narrow hips, coming ever so close to what he was yearning for, and then listening to his disappointed sigh, as she moved on, bringing her fingers to his neck, as she began to kiss against his chest, and then press her tongue against his skin, the same way he had pressed his tongue against her, the first time he took her.

  She knew what he wanted, but she was determined to show him she could resist him, in a way she knew he could never resist her. Still he did not reach out for her, even though she could tell he wanted to. He was allowing her to have her way with him, and it gave her a sense of satisfaction, knowing that she was the one setting the pace. She just didn’t know if he would end up turning the tables on her?

  Slowly, she walked around him, examining his body, trying to guess who he might be? Surely she had seen him before, since he mentioned he had seen her, and he seemed to know so much about her. Her fingers smoothed over his shoulder blades, and she noticed a mole on his right shoulder, close to his neck. She ran her fingers over it, and then kissed against it. Now she knew what to look for, to discover who he really was, only it wasn’t much to go on, considering men usually wore high collars, and coats covering their necks.

  Perhaps his hands, she thought, as she lifted his hand, bringing each finger to her lips. Her eyes widened as she noticed the ink stains, and she suddenly dropped his hand.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked.

  Lavonia was livid with anger. He had always wanted to humiliate her! If not in his rag, he would do it in person! He had humiliated her by touching her breast that night, and then turning down her offer of marriage, because he knew he could have her as the Irishman. And then as the Irishman, he was probably laughing delightedly at the way she so blatantly showed him how much she enjoyed his touch. He was using her in the most vile way he could think of, awakening her senses and then letting her humiliate herself by touching him so intimately, and craving him the way she did! She tried to calm herself. She would never let him know she knew. Somehow she would find a way to make him suffer for this!

  Grange had known all along that she was the other highwayman this entire time, because he was her partner! He couldn’t stand it unless he could keep an eye on her every move. No wonder he knew she had been made love to, because he was the one who had done it!

  Thinking back on all the times he talked to her, after she had been with Irish, knowing everything they had done together, made her blood boil! And here he stood, letting her touch him, like she had never touched a man before, laughing inside at how he could bring her to her wanton ways. No wonder he liked frequenting the women of the night. They were bold and aggressive, the way she was being at this moment. She was no better than a woman of the night, she chided herself, and he had been paying for her with the loot they took. She had been prostituting her body this whole time, and he was probably taking great delight in it, after all the things she had said about her disgust of what men did with women of the night. He had known her so well, he was able to manipulate her to his every whim. No wonder he would never show his face to her!

  “You are too quiet,” he whispered, turning to look at her.

  “I, I am just overwhelmed by the beauty of your body,” she said softly, lowering her finger to that place she knew he wanted her to touch. Then she gave a small laugh, and went and sat on the bed. “Why don’t you sit back down in the chair?” she purred.

  “I don’t understand,” he responded.

  “You will,” she whispered, giving him a little push in that direction.

  Grange sat down in the chair again. His need for her was so great that he wondered if he could contain it? He knew she was up to something, as he noticed that sly smile of hers.

  Lavonia laid back down on the bed, watching grange as he sat across from her. “You have taught me so much about what makes a woman feel good, I have been practicing at home,” she lied. I have discovered I really don’t need a man to touch me, seeing as how I can touch myself, if I wish.”

  She began demonstrating, and Grange took in his breath at her boldness, while feeling he should put an end to this whole charade. “That’s enough,” he said abruptly. “Throw the sheet over yourself. I merely brought you here to keep you from getting yourself killed!” She was being too bold, and he refused to allow her to humiliate herself in such a manner. If she knew who he was, she certainly would feel humiliated, for giving such a performance, just to tease him.

  Lavonia let out a long sigh, and pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. In a way, she was glad he had stopped her, because she wasn’t sure she could actually accomplish the act, but she was so angry, she wanted him to know she didn’t need him or any man to put his hands on her! “In that case, I think I will take a nap,” she said flippantly, trying to calm her inner turmoil. “Let me know when it is time for me to leave.”

  Grange glared at her. He was wondering what he was going to have to do to stop her from risking her life, the way she was determined to do? He realized it was not going to be easy to make Lavonia stop her risky charade as a highwayman, and apparently, the only thing that would lure her into his arms, was the money they made in their risky occupation. Now he wondered if it was worth that risk? He should have agreed to marry her, he grumbled to himself. At least that way, he could keep her close where nothing could happen to her, but now it was too late to offer that solution. She would merely laugh in his face, since he had already turned her down.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lavonia, swung up on Thunderbolt’s back, the way Patrick had taught her to do, after she had gotten dressed, and gone down the back stairs. Grange was asleep in the chair, and she was tempted to remove his mask, but then he would know that she knew who he was. Instead she threw the blanket over his nude body, unlocked the door, and left him to think what ever he wished.

  She could never make love with Irish again, she knew that. The only way to prevent that was to stop her highwayman adventure, but she also knew that is exactly what Grange wanted her to do. Instead, she decided that she would shock society, and stop wearing her widow weeds, go back to the dances, and start flirting with all the men who looked at her. But since she was a widow now, she had a lot mor
e free rein to flirt, she realized. She would show Grange, and she would continue riding out with Irish as usual, but refuse to let him use her again, no matter what he threatened, or offered her. She would give Grange so much to write about in his despicable rag, that his head would spin, she thought, narrowing her eyes.

  Grange woke with a jerk, rubbing his eyes, trying to remember why he was sitting in a chair with a blanket thrown over him. He looked around the room, and everything came flooding back to him. Lavonia was gone, though. He wondered how long it had been since she left? He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but he had been overly taxed with his paper, and keeping a close eye on Lavonia. He worried that she would go out robbing without him, and so he kept a vigil outside her house every night, just to make sure she remained at home.

  If he thought she was stuck in his head before, now it was doubly difficult to erase that vision of her touching herself, before he insisted she stop. The minx, he thought. She had discovered a way of getting back at him. Touché, he thought silently to himself, as he got up from the chair, removed his mask and climbed into the bed only to smell her essence there. She could have so easily removed his mask, but apparently she didn’t even care who he really was, her hatred of him had gone so deep. He had certainly met his match, and now he wanted her more then he had ever wanted her before, yet she seemed farther away at every turn. He took a deep breath and breathed the smell of her in.

  He couldn’t have her as Grange, and now the Irishman was loosing his grip on her as well. And yet he could not let go of her. He could not allow her to get killed in the dangerous game she was playing. There had to be a way, to protect her from herself, he told himself. If she didn’t get shot, she would certainly get hanged, and he knew he could not face either.

  Lavonia, opened her wardrobe, and gazed at all the beautiful dresses there. Max had purchased them all for her, before he married her, and she had swore never to wear them, but now she changed her mind. She ran her hand across the soft material of each dress, trying to make up her mind which one to put on. Something daring, and low, and provocative, she told herself, as she pulled each dress out to look at it.

  Finally she decided on the red velvet, that hugged her breasts, as it plunged to a v-line against her cleavage, with red lace sleeves that fit tightly against her arms. The skirt was full and flowing, which accentuated her small waistline. With her hair piled on top of her head, her shoulders and neck would be displayed, with no jewelry to clutter the view. Only long dangling earrings of teardrop red rubies, that brushed against her neck, which her mother had left her before she died, was the only extra touch she wore. When she was dressed, she was very pleased with her appearance, pulling on her short red gloves, and grabbing up her fan, she was all set.

  As the door to the hall opened to allow her to enter, Lavonia gazed around the room, taking in the gayety like a long awaited drug, she had been deprived of all this time. Here was an array of the town’s finest, dressed in grand style of the day, flaunting sparkling jewels, and latest hair styles, the women hidden behind their fans, as the men eyed them. The glow of hundreds of the candles, filling several chandeliers, reflected against the gowns and jewelry filling her heart with their brightness. She had felt so dark and gloomy up until now, this was the very medicine she needed, she thought happily to herself as a smile stretched across her lovely face.

  Her eyes caught Grange, talking with Marybeth, and Jane, but he had not noticed her yet. She did not want him to notice her yet, so she turned her back to him, and walked over to the punch table, taking a cup and sipping at it, waiting for the first young man to approach her, whether she knew him or not. As a tall good looking man with light brown hair and blue eyes, passed her, she conveniently dropped her fan, and as he bent to pick it up, she bent down as well, allowing him a good view of her bosom, as he handed her the fan.

  “I don’t believe I know you,” he murmured. “I have just arrived. Part of the guard detail to try and stop the robberies afoot.”

  “You must be a very brave person, then,” she simpered. “I am the widow Mrs. Paddington,” she murmured.

  “Not the Mrs. Paddington, who’s husband died on her wedding night,” he responded, and then blushed. “Forgive me. Perhaps I should not have brought up the memory,” he said softly.

  “Think nothing of it. He won me in a game of cards with my father, and I detested the man!”

  “And that is why you are not wearing widow weeds?” he asked, looking over her dress.

  “Precisely,” she smiled.

  “Then you are available to dance?” he asked.

  “I would love to,” she purred, as she took his hand. Now the fireworks would begin, she thought slyly to herself.

  “I am Herald Marks, your humble servant,” he smiled.

  As the music started, he led her out in a waltz, and she laughed up into his eyes as she fell naturally back into her familiar place of enchanting a man. “Thank you for rescuing me from a dull existence, Mr. Marks,” she laughed.

  He began to twirl her to the music, and Lavonia started to feel alive again. This was where she belonged in life, she thought. Bright colors, lovely music, a man holding her in his arms, merely to dance with her, and nothing more. If she was lucky, she may find some man willing to marry her in name only, and show Grange she neither needed him to save her from ruin, or to touch her body.

  When the dance ended, Mr. Marks bowed, and kissed her hand. “You dance divinely, and perhaps you would honor me with another before the night is out,” he said, smiling down at her.

  “Of course, I would gladly try to save you another dance. I haven’t even gotten my dance card yet though. If you would be kind enough to go fetch me one, I would much appreciate it.”

  “Gladly,” he said, kissing the tips of her gloved fingers, and headed across the hall to where the dance cards were kept in a basket.

  “What are you up to, Lavonia?” Grange said at her elbow.

  “It is none of your affair, what I am up to,” she said. “Since you declined to marry me, you have no say over my life.”

  “You are just daring everyone to gossip about you,” he chuckled.

  “And why not? I was never made out to be a wife or a widow, and I refuse to bow to societies insistence that I honor a husband, I did not want to marry nor had any respect for. I was a wife for a mere few hours. A mere few horrible hours, at that, and I refuse to give a year of my life for those few hours of terror!”

  “I can see your point, but I don’t think anyone else will,” he informed her.

  “Poo on everyone else,” she pouted. “Oh there you are, Herald,” she simpered, when Mr. Marks came up with her dance card. “For your kindness, I will grant you the next dance,” she smiled prettily, batting her thick lashes at him. “Grange, this is my friend Herald,” she said, using Mr. Marks first name to indicate to Grange that they were closer friends than he suspected.

  “Nice to meet you,” Grange said between his teeth, as he glared at Lavonia. He knew exactly why she was doing this. But then why should he balk? At least this way, they could go back to their old banter again, and he would certainly write her up in his gossip column. Perhaps this would keep her mind off of highwayman work.

  “Sorry, old chap,” Grange said to Herald, “ But Lavonia has forgotten that this is my dance,” and he swept Lavonia out onto the floor.

  “How rude,” she scolded.

  “I am glad to see you back in your old spirit again,” he chuckled.

  “No thanks to you,” she murmured. “I detest even looking at you, let alone dancing with you!”

  “You could always cause a scene. All the more to write about,” he laughed.

  “I know why I turned your proposal down all those years ago, now,” she said. “I knew you were a rogue back then, and you have continued to prove it to me.”

  “And yet you asked me to marry you,” he smiled.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. My desperation must have blinded me, but
now that I have decided to claim my independence from mourning Max, it should be easy to find someone who will do the gentlemanly thing, and save me from ruin, without demands. However, perhaps I wouldn’t mind a man in my bed after all. I have been giving it considerable amount of thought, lately, and if I don’t take a husband, I may well take a lover, like you suggested,” she said boldly. That would give him something to think about, she thought angrily to herself.

  “You never cease to amaze me, every new time I see you,” Grange said honestly, thinking of the last time he had seen her, touching herself in Irish’s bed. Now what was she up to? This sudden turn of events was making him suspicious.

  “Really, I owe it all to you, Grange. The way you kissed me, and then touched my breast. I have decided it is not quite as repulsive as I thought it could be, had it not been you doing it. But I am sure I can find someone to accommodate me, and considering I am a widow now, I can take samples,” she laughed, looking him straight in the eye.

  “The woman who could not bare a man’s hands on her?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “I think I can learn to stomach it somehow,” she simpered.

  Stomach it, he fumed to himself. More like embracing it, she means. “What do you intend to do, take interviews of every young man who wishes to taste your wears?”

  “What ever it takes, Grange. I do believe our dance is over, and please, since you have had your one dance, don’t trouble yourself by asking me again. I have too many men to renew my acquaintance with to waste my time with you. I already know how you kiss and handle a woman,” she smiled brightly up into his face.

  “With such a short sample?” he asked glumly.

  “I don’t wish a longer sample, thank you,” she dismissed, and then disentangled her hand from his, and went to find someone to flirt with.

  Grange stood watching her retreat from him. She was showing him she didn’t care about his refusal to marry her. She had gotten over her hurt feelings, and realizing that if she continued her career of highwayman, she would have to deal with Irish, she was trying to find a way out. She could not wait to get away from both, which of course, was only his own fault, he kicked himself. He spent the evening watching her dance with one man after another, flirting in her old familiar way, and even when Marybeth, came up to flirt with him, he could not be distracted. The only saving grace, was that if Lavonia found either a lover or husband, she would stop her dangerous activities. He wondered if that alone could pacify him?