A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Tell me, Mina. I’ll do anything you say,” he vowed throatily.

  “Yes, yes faster,” she implored, tightening her arms over his shoulder. “Faster please! Oh yes!”

  At this point, he illustrated so thoroughly an understanding of what she needed, that Mina lost her wits completely. She shivered and moaned and wailed her way through an orgasm that saw her lose control of her limbs and her inhibitions so completely that they ended up sliding from the seat into a tangle of limbs on the floor of the carriage.

  She managed to pull herself together just in time to watch Nye’s own expression go from agonized, to ecstatic to spent. With a loud groan, he fell forward, his face burying into her neck where his ragged breathing tickled her sensitive skin there, as his shaft still pulsed inside her, flooding her with his seed.

  She reached up and ran her fingers into his hair, her heart swelling when he closed his eyes, pressing his head closer as he not only allowed but showed every evidence of enjoying her caress. They lay a moment in each other’s arms on the floor of the carriage as it bumped and jolted along its way home. She didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want him to speak. Just wanted to lay there limp and happy and satiated.

  Finally, he lifted his head to look down at her, one hand coming up to brush the hair from her face. “I love you,” he said. “Mina Nye.” A slight pucker appeared between his brows. “Did you know that already?”

  “Not for certain. Not until you mentioned my blood on that rock,” she admitted. “And were so upset about it.”

  “Don’t,” he said, closing his eyes a moment. “Don’t spoil this moment with that. I thought you were likely dead. That was why I didn’t care anymore.”

  “About implicating yourself?” she asked softly. “I can’t believe you rode to fetch the Riding officers. It was practically an admission of guilt.”

  He murmured an agreement. “It didn’t matter what happened to me,” he admitted. “Not at that point. I wanted them all to swing for it. For daring to raise a hand against you. No-one will ever do so again,” he vowed. “I’ll kill anyone who ever tries.”

  “I know.” She thought briefly of Reuben’s crumpled body before shutting that memory away. If she could have cuddled into Nye closer, she would have, but there was not an inch to spare between them.

  He met her untroubled gaze frankly a moment, then shook his head. “Now tell me about every minute you’ve spent away from me.”

  She reached up and pressed the pad of her forefinger to his frowning brow as she told him the whole unvarnished story as swiftly and in as economical words as possible.

  He didn’t interrupt, even if he did breathe in sharply and narrow his eyes at a couple of points. At the parts about Sir Matthew she slid her hands up his shirt and stroked his muscular back by way of comfort, marveling that he could be so jealous. It seemed ridiculous to her, but she trod carefully all the same. “So, you see,” she said teasingly, “My virtue is firmly intact.”

  His eyebrows rose at this. “You’re lying on the floor of a coach with your tits out and my cock still in you,” he pointed out.

  She slapped a hand against his back. “Nye!”

  “It’s the truth, love,” he smirked. “Your ideas of virtue have taken quite a battering since we got wed.”

  “There’s no need to be crude,” she said, pressing her lips together.

  He gave a soft laugh. “That prim look doesn’t work when I’m buried between your thighs, Minerva.” He dropped his words, low and intimate and flexed his hips, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. “God knows, it’s my favorite spot in all the world.”

  “Nye,” she whispered, feeling him grow hard again.

  He dropped his mouth to hers for a tender kiss. “Get up on your knees, love. We’ve still got a good ten minutes of even road.”

  She gaped. “Nye, we need to set ourselves to rights! They’ll be waiting for us at the inn, wanting to shake your hand and wish you well-,”

  “Well, I only care about what I want, right now,” he growled pulling out of her and dragging her up from the floor. “Because I’ve been in abject misery for three days thinking I’d lost my future with you.” He bent her forward, so her chest was pressed into the cushioned seat and then settled behind her, bunching her skirts to her waist.

  “But that’s ridiculous—” She broke off with a groan as he thrust back into her, the front of his powerful thighs pressing into the back of hers. “Oh Will!”

  “Mmm,” he grunted, one hand sliding around her hip and diving between her thighs to rub against her most sensitive spot. “I think you like being ravished in a coach, wife.”

  Mina turned her face, so her cheek was pressed against the cushioned seat. “Oh!” she panted. “Oh Will,” her eyes drifted shut.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “Yes,” she sobbed. “Anywhere with you.”

  He started a vigorous pace, driving into her so briskly, she struggled to catch her breath. “Anywhere?” he echoed, sounding intrigued. “What if I’d wanted you in my cell. With your back against the bars”

  She gave a choked laugh. “As if you’d ever ask such a thing of me.” She couldn’t resist pointing out.

  “Don’t be so sure...” he answered darkly.

  “You wouldn’t even look me in the eye in that holding room!”

  His hands slid up over her waist, urging her to straighten up from the seat. When she did, he cupped her generous breasts, pulling her back firmly against him, even as he kept thrusting. “Don’t imagine for one minute that I didn’t think about it,” he panted. “Because the thought of never spending inside your hot little cunt again, nearly made me weep.”

  Mina reached down and grasped the seat hard. “Nye!” she gasped.

  “You’re mine, Minerva,” he said richly. “Say it.”

  ‘I’m yours.”

  His mouth nuzzled at the back of her neck. “Don’t you ever forget it, wife.”

  “Or you,” she panted, making him give a broken laugh.

  “I’m not likely to,” he groaned, his hips picking up the pace further. “Everyone knows you keep me on a short fucking leash, woman.”

  Minerva made a sound of explosive disagreement as he ran his thumbs hard over her nipples.

  “Oh yes, you do,” he whispered huskily against her temple. “And I don’t give a fuck who knows it.” He planted a hand on her upper back and propelled her forward again until her upper half lay against the seat again. “You want to know something really messed up, Mina?” he asked in a raspy voice.

  His hips were really hammering against her backside now and Mina knew she was lost. She gave a low scream as he pushed in deep and pinned her hard against the seat. She clamped down on his shaft, as her shuddering orgasm ripped through her. Only when the tremors had subsided, did he buck his hips forward in another hard thrust which tore a grunt from his own throat. “I. fucking. like. you. owning. me.” Each word was punctuated with a thrust.

  Then she felt him stiffen and swell inside her for a moment before his seed gushed inside of her in a long spurt which drew a satisfied moan from him. He carried on rocking his hips as he gave her it all and she reached back to clasp his hip, holding him close. He dragged her chemise out of the way, in search of the spot where her neck met her shoulder. When he found it, he kissed it lingeringly, before letting her feel the scrape of his teeth. “And now you know,” he said with a ragged breath, wrapping his arms around her tight.

  *

  One month later

  Hotel de Maris, Exeter

  Mina sighed as Nye leaned over and topped up her champagne glass. “Nye, I fear may be a little tipsy already,” she confided, noticing the lace wrapper she wore was hanging open, the sky-blue ribbons negligently untied and affording him a view of her cleavage. “I drank at least three glasses at the restaurant.”

  “Good,” he responded promptly. “I like it when you’re tipsy.” His voice lowered intimately. “You afford me so many more liberties.” He
dropped a kiss onto her lips, then sauntered through to the adjoining room, replacing the bottle in the ice bucket and unfastening his cufflinks.

  Mina glanced down at the array of vast array of boxes that littered the floor of the dressing room in their hotel suite. “How on earth are we going to fit all of this into a coach on the way home?”

  “We’ll have to hire our own,” he answered promptly, sounding wholly unconcerned at the prospect.

  She twisted around on her seat to show him a disapproving expression. “Nye, the extravagance!”

  He smirked. “You’ll be wearing some of it, I hope,” he said.

  Mina gazed down at her new wedding ring and sipped the delicious bubbles as she surveyed the bewildering array of new things, she had amassed over the last three days. Silk, satin, and lace undergarments spilled out of a variety of pretty colored boxes and her new black silk dress hung up in all its glory over the back of the wardrobe door. Not only that but she had accumulated a dozen pairs of thigh-high silken hose, so far removed from her old black stockings, as to be virtually unrecognizable as the same garment.

  Nye had wanted to buy her a whole new wardrobe of pretty gowns, but she had only to explain to him in a quiet aside, that she wanted to keep on her blacks for Papa for at least a twelvemonth, and he had acquiesced at once without a single objection.

  After that, he had concentrated solely on her underclothing. She was now the owner of pink, lilac, palest lemon and ice blue drawers and chemises, trimmed with profusions of lace and pearl buttons. So pretty were these garments and so delicate, that she could scarcely believe their purpose was to be hidden away from view. She had satin nightgowns with ribbons and wrappers to match, every bit as fancy as those Cecily or Amanda Vance had worn.

  He had insisted too on new corsets, or ‘French stays’ as the lady in the store had called them. They started much lower, concentrating on her waist area alone, not going anywhere near her bust or hips at all. “Madam is quite right,” the assistant had told her. “With such an admirable figure, you do not need to be so laced in like a fat old dowager from shoulder to thigh.” Nye certainly appreciated the scantier corsets and the pretty underwear, but to her surprise Mina found she delighted in them as well.

  She had been spoiled rotten these last three days. He had not only replenished her wardrobe, but also bought her a number of trinkets and toiletries, enough to cover the dressing table back home. Something had only to catch her eye and he would summon immediately for it to be wrapped up in tissue and ribbon for her.

  She had a cut-glass bottle of new French perfume, pearl powders, lip salves and a travelling case lined with sea-green silk, decked out with an array of silver-backed brushes, matching manicure set, and a vanity mirror all engraved with her initials. She had new delicate grey gloves trimmed in black, a fashionable new bonnet with a puffed and gathered crown and the smartest pair of new ankle boots of the softest leather.

  Not only that, but Nye had wined and dined her, taken her to the theatre, to the Italian opera though he had yawned throughout the performance, and to the museum and to the art gallery. That very evening they had been out for what Nathaniel Jones had called a ‘slap-up’ celebration meal at one of the finest hotels.

  It had been attended by several of Nye’s fellow boxers, who were in Exeter for some sporting event. Nat Jones had treated all of them as his guests and Mina dreaded to think of the size of the bill, he must have picked up afterward for there had been six courses and a procession of bottles of the finest champagne.

  Mina had been quite agog to see what everyone wore for their night on the town. Clem had been resplendent in a lilac cravat with a diamond-studded tiepin in the shape of a lucky horseshoe, that she had been quite dazzled by. He had escorted no-one on his arm, though he eyed many passing beauties with his lazy smile of appreciation and seemed to draw just as much covert attention back from them.

  Jeb had bought Effie, who had been decked out a low-cut gown of purple satin trimmed with gold lace that Mina had quite blinked to behold. Dot had not been there, for Nat had been unable to tear her away from her beloved London, but there was a young buck called Barty Ewell, with pomaded locks who Effie told her in a whisper was expected to the next big thing in lightweight boxing.

  Barty escorted a very giggly blonde called Ruby, that Effie said was a dancing girl ‘with airs above her station’. Mina who caught Ruby eyeing Nye speculatively on not one, but two occasions during the meal, was inclined to agree and kept a beady eye on her, until the girl got the message that Nye’s ‘missus’ was proprietary.

  Deep down, Mina could not really blame her, for it seemed to her that Nye in his black dress trousers and scarlet striped waistcoat was quite the handsomest man in the room, despite the strong competition from their own table. She could barely keep her eyes from him and found herself reaching for his hand on several occasions in a public show of her affection quite unlike her previous self. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from touching him these days. Luckily, he seemed to like these bursts of spontaneous affection and actively encouraged them.

  When the main course was served, a toast was raised to ‘Nye’s pretty bride’ and Mina blushed as though she were indeed a newly-wed and not a wife of nearly two months standing. When she’d raised the first spoonful of lemon trifle to her lips, she had paused as everyone had let out a wild cheer. Looking down in astonishment, she’d found a gold band set with three diamonds glinting up at her from the swirl of cream and sponge.

  “Don’t swallow it,” Nye had advised, leaning forward. “It’s your wedding ring.”

  “Oh Nye!”

  He had wiped it clean with a napkin. “Not sure that was such a good idea,” he’d murmured ruefully as he slipped it on her finger.

  “We must be bankrupt after this weekend,” she said. “But I cannot regret it!”

  “Not bankrupt.” He laughed. “Though I have spent all my ill-gotten gains. Just as well.” He winked. “In case those Riding Officers ever come poking and prying into our affairs again. Let them,” he said recklessly after he’d kissed her soundly to the accompanying whoops and cheers of his companions. “For they won’t find any skeletons now.”

  Mina had bit her lip and drank down her glass of champagne, for she knew she was sadly strait-laced compared to their current company and did not want everyone to think Nye’s wife uptight or prim. If they thought it, they did not voice it and after her second glass of champagne, Mina no longer felt conscious of the stares of everyone else in the restaurant. Indeed, she was quite sure half of them were of looks of envy, for theirs was quite the liveliest party in the whole venue and certainly with the most striking looking men.

  Mina sighed now as she removed the mother of pearl clips from her hair that Nye had bought, and ran a brush through her locks. “Effie was in fine looks tonight, I thought. I wonder Jeb does not marry her,” she mused aloud. “She’d make him a fine wife, I’m sure. She’s so exceedingly kind-hearted.”

  Nye snorted. “She was a pick-pocket from an east end slum when Jeb took up with her. Don’t go running away with the notion she’s some sweet thing from the wrong side of the tracks. She’d cut your purse strings soon as look at you.”

  Mina set her brush down, her breath coming fast. “You’re wrong Nye, and in any case, I don’t care if she was a thief or where she’s from. She was the only person who was kind to me on my wedding day and I will never forget that!” Her voice broke with emotion over the last few words, and flushing to the roots of her hair, a mortified Mina bounced up from her seat and ran into the adjoining bathroom, bolting the door shut.

  “Mina!” Nye hammered on the door, close behind her. Indeed, she’d only just managed to slam the door in his face. “Open this door!”

  “No, I’m getting undressed, give me a minute,” she lied in a wobbly voice. Why, oh why were tears coursing down her cheeks? She was acting like a complete fool! She made a grab for a face cloth.

  “I’ll break this door down,” he thr
eatened, rattling at the catch.

  “Nye, please just give me a moment!” she begged, furiously wiping her eyes. “Please!”

  There was a loud bang and a splintering of wood and Mina screamed, wheeling around as the door swung violently back and lurched off its hinges. “Nye!” she gasped in dismay. He was already striding through, yanking her roughly into his arms. “Nye – the door!” she wailed, looking at where it hung drunkenly off its hinges.

  “Fuck the door,” he said succinctly and scooped her up into his arms. An urgent hammering started at the door leading from the corridor. Nye strode straight over to it, with Mina still in his arms and threw it open.

  “Sir!” started an outraged hotel employee.

  “My wife fainted in the bathroom,” he said coolly. “Put the damages on my bill.” Then he pushed the door shut with one booted foot. Mina, her eyes very wide, saw the tight disapproving faces of a few other guests focused on them. ‘Riff-raff’, she saw one old woman whisper loudly to her companion.

  Mina gave a hysterical giggle. “Oh dear. I seem to have turned into one of those women that causes scenes,” she murmured. “This reminds me of that first night I arrived at The Harlot,” she said as Nye carried her over to the bed and laid her carefully down.

  “How?” he murmured, sliding onto the bed beside her. “Tell me, I want to know.” He rolled into her capturing one of her hands in his in the pillows above and twining their fingers.

  “Well, because I was so shocked as I went from room to room, trying to find somewhere to sleep.” She wiped her eyes with her other hand. “I had led such a sheltered life till that point,” she mused wryly. “You wouldn’t believe what an eye-opener it was. That night, you’d had a boxing match in the yard,” her eyes rose to meet his and she was disconcerted a moment by the expression his held.

  “I remember,” he said gruffly. “Keep going.”

  “Well, the place was full,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m sure you recall. I met you on the second landing.” Her eyes slid away, but his long fingers caught her chin and drew her back to face him. “How is this like that night?” he persisted.