New York City hadn’t been safe. Lord Carmichael’s money got me there, and I’d found a job sewing in a factory until I decided my next move. I hadn’t dared ply my former trade. Part of me hoped Lord Carmichael might forget about me, but when I remembered his screams, the blood on his face, and the smell of his burned flesh, I knew I couldn’t trust that hope. For a man like him, I doubted an ocean could keep me from his vengeance. From the first, I’d known the city would be the very first place he’d look for me, so my only hope was to disappear.
Overhearing the other women in the factory, talking about men looking for brides out west, giggling as they read the ads in the paper, spurred me to look, too. A woman could disappear out west, couldn’t she?
William’s last telegram hadn’t come too soon.
The day it arrived, one of the women at the factory told me some men were asking about a woman of my description with a British accent.
“But they’re looking for a whore.” Penny had giggled, sincerely amused. “Not someone as buttoned-up as you are.”
Somehow, I’d managed to laugh, even as panic clawed its way up my chest. I’d gone straight home to the boarding house after work that night, snuck in the back door, and cleared out my room. It was already paid up through the week, so I didn’t feel any guilt about my abrupt departure.
I used the last of Lord Carmichael’s money to buy myself a few new bonnets, my train ticket, and a hotel room to stay in until my train departed. Hiding my face and hair with the deep bonnets, I spoke as little as possible, doing my best to ape an American accent when I did. People looked at me oddly, but as long as I didn’t sound British, I didn’t care.
It wasn’t until I finally stepped on the train, I was able to breathe easier, the tightness around my chest finally loosening. Tracking me to New York was no hard feat, especially since I was likely remembered on London’s docks—I hadn’t been thinking about hiding myself then—but surely, he wouldn’t be able to follow me west. Even if he did, I’d have a husband to protect me. Cherish me. That was what the ad had promised. I wanted to be cherished. To fall in love. To feel my body come alive with a man. I had been told it was possible, despite my experiences. Perhaps I had no right to be hopeful for such a thing, but I hoped all the same.
The train began to slow, and my heart bounced inside my chest as my head jerked up to look out the window at the town rolling into view. Off in the distance, there were mountains standing between the land and the blue of the sky, looking smaller than I’d imagined they would be. Perhaps they were bigger when one got closer.
There were no large buildings or bustling streets, although there were people milling about. There was something strange about the scene, and it took me a moment to realize what I found odd—there was no one rushing about, no one seemed to be in a hurry.
The conductor came by, shouting for all the passengers who were going to Travis Point and Bridgewater. The woman beside me snorted and came awake as I pulled my suitcase down from the shelf above us.
“You’re getting off here?” she asked, sounding shocked and a little scandalized.
I frowned. “Yes…”
She eyed my attire, which covered me completely. Penny had called me “buttoned-up” for a reason. It didn’t always keep the men at bay, unfortunately, but it helped a little.
“Wouldn’t have figured you for a harlot.”
Shocked, I stared at her, then the conductor was yelling again, and I had to hurry to get off the train. The word echoed in my mind. Why had she called me that? I didn’t have time to ponder the mystery, though. Almost as soon as I stepped off the train, I saw the man I was to meet.
There weren’t many people about, which made it very easy to see the two men on the far side, one of them holding a small bouquet of pink, white, and blue flowers—the only one on the platform holding flowers.
My lips parted in surprise.
I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but I knew it wasn’t this. Both men were tall and broad-shouldered, although William was a little shorter than the man beside him. He had a wide smile on his clean-shaven, handsome face that instantly made me want to like and trust him, a rather scary feeling after not being able to trust anyone for so long. The man standing next to him was handsome despite his scowl, his face scruffier than William’s but still quite striking.
To my surprise, something in my body stirred as I looked at them. Something I had only felt a few times before when one of my customers had been more attentive than usual—a little ache inside. I was aroused. The shock of it held me still for a moment before I managed to shake it off and approach them, quaking from both fear and my body’s reaction.
2
William
* * *
Looking at the few people coming off the train, I knew the moment I saw her, I was looking at our wife. She was the only woman traveling alone. My body reacted, my cock thickening at the very sight of her. It didn’t matter that her dress had sleeves to the wrist and was buttoned all the way to her throat, or that her hair and face were completely hidden by her dark green bonnet. I could see the grace in her movements, her neat waist, and the generous curves of her body, and I wanted her.
When she approached and finally lifted her head, so I could see her face, my breath caught, and I nearly choked.
“William West?” The soft lilt of her voice had an accent I recognized from some of the soldiers who had made their home in Bridgewater, but I scarcely paid attention to that as she put her bag down and stood before us.
Considered comely.
That’s what her first telegram said. I had hoped for fair enough to be attractive to both Clive and me, but I never expected this. Beside me, Clive cursed under his breath, low enough, even I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, but it didn’t matter. I stared back at our soon-to-be-wife, transfixed.
Skin that looked sun-kissed—likely her natural coloring if she wore bonnets like that all that time—a heart-shaped face, finely pointed dark brows over wide black eyes, a man could fall into and drown. Her lips were a dark pink pout, plush and full, the kind of lips a man wanted to see wrapped around his cock.
Wrapped around my cock, which had hardened so fast, I felt almost dizzy from the need pounding through me.