Captured by Him ~ The fourth novelette from "Different Desire", a Gay Victorian Romance and Erotic novelette collection

glared at him maliciously and wished silently that his hands were untied so that he could strangle the obnoxious highwayman on the spot. The other man was hopeless. Completely and utterly hopeless , and he understood absolutely nothing!
    But with a small sigh , Milton gave up and lay down on the pallet.
    “Are you cold?” Badger asked in a slightly concerned tone when he noticed that Milton had pulled up the woollen blanket all the way to his cheek.
    “No, not really.”
    “Wait a minute … Are you being prud ish ?” Badger asked in mild amusement.
    “No! But I am appropriate ly modest, if you must know. Not everyone is as barbaric as your lot!” Milton exclaimed. “Some of us have standards!”
    “I have seen you without your shirt for several days now, you are aware of that?” Badger said and smiled a crooked smile.
    That really did not make things better, Milton thought and decided to refuse to answer his impolite question.
    The worst part was that the other man was right. But then Milton had been more or less unconscious. This time he was not , and it made a vast difference.
    At home, at Huntington Hall, he had a valet, Mr Bartlett, who helped him ch oo se his clothes, dress, and shave. And even though his valet was a nice and rather fine-looking man , Milton had never been nervous around him the way he was at that moment when Badger kneeled in front of him and resolutely lifted the blanket.
    Badger started to carefully remove the bandage around his bare chest. The bandage was rather wet ; however , it did look clean, especially in comparison to Milton’s dirty and bloodstained grey breeches.
    “Is that my shirt?” Milton said.
    “Well, it was. We did not have any dressings, so I had to make do ,” Badger answered.
    “So at least you could not keep it,” Milton said and inhaled sharply as the other man’s hand gently touched his naked skin.
    “Does it hurt?” Badger asked , with a touch of concern in his husky voice.
    “Not really, no,” Milton said truthfully and looked away. The wound was not large, but it still looked rather unpleasant.
    “It is healing rather well, I would say,” Badger concluded. “The edges of the wound have knitted together, which is a good sign. I have made an ointment for you to apply twice a day.”
    Milton mumbled something non-comm ittal and grit ted his teeth as Badger lightly pressed his fingers around the wound and continued to examine his side. A shiver danced down Milton’s spine , and he felt goose bumps starting to form. His heart beat so fast he was worried that the highwayman might hear it.
    “Is it still feeling tender?” Badger said with a slight frown.
    “I am perfectly fine, thank you. There is no need for you to work your heathen magic on me,” Milton replied in a flat voice.
    “You should thank the ‘heathen magic’ that you are still alive at all,” Badger retorted absentmindedly as his fingertips stroked his skin lightly.
    It was most distracting, to say the least, Milton thought and tried to remain calm.
    “Well, are you finished soon? I ’d like to put on that horrible peasant shirt so that I will be ready to leave,” Milton said. “I will look like a farmer, by the way. My family will probably not even recognize me any longer. Dirty breeches, peasant shirt, and a several - days - old beard. I am doomed.”
    Badger chuckled softly at his complaints. “Do not worry, they will recognize you as soon as you open your mouth and say something snobbish. Besides , the beard loo ks good on you. You should consider keeping it.”
    “Do you honestly think I would accept fashion advice from a highwayman?” Milton scoffed. “Highly unlikely!”
    Badger did not answer, but he smiled a crooked smile , which showed his missing tooth and made him look slightly wicked. As long as he had been cleaning the wound, the dull pain had kept Milton’s thoughts somewhat in check ; however , as Badger slowly started to gently apply the ointment and massage it into the skin, other unwanted and unbidden thoughts entered Milton’s mind.
    There was something absolutely maddening about how close he was and the way he was kneeling in front of him. It reminded Milton of those stolen weeks in Venice, two years ago during his grand tour of Europe.
    For heaven ’s sake, do not think about that! Milton silently screamed to himself. Those were the forbidden memories, locked away in the deepest chambers of his mind, never to be thought about again.
    Milton