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

large man’s mouth , his face grew still, and his head gently lolled to one side.
    “No!” Badger shouted and shook the other man’s heavy shoulders vigorously. “Damn you, Jake. Do not die!”
    Milton had managed to put on his clothes and had left the cellar. He arrived just in time to hear the last comment from the dying highwayman, but he was quicker to react than Badger was.
    The barking dogs seemed to be getting closer , and Milton thought he heard horses and men shouting to each other not far away.
    “You have to leave,” he concluded efficiently and rapidly collected the reins to Jake’s horse. “Get up on the horse and go! I will tell them you went another way.”
    Badger let go of his dead companion and stood up slowly. He scrambled up in the saddle, dazed.
    “Hurry, they are coming!” Milton said and forced the brown cloth bag into Badger’s hands.
    “Why are you helping me?” Badger asked suddenly and looked down to him from the horse.
    “Because I do not want to see you hang, you idiot! Now leave!” Milton screamed and looked out over the forest, franticly spying for riders.
    “Why?” Badger said in astonishment, his eyes narrowing. “Do you care for me?”
    “Yes!” Milton shouted in frustration. “Of course I do!”
    “Then come with me!” Badger said and held out a hand.
    Milton hesitated.
    Their gaze s locked , and he searched the other man’s eyes for answers. Green eyes with golden speckles. So different and unique. He promised himself he would remember them for the rest of his life.
    Milton knew that he could not go with him, of course. The mere thought was both ridiculous and insane. It was pure madness! Milton thought rationally, but another voice in his mind whispered softly , or perhaps it was love?
    A bandoning all reason , he took the other man’s strong hand in his own. Badger swiftly pulled him up behind him on the horse , and soon they rode wildly through the forest, which Badger knew like the back of his hand, gradually leaving their pursuers and everything else far behind them.
     
    *
     
    Six months later, New York
     
    It was evening , and Milton was standing in front of the rounded attic window to their flat , with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, looking out over the rooftops after a busy day at the solicitor firm where he worked.
    He never grew tired of the view. A few snowflakes were dancing in the air outside. New York seemed to expand a little bit more every day, its streets bustling with newly arrived Irish immigrants , who mingled with the old Dutch settlers and other people from all of the corners of the world.
    Their dog, Pip, an English Springer Spaniel mongrel , was dozing in front of the fireplace, but lifted his head when he heard a key in the door and went to the door to greet Badger enthusiastically , as if he had not seen him for weeks. Milton shook his head at the silly dog.
    “Missed me today?” Badger said and wrapped his strong arms around Milton from behind.
    “A little,” Milton confessed and smiled. “How was work?”
    “Not too bad,” Badger answered. He worked irregular hours as a journalist at one of the morning papers. “What were you thinking about when I came in? You looked a little bit odd, I think.”
    “Oh, nothing really. I was thinking of before … When we met.”
    “So, have you regretted your decision to elope together with a dangerous highwayman to the uncultivated colonies?” Badger asked.
    Milton raised an eyebrow. “You? Dangerous? You could not even hurt a fly.”
    “I ran you through with a rapier once, though,” the other man reminded him and distracted him by placing a soft kiss at the nape of his neck while stealing the glass of whiskey.
    “Oh, please,” Milton scoffed. “You said it yourself: it was an accident.”
    “Ah. Well, about that … But still, if you could , would you go back?” Badger said.
    “And suffer through another horrible boat journey? No , thank you!”
    “I always thought that you are kind of adorable , though , when you are pale and all helpless.”
    “You are a sick man!” Milton said sternly and retook his glass from the other man.
    “Admittedly,” Badger said with a soft chuckle. “No, but seriously, do you ever wish that you had chosen differently and stayed in England?”
    Milton pondered the question and sipped the last of the whiskey. There was an underlying sincerity in Badger’s voice, which was laced with a certain amount of hidden worry too, Milton