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Surrender Milady
Surrender Milady
Surrender Milady
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Surrender Milady

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Victoria Whittenberg was shipwrecked and bound by shackles, trapped in the clutches of Enrico Rodriguez, her captor, the man who she witnessed shoot her fiancé. She was left with little choice but to approach a lone rider who had witnessed her demise, and without a word, he rode away, leaving her to the mercy of killers.

Bounty Hunter Hartland Raynes had his reasons for leaving that expensively dressed woman behind. He knew Enrico wouldn’t shoot her, and his nieces were also his prisoners.

He walked away from those pools of blue eyes, but she kept following. He had no room in his heart for love - Until he turned around. And she was gone.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 27, 2015
ISBN9781311879196
Surrender Milady
Author

Willow Fae von Wicken

Willow Fae has travelled overseas exploring and embracing inspirations for her novels. Being nurtured in magic her entire life, she brings together enchanting worlds of unique, unforgettable beings, who brave obstacles of great peril, to maintain balance in the world.A college instructor by profession, she has been an online writer for many years, with over 4 million readers. Writing since she could hold a pen, she decided to share her novels with readers who love to escape to celestial worlds.In Willow Fae’s novels, good and evil aren’t always a simple matter of right and wrong, bad luck is the trip to being lucky, and consequences and misfortune are the elements to survival.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This is a classic Western Romance and I was intrigued by a hero who would turn his back and ride away, the fist moment they met, and he saw that she was running from gunmen. A bad boy on a mission. Eventually he rescued her, and she forgave him, and he had a hard time keeping the prettiest girl in the wild west safe from all the outlaws who not only were attracted to her beauty, but to her money, she was rich. I couldn't put it down once I started reading I was hooked. Good Read.

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Surrender Milady - Willow Fae von Wicken

Title

Written and Illustrated by

WILLOW FAE VON WICKEN

Copyright © 2015 Dymond Publishing

Your support of the Authors Rights is appreciated.

Thank you for purchasing this novel, please show your appreciation to the Author's hard work by submitting a friendly review.

Table of Contents

Title

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Back Jacket

About the Author

Copyright

Other Works

Dedication

For My Cowboy. – Ten Feet Tall, and bullet proof.

With love.

Chapter One.

Victoria Whittenberg watched in horror as her fiancé’s eyes flickered and closed. Then his hand collapsed over the hem of her gown. This was worse than any nightmare, she thought, as John Shillington’s body rolled over on the sand. Victoria scoped out the thickest part of the brush that patterned against the beach. Steadily she stood and eyed the gunman as he hopped off his horse. Without forethought her feet were pounding beneath her, and she glanced back, and gasped as she saw the man give a hearty kick to John’s backside.

Dread washed over her when she heard the gunman call out behind her. Now where do you think you’re going Darlin'?

Her heart pounded wildly, but Victoria didn’t stop. She raced toward a path leading through the nearby woods. She ran until her breath burned in her chest, and gasped as she heard the men stomping and firing weapons in the air. The forest was heavily lined with palm trees and untamed brush, but she pushed her way through. She paused briefly, looking from left to right, and balled her skirt up to her knees, and continued on.

Terror surged through her, as she heard the pounding of hooves. She raced unsteadily on her feet, as the cactus clawed at her knees and splintered her face. She ignored the stings, and pressed onward. A scream escaped her when she toppled over to her knees. With her fingers dug in the earth, she looked up, and gasped with relief, there was a glimpse of daylight and she determined that she must be drawing near the end of the path. Anxiously she crawled on hand and knee through the prickles, guardedly watching over her shoulder.

A dark image was stationed on the dusty road. She crouched back, breathless. It was a rider, perched on the saddle of a long dark horse. Tall with a thickset frame, his keen eye had inspected her. She noticed straight away that he wasn’t dressed in the color ponchos like her attackers on the beach. He wore a leather hat, and boots, with a holster on his hip. She stared at it, alarmed, it held a big gun.

Tell Enrico now, what’s yer hurry? She heard the Gambaro call out. Madly panting, she tottered her way behind a tree, and peered out at the rider. She looked back and then to the rider. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She saw that he could be as dangerous as the men who shot at John.

The man’s eyes held her under scrutiny. His massive size was startling, but she took in a brave breath, and stepped toward him. She quickly decided that if she had any chance of escaping the man who called himself Enrico, she would need what the rider had. A means to escape on his horse, and God forbid, the protection of a gun.

Please can you help me? she beseeched him, in a frayed voice.

An awkward silence fell between them. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Enrico and his men began down the path she had raced through, by foot.

Large pools of blue eyes stared up at the rider. Eyes filled with primal fear. For a moment she wondered if the rider spoke English, because he didn’t as much as blink. He didn’t seem to be an aristocrat, but his posture and demeanor told her, he was not as barbaric as Enrico. She jerked to the side, as her eyes shifted to the road behind the rider. She silently watched him, as the rider himself, glanced back. She backed up a step, feeling her blood drain to her feet. There were more riders on the road, wearing holsters with guns. One of them abruptly waved an arm upright. With a subtle lift of his hand, the rider smoothed a thick finger along the brim of his hat. For a brief moment, he locked his gaze with hers, then he gave his horse a kick, and rode away.

Horror etched on her face. Wait! Please come back! Victoria hollered, shock and denial collided in her heart. She sprung forward with two arms raised.

Then a force knocked her to the ground. With her chest heaving, she gazed up, and screamed.

--

Hartland Raynes cussed under his breath as he rode toward the riders. The lines on his face hardened, as he contended with his honor, and cringed deep in his gut. The moment he heard her speak, he knew she wasn’t from these here parts. He closed his eyes tight, trying to rid his mind of the haunted look in her eyes. An unkempt storm of dark memories rattled within him. With her dark hair, bottomless blue eyes, and snowy complexion, she disturbed the dust that he thought had settled over the scars in his heart. He rode his horse hard, forcing himself to bury the emotions that threatened to over take him.

Cale, lower your gun, Enrico won’t harm her. Harland called out. He saw her before Enrico came shooting up the beach. He was about to come to her rescue, then he heard her call out to the man on the sand. The way she ran to him, threw herself beside him and stroked his brow, meant only one thing. She was spoken for, and wasn’t in need of his assistance.

The Diablos' gringos are up to no good. No doubt they’ll capture her. Cale answered back.

They won’t shoot her. Hartland replied. All the while thinking that didn’t change the fact that he left her in the cruel hands of Enrico Rodriguez.

Yer gonna head on back for her, now aren’t ya? Cale asked with his eyes level on the road ahead.

Reckon it’s the right thing to do. Hartland replied, turning his head away from his brother. There was no particular reason why Hartland would get involved that his brother’s would see.

We aren’t exactly out on a leisure trip. Ray said, shaking his head.

Hartland knew what the boys were thinking, she was a distraction that they rightly couldn’t afford. He ignored them and averted his eyes to the road ahead.

We 'aint got time for messing about, Ray spoke again, as he slowed down his horse to ride along side them.

I’ll catch up with you lunkheads when I’m through. Hartland growled back.

We 'aint gonna let ya go against the Diablos by yerself. Ray said, quietly, adjusting his hat.

I 'aint about to let Hart get all the credit with the perdy lady. Cale added with a chuckle.

Hartland didn’t respond. His mind was set on the terror he saw in the woman’s eyes. It was the same look his fiancé had, when the Diablos had taken her away. Hartland’s heart had revisited those familiar pangs of frustration, and fury. His hands gripped the reins, and his boots braced hard against the stirrups. Your daughters could be on that wagon. Hartland said, and there didn’t seem a need to say anything further. Ray’s posture had stiffened and the smirk had wiped off Cale’s face. They kicked their horses hard, as dust flew behind the hooves.

--

Dread coiled inside Victoria’s stomach. With two hands covering her face, she withheld screams of terror. She was lying flat out on the dusty road, and crouched closer to the ground when gun shots fired. She thought of John, and wondered what they did to his body.

Before she had any hope to react she was lifted, and flung face down on Enrico’s knee. With guns shooting the skies she was bounced mercilessly over the riders thighs. Victoria saw the profile of John lying still on the sands, helplessly she watched the beach where John lay, fade from view. The beach where her Fiancée was shot dead.

Enrico Rodriguez what do you say, 50,000 pesos for this mujer bonita? The rider next to them ogled over Victoria’s backside, as she bounced with Enrico’s arms pinning her down. His forceful control over the reins cut her breath short, and tender bruises formed on her ribs.

Sì Jose, and a few riffles thrown in for the pretty legs, Enrico added snidely, giving a slap to her behind.

Nausea threatened to overcome her, as Enrico’s stench was all she breathe. She held her breath, lifting her legs trying to tuck them inside her skirt. Unable to conceal her barren skin, she suffered the humiliation of his laughter, and grudgingly received another slap to her bottom.

After the length of a good horse run, Enrico drew back the reins, and hopped to the ground. She was pressed down by Enrico’s weight as his gruff hands grasped hold of her waist. He slid her off his horse, and pressed her against his frontal. His stubble scratched against her chin, and she bit her lower lip, and clamped her eyes shut. Then she lifted the shackle and aimed for his soft spot.

Got me a spit fire, He said, hooting over his shoulder. Victoria struggled with kicking legs for all she could muster, as she was airborne.

How dare you cast such rude insinuations upon my person! Victoria screamed, as she wiggled trying to break his tight hold. Unhand me you brutish bull. Unhand me at once!

She scoped the dusty trail and with a heavy breath, she faced a covered wagon. Her burst of fire had faded as she realized. They were not alone. More dangerous looking Gambaro’s with their sinister grins and mindless chatter filled the air, as they crawled in, around, and out of the buggy. Victoria groaned as Enrico knelt down lifted the hemline of her skirt above her ankles. His gritty fingers slid along the contours of her calves. She stood a frozen statue, and didn’t dare blink. Then she heard the clink of steel. She felt a sharp pain, as he clamped shackles on her ankles. Then with one gruff tug on the rope, he slipped it over her head, burning her ears.

My Good Sir, is that really necessary? By the looks of things I would not be able to go very far.

Enrico responded with a belly laugh, and a slap to her bottom. He tossed Victoria over his shoulder, and carried her toward the back of the wagon, as she kicked and screamed at him, with all she had left inside. Then she landed on the wooden floor with a thud.

The bumpy ride began. Victoria sat upright, maneuvered her legs flatly in front, and with teary eyes she was rapt by her surroundings. Two young girls were huddled in the corner, and three larger ones sat with legs out flat bearing vacant expressions. Victoria leafed over a thin long woman sitting alone by the door of the buggy. She had tidy blonde hair, wore fashionable clothes, and didn’t seem to acknowledge Victoria’s presence. Victoria’s mobility was restricted, however she managed to slide down beside the youngest ones. Please can you tell me girls, do you speak English? Victoria whispered, regrettably she could see the fear in their expressions, and tearstains on their small cheeks.

The smallest one bobbed her head as the older one hugged her closely. Yes ma’am.

How long have you been here? Victoria asked, guardedly watching the entrance of the wagon.

We want to go home, the oldest replied crying and the smaller one sniffed with big tears.

Shh, there, there children. What is your name? Victoria lowered her voice careful not to draw the guard’s attention.

My name is Sarah, and this is my little hermana, I mean sister Jenny. The oldest one held a protective arm around her sister’s neck. We live with padre. Mama seta died a long time ago.

Oh I see. You poor little girls. I am very sorry to hear that, Victoria said softly, as she glared toward the guard who was twitching with the motion of the wagon. She wondered how those bilkers could kidnap children. She held a captive breath and looked at the girls with her heart sinking.

Who are you? Sarah asked, her tiny fingers slightly released from her tight fists.

Victoria Whittenberg, she answered, and minded the Gambaro guarding the back of the wagon, as he looked up when she spoke. Then he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

I heard about what these bad men do. They sell you to the Indians, or who ever will buy us, the youngest one portrayed with wide gestures, as if she repeated a fairy tale. Apparently fairy tales in this land had horrible endings, Victoria thought miserably.

I am afraid she’s right Señorita Whittenberg, we will be sold. Sarah said, supporting her sister’s story.

Sold? This new world that John Shillington had tricked her into fleeing, sold women and children.

Victoria looked to the long thin woman settled by the entrance. She had shifted toward the girls and huffed settling on a sac. The woman paused for a moment, as if she wished to speak, then she turned her attention away from Victoria.

Not to worry girls. I imagine your father will come looking for you, Victoria tried to sound hopeful.

You’re right about that ma’am, our padre is a gun maker, and he knows the gunslingers in the Texas and New Mexico territory. He will form a posse. I hope he ‘aint too late is all.

Will not be too late, Victoria corrected, softly. Deep down in Victoria’s heart, lingered the haunting truth. The moment these swindlers laid a hand on these children. On herself. It was too late. The rattling of the wagon pierced the air. Victoria felt like this ride was a journey to their death sentence. As she did when clinging to the skeleton of that lifeboat, Victoria prayed.

--

After a long hot torrid wagon ride, the girls had quieted down. Then the wagon wheel was tipped by what felt like a boulder, and Sarah lifted her head. Victoria smoothed a hand over her hair and whispered. Not to worry children, Victoria said sweetly, and frowned again, fretfully.

The girls fell forward with a jerk as the wagon suddenly halted. They huddled together as the sounds of boots on the dry dust hammered closer to the wagon, and they faced a line of gunmen. Victoria filed the young ones protectively behind her as they were brutally pulled from the wagon.

A lump formed in Victoria’s throat, and her eyes burned with tears. She bit her bottom lip as the shackles on her ankles were removed, and her hands remained secured. The others were not shackled and Victoria assumed Enrico wasn’t present during their capture. The scratchy voice of Enrico twirled Victoria’s head around, but she browsed past him, and was astounded.

They were in the midst of scattered sheep, and on the outskirt to the property was a beach similar to the one she landed on. She recalled an encounter with sheepherders during an excursion in Scotland. She knew at firsthand that sheepherders were peaceful people. They weren’t capable of such fallible acts as this. Enrico pierced pointy fingernails into the crevasse of Victoria’s arm, as she was forced to follow.

The encampment was a round clearing sculpted out by a tall wooden fence. There were streams of colorful flags attached to strings, which blew softly in the breeze, meeting at the center pole. The Gambaro’s wore colorful ponchos and wide brimmed sombreros. Victoria would have been impressed if it weren’t for the fact they each carried weapons with chains of ammunition over their shoulders, which crossed over their chests like an X.

There was the soft sound of a guitar strumming through the dusty air. It was hotter than she’d ever felt, and she deduced, London fog would be welcomed at that moment. Her dress clung to her legs, and she felt sticky in all sorts of uncomfortable places.

Enrico stopped fast in front of the largest structure, with a firm jaw he opened the flap. A round unpleasant man in dark business attire walked through the flap and stared at Victoria with a dense expression. Victoria took note that he wasn’t dressed like the renegades, in fact he didn’t appear Mexican at all. Judging by the gestures of commands, and the way the desperados seemed to respect him, she assumed he was the leader.

Buonas díaz I am Señor Diablos, want a drink ma’am? he asked, strangely he seemed pleased as his eyes inappropriately ogled over her untidy gown. The cream colored flap of the tent blew behind him in the gentle breeze, and he walked with a rigid pace and pulled out a chair. He patted his stubby thigh with a long thick glove indicating she was welcome to join him as he sat down at the tiny round table.

I am very sorry to inform you sir, I do not associate with rogues. Victoria said, swallowing hard.

A mujer bonita, so beautiful, Señor Diablos said easily. I haven’t had one in my camp like you. If you get off the scrap, you will stay in my tent. Señor Diablos words were mild yet firm. He hesitated, as if awaiting acceptance in her response.

Victoria took that as a warning. She was Lady Whittenberg. The daughter of the Earl of Bedfordshire. She dawdled in one spot. Bracing her tongue against her rushing instincts to reply, carefully choosing not to throw her title in his face. Plainly she saw how that might entice him further.

All the available men of court sought her hand in marriage. Unfortunately they only sought the golden prize, the materials of wealth from the Earl. This Señor Diablos was definitely such a man. Ruthless, and lived the by the gold, sadly he seemed to be from the same cloth as John Shillington. What would stop this Señor Diablos from using her as leverage to get to her father? Even this far away from England she could see that possibility.

Victoria met his leer with a grave expression. She bowed out her elbows from the sides indicating to her bound hands. Señor Diablos snapped loose fingers, and one of the gringos rushed over, and the binding was released. Victoria discreetly wrapped her frayed lace gloves over her bosoms. There was something about the way he looked at her, as if he disrobed her in his mind. A disturbing chill settled over her, and she braved a breath. I wish to return to the cage. Victoria said, starring him in the eyes. Inside she was terrified, and she wondered what would become of her and those innocent young girls. She paused for a moment and raised her eyes to meet his, and coughed gently into a loose fist with her glove. My goodness kind Sir, they murdered my fiancé. Those women and children have been kidnapped? How can you live with yourself?

Victoria’s train of thought suddenly stopped short. The power of reality came rushing in. It was the first time she said aloud that John was dead. In all the turmoil, she hadn’t time to absorb it. Or what it truly meant. John was gone, and she was alone. And The Earl believed she died in the fire. There was no one looking for her.

Victoria’s face paled. It was in truth. John was an arrogant, self-serving man who chose her as his fiancé. It was an engagement that she dreamed not of, but despite her feelings, he was dead, and it was at the mercy of these cruel men. Victoria was from a bloodline of obstinate females. This Señor Diablos looked no more intimidating than one of her father’s menservants. And she determined to treat him like so. She stiffened her back and a small cloud of dust rose as her boot stomped the ground. I will not tolerate such undignified injudiciousness. I demand to know why you have brought us here. You must release us at once.

Señor Diablos’ brows rose as he sat stiffly in his chair. His small dark eyes were rounded with short stubby lashes, and he placed broad hands over his round belly. The face of amusement shifted into a rocky stare. You will leave when you are sold, or traded. Señor Diablos snapped a finger in the air, indicating he was finished with his prisoner.

You have no right to claim ownership over these girls. You sir, are incorrigible.

Señor Diablos pounced to his stout feet, and raised the tone in his voice. You are from England. I know your accent well. I should get a fair price for a Señorita Bonita like you.

Victoria backed out of arms reach. And the children? She tried to spot the little ones. Those little girls must be returned to their homes. Have you no sense of honor?

Señor Diablos malicious cheerfulness was the only response. Lock her up. He bitterly tossed an arm and turned his back on Victoria.

You crude, loud, beached naval! Victoria said, her throat tightening.

Then she sighed with frustration as she was again in the company of Enrico. I expect it would be a lack of sagacity in getting through to the likes of you, Victoria jeered at Enrico. She struggled when his grasp tightened and he maneuvered her toward the outlining wall of the encampment. Reluctantly she walked in his footprints, merely wanting to escape.

Ahh, don’t be hard on Enrico Darlin’, I got me a job to do.

Mr. Rodriguez I declare if you took a bath, I still would fail to recognize you in a pig sty. She said, fighting back the nausea that threatened to return.

Enrico thinks you like him, he said playfully. Enrico seemed eager to push Victoria through the door of the cage, and smashed it shut. Victoria landed on her side, and caught a glimpse of him, laughing to himself as he strolled away.

The long thin woman from the buggy was looking at her with a misty expression, and Victoria forced a smile. How do you do? Victoria said to her, and then her spirits lifted as she received two baby hugs as Sarah and Jenny wrapped arms around her waist. Our padre will come. He will rescue you to Señorita Whittenberg, Sarah cried.

Please call me Victoria, she said calmly, and hugged them back. She lifted Sarah’s chin noting her beautiful dark eyes. You are very brave. I am very proud of you both. She took their tiny hands in hers, and indicated to a thin log in the far corner. Come sit with me children, and we will pray.

--

As the cool evening air settled upon them, Victoria found it offered little comfort, for the most part of the day they were eaten alive by the fire flames of the sun, and now pesky bugs buzzed around her hair. She felt her insides shattered, but for the sake of the girls, she remained placid.

Where is padre? Jenny posed the question, with her eyes glossing over.

Padre will be here soon I promise. Sarah replied to her baby sister. Padre needs time to find the camp.

Victoria suspected their padre was either shot by these scoundrels, or he honestly couldn’t find them. The girls were obviously cared for, and it was plain to see they loved their father. Victoria thought, what father wouldn’t move mountains to find his precious babes? I am sure your padre is doing all that he can.

Si, none of them would ever stop looking. Sarah said, having a source of validation, seemed to calm her down.

Victoria wondered what she meant by them, then her attention was drawn to one of the desperados near the cage. He leaned over smiling at Sarah and through his rotted teeth he under toned something that made Sarah scream. Sarah ran and hid behind Victoria who protectively took a stand. You leave her be!

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