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

from festering and make it heal more rapidly. ”
    “I am not drinking that! Do you call that scientific medicine? What is it, some kind of witch brewing?”
    “No, of course not,” Badger said. “This is not witch magic.”
    “Well, thank Heavens for that!”
    “This is druid magic.”
    Milton laughed. He could not help it, even if it hurt the wound at his side. The man was, quite clearly, completely deranged. And just to leave out any doubt , Badger produced a belt knife , and with a quick motion and a small grunt , he sliced his finger and carefully let three drops of blood fall into the wooden mort ar before he started to mash the ingredients together.
    “You cannot be serious!” Milton exclaimed in pure astonishment.
    “Of course I am. Does it look like I am joking? Now stop fretting , and be silent,” Badger said and rolled up his sleeves. And to Milton’s amazement , the man had blue markings along his muscular forearms. Azure blue tattoos snaked up along his arms and in under his linen shirt in a complicated , thick pattern. Milton almost reached out to touch them before he stopped himself. Badger added a couple of final leaves to the potion before he closed his eyes and started to mumble something in a strange language , which Milton did not recognize.
    There is absolutely no doubt about it. I am at the mercy of a madman, Milton concluded as he watched the other man chanting. A remarkabl y handsome and annoyingly beautiful madman, but a madman nonetheless.
    Milton pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. This was a nightmare, or so he hoped, and he sincerely wanted to wake up. Preferably right now!
    But he did not. Instead , Badger carefully poured the potion into a small cup and held it towards him. Milton looked highly sceptically at the cup and its vile contents in front of him.
    “You cannot possibly expect me to drink that!”
    “You have to,” Badger explained calmly. “It will make you better , and it will help you to sleep.”
    “I will not!” Milton exclaimed.
    “Why are you so stubborn?”
    “Well, let us see, shall we? I do not like you at all. And I most certainly cannot see why I should cooperate with a man who kidnapped me in the first place!”
    “Fair enough,” Badger said with a low growl. “Now drink it before you force me to hold your nose and stuff it down your throat.”
    He placed one rough hand carefully behind Milton’s neck , and before Milton had time to protest , he held the cup resolutely to his lips.
    Milton gave the other man a frosty glare, but he was too weak and had no choice but to drink from the cup, unless he wanted to find out if the crude highwayman really would carry out his threat or not. Milton had an ill-boding feeling that he would.
    “I hate you,” Milton whispered, grimacing at the bitter taste from the potion, while Badger tenderly helped him lay down again.
    “Just relax now , and try to sleep. You need to rest,” Badger said calmly and ignored his comment. However, he did not leave Milton’s side until he was sure of that Milton was sleeping deeply.
     
    *
     
    The next time Milton woke up it was evening, judging from the faint light by the door. He slowly dragged himself up in a sitting position. The wound did not hurt as much as he had expected , and he did fe el slightly better. Thank God, I am young and healthy enough to survive the highwayman’s imaginary witchcraft and evil potions, Milton thought sourly. Druid magic? Unlikely! It is only pure, dumb luck that the wound had not fester ed or that I did not die from the blood loss.
    “Stupid scoundrel and his silly superstition,” Milton muttered and tried to stand up, wrapping the blanket around his bare shoulders against the chilly air. He felt slightly weak and a little bit light-headed, but except for that , he was in surprisingly good shape he concluded as he stood up. It was high time to figure out how to get out of this cellar and leave this unpleasant place far behind.
    Supported by the stone walls , he walked over to the wooden door. The door was old but rustic and , unfortunately , rather sturdy. The lock was on the outside, impossible to reach from within. Just my luck, Milton thought with a grimace. Perhaps he could try to break it; however , that would surely make enough ruckus to alarm the villains.
    Was there no other way out? Milton looked around and found a small opening at the side of the door , approximately at knee height. He ignored a flicker of