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“Mr Stark, we meet again.”
Tony felt a smile curl over his lips. In the quiet dark of the back country road, the highwayman’s voice was just as deep and smooth as it had been that first night, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.
“Captain, fancy seeing you here at such a late hour.”
“This is becoming a common occurrence. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were doing it on purpose.”
“What a scandalous accusation,” Tony told him in a haughty tone. “Can a man not travel the roads in the middle of the night without being harassed?”
The idea that one Tony Stark, son of the late Lord Stark, would be in the habit of consorting with a criminal would no doubt spread through the town like wildfire if anyone found out, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
Three years ago when he’d left for university he’d vowed he’d never again set foot in Stark Hall, and he’d made a life for himself at the house in London, living with his good friend James Rhodes. But a week ago he’d been ordered home, where he’d have to spend his time with Uncle Obie - his late father’s steward, without even Jarvis to keep him company. The old butler had never liked Mr Stane and had retired with his wife Ana as soon as Tony had left. He’d spent last summer at their home near Bath.
He couldn’t believe he’d been ordered to return to Marvyl during the height of the season, with all the parties and balls he could’ve attended - not to mention several talks at the Royal Society he’d been looking forward to.
Instead he had to return to the estate to deal with some affair or other, because Obie said so.
He’d been resigned to dull evenings in the sitting room trying to read while Obie smoked the heavy-scented tobacco he favoured and complained about the latest news from town. The last thing he’d expected was a thrilling encounter on his way to his childhood home: the thunder of hooves, a tall, broad-shouldered man draped in shadows, and those words that would later become so familiar, “your money or your life.”
When he’d finally arrived at the Stark Estate on that first night, his godfather had been livid at the news of the robbery by the highwayman, who had apparently been plaguing the town for the past month and robbed Obie of a pouch of gold only a week past.
“This is why we must rule our tenants with an iron fist,” Obadiah told him over dinner. “If you don’t keep them busy they’re just one step away from crime. They’ll murder us all in our beds.” He tore into the goose leg on his plate. “It just shows I was right to raise the rents.”
Tony had hummed in agreement, his mind completely elsewhere. All he could think about was that voice
“Your money or your life.”
Yet he’d never felt unsafe. He’d felt excitement, a thrill of adventure, but not fear. He’d somehow known that he wasn’t in danger, even that first night.
He’d only seen the Captain’s masked face, and only in low light, since the man always extinguished the lamps when he rode up. But Tony had heard the whispers about the town from the servants at Stark Hall. The Captain was tall as an oak tree, and built like a bear, and he rode on a steed of nightmares. He’d stolen from most of the wealthy families in the county, but he seemed to have a penchant for those around Stark land.
Land that was being run with a tight grip, as Tony realised when he was forced to attend the rent collection soon after his arrival at home.
“Mr Stane, please,” a farmer said desperately, one Tony remembered from when he was a boy, riding out to visit the tenants with his father. “The crop hasn’t been as good as we expected. We can pay the rent at the old rates, but these new ones: it’s too much.”
“Times change,” Obie said, tone disinterested. “If you cannot pay, we will find someone who can.”
He was not the first tenant to make the complaint, and by this point it was starting to tug on Tony’s heartstrings. Most of the tenants had farmed the land for longer than Tony had been alive.
“Obie, maybe we could-”
“Mr Stane!”
There was a shout, and Tony looked up to see another tenant storming ahead of the line and Oh. Tony remembered him.
Because that was Stephen Rogers.
Only son of Joseph and Sarah, who had spent the summers of Tony’s youth as a stable boy. A very bad stable boy, given his poor health and short stature, but Tony’s father had always admired how hard he’d worked and had kept him on rather than send him to do the harder field work.
And Tony had always rather admired him. From afar.
Stephen was kind to the horses and the cats that hung around the stables; he got into fights with the older boys from the estate when he caught them bullying the younger ones or being impolite to ladies; he was witty - and funny - and he hated being pitied, something Tony had once learned when he’d tried to rescue him from underneath a hay bale and had ended up being the recipient of a rather fierce tonguelashing.
The years had not dulled the attraction in any way.
“Mr Rogers,” Obie rumbled. “What a surprise.”
“The rent increase has been too much, Mr Stane. You must see it,” Mr Rogers complained, and when he leaned over Obie’s desk, his small frame taut with anger, Tony felt the same heat in his stomach he remembered from the hot summer days when Mr Rogers would go shirtless.
“As I have told you before, we want this estate to be a success. If a family cannot afford to keep the land, we must move on.”
“Some of us have been here for generations.”
“And new families could be here for generations more. Times change.”
There was a glint in Rogers’ eye that Tony recognised from some of his more raucous fights, and for a moment, he was sure the man was going to strike Obie. But another man came up behind him and pulled him back, some of his dark hair coming loose from its tie as Rogers struggled.
“Let it go Steve, come on,” the man muttered, and as Rogers was pulled away, he suddenly noticed Tony, his eyes widening in surprised recognition.
“Mr Stark!” He pulled free and stumbled forward. “Your family has always been fair. Will you really let this stand? These families have worked for the Starks for years: we deserve more than this!”
“I--” Tony started, but before he could say anything, Obie got to his feet.
“Anyone who cannot pay today has until the end of the month, or they shall be evicted. Get him out of here, Barnes, before I call for the constable.”
Rogers gave Tony a pleading look as Mr Barnes dragged him away, and Tony felt a tug of guilt in his stomach.
When he’d tried to talk to Obie about it later, he’d been told in no uncertain terms that he didn’t know what he was talking about, that Obie knew best, and that Obie would continue to run things as he saw fit, given Tony hadn’t any interest in taking up management of the estate.
It was that evening that Tony had taken the carriage, hoping to get some space from Obie at the Iron Armour pub in town, that he had his second encounter with the Captain.
And another not long after.
And another.
Until eventually he and the Captain were well enough acquainted that Tony could recognise the sound of his approaching hoofbeats.
Tony grabbed his purse as he had those other times and emptied the few coins he’d stored inside it onto his hand.
“I think I may have to ask more than that this time,” the Captain said, his voice like silk in Tony’s ear. “Since you have become such a regular customer of my little business.” He tapped Tony’s wrist. “The cufflinks and the ring.”
Tony dutifully followed the instructions, but his hand hovered over the ring. “The ring was my late mother’s, reset for me as a keepsake. I’d rather keep it, if you don’t mind.”
There was a pause, then an exhale. “I think I could see my way to letting you keep that.” Tony let out a relieved sigh. “In exchange for something else.”
Tony leaned forward, curious. “Oh?”
“A kiss.”
Tony’s breath caught. “Is that what you do? Travel the backroads looking for wellbred folks to dishonour?”
“Only the handsome ones.”
Tony felt his cheeks heat. “I suppose, if it’s my only option…”
He began to turn, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of a hat, the outline of a strong jaw, and the shiny diamond brooch nestled beneath the chin. Most strikingly, he saw a pair of deep blue eyes behind a dark mask. Then a gloved hand covered his eyes. He felt lips press against his, and though he wanted to be strong, he found himself kissing back, the thrill of such a thing adding to the pleasure of the act. When they parted, he felt a pang of disappointment. The lips were softer than he would’ve expected of a hardened criminal, and he missed their absence almost immediately.
“Until next time,” the Captain said, and before Tony could do anything rash, like tear the mask away to see the handsome scoundrel's face, he was gone, disappearing into the darkness.
Tony fell back against the seat of the carriage. He was being driven mad.
He barely made it one night more before he snuck out to meet the Captain once more.
Obie had been in a rage. Several noble families from the area had come to complain they had been robbed by the Captain, and some of the tenants Obie had been hoping to remove had suddenly come up with the unpaid rent, leaving him in a foul mood. He was calling for the Captain’s head, and Tony didn’t want to hear it.
He yearned to see the man too, the feel of their kiss still imprinted on his lips, leaving him longing for more, and he hadn’t been in the carriage long before he got his wish.
His driver, a new fellow called Hammer, had taken off at the first sign of trouble, so this time, when the highwayman made to leave after another flirtation, Tony tried to stop him.
“Captain, please, might we talk a little longer? I find I...enjoy your company a great deal.”
Tony thought he saw some longing in the ruffian’s face, but maybe it was just a trick of the lamp because he shook his head. “I must go.”
He tried to duck away, but this time Tony was faster. “No, wait!”
He threw his hand out, trying to grab the Captain’s cloak to hold him in place, but instead his hand closed around the diamond broach he wore at his neck, and it came off in his hand.
Shocked blue eyes met Tony’s for just a moment, then disappeared, leaving only the cloak wrapped in Tony’s fist.
Tony blinked in surprise before he threw himself at the window to stare down at the Captain.
He lay on the ground, pushing himself up slowly, and when he did, Tony assumed he must still be kneeling, for he was more than a foot shorter. He was staring up at Tony through the mask with defiant eyes.
The look was so familiar, and for a moment Tony couldn’t place it, but then he remembered that day at the collections for the estate.
“Mr Rogers! You-- how?--”
Mr Rogers reached up and pulled off the mask. “I had no choice.”
Tony stared at him. “But you were--” he held a hand above his head. “How did you-”
Mr Rogers sighed. “Mr Stane raised the rents, higher than most can afford. We were facing eviction, from farms many have worked for generations. Mr Erskine - you must remember him - before he moved to Marvyl, he dabbled in the sciences, found a way to give a man the strength of ten men, and the body to match. He kept it a secret, said it should only be used by someone who had the right intent. So when the prices got too high, a lot of people couldn’t pay.” He looked at Tony defiantly. “We had to find a way.”
Tony pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m afraid I’m a little too surprised by your...transformation to really consider the wider implications.”
That made Mr Rogers deflate somewhat. “It helped keep my secret. No one would look at me and imagine I could be the Captain. But yes, I imagine this is something of a disappointment.”
“Disappointment?”
“Well, in our recent...meetings, you thought you were speaking to someone much more…” he swallowed. “Just much more than I am.” He looked at the floor. “I’m afraid I don’t measure up.”
Tony stared at him. “That is your concern? You’ve revealed your identity to me! I could turn you in to the local constable!”
Mr Rogers met his eyes, expression defiant. “I knew the risk of being caught when I put on the mask. I’m ready to face the consequences, and I’m not sorry. But, if I had any regrets, it would be that I didn’t expect to...fall for someone I met on the road.”
“You’ve fallen in love with me?” Tony managed, his voice a raspy rumble.
Mr Rogers’ cheeks flushed. “Yes.”
Tony stepped forward. “I confess, I have spent a lot of time these past weeks thinking of you as well.”
“Thinking of the Captain,” Mr Rogers corrected.
“No, you,” Tony told him, reaching out to take his hand. “I liked the Captain for his charm and wit, much the same as I did you when we met when we were young. But you, Mr Rogers, you were brave standing up to Obie, sharp-tongued and trying to defend everyone’s farms. I thought you were handsome even then.” He cleared his throat. “Before then, if you include the time I spent watching you before I left for London.”
Mr Rogers went bright red in the low light of the lamp. “Really?” His voice was a mere squeak.
Tony pointedly covered his eyes, and then leaned in to press his lips to Mr Rogers’, the feeling just as delightful as the last time. He sighed approvingly as the man obligingly kissed back. “See? No difference.” He took his hand away and gave Steve a soft smile. “The Captain may have been exciting, but he was hardly someone I could court.” Tony looked at Mr Rogers shyly. “But, a daring, handsome man who cares about his friends and is willing to risk it all to save them? He is a far more attractive option.”
Mr Rogers cleared his throat. “Since it seems I am not to be hanged as a common thief, perhaps I might give you a ride home? It’s not safe out at night. I can’t believe your driver took off and left you out here.”
Tony snorted. “Mr Rogers, you were the thing that wasn’t safe.”
“That may be so, but it doesn’t excuse it,” Mr Rogers huffed, looking put out. He gathered his cloak from the ground, wrapping it around himself, though he left the diamond off, slipping it into his pocket instead.
He mounted his horse, more of a struggle without the added muscle and height, which Tony found rather charming. He gave Tony a hand up, and Tony took shameless advantage by wrapping his arms around the man’s waist for balance, just as he’d always daydreamed about when Rogers had worked the horses.
Mr Rogers cleared his throat before clicking his tongue and sending the horse down the road. Tony held tight, smiling when one of Steve’s hands left the reins and pressed over Tony’s own on his hip.
Perhaps coming back to Marvyl wasn’t so bad after all.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr Stark.”
“Think nothing of it,” Tony assured the old farmer, patting his arm. “I’m only sorry it took so long to resolve the matter. Any unpaid rent shall be struck from the record, and we shall start anew at the rate suggested by Mr Rogers.”
The farmer smiled. “Stephen always said he was sure the Starks would never have stood for this and he was right.”
Tony’s eyes flitted to Steve, delighted when his cheeks pinked at the mention. “Well, I appreciate the confidence of my tenants.”
“‘Course, I suppose I should be calling him Mr Rogers now, what with your coming nuptials,” the farmer continued, an air of curiosity about his words. “I wasn’t the only one surprised down the pub.”
“Well,” Tony said, holding out a hand and feeling pleased when Steve took it, leaning in to his side. “If I am to be Lord here, I thought it only best that I choose from those who know the place best.”
“If only more gentlemen would do the same, Mr Stark,” the farmer said, tipping his hat before going back to work.
“From one scandal to another, hmm?” Steve said, with a grin. “Going from courting a highwayman to a farm hand?”
“Well, the countryside is so diverting so it is only proper that I choose an equally diverting companion,” Tony told him, taking a look around before dropping a quick kiss to Steve’s hair. “Though perhaps a trip to London from time to time wouldn’t be amiss.”
“Oh?” Steve asked, his tone coy. “A trip in a carriage perhaps?”
“Perhaps. Though this time, I thought you might ride on the inside of it.”
“You have yourself a deal, sir.”