With nervous laughter

Part of Charlotte wanted nothing more than to feel his strong arms carry her to his bed. She trembled with desire imagining his rough hands tearing her camisette from her torso and forcefully spreading her thighs as she squirmed ineffectually against his brutal attack. As arousing as the image was, she was far too cultured to find words to ask for that kind of bestial mating.

Nor could a woman of her standing beg for the outlaw to take her gently, enflaming her again with soft caresses and kisses until she spread herself open for him like a bride for her groom. The man was simply infuriating and she refused to play his game.

In an attempt to clear these disturbing thoughts she stepped back half a pace, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin boldly. She had intended to laugh fearlessly at her captor, but even to her ears the laughter sounded more timid than brave.

“What difference does it make?” She laughed nervously. “Do you really expect me to believe that Black Brand would let me go if I asked nicely?” The bold words gave her confidence and she continued more firmly. “Yes, I know who you are. You are nothing but a greedy outlaw. You may threaten and bluster, but before my father would ever pay a ransom –“

That was as far as Charlotte got before he stopped her. In one great stride he closed the gap and caught her shoulders in his iron grip. He didn't raise his voice, in fact it was so low she could barely make out the words over the roar of the falls, but his anger was fearsome.

“You don't know me at all your ladyship.” He used her title contemptuously; the vein on his temple throbbing visibly under his tan skin. “I told you already, I don't want your father's money!” His grey eyes darkened even more as he stared into hers for what seemed like a minute or more searching her soul and evaluating her character.

In the end he must have found her worthy because the tension in his fingers gradually faded and his arms dropped to his side releasing her.

“Put your clothes back on.” He told her as he pressed her riding dress into her arms before turning away and poking violently at the fire.

It had been a close call, Randy admitted to himself as the sparks flew into the air. He had never been as captivated by a woman as he was by Lady Marlton - forcing himself to use her title instead of her Christian name. Each kiss, each touch had ignited a lust within him that could only be quenched by burying himself in her. How he wanted to douse the fire in his loins by plunging into her wet passage. But he couldn't - as tempting as that would be. It had been a very close thing indeed.

In the end he knew he would never be a ****, not even if her family deserved it, any more than he could work in the **** trade or as a plantation overseer. Randy was confident that she'd have welcomed his touch in the end, none-the-less he could not do to her what his sister's seducer had done to Mary.

“God damn, I must be the worst villain in the entire British Empire.” He chuckled softly to himself feeling the tension ebbing like a spring tide until he had a grin on his face when he turned back to his enchanting guest. Her dress was covering her again although it gapped at the back unbuttoned as she bent to step into her ruffled pantaloons.

“Turn around.” Randy told her and mutely she rotated, all her previous spirit subdued by his sudden change in behavior. He fastened the long row of pearl buttons as skillfully as he had undone them minutes ago ignoring the fluttering of her muscles when his fingertips brushed her soft smooth skin.

Charlotte's mind churned with conflicting thoughts and emotions. When Black Brand had first released her she thought he found her worthy. But as time passed without his attention she wondered if she had failed his test. Could it be that he was not tempted by her nearly naked body? Did he find her too plain to bother with?

“Now what?” Charlotte asked not even daring to turn around.