Randy sets her free

Randy and Charlotte had lain pressed together in the warm dry grass of the deer bed for nearly a minute after Jace and Wilson left the small clearing. She had felt the tension in his strong arms as he struggled with whatever inner demons drove him. She didn't dare move, she was afraid he'd start kissing her again - and afraid that he wouldn't. And then he had climbed off her and knelt at her feet his head brushing the bright green leaves of the alders.

"I'm sorry." The man's voice sounded weary as his fingers gently loosened the cloth gag "This was a mistake, I should have known better."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Charlotte asked him as soon as he pulled away the gag, her mind was racing in confusion. Could it be that he pitied her? He heard Jace's vitriolic comments as clearly as she had. Why else would he set her free, especially after the way he had kissed her ear just minutes before. Charlotte could feel her pulse race as she remembered the kiss. Why had no man ever made her feel like that before?

"Go home Lady Charlotte." Randy brushed the dried grass from his trousers with the neckcloth. "My complaint is with your father, not you." He looked at her again sitting nervously with her long legs drawn up beneath her skirt. Her hat had been pulled slightly astray in their struggles and one lock of chestnut had been pulled loose from her perfectly coifed hair and hung framing her sunkissed cheek. Her large brown eyes were wide with emotion as she looked up at him, but he could not read her at all. He saw no evidence of the fear he had expected to see, neither was there anger or hatred but something was burning behind those wide hazel eyes.

"But you're Black Brand." He nodded in acknowledgement "My father would pay for my release." She stammered confused by his refusal to live up to the expectations her family had for him.

"I don't want you father's money." Randy tried to keep his voice even and calm, but he saw her flinch at the tone none-the-less. "What your father took from me cannot be paid for in silver."

Charlotte hesitated. She should go, but she couldn't leave - not yet. Something about the man was compelling and she didn't want to leave him here without getting at least some answers. He clearly wasn't the ravaging terror who stalked innocent maidens her aunts had described, nor was he the brutal drunken thug who reeked of manure, sweat and whisky as Lord Marlton claimed.

"Then what do you want?" She was playing with fire, but she had to know.

"I want my sister alive and well, but that can never happen." Randy turned away before Charlotte could see the pain in his face. "But if I can't have that, I want to see the men responsible for her **** to pay for their cowardly arrogance."

Charlotte knew who Black Brand was! Randy Fuller must make it his goal in life to complicate hers. Her birthday party from last fall was completely ruined by his uncouth manners and the shocking news of Mary's ****. This time, he **** her by ****! Charlotte could not even begin to process the wild flood of emotion that swept through her body as she remembered how helpless she had felt when he had pressed her to the soft ground and kissed her. He had kissed her with a passion she could not resist while at the same time her suitors had made their true feelings for her known.

"I'm sorry about Mary." She said inadvertently letting Black Brand know she had deduced his identity, but she truly was ashamed at how her father had treated Mary, and even more so to hear of her ****. She remembered how she sat alone in her room while her birthday guests spoke in hushed voices in the dancehall below. Neither her father's threats nor her aunt's pleading could convince her to resume her duties as hostess.

She examined her captor again, this time knowing what to look for. Fuller was thinner now than he had been, but he had the same long blond hair, piercing eyes and tall muscular frame. Most of all he had the same smoldering anger, it was terrifying and compelling at the same time. What would it be like to have him love her with that same fierce passion.

"If you truly mean that, there is something you can do to help." He searched through the pouch at his side and pulled out a small red volume. "Do you recognize this?" He asked handing her the book. It was a well read collection of Shakespeare's sonnets, with several dog-eared pages marking favorites.