Yes, after a couple days

Charlotte's tea arrived, along with her father and more questions, but Charlotte resolutely stuck to her claim that she could remember nothing after her fall. That evening Doctor Quay examined her (as best as he could through her clothes) and proclaimed her fit; he also confirmed that loss of memory following a blow to the head was not that unusual.

Faced with Charlotte's consistent story supported by the village doctor's confirmation, Lord Marlton was willing to overlook the problematic torn dress and loose shoes. Charlotte happily skipped dinner that evening; she could easily imagine her father using her fall as evidence to support his longtime reservations about women riding the hunt. Later as the sounds of laughter and music drifted up from the parlor Charlotte smiled in relief that her mediocre musical talent would not be compared to Priscilla Dunning's that evening.

The very next morning her visitors took their leave. Her father apologized for the abrupt end to the weekend and promised to have them all back as soon as possible. Even Jason Worthington was eventually convinced by Lord Marlton that Charlotte needed time to rest and recover and after an embarrassing bedside scene where he held her hand in his swore his undying devotion he left as well. The estate was unusually quiet for the next few days and other than her aunts and servants Charlotte had the great house pretty much to herself.

The unexpected solitude gave her time to rethink her encounter with Black Brand. Try as she might, Charlotte could not forget the fire that smoldered in the outlaw's eyes, the strength in his broad shoulders or the feel of his lips on her soft skin. During the daytime, Charlotte could almost convince herself that his kisses had been as unwelcome as his abduction. But each night as she lay in bed reading and rereading her collection of romances Randolph Fuller appeared as a dashing pirate, desert sheikh, red-skinned brave, armoured knight or colonial woodsman and then plagued her sleep with dreams of merciless assaults on her helpless struggling body. Most nights she'd awaken from these dreams with a dripping sex and have to finger herself frantically to release the shameful tension generated by these erotic nightmares.

Of course, none of these fantasies made any sense at all. Black Brand had her bound and helpless, but unlike in the yellowed pages of her cheap romances Mr. Fuller had not been tempted by her writhing body. With each successive day, Charlotte felt more anger at his mocking laughter as he sent her away than she felt from the actual **** on her body. She had been dismissed by a common criminal, rejected as a woman and cast away. It was this rejection that finally prompted her into action.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Charlotte reminded herself as she decided on her course of action. She wasn't quite sure why she felt guilty for what she was considering. It was Randy Fuller who had taken liberties with her; it was he who had **** her, stripped her and teased ... angrily she dismissed the memories that again and again made her tremble in guilty confusion. She announced at dinner that evening that she was fully recovered and felt she owed her guests an uninterrupted weekend to make up for the abrupt end to their last visit.

Charlotte's aunts and father were relieved by her sudden change in demeanor, and invitations were arranged that very evening so they could be sent on by the night stagecoach to London. Her aunts agreed readily enough with her suggestion that the white-haired Colonel Touring and new lieutenant from the 43rd join them for dinner as well, although her father grumbled that the presence of the troops had done little if anything to secure the roads of the county. All the same a weekend dinner party was rapidly settled upon and the cook and the butler were informed to expect company once again at Marlton Manor.

Charlotte's sleep was still troubled with nightly erotic dreams, but now at least during the day she focused on finding the exact words she'd use when she asked for the young straight-laced officer's help. Charlotte was forbidden to ride for at least a week by Dr. Quay, and she stayed close to home not even venturing as far as the little village at the foot of Marlton Manor. No matter how cautious Charlotte was, she still felt like Black Brand might appear at any moment and sweep her away again.