Mr. Fuller

"I see you made it." Mr. Fuller's low smooth baritone was somehow soothing even though the highwayman's sudden appearance armed with both a naval cutlass and a flintlock pistol in his belt was as dangerous looking as his reputation.

"Mr. Fuller." Gasped Charlotte quietly, "You can't be here." He was as tall as she had remembered, although more neatly dressed than the day before in a white linen shirt, and grey trousers tucked neatly into his boots. Mr. Fuller's jaw was freshly shaven and his blond hair was pulled back neatly and tied with a ribbon of black silk; Charlotte wondered for a second if he had taken the time to shave and fix his hair in an effort to please her.

"I see my secret has been discovered," Mr. Fuller smiled wryly, "but why can't I be here? Didn't you come to St. Theresa's to meet me?" Had she? Charlotte could feel the heat in her cheeks as she stepped towards the man. Had she suggested bringing Jason and Priscilla here because she secretly wanted to meet again with this outlaw?

"Please, if Jason sees you here he could recognize you." Charlotte took another step bringing the blonde brigand almost close enough to touch. "I don't want there to be trouble." As she whispered the words she glanced towards the arched gate fully expecting to see Jason Worthington standing in the doorway with his sword in his hand. The way Mr. Fuller's cutlass hung comfortably from its worn sheath suggested he knew how to use it, and Jason was an experienced fencer, a clash between the two would certainly end in bloodshed.

"Your friends are busy, and if that little minx has her way, they'll be busy for a while still." Mr. Fuller smiled down at her and Charlotte could feel a tingling low in her belly, the sensation was not unpleasant but a little disquieting all the same. Why was it that when she found herself within arm's length of this commoner she melted like a icicle on a winter hearth?

"Oh." She sounded like a tongue-tied teen meeting the Prince of Wales. Mr. Fuller however didn't seem to notice her awkwardness and sat down on a stone block near one of the baskets of food and poured himself a glass of wine.

"Do you mind?" He asked a little belatedly. "Its been a long while since I've had a fine food and wine like this." Charlotte shook her head dumbly, still unsure how to respond to this irritating man. "I hoped you'd be here today." He told her as he buttered a fresh-baked roll and once again she found it impossible to be angry at Mr. Fuller.

"I'm sorry about Mary." Charlotte murmured quietly as she sat on the blanket leaving some space between her and Mr. Fuller, but not as much space as her aunts would have approved of with any man - not to mention an outlaw like Black Brand!

Randy took a large gulp of the burgundy, he had mixed feelings about the fact that Miss Marlton knew his true identity; on one hand it was a danger to him and even more so to his family, but on the other hand it was a relief to have his identity back. He had never wanted to be Black Brand, he wanted nothing more than to live as his father had lived before him - not that that could ever happen anymore. From his position looking down at Lady Marlton sitting on the blanket Randy could see into the the neckline of her dress and the sight of her rounded flesh almost made him forget why he had come in the first place. He **** himself to raise his eyes to meet hers, but honestly that did little to relieve the attraction he felt for this most unusual young woman.

"Yes, me too." Randy belatedly acknowledged Lady Charlotte's attempt at empathy, trying not to think about how good she had felt in his arms in that first encounter by the creek. "Did you think of who might have given that book to Mary." In truth Charlotte hadn't given the matter any thought at all, but she could hardly explain to Mr. Fuller that she had been too busy fantasizing about him taking her and doing unspeakable things to her untried body. She could feel her cheeks flush once again and **** to deflect Mr. Fuller's attention she said the first thing that came to her mind.