Some timid exploration

At first Randy thought he was imagining things. He had been stunned that it was Miss Marlton herself who had arrived to treat him and even more surprised that she had been so skilled. But even before his mind could come to grips with the inherent contradiction in her gentle easing of his pain that she had brought upon him he became conscious of something even more disconcerting.

Somewhere in the painful process of her treatment of his back the nature of Miss Marlton’s touch changed. Her hands that had been both gentle and skilled as they cleaned his back were now touching him in a different way. His shoulders and arms had been spared from the precise placement of the lash, but her palms skimmed over their naked flesh searing the skin with a different kind of heat. He didn't understand.

Not that this surprised him even a bit. Nothing about his misfated abduction of the beautiful Miss Marlton made any sense. The woman was full of contradictions: she had the naivety of a maid, but kissed with the passion of a lover's mistress, once safe from his clutches she had kept his location concealed from her rescuers only to betray him to that damn Lieutenant from the 43rd barely a single week later. Suddenly the tumultuous thoughts that were overwealming his ability to think were stilled by the sensation of her hand sliding from his arm and moving slowly across his chest.

His body was as tense as the main topmast in a 40 knot gale. The irony of their position was not lost on Randy as he remembered how Lady Marlton’s frame had quivered under his bold caresses. There was no doubt in his mind now; her left hand was tracing lazy circles on his chest as her right hand squeezed the muscles of his shoulder. When the softness of cheek brushed his ribs he could no longer control his response and as she kissed his bruised ribs he groaned in response.

“Please…” He gasped. Was this some new kind of **** that the Marlton clan had devised to break him, or was this Lady Marlton’s personal **** for his treatment of her.

What was she doing! Charlotte knew she should stop, but the warmth of Mr. Fuller’s skin and the way his muscles rippled under her palm made it impossible to step back. Even the scent of Fuller’s bloody flesh was seductively inviting; his sweat was mixed with the smoky woodland musk of the forest. Charlotte pressed her face even more firmly against his ribs inhaling deeply as her fingertips brushed the hard-tipped nipple. He shuddered violently, his whole body convulsed and he grunted again and Charlotte knew that she was the one who was evoking this response. A glance at his pantaloons confirmed that he was as aroused now as she remembered him from their previous encounter. She could loosen those ties and reach into … Charlotte shook her head violently as she pulled back from his side and shifted her gaze up to study the outlaw’s strained face. He looked as agitated as she felt.

His eyes no longer had the fierceness that she remembered, but they still burned with a fire that made her tremble. A vein on his forehead throbbed violently and his lips were slightly open as he struggled to breath under her gentle ****. She wondered if he would let her kiss him. She licked her lips in anticipation as she considered what it would feel like to hold his face in her hands and press her lips against his. Would he respond? Would his tongue slide into her mouth as it had before and make her melt into a molten core of fire? His lips moved and she heard his hoarse words like an eerie echo from their first encounter.

“What are you going to do with me, my Lady?” Had he used her exact words intentionally? She remembered the mélange of emotions she had felt when she had been in his mercy and wondered if that was anything like what he was feeling now.

What was she going to do with the chained Mr. Fuller?