Yes, on to Marlton manor

It took almost ten minutes for Charlotte to fully recover from their coupling. Even then the tingling in her extremities was still palatable, as was the emptiness in her core which she was painfully aware of. Her fingers toyed idly with the fine light hairs on Randy's chest, softly blowing on the feathery tangle and brushing them first one direction and then another until, with a growl, the man under her smothered her slender fingers with his powerful hand.

"Stop that you wicked tease." His calloused palm pressed her hand firmly against the warmth of his chest. "Or I'll get distracted again, and we'll never get to your father's office." It was just as well that Randy couldn't see the sly smile that pulled at he lips, or his assessment of her would be confirmed.

It took longer than it should have for the two new lovers to climb out of bed and get dressed, Charlotte mused as Mr. Fuller helped button the back of her dress. The same long row of pearl buttons that he had no trouble undoing seemed to pose a daunting task for him to refasten. More than once his hands slipped through the open back of her dress to touch her in a most ungentlemanly fashion. Of course, her insistence on lacing his trousers was hardly a model of efficiency, but Randy's engorged member was difficult to fit where it belonged.

Finally though, both of them were fully clothed and Charlotte even had time to comb her unruly hair and pin in back into place. Mr. Fuller, too took the time to tidy his hair tying it back carefully with a dark ribbon. He looked quite dapper in his white shirt with silver trim, a dark velvet waistcoat dug out from a stack of buried clothes and by the time he buckled on his weapon's belt he looked as handsome as any of her suitors.

"Who are you trying to impress, Mr. Fuller?" Charlotte asked as she straightened his stained neckcloth. "You have already captured my attention even without clothes, and my father won't be impressed if you wear the Archbishop of Canterbury's Easter robes."

Randy considered her question as he slung his cutlass and flintlock in their familiar places. If all went well no-one would see him at all; if he was spotted, wearing his Sunday best would matter not in the least. Still, for the first time since he assumed the identity of Black Brand he felt there might be an end to his frustration and pain. Furthermore, Miss Charlotte deserved him to be his best.

"Surely when a common yeoman calls on the manor of his lord he should wear his best, don't you think, Milady?" He could tell that Miss Charlotte was not fooled by his flippant humility, but she let the matter drop and together they made their way out of the hidden lair and into the quiet darkness of the moonlit forest. It was a nightscape that Randy had become accustomed to, but for Charlotte is was an alien scene that was startlingly beautiful in an eerily scare way.

"We should get to your father's house around 3:00 in the morning." Randy estimated as he watched the stars through an opening in the canopy. Would the household be settled down by then, or was this just a waste of time and effort?