Bad Boys Ahoy!

leave. He should have stopped at an inn when the weather took a turn for the worse. He should have commissioned a sturdier equipage, instead of one built to impress. And she would be correct on all counts, as usual. One of these days, he'd like to prove her wrong. He'd like to prove to them both that he was capable of managing his own affairs. That he was a man one could trust to lean upon.

Hugh lifted his head and watched the two young men approach him, carrying blankets and flagons of spirits to warm his servants. They were strapping lads, as he'd requested, although one of them stuttered terribly and the other had a lazy eye. Regardless, they would serve his purpose, and they seemed eager enough. Not that he blamed them. If he were in their place, he'd wish for any fortuitous circumstance to leave this forgotten estate.

The soft nicker of a horse behind him urged him to turn around. His gaze moved upward from the snow-covered ground, following the lines of a massive horse. His mouth fell open as he perused long, shapely legs encased in breeches, a slim torso framed by a spread cloak, stunning green eyes, and rich crimson hair. He gaped, at a loss for words, deciding he would've been better off avoiding the blasted tea, because it certainly couldn't be a woman who sat astride the hulking beast. And wearing breeches no less!

'My lord,' the fantastic vision murmured from her high perch. And it was a her. No man could bear that beautiful face or stunning, feminine bedroom voice. A voice that curled around him in the deepening dusk and heated his blood.

He snapped his mouth shut.

'You are…?' he growled rudely. Hugh knew he was suffering from a deplorable lack of social grace, but truly, there were only so many bizarre things a person should be expected to tolerate in one day, and since this afternoon, he'd had more than his share.

'Charlotte,' she replied as if that were explanation enough.

'Right.'

He frowned, his gaze narrowing as it raked her lithe form for the second time. Her manly attire delineated every soft curve of her legs. The cropped, form-fitting riding jacket, though somewhat out of date, showcased firm, high breasts and a trim waist. Impossibly he felt overheated again, although just moments before he'd been shivering. He studied her intently, noting her perfect posture and uplifted chin. 'What are you attempting to do out here in this miserable weather?'

'I'm here to assist you, my lord.'

'Right.' He should argue further, and would, as soon as his brain was working again. At the moment it was completely occupied with the stunning redhead in breeches, leaving not one thought process free to refuse her.

Charlotte was not young, nor was she old. Five and twenty would be his guess. She was a classic beauty, with skin as clear as the finest porcelain. Her mouth was wide-too wide, some would say-and her lips full and carnal in their plumpness. She had lovely clear green eyes, and they met his with an easy forthrightness he admired.

'Who are you?' he asked.

The infinitely kissable mouth curled in a smile, and his gut tightened. A few moments ago he would have been alarmed. Now he was merely resigned. Apparently, he was getting aroused by all of the female inhabitants of the area.

'I thought we resolved that already,' she murmured, her throaty voice threatening to shove him over the precipice of aroused into thoroughly erected.

'A servant?'

'Hmm… More of a companion. I've been asked to accompany you.'

'For what purpose?' he scoffed. 'I must make haste if I've any hope of reaching the next posting inn.'

'It's already too late for that, my lord. You'll have to remain here for tonight at least, perhaps even until the storm blows over, if it's as wicked as the skies herald.' She chuckled, and his cock twitched.

'Hell and damnation!' It had been years since he'd been troubled by an unwanted cockstand, yet this unusual female had him throbbing in his trousers with a simple bout of amusement.

Her eyes widened at his curse.

'My apologies,' he corrected quickly. 'My manners seem to have flown.' Along with the common sense of every individual he'd had the misfortune of meeting today. 'I cannot possibly remain here overnight.'

'Why not?'

'Why not?' he repeated.

'That is what I inquired,' she said dryly. 'Why can you not stay?'

'There's no room, for one,' he pointed out.

'There's plenty of room. The manse is quite vast.'

He scowled. 'How much of it is inhabitable?'

Charlotte laughed. And Hugh was captivated. He decided in that moment he would have her, and suddenly the storm he had cursed mere moments before became a blessing. It would trap them together, giving him the opportunity to seduce her into his bed. His mood brightened. Unlike the rest of his life, he made no stumbles in the bedroom.

'Oh, my lord. Don't be fooled by the apparent neglect. There are several available rooms, all clean and ready for guests.'

He arched a brow.

'Truly.' She flicked the reins with casual ease, and the huge brute of an animal moved toward the lopsided gate. 'We should make haste.'

'What exactly can you offer in the way of assistance?' he asked, vaulting onto the driver's seat of the cart, while the two young men jumped into the back.

She patted the bulging saddlebag he'd been too distracted to notice before. 'I heard your footman has a broken arm. I can set it and tend to him, while you attend to your carriage.'

Hugh nodded, resigned. It would save time, and if she couldn't help John, at least she'd be pleasing to the eye in the meantime. Damned if the sight of her in those breeches didn't make every thought leave a man's head.

He urged the horses forward, and she moved aside to allow him to lead.

Charlotte's hands were quite literally shaking on the reins.

She'd never been studied in such a manner in her life, in a way that made her skin hot and her palms itch. She was no ingenue-her attractiveness had been the backbone of her existence for many years. But it had been a novel experience to be raked by Montrose's warm brown eyes. She felt looked at, truly seen, for the first time in years.

At first glance he appeared nonchalant, but she wasn't fooled. He'd perused her in detail, and liked what he saw. It had been thrilling. Arousing. And she wanted the handsome earl, who was an obvious libertine, to strip her with his eyes again.

Charlotte had hoped he would be fine of face, but the reality was far more devastating than she had imagined. He exhibited none of the signs of ennui and dissolution common to men with a marked predilection to excess. Montrose was, in fact, youthful and quite fit. More than fit. Vigorous, actually, and virile. Potently virile.

His mode of dress was understated, almost reserved, which suited him because his physical beauty alone was attractive enough. Any further adornment would simply be too much.

There were varying forms of male arrogance: the arrogance of wealth and privilege, the arrogance of intelligence, and the arrogance of attractiveness. The Earl of Montrose bore all of those traits, and a little bit more. The intensity of his stare, the way his hands had tightened the harnesses, the leisurely, seductive grace with which he moved-it all betrayed him. A man that comfortable in his own skin would know all about sexual pleasure and wouldn't doubt his ability to bestow it. He was a man who fucked often and well. A man few women could resist.

Charlotte watched him closely as they left the grounds and moved onto the snow-covered lane, noting the easy expertise with which he held the ribbons. She was a woman who appreciated men who had a way with horses, because she liked them so well herself. Quite frankly, she respected men who took the time to become experts in the things that interested them. And Montrose was just such a man.

Glancing up, she noted the rapidly darkening sky. Yes, he would definitely be spending the evening with them, and if the turbulent wind was any indication, he might be staying much longer than that. Blizzards could sometimes