Bad Boys Ahoy!

'My lord-'

'Hugh,' he corrected. He'd never been comfortable with his title, and at this moment it created a distinction between their classes of which he didn't wish to be reminded.

She leaned into his touch, her mouth curving in a wry smile. 'I'm usually immune to charming rogues.'

Hugh didn't deny the obvious. Instead he ran his thumb across her lips. 'Your mouth is beyond lovely. It's simply perfect.'

His free hand moved to her shoulder, then down along the curve of her spine. Charlotte arched into him, pressing her breasts to his chest. Unhampered by stays and petticoats, he could feel her, all of her, yet not enough of her.

Lowering his head slowly, he moved his fingertips away, intent on kissing her. She had such a lovely mouth, so full and ripe. And it said such wonderful things.

It was the not-so-gentle bite from his horse upon his shoulder that brought back the reality of the small stable stall and the storm that raged outside. For a moment, Hugh considered ignoring the rude intrusion and continuing anyway, but the warning snort from the beast behind him changed his mind.

'We should go back to the house,' he said with true regret. 'I believe my horse is jealous.'

Charlotte blinked and took a moment to reply, visibly withdrawing from his blatant seduction. 'Yes, I suppose that would be wise.' The matching note of regret in her voice soothed Hugh's nigh-unbearable frustration.

Hands linked together, they left the comfortable stable and struggled across the courtyard, entering the manse through the kitchen. They were wet and frozen by the time they completed the journey, and the cook stared at them agape as they stumbled inside followed by a billowing cloud of snow. Hugh gaped right back.

The cook was the largest woman he'd ever seen. Impossibly tall and built like a laborman, she quite frankly scared him. Gray hair stuck out in every direction, and grayer eyes raked him from head to toe. With a gleaming knife in her hand and a helpless chicken on the counter, she was a terrifying sight to behold. He might have stood there for hours, arrested by shock, had Charlotte not grabbed his arm and tugged him from the room.

'Good God,' he muttered as he followed Charlotte up the servants' stairs to the upper floors.

Minx that she was, she laughed. 'Wait until dinner,' she promised. 'You'll be impressed.'

'I'm impressed already.' He'd never met an Amazon before in his life.

Traversing well-appointed hallways, Hugh barely had time to register the dichotomy of the house before he found himself in an immense bedchamber warmed by a fire. It was beautifully furnished and immaculately cleaned. He found it hard to believe he was in the same residence he'd entered just a few hours ago.

'Why isn't the rest of the manse maintained?' he asked, glancing back at her.

Charlotte shivered by the door, her hair and garments wet with melting snow.

He held out his hand. 'Come warm yourself by the fire.'

'Not yet.'

The 'yet' gave him pause, a tiny intimation that she intended at some point to tarry in his rooms. Their eyes met and held, his with silent query, hers open and clear.

'Go change, then,' he said. 'Before you catch your death. You can explain to me after you're warmed.'

She nodded. 'I'll return directly to escort you to supper.'

Hugh sketched a quick bow. 'I await your pleasure.'

'How long did it take before he started asking questions?'

Charlotte sighed. 'Longer than I would have expected.'

'How did you answer?'

'I didn't.'

'But you'll have to.'

Nodding, Charlotte began to strip from her damp clothes. Goose bumps covered her skin, and she stepped closer to the warmth of the fire. 'Montrose is very interesting, just as you suspected.'

'And handsome.'

'Yes, he's quite gorgeous, and a brazen rake, too.' Smiling, she thought of the way he'd cleaned her hands for her and the concern he'd shown for his injured footman. 'But much nicer than I would have thought. A touch vulnerable, too, which I never would have suspected. I took him for the arrogant sort, but beneath that exterior, I think he doubts himself a little.'

'Oh… he is interesting! Perhaps it's good he's come along, then. You're young and lovely; it's truly a shame you've chosen to dedicate yourself to me. Not that I'd ever send you away. You keep me from going completely mad with boredom.'

Charlotte laughed. 'It's no sacrifice, as you well know.'

' 'Tis far different from the life you knew.'

'That is not a bad thing.' Charlotte sank gratefully into the steaming bath. 'My former life had its pleasures, to be sure, but I was ready for a change and a bit of equanimity.'

A few moments of silence passed. 'I studied the map while you were gone.'

Resting her head against the lip of the tub, Charlotte closed her eyes. 'I'm sick to death of poring over that blasted thing. When the spring thaw comes, we'll charter a ship and go ourselves. Perhaps then we'll discover something useful.'

'His Grace was very ill when he gave you that map,' came the soft reminder. 'Perhaps he wasn't altogether sane at the time.'

Charlotte sank lower into the water. She'd considered that possibility many times. The books Glenmoore had left behind were cryptic at best, and the map, while comparable to others depicting the same body of water, had distinguishing features she could find nowhere else. Still, what choice did they have? The new Duke of Glenmoore was miserly with the trust and-

'Have you considered any other possibilities?' interjected the lilting voice Charlotte had come to love.

'No,' she admitted. 'But I suppose I shall have to, in short order.'

'Well, in the meantime, enjoy the earl.' The soft rustle of muslin betrayed movement. 'You should wear your red silk to dinner. You're breathtaking in it. He'll never be able to resist you.'

'He's not trying to resist me,' she said dryly. She'd never cared for libidinous pleasure-seekers like Montrose, though she'd tolerated them when necessary. Hugh, however, wasn't at all like his appearance led one to believe. In fact, he seemed almost lonely. Much like she was.

'Ah, well, even better.'

Charlotte laughed. 'I'm certain it's not proper to discuss this sort of thing with you.'

'Who cares about proper? We've never done anything properly.'

Hugh glanced again at the mirror, adjusting his cravat for the hundredth time, before resuming his pacing. What the devil was taking Charlotte so blasted long?

He'd give her a few moments more, then he'd track her down. Who knew what had happened to her in this museum of oddities? Why, he shuddered just thinking about it! It was abominable for such a gorgeous creature to be rusticating out here, in the wilds of Derbyshire. It was a travesty he intended to rectify as soon as the cursed weather cooperated.

When the long-awaited knock finally came, he threw open the portal with such haste that Charlotte stumbled backward in surprise. He was equally astonished.

Dressed in a crimson silk gown of stunning simplicity, she stole his breath and his wits. With off-the-shoulder sleeves, low-cut bodice, and high waist, the dress featured no adornments of any kind. Charlotte herself wore no jewelry or gloves, and her coppery hair was piled atop her head in riotous curls. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and the scent of her, fresh and flowery, was an arousing counterpoint to the seductive look of her.

It took all of the self-control Hugh possessed to keep from grabbing her and ravishing her upon his bed. Charlotte appealed to him on so many levels, he found it hard to collect them all.

He watched, mesmerized, as her mouth curved in a knowing smile. She was thoroughly aware of the effect the sight of her would have on any man.

'Shall we go to supper?' she asked.

'Must we?'

Her green eyes glowed with warm amusement. 'I'm rather starved myself.'