Bad Boys Ahoy!

moved past her and disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlotte with a tear-ravaged face and far too much to consider.

Charlotte pushed aside the sheer curtain that covered the window and looked out upon the winter scene below. Her heart thrummed a restless rhythm as she watched Hugh and Lucien Remington walk their mounts back to the stables, the horses' hooves leaving clear tracks in the snow.

As Hugh disappeared from her view, she turned and gazed at the room around her, a room in which she'd spent most of the last twenty-four hours deciding what it was she wished to do with her life. Her trunks were packed and waited by the door. She was leaving today, and once she departed she knew there would be no turning back. However, before that happened, she was willing to make one last, desperate bid.

She'd discovered something about herself over the last sleepless night, something she should have acknowledged long ago-she was a coward, just as Guinevere had said. A coward who was afraid to believe that someone would care for her, worry about her, and wish the best for her. To give control of anything into the keeping of another was difficult for her, a woman who had cared for herself with no assistance almost since birth. But she was a coward who was more afraid of losing Hugh La Coeur forever than she was of placing her fate and the fate of her dependents in his hands.

The hands of the clock on the mantle moved with torturous leisure. It seemed forever before a half hour passed. Once it had, she left her room and traversed the winding hallways until she came to the wing where Hugh's suite was located. She paused at the door to his room, her hands shaking, her breath coming in unsteady pants. Before she lost her courage, Charlotte reached for the handle and walked right in.

'Go away,' Hugh said curtly. 'I didn't send for anything.'

Her eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. She'd missed it, missed the way it spoke to her in the darkness, embracing her as surely as he did. Soft and encouraging, or husky and raw, it had offered her a lifetime of joy, and she'd thrown it away like a fool.

He stood by the window, looking out at the rear lawn. He'd removed his coat and waistcoat, his broad shoulders covered in a white linen shirt, his powerful legs encased in breeches and boots. For a moment she simply absorbed the sight of him-the firm curve of his ass, his wind-tousled hair, the graceful arc of his arm as it held the curtains back. She'd missed him so much, she thought she would die of it. Even now her throat was so tight, she doubted she could speak.

He glanced over his shoulder and froze. For an instant, she glimpsed raw pain in his dark eyes, but it was quickly masked with the studious impassivity of a seasoned gambler. 'What do you want?' He looked away.

Charlotte stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. 'Lord Merrick has informed me that you've arranged for me to travel with him to the West Indies.'

Hugh said nothing.

'He says you've paid for my journey and financed an expedition.'

'I told you I would help you without any obligation on your part.' He snorted. 'But I suppose with your lack of faith in me, your surprise is to be expected.'

She bit her lower lip and took a moment before she could reply. 'I deserved that.'

'Aren't you departing today?' he asked gruffly.

'Yes. Gwen and I shall be leaving in just a few hours.'

'Godspeed.' He waved his hand over his shoulder in a gesture of dismissal.

Charlotte's chin lifted. His anger was her due, and she would bear it. She would pay whatever penance he required if he would find it in his heart to love her again.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer. 'Don't you wish to say good-bye to me, Hugh?'

'We've already done that.'

''Tis apparent you've said farewell, but I haven't. Not properly.'

That spun him about. He'd removed his cravat, leaving his throat bare and revealing a light dusting of golden hair in the slender opening of his shirt. His gaze raked from the top of her head to her slippered feet. She made no attempt to hide her longing or desire.

He gave a bitter laugh. 'Ah, I'm untrustworthy and have no self-restraint, but I can fuck well. What a relief to know I'm good for something.'

Charlotte winced. 'You are good for a great many things, Hugh La Coeur. And I am a thousand kinds of fool for making you doubt that.'

His jaw tensed. 'I'm not in the mood for your games.'

She stepped close enough to smell him, a rich combination of the scent of his skin, horses, and the wild outdoors. His nostrils flared as she neared; his gaze narrowed.

'I've missed you,' she whispered. She reached for his hand, but he backed away quickly, an action she took as a positive sign. He couldn't be as indifferent as he appeared, or he wouldn't fear her touch. 'I didn't believe Glenmoore. Not even for a moment. He simply provided the excuse to be a craven I was looking for.'

'Get out,' he snarled.

'I can't.' She smiled sadly. 'I need you, Hugh.'

Shaking his head, he moved away. 'No, you don't. You can care for yourself; you don't need anyone to rescue you. I, however, have discovered I require being needed. And for more than just my cock.'

She stepped up to him and placed her hand against his back, flexing her fingers to absorb the feel of muscle and sinew beneath the billowing linen of his shirt. He tensed, and she rested her head against him, trusting him silently not to move away, for if he did she would stumble. 'I do need you and want you. You've no notion of the torment I've suffered these last three nights without you. It's not merely your body I missed. I've missed your voice, your laughter, your smile. I cannot go another day without those things in my life.'

'Charlotte.' His voice was a harsh rasp. 'Don't say any more. Just go.'

She wrapped her arms around his lean waist, loving the feel of him. Splaying her hands across his abdomen, she felt the ridges of muscles shift as he groaned. Burying her face in his back, she breathed him in. 'I want to link my future with yours, Hugh. I trust you to be the type of man I can depend upon.'

His fingers laced with hers, and then he pulled her hands away, stepping out of her embrace. He turned to face her, his expression cold. 'Why are you doing this?'

There was no room left for pride or fear, not any longer. 'Because I love you.'

'Your feelings will pass.'

'I don't want them to pass.'

'I'm sorry, I don't know what more I can say to you.'

Charlotte held out her hands to him. 'Tell me you have no tender feelings for me and I'll leave. I won't trouble you again.'

There was no hesitation. 'I wish you well in your future endeavors, but that is the extent of my interest.'

She winced as his words cut deep. 'You're lying.'

Resolved, Hugh moved around Charlotte, then through the open doorway to the sitting room. His entire being ached for her and cried out for her touch, but he forced himself to leave her and kept his face impassive. There was too much at stake. She'd abandoned him so easily due to just a few cutting words from a man she despised. Before he risked himself further, he had to know she was sincere. He had to know it wasn't simply gratitude for his largesse that brought her here, but her love.

He poured himself a drink. And then another. A moment later he felt Charlotte's tiny hands caressing his back. He closed his eyes as he savored her touch. When her hands cupped his buttocks and squeezed, he reached down and tore open the placket of his breeches, freeing his swollen cock. He took himself in hand and began to stroke, needing to ease his lust before he reached for her.

Three nights he'd spent alone in this suite, knowing she was close, wanting her with a biting, penetrating need. To have her here, just as he'd imagined, was excruciating. His hunger was too powerful, his desire too great. Goaded any further, he couldn't say if he was capable of even a modicum of control.

'Allow me,' she murmured, her hands reaching around his waist, her pert breasts with their erect nipples pressing into his back. When she circled his cock with both hands and began to pump, his breath hissed out between his teeth, the pleasure searing in its intensity. She rested her cheek against his back. 'I've missed touching you, holding you.'

'I am the same man I was three days ago,' he growled, his head falling back, his eyes drifting closed.

'Yes,' she whispered. 'The man I love.'