Page 9 of Charlotte's Kisses

“To the devil,” he mumbled.

He grasped the bottom of her dress and tugged it upward. The cool air tickled her calves, then her knees, and finally her thighs. She melted into him, encouraging him with pleas of, “Hugh. Oh, Hugh.”

“I’ve got you, Firefly.” His touch blazed a path from her calf to her thigh.

Was she about to make love to a stranger in the gardens where anyone might come across them?

But he wasn’t a stranger. This was Hugh, and he thought her beautiful and sparkly. He understood her stepmother was cruel. He knew how to make her body hum with life, and she experienced not an ounce of fear in his presence. Please, please, please let his hand travel higher and brush her aching core.

“Shite.” He pulled away from her so abruptly that she lost her balance and swayed.

It took her a moment to come back to her senses and realize that two shabbily dressed men approached. She quickly arranged her dress, being sure all parts of her were covered.

“’Tis him,” one of the men yelled.

“Hugh Fletcher, we don’t wanna hurt ye,” another said.

“Forgive me, Firefly.” He blew her a kiss and turned his back to her.

Charlotte’s heart crashed. Did he mean to leave her alone with these scalawags?

He’d only made it a few feet when footsteps approached from the opposite side of the path. She squinted and focused. Her stepmother’s men marched toward them, Lord Nash leading the unlikely parade.

“He is a slyboot.” Leon pointed at Hugh.

“Fuck.” Hugh groaned.

Nonplussed, Charlotte blinked. Why were they surrounded by six men who looked as if they might leap upon Hugh at any moment? Lord Nash’s fury was justified, but why were the rest of these men after him?

Fear snaked up her spine. She needed to save Hugh. But how?

Chapter seven

Why in deuces hadHugh dallied on a garden path after he’d escaped from confinement? He needed his head examined, or he required a swift kick in the arse. Or perhaps he should be castrated. He glared down at the tent in his trousers with disdain.

Hugh’s fierce firefly stepped in front of him as if she could protect him from these ruffians. She was too adorable.

Placing her hands on her hips, she glared down the barrels of a half-dozen pistols. “Put those silly things away and leave him alone, you foolish blackguards.”

And there was the reason he’d been waylaid in that garden. Not only was Charlotte beautiful, but she was also spirited. Her deadly combination of innocence and passion was alluring. Any man within her vicinity would be side-tracked by her feminine magic.

But no woman is worth this kind of trouble,he chided himself.

And yet, here he was, feeling some sort of possessive pride for this beauty. Or maybe primal lust? Unless this odd jumble of emotions was romantic inclinations?

Nay. Absurd. He never had romantic inclinations. Especially for some chit he’d just met. Although it was not every day one saw a brave woman all pink and sparkly, standing up to five large men wielding weapons. Make that five men wielding weapons, one foppish, coatless aristocrat, and a devil attempting to talk down his massive cockstand.

“I told you to leave him alone,” Charlotte said,

“Aye. Back away, ye bloody blackguards.” A smirking Mister Mustache twirled his knife with one hand, and the end of his stash with the other. “He is ours.”

“Who are you calling a blackguard?” asked the brute who seemed to be in charge of the caped crew.

The dandy stepped forward and thumped Hugh in the chest. “I shall report you to the local constable for stealing my coat. How dare you attack a peer of the realm.” Hopefully, his nasal pitch was because Hugh had broken his nose

“Arseholes, the bloody lot of you,” Hugh mumbled under his breath to the fools staring menacingly at him.

“All of you, leave him be, or I shall tell Lord Chesterhill.” Charlotte bit her lip, not looking at all confident of her threat.