The Earl of Her Dreams

You're just like your uncle. All you think about is women and pleasure.
The Marquess of Penderdale
to his son Christian, age eighteen

Christian Black strode with long, purposeful steps into the bustling courtyard. The overhead sign proclaiming the Dragon's Tale Inn swayed gently in the cool breeze. Even with a winter storm approaching, the action at the coaching inn refused to still.

Christian ducked. A whiff of leather and a fluttering whisper were his only warnings as a stable boy accidentally tossed the ribbons too far. A quick "Sorry, sir!" and the boy fetched the ribbons and was swallowed by the milling crowd.

Christian smiled. The activity at the coaching inns provided the best entertainment in country towns.

Ostlers jockeyed horses around weaving carriages, and bystanders yelled out encouragement as the drivers displayed their coaches and finery to best advantage.

"Come stay the night here, love. Best service in town."

Christian looked up to see a buxom blonde leaning provocatively over the rail, her assets nearly spilling over the wood as she showed her finery to best advantage as well. He did so love the cold weather when it displayed such bounty so beautifully. Her tight calico bodice strained against her perked breasts, practically begging him to release them from their confines. In his twenty-five years he'd never had a problem coaxing any woman from her confines.

He winked at the blonde, and she tossed him a saucy, provocative smile before sashaying inside. His blood flow concentrated in one specific area as he chronicled all he could do with those two luscious offerings. After his business was seen to, of course.

A long-legged, curvaceous diversion was already responsible for his current predicament. He'd have to revisit that curvaceous diversion at some point. He had left far too early. What had she said her name was? Samantha? Sarah? It was something that started with an S.

Not that it mattered. It was his name they always screamed, and not the other way around. He was good at something after all, no matter what his father said.

Christian glanced at the rest of the onlookers leaning against the wooden railing to catch a glimpse of the courtyard spectacles. Guests and workers hung over the inn galleries, even now, in the dead of winter, their breaths released in cold puffs, to watch the fanfare of the entering and exiting carriages.