Lord Nicholas Fergusson sat astride a handsome chestnut-colored mount, looking out over his expansive estate.  ‘Twould be a shame if that insufferable Lord Chambray should somehow get his hands on it. Fergusson’s distant cousin was the closest thing he had to an heir and would lay claim to whatever property he owned if something should happen to him.  Thus far, Chambray had made his impatience quite clear, as well as his desire for the death of his older cousin.  Fergusson admitted to himself that he needed to marry and continue the family line if he was to dissuade him.
    Nicholas took in a deep breath of early spring air and spoke to his horse.  “Isn’t it just wonderful, Victor?”  The majestic beauty had earned his title from many a battle.  They’d been alone in the meadow for nearly an entire afternoon, so it surprised him when someone answered him.
    “It is wonderful.”  Her voice flowed like honey over his senses and started a warmth from deep inside.  He turned to see a most beautiful woman.  She had piercing green eyes, a pert little nose, and flawless pale skin.  Oh, those lips – the pale pink things looked so moist and kissable.  Her face was framed by golden-brown spirals of soft and silky-looking hair.  Samantha knew without a doubt in her mind that the portraits she’d seen of the man watching her now did him no justice, although who could capture such magnificence on a canvas?
His gaze traveled down, to a full bosom, exposed by a very deep neckline and nearly bulging out of its prison.  Fergusson continued his assessment of her, knowing it would be futile to hold himself back.  A tiny waistline showed from the open part of a red, woolen, hooded robe, and just beneath it, the skirt of her dress had been cut nearly to the hip, and her entire right leg was exposed but for her cloak – to allow for a more comfortable ride, he assumed.
    “Never laid eyes on a woman?”  Samantha teased, knowing she posed an irresistible portrait straddling her horse as she was.
    “It’s been a while,” he grinned, unashamed of his blatant scrutiny.
    Samantha smiled inwardly with the satisfactory knowledge that he was melting in the palm of her hand.  She faked a yawn, lifting her breasts as she did so.  “I’ve been riding all night,” she sighed once she’d finished her dramatic display.  “Would you happen to have a spare bed?”
    Nicholas felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, an aching need for a woman, for this woman.  “I apologize, I have no spare beds, but there’s extra space in my bed should you decide to accept my offer, m’lady.”
    “If I truly were a lady, it would be foolish of me to do so,” Samantha bantered with him, “but seeing as how I’m no lady, and you’re such a superior specimen of man, I must accept.”  She yawned for real this time, not bothering to accentuate her bosom, and nearly fell off her black mare.  She recorrected herself in the saddle, and giggled.  “Maribel, you should be helping me stay awake, you lazy horse.”
    Lord Fergusson brought his horse around beside hers.  “Allow me,” he said, taking her hand.  Effortlessly, he pulled her from her saddle to his and cradled her in his lap while tying Maribel’s reigns to his saddle.  Once he adjusted to the new weight, which wasn’t too difficult for man or horse, Lord Fergusson led Victor and Maribel on an easy gait that wouldn’t jar his passenger to the point of being uncomfortable.  He gazed down at her in humble admiration of her stunning beauty and smiled when she looked up at him.
    “I never caught your name,” Samantha mentioned to him, knowing full well who he was.
    “Nor did I,” replied the handsome lord.  “Call me Nicholas,” he finally said to her.
    Was he trying to appear less important, like his title would scare her off?  Or was he trying to give their new relationship a more personal tone?  Either way, he was making her job a lot easier.  It was always easier to perform a job when she could get close to her target.  This close was just for fun.  “Samantha,” she mumbled, grinning, before she fell asleep in his arms.
    Lord Nicholas Fergusson, riding through the meadow with Sleeping Beauty in his lap…  Would wonders never cease?  The immediate thoughts in his mind were directed toward purely sexual desires, but, deep in thought when he reached the gate, he realized she could be the one to solve his problems.  The only trouble with that was whether or not she’d let herself into his life permanently.  “Charleston!” he called to the hefty young teen in the garden, “Could you assist me with the gate, son?”
    Edward “Eddy” Charleston, about age fifteen or sixteen, grumbled all the way to the gate.  “Why can’t you do it your own damn sel—“  He stopped mid-sentence when he discovered what had tied up his lord’s hands so-to-speak.  “My lord,” he humbled himself, “I apologize for such insubordination.  Forgive me.”  He pulled open the iron barrier to the flower-filled garden.
    Lord Fergusson slid from his mount, careful not to wake Samantha.  “Take Victor and Samantha’s mare, Maribel to the stable and brush them down.”
    “Yes, sir.”  Eddy led the two horses to the stable as was ordered of him while Nicholas carried the most beautiful flower he’d found in the meadow into his castle.