First impressions matter especially when you've just been rescued.
What was it about him that had made her agree to go with him? The truth was, to avoid being sold to the brothel she would have gone with anyone. No. Although that was a theory she’d never get to test, it had been the man himself who had made her sign that receipt. She’s always imagined her ideal man would be a man taller than herself, with dark hair and brown eyes. She shuddered—that was a perfect description of that man on the ship, Stephen Butler. Luke Harcourt had tawny hair and was only an inch or so over her height. He wasn’t exactly tall for a man, but somehow that wasn’t an issue.
From the way he spoke he appeared to be an intelligent, well-educated man. Was it the fact that he carried a gun, and knew how to use it? She presumed he did. He looked like a man who would. But nearly all the men she’d seen here wore guns. Maybe it was the width of his shoulders, or the obvious strength in his forearms? His face had an arresting quality. He was the kind of man one looked at, twice. Yet on closer inspection he could almost be described as ugly. He certainly wasn’t conventionally handsome. He looked like he’d been carved out of granite, with a blunt chisel, and chips of ice used for his eyes. His mouth wasn’t symmetrical, it was almost crooked.
Feeling her gaze he turned his head and caught her looking at him. She realised she’d been staring. She knew she was blushing.
“What?” he asked.
The heat in her cheeks grew deeper. She shook her head, unable to speak in embarrassment. Those intense, light blue eyes held her, then thankfully he looked away.
From the way he spoke he appeared to be an intelligent, well-educated man. Was it the fact that he carried a gun, and knew how to use it? She presumed he did. He looked like a man who would. But nearly all the men she’d seen here wore guns. Maybe it was the width of his shoulders, or the obvious strength in his forearms? His face had an arresting quality. He was the kind of man one looked at, twice. Yet on closer inspection he could almost be described as ugly. He certainly wasn’t conventionally handsome. He looked like he’d been carved out of granite, with a blunt chisel, and chips of ice used for his eyes. His mouth wasn’t symmetrical, it was almost crooked.
Feeling her gaze he turned his head and caught her looking at him. She realised she’d been staring. She knew she was blushing.
“What?” he asked.
The heat in her cheeks grew deeper. She shook her head, unable to speak in embarrassment. Those intense, light blue eyes held her, then thankfully he looked away.
