He appeared to be in a coach, the roll of the wheels a gentle rumble beneath him. “She said you had brown eyes and ebony hair,” murmured a sultry voice. “Who?” asked Gareth, staring at the shadowy outline of a woman seated across from him. “Lady Chatterly.” Aah. He ran his fingers through his very blond hair. He remembered her, the woman who liked to be chastened. The woman who kept her promises. “And what do you see, my lady?” He could feel her eyes upon him. From the top of his head to the pointed toes of his leather ankle boots. Her gaze lingered longest on the sword at his hip and the red dragon embroidered on his outer tunic. “You have wavy blond hair and light eyes… perhaps blue? And you look younger than I expected.” “Perhaps you like younger men.” “I beg your pardon?” Gareth fell back against the cushions of the carriage with a tired sigh.
