Honor and Desire (Gold Sky #3) - Rebel Carter Page 0,12
her so that she was now facing the magically speaking wall.
“Oh,” she whispered when she was face-to-face, or rather face-to-chest with the not-so-very-much-a-wall, but very much a man. A handsome one at that. He was built like a house, or what Seylah supposed a very well-built, sturdy, but also handsomely attractive home would look like if it were presented in human form.
This man could provide shelter and warmth no matter what the Montana climate sought to throw at the inhabitant.
“Oh,” Seylah said again and tried not to notice how large he was, or how warm his hands felt on her waist, and she very much refused to breathe in the amber and sage smell of him that was both clean and masculine.
The man had disheveled dark brown hair, no doubt a by-product of their crash, and hazel eyes. Hazel eyes that were looking at her in such concern that Seylah was forced back into the present and away from admiring the man’s jawline or the fact that his suit fit him perfectly. Though she knew nothing of clothing or material, it was easy to see, and feel, given that her hands had immediately reached for him, the sumptuous fabric beneath her hands was expensive and of a fine cut. She suddenly understood the importance of tailoring and measurements, and what Mrs. Rosemary meant in terms of achieving a flattering silhouette.
It was indeed a goal to be strived for where clothing was considered, especially when a strapping young man was the one to be outfitted.
“Are you all right?” He asked again, and this time the question jolted Seylah back to reality. She jerked her hands up and off him as if she had suddenly been burned.
“I, ah, yes,” she managed, taking a hasty step back that would have sent her sprawling if not for the man reaching out again to steady her.
“Are you quite certain?” He asked.
Seylah nodded and looked down at where he was touching her, his hand, a big hand that splayed across her waist. “I’m certain,” she whispered, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
“That coach came out of nowhere. The driver should be fined for reckless driving.” The man shook his head, shooting a glare in the direction the stagecoach had disappeared. “If I hadn’t come along, you would have been seriously injured.”
“I should have looked where I was going,” Seylah sighed, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her for the mistake. She blushed but this time it was for another reason entirely. She should have known better than to simply step out into the avenue without observing basic safety and traffic rules.
The man snorted, still glaring off in the direction of the coach. “A runaway coach like that has no place around a lady such as yourself.”
There it was again. That pesky damnable word: lady.
She started, stood up straight at the word that served like a bucket of cold water to whatever interest Seylah had felt for the man who was still, inexplicably, holding onto her.
“I’m not—” Seylah began, the words tumbling from her mouth, as if on que, when another shout interrupted her.
“Seylah!”
She turned in time to see August rushing up the avenue, his eyes panicked as he called out to her again. “Seylah, are you all right?”
“Seylah? What a beautiful name,” the man in front of her said, pulling her attention back to him. She was not immune to the rich tones of an attractive house-turned-man.
“Thank you?” Seylah tried, blinking in surprise up at him.
“I’m Elliot. Elliot Myers.”
“Seylah Wickes-Barnes,” she offered politely, as anyone did when presented with another’s full name.
“Get your hands off her,” August huffed, finally arriving at their side.
“August!” Seylah gasped at the edge she heard in her old friend’s tone. “He helped me. I was nearly run over a moment before.”
“I saw it,” he growled and then pointed at where Elliot’s hand was still on her waist. “Take your hands off her.”
Mr. Myers held up his hand and took a slight step away from her with an apologetic smile. “Forgive my manners, Seylah,” he said, and she did not miss how he pointedly ignored August where he stood fuming beside her. The men were of the same height and Seylah quite found being between the pair of them to be a stifling affair. When she had thought of Elliot as a sturdy house, she had quite forgotten that August was built of the same stuff, if not wrapped in a slightly different material.