Sir Guy slowly swaggering down the steps, all six feet two (and a half!) inches of black leather-clad alpha male. He’s anticipating his droit de seigneur, sniffing and smirking, pausing to crook his gloved finger at the young bride-to-be.
Studying the necklace. The slightly raised eyebrow and trace of a smile. “Hmmm. That’ll do nicely. Turn around . . .”
And then the flash of white teeth as he tugs the leather free from his hand so he can claim the piece of jewelry. Love his hair, the curls at the nape. begging to be teased with one’s fingers. Love his stubbled jaw. His eyes (yes, I’d call them piercing here–maybe scorching) and how, when downcast, we can see the beauty of those blackened lashes brushing against his alabaster skin. One beautiful and drop-dead sexy henchman, ladies and gentlemen.