He looked incredibly handsome this morning in his buff riding breeches, starched white shirt and stock tie, with a gold pin holding the folds of his simple knot in place. His midnight-blue riding coat perfectly matched his eyes. Dark brown boots, polished to a nice shine, hugged the muscular calves of his long legs. And his thighs… Oh, heaven help her, they looked hard, strong, long, rising up to…
She turned her burning face away. The man made riding breeches sinfully delicious to stare at. Her tumbling heart spun faster, and her tongue now stuck to the roof of her mouth. He must sit a horse like a god. She wondered if he would ride out with their group, the ones following the hounds.
"Good morning, ladies."
Rathcavan's voice warmed her from within—more than the two cups of tea she had
