Page 3 of His Beauty
When they’d stepped into the room, Lyon Oliphant had looked up from whatever he was writing, his golden hair falling away from his face as he scowled in irritation. He had the most impressive face for scowling, she had to admit, but eventhatwasn’t what occupied her attention.
Nay, it was his chest. His scarred, sweaty, massive, muscled,very much naked,chest.
Oh my.
Bonnie swallowed, unable to even drag her eyes up to meet his angry gaze. If she’d been a man, and he a woman, and she’d been staring at his breasts so intently?—
Wait, no, that analogy was far too awkward. Suffice it to say, were their positions reversed, andhewas staring atherchest this hard, thishungrily, she would slap the?—
Nay, that wasn’t true either.
If Lyon Oliphant stared at her as intently, as interestedly, as she was staring at him right now, Bonnie would likely offer to remove her blouse and allow him to look harder. With his hands. And tongue.
Dear God, you are getting off topic, are you not?
Right.
Right.
With supreme effort, she dragged her attention back to his face, which really was locked into a frozen glower, thanks to those scars.
“What are ye doing here?” he growled, and Heavens, but that sound seemed to reverberate all through Bonnie’s chest in the most delightful way, before settling between her thighs.
She opened her mouth to answer, before realizing the Beast of the Oliphants was glaring at his brother. When she turned, Lysander was smiling that easy-going grin of his.
“I told ye I’d be stopping by, Lyon. Remember?”
“Alone.” He didn’t even look at her.
But he also didn’t seem to care that he was standing, shirtless, in broad daylight, in his study, with a woman in attendance.
Lysander waved dismissively. “I didnae mention the state I’d be in during my visit.”
“Sander.”
“Lyon, this is Miss Bonnibelle Oliphant. Ye might remember her from my wedding to her sister.” Then, as if he hadn’t just unnecessarily recounted their family relationship to the laird’s heir, he turned to Bonnie. “Bonnie, my perpetually grumpy oldest brother, Lyon Oliphant. Ye may call him Lyon.”
“Why is shehere, Sander?” growled Lyon.
And since the man was doing a remarkable job of not acknowledging her, Bonnie also directed her comment to Lysander. “To be fair, Lysander, if I had a stranger drop in on me unannounced while I was in a state of undress, I too would be grumpy.”
“I’m no’ completely undressed; I was sparring with Keith.”
She pretended to startle as she turned back to him and said brightly, “Oh, we are speaking directly to one another now? Excellent! I am pleased you take your physical health so seriously, and it is good to know this is not just a castle full of half-dressed inhabitants.”
She could swear his lips twitched, but then he pressed them so tightly together she couldn’t be certain.
“Bonnie is here to see yer collection, Lyon,” Lysander announced, and it was only then she realized he was backing toward the door. “I’ll let her explain it to ye.”
Both she and Lyon asked, “And where are ye going?” at the same time, which might’ve been comical, had she not been struck with sheer panic at being left alone with Lyon Oliphant.
Panic, but of a good sort.
Should I take my shirt off as well, to fit in?
Lysander didn’t seem to notice. He nodded toward the window, which had thankfully been modernized with glass rather than a bearskin or something equally medieval. “We’re expecting snow, and I need to see to my team. My estate isnae too far, and I’ll come fetch ye when ye’re ready, Bonnie.”
It was entirely inappropriate.
