Writing World

Cam Rohan. 

It can’t be, she thought dazedly. Here, in Hampshire? But there were the unmistakable eyes, gold and hazel and heavy lashed, the midnight hair, the wicked mouth. And the pagan glitter of a diamond at his ear. 

His expression was perturbed, as if he’d been reminded of something he had wanted to forget. But as his gaze slid over her bewildered face, his mouth curved a little, and he settled into the cradle of her body with an insolent familiarity that temporarily robbed her of breath. 

“Mr. Rohan … how … why … what are you doing here?” 

He replied without moving, as if he were planning to lie there and converse all day. His infinitely polite tone was an unsettling contrast to the intimacy of their position. “Miss Hathaway. What a pleasant surprise. As it happens, I’m visiting friends. And you?” 

“I live here.” 

“I don’t think so. This is Lord Westcliff’s estate.”

Lady Rainicorn knows! I had to redraw it and add some color, it’s so adorbz!