De la Roche was about to get dressed when Austin reentered, shaking off rainwater and shedding his Stetson and slicker. What had appeared a big, beefy man turned out to be a tall, rangy cowboy with the broad shoulders and deep chest of a gymnast, and the trim lower torso and hips of a horseback rider. By the firelight in the gloom of the rainy day, those attractive angles and planes de la Roche had noticed earlier settled into a remarkably handsome countenance. That wasn’t quite right. Too powerful and commanding to be classically handsome, the raw masculinity of Austin’s face overwhelmed the softer, somehow more feminine beauty of a mere Adonis. The power of the intense agate eyes alone rendered him striking. The only thing remotely womanly about this man were the thick, curled lashes fra
