A dervish in emerald green did her best to mow him down.

She landed against him like a force of nature-a small woman barely topping his shoulder. His first impression was of wild black hair curling riotously over her shoulders and back. The emerald green was a velvet riding habit; she was booted and carried a crop in one hand.

He caught her, steadied her-she would have fallen if he hadn’t closed his arms about her.

Even before she’d caught her breath, his hands had gentled, his rakish senses avidly relaying the fact that she was abundantly curvaceous, her flesh firm yet yielding, quintessentially feminine-for him, elementally challenging. His hands spread over her back, then his arms locked, but lightly, trapping her against him. Full breasts warmed his chest, soft hips his thighs.

A strangled “Oh!” escaped her.

She looked up.

The green feather in the scrap of a cap perched atop her glossy curls brushed his cheek. Gyles barely noticed.

Her eyes were green-a green more intense than the emerald of her gown. Wide and wondering, they were darkly and thickly lashed. Her skin was flawless ivory tinged a faint gold, her lips a dusky rose, delicately curved, the lower sensuously full. Her hair was pulled back and anchored across her crown, revealing a wide forehead and the delicate arch of black brows. Curls large and small tumbled down, framing a heart-shaped face that was irresistibly piquant and utterly intriguing; Gyles was seized by a need to know what she was thinking.

Those startled green eyes met his, roved his face, then, widening even more, returned to his.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”

He felt her voice more than heard it-felt it like a caress inside, an invitation purely physical. The sound itself was… smoky-a sultry sound that somehow clouded his senses.

His very willing senses. Like recognized like in the blink of an eye. Oh, yes, the beast inside him purred. His lips curved subtly although his thoughts were anything but.