Page 7 of Go, Rogue

And if it isn’t, The Elphame and her captain are ready.

All’s right with the world.

Except—

What in hell?

He bends his tremendous frame down to the ground to examine a light dusting of something shimmery and gold at his feet.

Not gold dust.

It isn’t possible. The Elphame launched in shipshape condition, and he’s certain he’d have noticed errant gold dust.

But…

He presses his fingers to the stuff and brings it closer to his face. It isn’t gold, though it’s gold colored.

And it glitters.

He stands, his broad shoulders heaving in an effort to hold in his roiling emotions. He needn’t have bothered, because there’s no containing the roar about to erupt from his mouth:

“CAAAAAAAAATHERIIIIIIIIINE!”

God fucking bloody damn it all to hell!

No one provokes him like Lady Catherine West. He becomes undone in her presence, some man other than the solid, patient, precise one he usually is.

He closes his eyes, hoping beyond hope that when he opens them again, he won’t see what he knows he is going to eventually see: Lady Catherine West, the wee bloody menace, somehow aboard his ship. Her blonde hair powdered in gold glitter just as it was when he’d last seen her yesterday.

Standing outside the church.

In her wedding dress.

On her wedding day.