Читать книгу Malcolm's Honor - Jillian Hart - Страница 2

“Help me with his armor, since you are the only man without work to do.”

“You despise my idleness?” He chuckled, deep and as intriguing as midnight.

“That and more. Now quickly. I must see the wound. Use my blade.” She jabbed the knife toward him, hilt first.

His big, blunt-shaped fingers curled over the steel weapon, engulfing it. The thick blade appeared like a toy against his size and dark, lethal power. She read the cynical darkness in his eyes, hated the strength in his rock-hewn body. The latent power to kill rested in the thickness of his arms and shoulders, chest and thighs.

Malcolm both took her breath away and made her blood run cold. He was a beautiful masculine form. He was a destroyer of life. The irony beat at her.

Truly this was the epitome of man…!