Horizon Ridge I can be you're saving grace if you'll let me

Caribbean blue eyes lingered upon her face, watching for her reactions, fascinated by them in a subtle way that he did not care to examine further than that. Women, the Viking had found, tended to make more facial expressions than men, and there was something quirky about them, sometimes softened, sometimes devoted, sometime hardened. They ranged vastly and there was one for each emotion that she seemed to be feeling within herself. It had always been more beneficial for Ragnar to have an expression of stone, or if not stone then mirth even when he was at his angriest moments, preferring a deceptive smile over a tell-tale frown. As if he were plotting ways to kill someone as he disarmed them with a slow, sexy twitch of his lips upwards. “No,” Ragnar answered, considering for the briefest moments of leaving it at that before he added, “there are free women that are not warriors or slaves.” They did, well, everything else, Ragnar assumed. His own mother had been a free woman, skilled for her ability to move with stealth and her endurance granting her the equivalent of messenger.