Rugged Gentleman Novels & Stories

“Look, you’ve become more of a healer. I felt the approach of the old man for a long time, it always appeared like a mushroom from under a stump. And that they just can’t sit at home, like my grandfather. I sighed and turned around, putting on a polite smile. Mr. Wilson stood at a distance, his hands clasped behind his back. The usual cardigan of intricate knitting, this time in cherry color, is buttoned up, a high collar of a shirt is at the throat, dark trousers are tucked into brown ugg boots. The usual walk of a gentleman over seventy is nothing suspicious.

She had plenty of experience with men on the street and from the streets, and she had the sudden thought that she’d rather take her chances with the devil she knew rather than this man staring holes through her. Dark eyes, dark hair. Really great hair. It was mussed and unruly and longish. A lock fell over his forehead and she imagined him pushing it impatiently back without care over whether it messed it up more. It hung down his collar, giving him an untamed, wild look that probably made women want to try to tame him. Tanned skin. Not the fake tan some of the metrosexual pretty boys went for. There was a ruggedness to him even as he screamed wealth and polish like Ash did. It was just a di

“You! Over there!” When we turned, I saw several men in armour spread around the gallant carriage. The carriage door slams open and a white haired gentleman with a shiny crown on his head appears. The Gentleman wore a well-embellished tunic with a gold-work thread. He also wears a stylish scarf and a mantle, on his chest was a shining rose of brooch. On top of it, he wore a surcoat

He said and leaned back on the bed. "Ew. No. Thanks for the offer, but no. Leave, please" I said, flushing again. This man seems to know the things to say that'd get me hot and bothered. "Aw, come on. Don't deprive me of this, seeing you like this just makes me want to eat you up, but I won't do that because I'm a gentleman of course" I laughed out loud at his use of the word gentleman to describe himself. Everyone knows Nate Jones is the furthest thing from a gentleman.

Streamers of smoke rose from its edges as I ran my hands through the strange raiment, gaze lingering on it as it gleamed blue-black in the moonlight, just like a raven's wing. Smug, he watched me study the garment in awe. I glared back, half-expecting to see a rib-cage where his robe should be. Instead, there was most definitely flesh, and well-muscled flesh at that, decked out in an outfit that would make a biker cry. Red pinstriped pants over combat boots battled to tame a Count of Monte Cristo-esque ruffled white shirt into submission. He wore a fitted leather jacket over the ensemble. The chain of a pocket-watch dangled from his breast, and a studded belt flashed silver in the moonl

He was fairly handsome, with short dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes, he had average muscular built and a soft tan skin. Height wise, he was a few inches taller than Clara. The man clearly had a style as he was seen wearing a white t-shirt and a plain leather jacket with jeans on. It was not exactly the typical street style she expected to see in Paris but she was not complaining. Clara looked up to meet his eyes, his eyes was naturally deep but his gaze was penetrating. He scratched his fingers before walking over to Clara with an eased yet firm gesture. "Pickpockets, there are a few in Paris, you must be more careful, fortunately that rascal was easily scared. Next time, don't make yourself

“He never was very good at sharing. Don’t be surprised if he’s glued to your side most of the day.” They both were very handsome and had nice smiles.Jamie was a dark skin with fresh wavy hair.He wore a black elegant work suit that looked freshly ironed.He had silver earrings on and a silver wrist watch. Robin on the other hand was a light skin.He wore a milkish-brown suit and kept his smile on. “I’ve heard so much about you two.Y’all like besties right?”,i giggle. Jamie laughs while Robin smirks—both clearly used to Aiden being territorial.

Their smiles displayed rotted teeth that were so thick with plaque, she questioned if they’d ever seen a tooth brush. The gentleman, on the other hand, wore quality black woolen fabric that was tailored to fit him perfectly. His black, wide brimmed hat was elegant, yet suitable for protection against the sun. His crisp white shirt had ruffles down the front as well as the cuffs of his sleeves. His boots were perfectly polished. There was a familiarity about his mannerism and dress that she couldn’t place, until she spotted the well-oiled holster and gun. He was dressed and carried himself like Aiden. Could he also be a gunslinger?

In one hand, he carried a small leather travel case, and a gold ring flashed on his finger as he adjusted his coat. The wind pushed at his coat, but he walked down the stairs like the air itself had no power over him. He smiled, as he scanned the waiting men below. When his shoes touched the ground, Macholo and the others stepped forward. They gave him the kind of nod that wasn’t common; it was the kind of greeting only men who understood respect gave. Macholo extended his hand, and Ruger took it. “Welcome back to the ground, General,” Macholo said with a half-smile.

My head tilts back slightly, and I drop the shirt to my feet. The door opens to reveal a tall man, with a similar look to Colton. Only I can tell he’s a bit older, and Colton has a black beard. The man is good-looking though, I guess it runs in the family. He is the embodiment of the rugged cowboy, a man who commands attention without saying a word. His broad shoulders and muscular frame hint at a life of hard work under the sun, while his stance exudes quiet confidence. His face is striking, with a chiseled jawline and just a touch of scruff that adds to his rugged charm. Piercing eyes, intense and calculating, seem to hold a thousand untold stories. His expression is serious, almost broodi