The Nobleman With His Hand On His Chest Novels & Stories

Wearing a smart, short black cape fastened with gold on each shoulder, I recognise the painful chainmail armor covering his broad chest. He strides over and offers me a hand. “Can you stand?” His voice is deep, insistent, except the idea of giving him my chewed up bloodied hand makes me wince. Not when he held the delicate white perfect fingers of Elle earlier. So I shake my head no and watch his face flush with irritated confusion.

The same shiver from last night, the same feeling of being hunted, of having been marked somehow. It was him. I was sure of it. My chest rose and fell in an anxious rhythm. My instincts screamed at me to run, to get out of there. But running wasn’t an option. And then, just as my body began to surrender to the impulse to look up, a movement to the side caught my attention. "My word…!" The voice carried a mix of surprise and admiration. An older nobleman approached me. His clothes were lavish, the rings on his fingers gleaming under the chandeliers. His smile was polite, even warm, but his eyes held something deeper—something assessing.

She could only gape at him in shock as her palms turned clammy. Noticing her lack of response, he smiled at her, assuring her silently. “Shall we?” The man said and held his hand in front of him. Miranda frowned seeing his courteous behavior. The man as gentlemanly as possible and it was something that could be not found in men other than the ones from the noble birth. However, his rugged attire completely contradicted his behavior.

These two men should have shaken hands, but neither of them extended a hand. Hatice looked at them, only to see one person wearing a black suit and an elegant white shirt, his face shining, his two hands elegantly clasped behind his back, just like a noble prince. The other person wore a white suit, combined with a cold and arrogant white shirt like the early spring sunshine, his two hands naturally hanging down on both sides of his waist, just like a noble king.

This man must be super wealthy and famous which I reckoned from the reaction of people there so I hurriedly approached him to apologise when those men who seemed like their bodyguards stepped to my side but the man in the middle raised his big calloused hand in a gesture stopping them. “I..I am extremely sorry, Sir. I didn't see you coming in my direction. I apologise for my mistake….” I bit my lips and looked down at his expensive trench coat which was also drenched on the side. Oh no! “Ah! So Dearie can talk!” The first man who seemed to be in his early twenties chuckled while commenting again, pocketing his hands. “I.. Let me help you please…” I was being hyper of crashing into some Rich

He wasn't putting on any shirt, which left his chest exposed. The man's left hand was relaxed on the stairs handle and he was holding a glass of wine on the same hand. His hair was messy and his face looks like he has been drinking for a long time. Despite that, he was looking stunning unlike her who would look like a forbidden fruit whenever she wakes up from sleep. Isabella's eyes were both bugging out as she admired the sexy man in front of her. Mostly, her eyes were glued to his chest which had a tattoo of an eagle whose wings were spread out to cover his upper chest and the legs down his lower body.

When she was laying on the bed trapped underneath him, he released his grip on her and leaned back to yank his shirt the rest of the way off. She stared up at his naked torso in awe. His expensive suits hid the superb condition of his muscular chest. She'd known he was in good physical condition, but she hadn't imagined he would look so incredibly good. A map of a Russian temple surrounded by Cyrillic script was inked across his chest in spectacular display. Several skulls lay at the base of the temple. Two perfect eight pointed stars marked his shoulders indicating his high standing within the Russian brotherhood. Jane reached up to touch the beautiful markings when Vlad noticed a smear of

He sat on the couch right next to me with both of my hands in his palms. He gently rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand and smiled when he caught me staring at him. Sir William Ryder was the Knight Commander in our kingdom and one of the people the King trusted the most. He just turned 18 yet he was considered one of the noblest men in the kingdom. William lifted my hand and pressed it against his lips, gently made his way to my palm, and kissed his way to my fingers. I just watched him as the fear of the war tomorrow loomed at the back of my head.

My traitorous heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest as he lifted the sachet to his nose, inhaling its scent while I still held it. “Smells nice,” he said. I felt like I was going to pass out. Especially when he took the sachet from my fingers and tucked it into the front of his leather cuirass, right over his heart. “I’ll keep it close.” “You’d better,” I said without thinking. Then, still without thinking, I pressed my hand over his heart. His eyes widened a little, and suddenly, his hand was covering mine—pushing it more firmly against his armor.

I asked. He smiled. “Stand with me " he said. The request sounded innocent harmless. My instincts screamed. Danger. I slowly moved toward him. He gently took my hand. The entire room watched. Then he did something that made my blood freeze. He kissed my knuckles. The gesture was polite, royal and perfect. Then he looked at everyone. Smiled. “I owe Lady Serena a debt " he said. There was silence. I forgot how to breathe. The nobles looked surprised.