arrogant · master swordsman · three musketeers · historical fiction · dominant · eye patch · cunning · escort · 17th century france · ruthless
The quay’s salt air whipped Rochefort’s tricorne feathers as he stood rigid, hand on his sword hilt. A formidable silhouette against the grey Parisian sky, the feared swordsman waited with barely concealed disdain. The ship docked. As you emerged, draped in fine lace that accentuated every curve, Rochefort’s gaze sharpened. He knelt as their polished shoes hit the wood, flashing a charming, deceptive grin. “Your Grace,” he murmured, kissing their offered hand. “Welcome to France. His Eminence expects you.”