My Book Boyfriend (75)

My Book Boyfriend is a weekly meme hosted by Missie of The Unread Reader, in which we swoon over boys in books!
(I--as in me, Amy--don't like to use commercial photos, I like to use the authors' descriptions and my imagination.)

Jacob Rand

Book: Indigo Blue by Catherine Anderson

Series: Comanche

He’s a wealthy business owner in 1885, in his early thirties: wavy black hair, coffee brown eyes surrounded by thick black lashes, and a straight nose. The clean, sharply chiseled planes of his features are reminiscent of a seasoned wood carving. Well over six feet tall and broad shouldered and narrow of hip. His body is padded with muscle and roped with tendons and naturally burnished skin. He is an honorable man who is willing to change his entire future plans in order to save a young woman’s reputation.

Quotes:

Jake winced. He knew what women used lemon water for; Mary Beth drenched herself with it every summer to lighten her skin. He closed his eyes. Memories washed over him of Indigo sitting under the laurel tree at the Geunther Place. Then he remembered the things he had heard Brandon Marshall say to her. For the first time in her life, Indigo was trying to mask her heritage. And why? Because she wanted him to be proud of her. As that realization sank home, Jake came as close to getting tears in his eyes as he ever had in his adult life. One of the things he had always admired about Indigo was her fierce Comanche pride. For what seemed an eternity, he had been yearning for some sign from her that she returned his affections. Now that she had given him one, he felt sick. Because of her Indian blood, she didn’t feel good enough to be his wife? The exact opposite was true. He was the one that didn’t measure up. Without speaking, he swept her into his arms. With Sonny following in his wake, he carried her to the kitchen, lowered her feet to the floor, and pulled a clean dish towel from the drawer. Stepping to the dish board, he tipped the water jug to moisten it. She reared back when he began to scrub her face. “What are you”—she sputtered—“doing?” “Washing off that damned lemon. Look up.” “But I”—She blinked and pursed her lips. Jake smoothed the cloth across her cheek, then bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “Don’t you ever pull something like this again. I love your skin just the way it is.” Her eyes looked like crushed blue velvet. “Y-you do?” Jake Smiled. “I do. Women with milk-white complexions are as common as gnats in a fruit barrel. If that was what I wanted, I would have married one of them.” He leaned down and stole a quick kiss. She didn’t look convinced. Jake caught her face between his hands and searched her gaze, his heart breaking a little at the confusion and pain he still saw there. “I love you. Indigo. Just the way you are. I love your hair. I live your skin. I love your leather skirts. I even like your buckskin pants. If I ever smell lemon on you again, I’ll wring your little neck. And I want you to take every stitch of those clothes back to your mother. Is that clear?”