She lifts a hand to nudge up the brim of her hat, revealing the full extent of those blue eyes. An eyebrow arches intriguingly at the lines he recites to her, words she doesn’t recognise, but seems to appreciate all the same.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” she notes when he speaks her name, taking a slow step forward that brings her profile out of the shadow and throws light over that ox-felling weapon and the glistening corset that houses it.

“Melody Malone,” she clarifies, the words rolling off her tongue like they were made for that voice. All low and smoky, sensual on every syllable.