Aye, lasses were beautiful creatures. Every one of them. You only had to look hard enough.
But, he had to admit, even with the added vantage provided by the wet linen, there wasn't much to the lass before him. She was a wee slip of a thing. Average height but slim to the point of bony. He'd wager she weighed no more than seven stone soaking wet. Not his type at all. Erik preferred women with a little more meat on their bones. Lush and curvy, with something to hold on to -- not as skinny as a reed. He was a big man, after all, and didn't want to worry about crushing anyone.
He'd had only a quick glimpse of her face, but nothing had caught his eye. No Venus rising from the waves, this one, that was for certain. Rather with her dark hair plastered to her head, she'd made him think of a half-drowned cat -- bedraggled, miserable, and cold.
But she had nerve, he'd give her that.
Oh, yay! The attraction's going to be based on personality? Imagine that.