Her hands were shaking. Her lower lip was quivering. It was only through an effort of will that she prevented tears from welling in her eyes. The shock of seeing Derek again had been greater than she had anticipated. And his contempt for her had been intense, deeper even than she had feared it would be. It now seemed laughable that she had doubted he would remember her. Of course he remembered her. She had been a fool, telling herself how unlikely it was that he would. She had deluded herself into believing that things were different for men, that the encounter that had changed her forever had probably meant nothing to him. But it had meant something to him. Cynthia had humiliated him, and a man never forgot that. Thank heaven she had ridden out to meet him. She had told herself that she was going to warn him, “just in case.” But her attempt to intercept him, to warn him that he must brace himself to endure her company, had really been an attempt to arm herself.
