Earlier that day, when she had been out gallivanting with Paul, the late August sun had been uncomfortably hot. Now that the sun had fallen to the horizon, its long rays had lost their intensity. A northeast breeze kissed her cheeks and flowed in and around the V-shaped neckline of her dress, cooling her skin. She felt emboldened, and for the first time in her life, she was a woman in control of her own destiny.She did not care if her father was worried or angry. She was angry with him. Furious, in fact. She would do whatever was necessary to escape Ethan Cromwell, even if that meant running away. With or without her father’s blessing, she would marry Paul Foster.Eventually, she grew tired of traipsing through the tall, scratchy grass and decided to sit and wait for Paul. Cucklett Delf was a natural bowl-shaped amphitheater formed by the intersection of a meadow and a semicircular tree-lined ridge. She marched up the western sloping hill and settled in under the stout branches of an ancient English elm where she and Paul would regularly come to kiss and cuddle.
