She’d tried so hard to pretend such nonsense didn’t happen to Lady Freya Buckle back then, but knew deep down that all the bluster and pride in the world couldn’t stop this force of nature flaming into an unstoppable thing between them. Dismissing all the possible futures that might haunt her and spoil the moment, she savoured every second instead, imprinted every racing heartbeat on her memory, so that she could recall it in vivid detail afterwards. When she left, she would be able to remember that she’d once been wanted so badly her powerful lover’s hands shook with need. Then she could relive this in vivid colour, not a monochrome sketch drawn by an impatient hand that grew fainter year by year as light and life faded from the quick line of a mere impression Orlando might leave behind. If she didn’t love him. Perdita knew what she wanted and could live with consequences, because Lady Freya had lived without hopes and dreams for so long. A few days with Orlando would outshine a lifetime with the noble husband she’d once wanted and she thanked her stars he had never come to pass.
