God, this book seemed interminable! I can't blame the story or the writing or the research, all of which were up to Harrod-Eagles's normal, excellent standards. No, I blame *growl* Annunciata. I loathe that spoiled, narcissistic, self-indulged, self-centered, amoral, and thoroughly sybaritic bitch. She never grew, never changed, never left behind any of her selfish ways; was perfectly content, happy even, to leap from man to man, husband to husband, uncaring as to what vows, what laws of man or God she broke, unfeeling as to whose hearts she trampled in her quest for a life in which her needs and her whims were satisfied. To hell with anyone who might dare get in her way or oppose her desires. Including her own children, one of the main nuisances in her life once they aged past the cute and easily-passed-off-to-nanny infant stage.
Grrrrr!
Every time Annunciata climbed into a saddle, I hoped she'd break her pretty white neck.