She had done it. For some reason she had decided that she must have him, so she’d had the letter forged. Of course it was her; she was by far the most devious person he had ever come across. And he, horny fool that he was, had played along ever so willingly. How immeasurable her satisfaction must have been to see him this morning, knowing that her victory was complete and that he’d melt in her hand as readily as a piece of suet. Anger—burning, icy, dark as the pits of hell—took over every cell of his body. He clung to that anger, for it dispelled pain and kept it at bay.
