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It was in her nature to remain languidly in bed until the sun rose high in the sky, but being a busy woman, she could not afford these luxuries on most days.
She had learned about romance on the printed page but the realities of heartache had matured her;
He said he loved her, and it had sounded pretty. And when he kissed her she didn’t think, she simply felt, and it was better than to have to deal with the anger, the sadness, the despair.
She was nervous but determined. She had broken to the surface. She was not drowning but living, everything inside her eager and awake.
Then again, she was unsure how men should take declarations of love. This did not appear in any of her books.
Satisfaction could be found only in vengeance, in his death.
