In many ways, Henry always knew his public estrangement from Anne couldn't – and wouldn't last forever. He was her Prince Consort, he belonged at her side. They both knew that.
Yet somehow, it was easy to forget it in the rugged beauty of the Yorkshire Dales, especially when he was at peace, the way he was here. Oh, he loved Anne and the fire that had crackled between them ever since they'd met, but, as he'd realised only since he'd been apart from her, he'd missed the peace and self-contentment that came with knowing he was secure in the affections of a woman, who, try as she might, had no power to hurt him. Not that Sarah ever would. If Anne lured him and drugged him with power and riches and fiery challenge, Sarah enticed him with sweetness, milk and honey.
Mistress Sarah Rose offered
