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Anneliese could not bring herself to look up and meet Frank’s eyes. She didn’t want him to see she had been crying—if bawling her eyes and heart out could be considered crying.
Maybe she should have married him. He was nice and safe. Nothing like Hugh.
He crossed the snow-covered ground until he stood over her.
Even under the dark, snowy sky, she could feel the darkness of him, the coldness of his presence.
She focused on patting Buttercup’s neck, patting it unnecessarily hard and getting the horse to get up and away from her.
Her skin prickled under Frank’s gaze as he approached her, and a flash of steel caught her eyes.
Pain exploded on her temple, followed by immediate darkness as she slumped, sinking to the ground.
Buttercup’s whinny of fury was the last thing she heard befo
