She hated him with an intensity that surprised even herself. She hated him because she had loved him and had made a fool of herself over him. Because he had let her down and shown her arrogantly and cruelly the gap in their stations. Because he was responsible for Eurwyn's death. Because he had come now to fill the role of the authority figure who had always most angered her in her life. Because he was the Earl of Wyvern. Because he was Geraint Penderyn. Because she had loved him at the foolish age of sixteen and because even then—especially then—love had hurt. Because even though she had prepared herself for his coming, her apron had become soiled and her hair had been buffeted by the wind and she had a visible patch on the sleeve of her dress. Because she was twenty-six years old.
She hated him.