Passion and Persistence

The meadow glowed green, soft with the touch of spring and speckled with the first buds of wildflowers, which promised to turn the open land into a colourful carpet soon. Above, a red kite glided lazily across the sky, its eyes trained on the ground, poised to swoop for any unwitting prey. Only a lone rider and his horse disturbed the silence of the landscape, moving with a steady, purposeful grace.

As he surveyed his new property, Darcy had to shield his eyes from the intense rays of the spring sun. He knew precisely what lay beyond those trees that framed the edge of the property. His heart beat faster — a quickening he both relished and resented for its lack of control. Her home was behind the treetops in that direction. He could be there in less than half an hour if he walked swiftly. The urge to see her tugged at him, and he closed his eyes against the longing.

He remembered her as one remembers the sunlight breaking through spring foliage: clear, unexpected, and irrevocable. A single word, a single glance had been enough to burn her image into his memory forever.