The magnificent white horse burst into the forest glade and Daphne’s heart skipped a beat. She clutched the posie of wild primroses to her heaving breast as Vincent dismounted and approached, his thigh muscles rippling under the soft cloth of his tight britches.
“Daphne, I…” he breathed, laying his firm, calloused hands on her quivering shoulders.
“Oh Vincent,” she moaned, melting against his solid, manly chest.
He gathered her into his strong, weather-tanned arms, and laid her down gently on a bed of soft bracken. A pair of turtle doves began to bill and coo in the branches above.
The dappled sunlight played across the lovestruck couple as they entwined themselves in a fevered embrace.
Daphne raised her eyes to the heavens – her knight on a white charger had come. Pity he hadn’t managed to get his trousers off first.