A rolling stone, Doranne had called him, a man without a care in the world.
“A born nomad,” Rhian agreed with a smile, “roaming through jungles and across deserts, leaving behind nothing but my footprints in the sand. And without a woman lagging behind.”
Maretta stared up at Rhian as the words registered in her mind. She tried to hate him, but it was no use. The love she felt was not to be denied.
“A born nomad,” Rhian agreed with a smile, “roaming through jungles and across deserts, leaving behind nothing but my footprints in the sand. And without a woman lagging behind.”
Maretta stared up at Rhian as the words registered in her mind. She tried to hate him, but it was no use. The love she felt was not to be denied.
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