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eyes, willing the sudden nausea to go away. All I needed was to vomit while in my prone position. With my current streak of luck, I'd probably choke to death.
    I had a sudden clear thought. How in the world had my industrious spouse known where to find me? This train of thought spurred me to sit up, which wasn't such a great idea. I was still quite woozy, and I had to lean into Greg's side as another bout of dizziness hit me.
    "I still think I need to call the paramedics," Ms. Wentworth said, her voice strung tightly, now soprano rather than the rich contralto I had heard earlier.
    "No, I'm fine," I managed to mumble, but Greg's voice overrode mine.
    "I'm taking her to the emergency room. This is the second time today she's fainted, and she needs to have her head examined." I could hear an undertone of amusement in his voice and wanted nothing more at that moment than to place a swift kick where it would hurt. Head examined, indeed!
    I wish I could say that I enjoyed the attention I received at the local emergency room, with a very cute resident flicking a penlight off and on in my eyes and an equally darling doctor watching from the foot of the bed. I tried, for the first few minutes at least, to join in the conversation, but a strange hollow feeling in my ears precluded me from actually hearing what was being said. From the various looks I was getting, I could tell that I was not making any sense, so I very wisely decided to stay quiet.
    "…blood work. I'll get the orders written." I caught the tail end of the doctor's comments and nearly came unglued.
    "Absolutely not!" I said firmly, causing Gregory to jump at least two feet into the air and the resident to put a hand to his heart as if I'd just given him the first stirrings of a heart attack. Maybe I did speak a bit loudly, I'll give them that, but enough with the theatrics! I simply did not want to see another drop of blood again.
    "Caro," began my longsuffering spouse, leaning over the safety rail that presumably was keeping me in place. "The doctor wants to check a few things, and the only way to do that is to take some of your blood." He backed away from me slightly upon uttering those last two words.
    I glared up at him. If that was so important, I wanted to ask, why in the world couldn't they just scrape the blood from my face? Instead, I settled for closing my eyes, much as my youngest nephew would do whenever he wanted me to believe that he had disappeared. Maybe if I clicked my heels together as well, I would wake up in my own house, in my own bed.
    Two hours later, with a diagnosis of slight concussion—no broken nose, thank goodness—and a prescription for some of the largest sleeping pills I had ever seen, we turned into our driveway. My car was still parked at His Highness's office, but I was too groggy to consider how I would get it home.
    At least my trip to the ER had resurrected Gregory's manners. He solicitously opened my door and held my elbow as we walked up to the house, although now that I think about it, it was most likely just a preemptive strike against another fainting spell. Whatever the reason, he did help me into my jammies, put my bloodstained blouse to soak in cold water, and brought me a cup of tea. I was determined to enjoy this treatment for as long as I could milk it.
    I had a decent night's sleep, thanks to the shot of Demerol that I'd gotten for the pain in my nose, and I awakened feeling fairly human. Gregory was still slumbering, lying on his back, one hand thrown up behind him as if warding off Trixie, who lay curled between us and snoring to beat the band. Come to think of it, my dear husband was snoring as well, the two of them joined in a duet of nasal intonations. I smiled at my two bedmates and then grimaced. My face was sore, and I felt as though I'd gone a round or two in the ring with a champion prizefighter.
    Sliding one leg at a time from under the covers so as not to wake either of the sleeping beauties, I managed to