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this medieval castle.
    The women noted her expression and nodded to each other. Another walked forward to spread the bottom of the dress and another girl dug a thin, gold belt out of the trunk and held it up for Gillian’s inspection.
    Again she wavered. The outfit was gorgeous. “Why do you want me to wear the dress?”
    They took a moment to decipher her words, then Key Woman answered. “The master desires it.”
    The master being her dream knight? “Why would he want that?”
    They didn’t respond, but simply looked at each other as if trying to understand her words, then Key Woman shrugged.
    Gillian shook her head. It didn’t make sense, but then dreams never did. Why not go with the flow for awhile? It might turn out to be fun. A great adventure to remember if and when she woke up.
    She held out her hand for the dress and all the women smiled and voiced their approval. Again they wanted her to take off her clothes.
    “I’d like some privacy, please.”
    They discussed it, then finally all turned their backs.
    Good enough. Gillian moved to the bed and laid out the dress, slipped off her athletic shoes, took a shaky breath, and removed her clothes. She ignored the obvious peeking. It was all among women, right?
    She was down to her bra and underwear and reaching for the dress when the women turned as one and grabbed her.
    Shocked, Gillian tried to wrench her arms free, but couldn’t. “What are you doing?” Gillian tugged again, trying to free herself from the hands imprisoning her, but collectively, the woman were too strong and easily pulled her across the mattress, flipped her onto her back, and held her there.
    Gillian screamed with rage, and one of the women quickly cupped a hand over her mouth. Gillian bucked, twisted, writhed, and screamed against the hand.
    It didn’t matter. The women relentlessly pulled Gillian’s legs together and yanked her underwear down her legs and all the way off.
    Anger, embarrassment, and disbelief heated her entire body, overriding any fear she might have felt.
    Key Woman went to the door and admitted another woman, old and hunched, who shuffled toward the bed to look at Gillian.
    Gillian stilled. What was going on? What could possibly be happening?
    The old woman scooted a young servant to the left with her hip, dipped her hand into a bowl that Key Woman provided, rubbed her hands with what looked to be grease, then leaned forward and reached out a hand toward Gillian’s privates.
    What in the name of all that was holy?
    Gillian wrenched her mouth free and screamed her rage and disgust.
    That was it.
    She was done here.
    Now would be a very good time to wake up.

Chapter Four
     

    Another scream—long, loud, and peppered with words no lady should know—drifted down the stairs.
    Kellen winced, and his brows rose, as he exchanged a glance with his open-mouthed friend, Sir Tristan of Alnwick.
    Kellen looked to a flushed Sir Owen de Burgess, standing straight at attention, fiddling with his sword hilt, something he did when nervous or upset. “Has the girl been raised in the barracks with the foulest of knights?” Owen asked between stiff lips.
    Kellen flushed and felt the need to defend her. “Lady Corbett, Edith, is obviously not herself. She has been frightened out of her wits and will recover her delicate nature soon.” At least Kellen hoped for that result.
    Tristan took a breath and turned from the stairs. “Er . . . as I was saying. This is a most unusual situation. Perhaps the girl needs a chaperone until the wedding?”
    Kellen was glad to latch onto the subject, to have something to think on, and a decision to make. “A good notion.” He spoke the words too loudly, and attempted to lower his voice to a more moderate pitch. “Since her own mother was not sent to prepare for the wedding, I will send for my father’s wife and some of her ladies.”
    “Good, good.” Sir Owen stared at the opening to the hallway at the top of the stairs, his cheeks