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off a chest of drawers and set the fresh linens atop it. Spots of colored light dotted the brocaded bedclothes. How the cousins had delighted in showing her the stained glass dragon for the first time, with his talons and teeth dripping blood. She could see now why the expensive piece of glass had been relegated to a rarely used chamber.
    There was something sinister in the beast's depiction. Panes of the glass were missing.
    The dragon had only three feet now and a single wing. A frigid wind whistled through the window's empty spaces.
    Christina peered through the hole, her gaze honing in on the stables. She'd heard talk in the kitchen that Lord Dareford was expected home today. He would surely have a ravenous appetite for his women once he returned from his hunting trip. How many feverish nights had she spent imagining her thighs spread sinfully wide as she enjoyed Lord Dareford's skills?
    A blast of cold air hit her, and she turned to find that the heavy door had swung shut.
    As she walked toward it, she heard a telltale cackle as the key turned in the lock.
    Apparently, her newfound friend was at it again. Christiana tried the latch while throwing her weight against the door. Useless, as she'd expected. She hammered her fists against the unforgiving wood and screamed for help, then instantly regretted giving Maud the satisfaction.
    How long, she wondered, until someone missed an insignificant serving girl? It might be months before anyone came up here again.
    She was being maudlin. Obviously Beckett's fastidious housekeeper had had someone up here to clean mere weeks ago. Involuntarily, her teeth chattered at the thought of spending a night alone with only the dragon for company. Placing her mouth to the hole in the window, she shouted down to the courtyard, but her cries for help were like vapors rising to the sky.
    With a wish to ignore her predicament, she went about her business of replacing the linens. She pulled back the quilted coverlet. A musty smell greeted her. She replaced the yellowing sheets with the fresh lilac scented ones. Finding a broom propped in the corner of the room beside the chamber pot, she beat the dust from the ancient tapestries and bed curtains. Attacking the cobwebs lining the walls eventually wearied her arms. Unhappily, her frenzied activity had only produced a clammy sweat that made her shiver all the more in the frigid room.
    From her apron, Christiana pulled cleaning rags, stuffed them into the gaps in the window, and took refuge under the heavy coverlet.
    * * * *
    Two days later, not a mote of dust remained on the furnishings, and Christiana was ready to pull her hair out from boredom, not to mention her terrible thirst and pangs of hunger.
    Excitable shouting filtered up to her from the courtyard. She moved back to the window and pressed her cheek against the cold glass. Beckett and his men had returned.
    It looked as if they had little game to show for their trip. From here she could see there was only a brace of small animals. Had all that manpower not felled a single stag? What exactly had they been chasing? Wicked pleasures of all sorts, she was sure. Christiana was surprised at how easily Beckett had slid into the role of a dissolute aristocrat.
    Tears threatened as she recalled his fierce black eyes glittering in the sunlight as he carried his knight's banner for the first time. The tears tumbled as she remembered how he'd saved her life, throwing himself off the horse to create a flesh and blood barrier between her and the charging boar. The sound of his leg bone snapping still haunted her.
    By the grace of God, his leg had healed straight, though she often spied him rubbing away an ache.
    Christiana could pick out his massive frame even amongst the hulking men he'd traveled with. Would he notice her missing? 'Twas a notion born of wishful thinking. No doubt he had at least two willing companions lolling in his bed, eager to do his bidding.
    An idea popped into Christiana's head.