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hold on to her. She walked into the neck of one of the horses, ducked, and kept going. At that point, she realized he had not let go.
    Nor did he intend to do so.
    She tried to duck back beneath the neck of the horse, but the animal chose that moment to move as well, turning its body in a sudden swing.
    Carlo’s grip on her was firm—he had apparently meant to prove he didn’t have to let her go, that she was dismissed only when he chose.
    If he’d only let her go …
    But he didn’t, and so the great warhorse turned sideways into him, and he was swept off his feet …
    And into the watering trough.
    He fell backward, flat out, and went under, and it was one of the funniest things she had ever seen in her life. His hands and feet were waving above the surface until his head broke the waterline, as well.
    He was bright red, spouting water through his lips as if he were a fountain.
    His men laughed.
    She couldn’t help it; she burst into laughter, as well.
    And then, as quickly as it had begun, all the laughter ended, for Carlo Baristo stared at all of them with eyes so furious they seemed to glow. Manolo, his squire, so often at his side, let out a laugh when all had gone silent. Carlo’s head turned with the speed of a cobra, and his furious gaze settled upon Manolo, who then pretended to hiccup, and went silent.
    “Get me out of here!” he raged furiously.
    His men sprang forward.
    It would have been a fine time to make a retreat, but Marina was still savoring the sight of him, soaked and bedraggled.
    He was pulled from the water, and gave no thanks to those who were soaked from their efforts to help him. He marched over to Marina, shaking with a fury that startled her. His voice was a rush of air that held so much malice, she felt chilled to the bone.

    “You did that on purpose,” he hissed.
    Stunned, she arched a brow. “I didn’t do that at all. You are such a gallant man, who’d have imagined that you’d have such a hold on me when I turned away? And you can’t blame a horse for behaving like one!”
    “I will have the animal slain, Marina, and then, perhaps, you’ll understand how I feel about being viciously humiliated.”
    “Slain!” she cried. “Not even you are so cruel or careless with life!”
    “I warn you, I will do so.”
    She spoke loudly suddenly, staring at him with eyes that belied every word out of her mouth. “Thank God, my dear Count Baristo, that you are so magnanimous a man, that your temper is so quickly brought to good humor! Truly, forgive me that you are soaked to the bone, and I pray you’re not too chilled. That was entirely my fault, my absolute lack of grace. I pray, please forgive
me
for causing your mishap, but then again … dear sir! Why, indeed, you are soaked, and yet … so manly for it all! Your muscles, sir, bulge right through the dampness of the cloth. Wet, my lord, you are indeed something to behold!”
    She smiled icily. “I think all your men heard that. Does the horse live?”
    “The
horse
will live,” he said pleasantly.
    “Is that a threat against my life?” she demanded.
    “Against the daughter of the great d’Or? Never … or at least, not, my lady, in the foreseeable future.” He bowed, doffing his drenched hat. Water, of course, sprayed all over her, spattering her cloak.
    She didn’t mind at all. “At supper then,” he said, “we drink to the future.”
    “Oh, yes, we’ll drink!”
    She turned and retreated quickly up the stairs to her room in the rear of the castle. And it wasn’t until she was there that she remembered talking to the falcon, and the words that she had said herself—wish number one.
    “Well, I must say, I’d enjoy it heartily if that swaggering braggart, Carlo Baristo, were to fall flat into a watering trough!”
    And he had done so.
    Carlo had fallen into a watering trough!
    Well, Carlo was certain she had pushed him into a watering trough!
    And he had threatened to kill a horse for the act!
    But still …
    She