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bundled up in bed, attempting to fight off the same chills and nausea that had kept Lady Joan’s maid and father from accompanying the others to Menton for Christmas.
    Sabrina had started coming down ill the day before, and it had shown. She had lacked her usual bulldog-like promptness in blocking any speech between Brinna and the others, to the point that Brinna had actually had the opportunity to murmur, “Aye, my lord,” twice. Brinna had also made their excuses when, after sitting down to sup with the others, Sabrina had stared at the food before them, her face turning several shades of an interesting green before she had suddenly clawed at Brinna’s arm, gasping that they had to leave the table … at once!
    Recognizing the urgency to her tone, Brinna had risen quickly and escorted Joan’s cousin upstairs, where the girl had made brief friends with the chamber pot before collapsing onto the bed clutching the stomach she had just emptied, proclaiming that she was surely dying. And if she wasn’t, she wished she were.
    She hadn’t looked much better this morning. If anything she had seemed weaker, which was hardly surprising since she had spent the better part of the night with her head hanging over the chamber pot until there had simply been nothing left for her stomach to toss into it. Perhaps it was due to that weakness that she had not fought too hard to convince Joan to keep Brinna from impersonating her that day and to send a message that they were both ill. Whatever the case, she had not argued too vigorously, and Joan had decided that Brinna should go ahead, saying that Brinna had had several days in the company of the other nobles and would most likely be fine. Joan had merely reminded Brinna to try to say as little as possible, keep her head bowed, and not allow herself to be alone with Lord Thurleah.
    Trying to tamp down the excitement whirling inside her, Brinna had nodded solemnly, then gone to the door to greet Lord Thurleah as he had arrived to escort her to Mass. If she had felt a secret pleasure at the idea of spending the day alone with Lord Thurleah, well, as alone as one could be in the company of the rest of the Menton guests, he had looked decidedly pleased by the news that Sabrina was too ill to accompany them that day.
    Smiling charmingly, he had clasped her hand on his arm and escorted her to Mass as usual, but afterward, rather than steer her toward the great hall as he had every other morning, he instead had led her here to the stables, explaining that he had planned a surprise for her andSabrina that morning. He had thought that a ride might be a nice change and had sent word to the stables to prepare their horses. Which was how she found herself standing before the three great beasts now eyeing her suspiciously, her heart stuck somewhere in the vicinity of her throat as she contemplated dying trampled beneath their hooves. For surely that was what would happen should she attempt to ride one of the saddled animals before her. Lord Thurleah might think that a ride would be a nice change, but Brinna could not help but disagree with him. Scullery maids did not have reason to be around the beasts much, and certainly didn’t get the chance to ride them.
    “Did I make a mistake, m’lady? This is your mount, isn’t it?” the stable boy asked anxiously. Brinna cleared her throat and forced a smile.
    “Aye. ’Tis my horse. I…. I just thought…. Well, ’twas a long journey here. Mayhap ’twould be better if she was allowed to rest,” she finished lamely, and wasn’t surprised when the stable lad and Royce exchanged slightly amused smiles before Royce murmured, “I was told you arrived at noon the day before I did. If so, then your mount has had four days to rest, my lady. No doubt she would enjoy a bit of exercise about now.”
    “Oh, aye,” she murmured reluctantly, and wondered what to do. Lady Joan had not prepared her for a situation like this. Though she probably would have had