Three French Hens (5 page)

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 and
Sabrina 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 she had a horse handy in her room at the time, Brinna thought wryly. She blinked suddenly as a thought came to her. Mayhap the girl had prepared her. Managing a grimace of disappointment, she turned to face Royce and the stable boy.

“What a lovely surprise, and it would have made a nice change too,” she said, careful to enunciate clearly as Joan
had taught her. “But as Sabrina is too ill to accompany us, and it isn’t proper for a lady to be alone with a man who isn’t her husband, well …” She paused to add a dramatic little sigh before finishing with, “I fear the ride shall have to be put off until Sabrina can accompany us.”

“Aye, you are right, of course.” Frowning thoughtfully, Royce turned to pace several steps away, and Brinna was just beginning to relax when he suddenly snapped his fingers and whirled back. “My man can accompany us.”

“What?” she cried in alarm.

“My man Cedric can accompany us. He will make a fine chaperone. Unsaddle Lady Sabrina’s mount, lad, and prepare Cedric’s instead,” he instructed as Brinna’s eyes widened in horror.

“Oh, but—” she began, panic stealing any sensible argument she might have come up with. She was left gaping after him as he strode out of the stables determinedly.

“Bloody hell,” she breathed as he disappeared, then turned back to eye the mount that would be hers as the stable boy led Sabrina’s horse off. Joan’s mare didn’t look any happier at this turn of events than she felt. The beast was eyeing her rather suspiciously, and Brinna couldn’t help thinking the horse knew that she wasn’t Joan and was wondering what had become of the girl. Brinna was so sure of what the look in the beast’s eyes meant that she shifted uncomfortably and murmured, “I haven’t harmed ’er. Yer lady’s alive and well.” Noting that the horse didn’t look particularly convinced, Brinna frowned. “It’s true. ’Sides, this is all her doin’. She—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Brinna gave a start at that question, and glanced over her shoulder to find that Royce had returned and now towered over her shoulder. He was big. Very big. Why, she imagined if they stood in the sun side by side, he
would cast a fine patch of shade for her to stand in. “My mare,” she murmured absently, trying to judge how much wider he was. Probably twice as wide as she, she decided a bit breathlessly, not noticing the way he shook his head before sharing an amused glance with the older man who now accompanied him.

“This is my man Cedric. You may remember him from the mistletoe hunt?”

“Oh, aye. Greetings, my lord,” Brinna murmured, and recalling her lessons on greeting people, started to sweep into a graceful curtsy that Lord Thurleah halted by catching her elbow. “He is a knight, not a lord,” Thurleah explained gently, and Brinna felt herself flush.

“Oh, well.” She hesitated, unsure how to greet the man now, then merely nodded and offered a smile, which was gently returned.

“Here you are, m’lord. I returned the lady’s horse to its stall and prepared Sir Cedric’s.” The stable lad led the new horse forward to join the other two.

“Ah. Very good. Fast work, boy.” Giving him an approving nod, Royce turned Brinna toward the door and led her out of the stables, offering her a smile as he went. Swallowing, Brinna managed a weak smile in return, but her attention was on the three horses Sir Cedric was now leading out behind them.

“I …” Brinna began faintly as he brought the horses to a halt beside them, but whatever she would have said died in her throat and she nearly bit her tongue off as Royce suddenly turned, caught her at the waist, and lifted her up onto the animal that was Lady Joan’s. Once he had set her down on the sidesaddle, he paused to eye her solemnly, his eyebrows rising slightly.

“Are you all right, Lady Joan? You have gone white as a clean linen.”

“Fine,” Brinna squeaked.

“You are not afraid of horses, are you?”

“Nay, nay,” she gasped.

“Nay, of course not,” he murmured to himself. “You rode here on this beast.”

“Ahhhaye.” The lie came out as a moan.

Royce nodded almost to himself, then cleared his throat and murmured, “Then, if you are not afraid, my lady, why is it you are clutching me so tightly?”

Brinna blinked at the question, then shot her eyes to her hands. They had tangled themselves in the material of his golden tunic and now clawed into it with all the determination of someone who was positive that should he release her, she would surely fall to her death. Lady Joan would not do that, of course, she told herself firmly. Forcing a smile that felt as stiff as wood, she forced her hands to release their death grip and smoothed the material down. “ ’Tis fair soft material, my lord. Quite good quality.”

“Ah.” Looking unsure as to what to make of her behavior, he released his hold on her waist and started to move away, only to step quickly back and catch her once more as she immediately started to slip off the sidesaddle. “I am sorry, I thought you had already braced your feet,” he muttered, easing her back onto the saddle again.

Swallowing, Brinna dug about the animal’s side with her feet under her skirts in search of whatever it was he thought would be there to brace her feet. She found it after a moment, an inch or so higher than her feet fell. Of course, Lady Joan was a couple of inches shorter than her, and of course that would have been the perfect height for
her
. For Brinna it meant bending her legs more than she should have had to and resting at a most awkward position. This time when he released her, she managed to
keep her seat, and even summoned a wobbly smile as she accepted the reins he handed her.

As he turned to mount his own horse, Brinna wrapped the reins desperately around her hands to be sure she did not lose them. Only then did she risk a glance toward the ground. As she had feared, it appeared to be a mile or more away. Aye, the ground was a long, long way down, and she could actually almost see it rushing toward her as if she were already falling off the beast. Shutting her eyes, she sat perfectly still, afraid to even breathe as she frantically wondered what the order was to make the animal move when the time came to do so. She needn’t have worried. The moment Royce urged his own mount forward, and his man Cedric followed, the mare fell into line behind them.

They started at a sedate pace, but even that was enough to make Brinna wobble precariously in her seat and tighten her grasp on the reins desperately as they moved through the bailey. She was positive she would not make it out of the gates, but much to her amazement she did, and even began to relax a bit. But then they crossed the bridge and reached the land surrounding the castle and Royce suddenly urged his mount into a canter.

Brinna’s horse followed suit at once, and she began to bounce around on the animal’s back like a sack of turnips in the back of a cart on a rutted path. Every bone in her body was soon aching from the jarring they were taking. Still, she held on, her teeth gritting together, as she told herself that it would soon be over. It seemed to her that they had been riding for hours when Royce and his man suddenly turned to glance back at her. Forcing her lips into a tight smile, she freed a hand to wave at them in what she hoped was a careless manner. They had barely turned forward again when her foot slipped off the bar
brace and she slid off the horse. All would have been well had she not wrapped the reins around her hands as she had. She would have tumbled from the horse into a nice pile of snow and that would have been that. Unfortunately, the reins were wrapped around her hand and she didn’t at first have the presence of mind to unwrap them. She hung down the side of the mount, shrieking in terror as her feet and lower legs were dragged through the snow. Her shrieks, of course, just managed to terrify her mount and urge it into a faster run, which made her scream all the louder.

Royce glanced over his shoulder toward Lady Laythem, saw her wave, and glanced back the way he was heading. He had decided on this ride in an effort to get her alone. He had heard a great deal about her being spoiled and snobbish from his cousin, but so far the woman had not quite fit that description. While it was true she was silent most of the time, which could be mistaken for snobbery, he was beginning to think it merely shyness. Truly, the girl seemed to shrink within herself when in the company of others. Of course, that cousin of hers didn’t help any. Sabrina answered every question he addressed to the girl in an effort to draw her out, and usually positioned herself between the two of them. It was most annoying. He was hoping that once alone Lady Laythem would shed some of that shyness and show her true nature.

“She’s not much of a rider,” Cedric commented, drawing Royce from his thoughts and making him nod in silent agreement. “When do you want me to drop back and give you some privacy?” Cedric asked, having been apprised of his lord’s wishes when he had fetched him.

Before Royce could respond, a sudden shrieking made them both turn back again. They were just in time to see
the lady’s mount come flying up and pass them, dragging the lady herself behind, kicking and screaming like a madwoman.

“My God.” They both gaped after the fleeing horse briefly, until Brinna finally managed to regain her scattered wits and untangle her hand from the reins. She slid free of the mount, disappearing into the deep snow alongside the trail as the mare raced wildly off into the woods.

“I shall fetch the mare,” Cedric choked out around what sounded suspiciously like laughter before urging his horse into a gallop and chasing off into the woods after the beast.

Shaking his head, Royce bit his lip in his own amusement and urged his mount forward along the trail until he reached the spot where Lady Joan had disappeared. It was easy enough to find; she had left a trail as she had been dragged along through the snow. Where the trail ended was where she must have slid off the horse. But as he stopped his mount, Royce couldn’t see any evidence of her presence. His amusement replaced by concern, Royce slid off of his horse and waded into the snow calling her name, shocked to find himself waist-deep in snow as fluffy as a newborn lamb’s wool. Stumbling forward, he nearly tripped over her body, then bent quickly, shoveling some of the top snow away with his bare hands before reaching into the icy fluff to find her and drag her upward, turning her at the same time until he had her head resting against his bent knee.

“Joan?” he murmured worriedly, taking in her closed eyes and the icy pallor of her cheeks. Brinna opened one eye to peer at him, then closed it again on a groan. “Are you all right? Is anything broken?”

“Only me pride,” she muttered, then opened both eyes
to admit wryly, “I was rather hoping ye’d just leave me here to die in shame alone.”

Royce blinked at that, then felt his mouth stretch into a slow smile before he asked again, “Were you hurt? Is anything broken?”

“Nay.” She sighed wryly. “But the snow went up me skirts so far me arse is a block of ice.” When his eyes widened incredulously at that and a choked sound slid from his throat, Brinna stiffened anxiously She supposed ladies wouldn’t refer to their behinds as arses. Or mayhap they wouldn’t mention them at all. Arses or what they were called had not come up during Lady Joan’s lessons. Still, from Lord Thurleah’s reaction, she was pretty sure that she hadn’t chosen the right word to use. The poor man looked as if he were choking on a stone.