Osric M’Grew sat on the other side of the fireplace reading a book, a pot and cup of tea at his elbow. Tegan gazed out into the bad weather, her back to everyone.

Yates flicked his gaze to Karigan. “You up for a game of Intrigue? We could use a Triad.”

Already the mud was drying on Karigan’s cheek. “No.” She had certain negative associations with the game, and had vowed never to play it again. Besides, she inevitably lost.

“We’re playing for Dragon Droppings,” Yates said. He picked up a little paper bag and shook it, the aroma of chocolate wafting to her.

Justin clouted Yates’ shoulder. “Look at her, stupid! She’s been training with Drent.”

That brought her sympathetic groans from the other two men. Osric closed his book and stood up to steer her to his chair by the fire. He poured her tea and handed her his cup.

“Drink up while I get a bath started for you.”

Karigan smiled gratefully as she wrapped her hand around the warm cup.

“Let’s get your boots off,” Yates said.

“Careful,” Justin warned her, “he won’t want to stop with boots.”

“I beg your pardon,” Yates protested. “I have only the lady’s best interests at heart.”

“Yep, and I bet there are a few ladies who’ve heard that line a time or two.”

Karigan chuckled. She had heard all about Yates’ conquests. Whether or not the stories were true, he had acquired quite the reputation. And, she thought she knew why. He was most charming the way he bowed to her and knelt to the ground, easing one boot off with the utmost style and care.

The amount of muddy water that sloshed out of the boot appalled her.

By the expressions on Justin’s and Yates’ faces, they were appalled, too.

“Karigan,” Justin said, “why are you wearing these wrecked old things with all the cracks in ’em?”

“I didn’t want to ruin my new pair.”

Justin rolled his eyes.

Yates pulled off her other boot with similar results. He glanced inside the boot. “Is that a trout I see swimming in there?”

Karigan laughed. “It’s really rainy out.” Was it her imagination, or did Tegan flinch at her words? Oddly the Rider remained quiet, not joining in with the good-natured banter as she normally would. She just kept staring out the window, her reflection pale.

Yates pointed at the leather strap binding her arm. “Would you like that removed?”

“Please.”

He turned triumphantly to Justin. “She said ‘please!’ ”

“Don’t encourage him, Karigan.”

As Yates worked the strap’s buckle, he said, “I can only imagine what use this might have.” He waggled his eyebrows provocatively.

Karigan laughed, and kicked him in the shin.

Yates made quite a show of it, hopping on one foot, shouting, “Ow-ow-ow! The lady is spirited—I’ve been wounded!” His face was twisted in mock agony.

“Aw, cut it out,” Justin said, “or I’ll wound you for real.”

Yates did stop and put his hand over his heart. “I fear it is my heart that is wounded.” He sniffed, his expression piteous.

By now Karigan was laughing hard enough that she forgot how damp and clammy she was. When the laughter died down, she explained exactly what the strap was for. This brought instantaneous—and gratifying—pity. Yates gallantly covered her with his shortcoat, and Justin poured her another cup of tea.

“Forget the tea,” she said, “give me those Dragon Droppings.”

Justin grabbed the bag off the table and handed it to her. Karigan rolled her eyes in ecstasy as she bit into the chocolate, its creamy filling melting on her tongue. Master Gruntler, the city’s premier confectioner, was indeed the master of his craft.

When Yates tried to rub her feet warm, however, she almost spewed the chocolate all over him. She was terribly ticklish.

“Stop! Stop!” she cried, laughing again, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Yates’ grin was devilish. “I love to hear a woman beg.” But he let her foot go, not wishing to torment her too much after her morning with Drent. They had, of course, heard all the same stories she had about Drent, but would never have imagined he’d work her so hard with her injured arm. Karigan didn’t even have to show them her bruises.

Osric reappeared and announced with a flourish, “Your bath awaits you, my lady.”

Justin elbowed Yates in the ribs. “He been taking lessons from you?”

They assisted her from her chair and moved with her toward the corridor.

“I can walk, you know,” she told them.

“But we wish to escort you,” Yates said.

And so, with a Rider on each side of her and Osric leading the way, the little procession set off for the bathing room, leaving Tegan behind to continue gazing out into the rain.

When they reached the bathing room, Karigan took one look at the steaming bath, stepped inside, and closed the door in the faces of her eager escorts.

“But, Karigan,” Yates called, “don’t you need our assistance?”

“Hah!” She drove the bolt home, and listened to their amusing protests as she peeled off her wet clothing. By the time she was in the tub, they left her in peace. As she sank into hot water, she was aware only of sore muscles loosening and relaxing, and the rain drumming on the roof.

A tapping interfered with her snoozing. She ignored it and returned to the dream where her bath water merged into a mirror-still lake, and falling stars etched whiskers into the night sky above.