Three French Hens Read Online Free PDF Page A

lift her to her feet, then quickly helped Sabrina brush down her skirts before straightening to smile at Brinna gently. “Better?”
    “Oh, yes, that is much better,” Sabrina assured him, cutting off any reply Brinna might have given. “Thank you for your aid, my lord. Lady Joan is usually—”
    “The epitome of grace,” Royce murmured wryly.
    “Aye. Exactly.” She beamed at him as if he were a student who had just figured out a difficult sum. “Why, she has been trained in dance.”
    “Has she?” he asked politely, turning to smile down at Brinna.
    “Aye. And that is not all,” Sabrina assured him, stepping between him and Brinna to block his view of the girl. Apparently eager to convince him that this little mishap was an aberration, she began to rattle off Lady Joan’s abilities. “She speaks French, Latin, and German. Knows her herbs and medicinals like the back of her hand. Is meticulous in the running of the household. Is trained in the harp and lute—”
    “The harp?” Lord Thurleah interrupted, leaning sideways to peer around the brunette at Brinna.
    “Oh, aye. She plays it like a dream,” Sabrina assured him, shifting to block his vision again.
    “Really?” Straightening, he smiled at Brinna. “Then mayhap you could be persuaded to play for us tonight after our meal? ’Twould make a nice break from that minstrel who attempted to sing for us last night.”
    “Aye, it would, would it not?” Sabrina laughed gaily.
    Brinna’s mouth dropped open in horror as the brunette continued. “Why, he was absolutely horrid. Joan would be much more pleasant to listen to.” She glanced to the side then, as if to look proudly at Brinna, then frowned as she caught the girl’s expression. “What are you—” she began anxiously, turning toward her fully. Then her own eyes rounded as she suddenly grasped the reason for Brinna’s abject horror. Her own face suddenly mirroring it, she whirled back toward Lord Thurleah, shaking her head frantically. “Oh, nay. Nay! She couldn’t possibly play. Why she … er … she …”
    When Sabrina peered at her wild-eyed, Brinna sighed and moved forward, murmuring, “I am afraid I injured my hand quite recently. I would be no good at the harp just now. Mayhap later on during the holidays.”
    “Aye,” Sabrina gasped with relief, and turned to beam at Royce. “She hurt her hand.” Realizing that she looked far too pleased as she said that, Sabrina managed a frown. “Terrible, really. Awful accident. Sad. Horribly painful. She almost lost full use of her hand.”
    Brinna rolled her eyes as the girl raved on, not terribly surprised when her comments made Lord Thurleah lean forward to glance down at the hands she was presently hiding within Lady Joan’s cloak “It sounds awful. Whatever happened?” he asked.
    “Happened?” Sabrina blinked at the question, her face going blank briefly, then filling with desperation. “She … er … she … er … pricked her finger doing embroidery!” she finished triumphantly, and Brinna nearly groaned aloud as what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter burst from Lord Thurleah, before he could cover his mouth with his hand. Turning away, he made a great show of coughing violently, then cleared his throat several times before turning a solemn face back to them.
    “Aye. Well, that
is
tragic.” His voice broke on the last word, and he had to turn away again for a few more chortling coughs. By the time he turned back, Brinna was biting her upper lip to keep from laughing herself at the ridiculous story. Unaware that her eyes were sparkling with merriment as she met his gaze, that her cheeks were pink with health, and that she seemed almost to glow with vitality, she blinked in confusion when he suddenly gasped and stilled.
    Frowning now, Sabrina glanced at the man, her mouth working briefly before she assured him, “Aye, well, it may not sound like much, but ’twas an awful prick.”
    Royce blinked at that,