Three French Hens Read Online Free PDF Page B

you.”
    “Oh,” she breathed shakily, a blush suffusing her face even as her chest seemed to constrict somewhat and make it harder to breathe.
    “Aye, you might very well blush did you know my thoughts. How I imagine covering your mouth with my own, nibbling at the edges, sucking your lower lip into my mouth, then slipping my tongue—”
    “Oh, Mother,” Brinna gasped, beginning to fan her suddenly heated face as if it were a hot summer day instead of a frigid winter one. His voice and what he was saying were having an amazing affect on her body, making it tingle in spots, and sending bursts of warm gushy feelings to others. Maybe she was coming down with something, she thought with a bit of distress as his face began to lower toward hers.
    “Joan! Oh, Joan!”
    Royce and Brinna both straightened abruptly and turned to see Lady Sabrina walking determinedly toward them, Lord Thurleah’s mounted man following behind, an apologetic expression on his face as he met his lord’s glance.
    “Your cousin appears to be most persistent,” Royce muttered dryly, and Brinna sighed.
    “Aye. She’s rather like a dog with a bone, isn’t she?”
    “The group has stopped just beyond that bend,” Sabrina announced triumphantly as she neared. “It seems the spot is just crawling with mistletoe. Even as I speak, servants are climbing and shimmying up trees to bring down some of the vines.”
    Reaching them, Sabrina hooked her arm firmly through Brinna’s and turned to lead her determinedly in the direction from which she had come, trilling, “It is fortunate, is it not? Else you may have gotten separated from the group and not caught up at all. Then you would have missed all the fun. Imagine that.”
    “Aye, just imagine.” Royce sighed as he watched the brunette march his betrothed off around the bend.
    “He is—”
    “Aye, I know,” Joan interrupted Brinna dryly. “He is a very nice man. You have said so at least ten times since returning to this room.”
    “Well, he is,” Brinna insisted determinedly. They had arrived back at Menton nearly an hour ago. Sabrina had rushed her upstairs, then insisted Brinna wait in the hall while she went in and spoke to Joan alone. Brinna had stood there, alternately worrying over what was being said inside the room and fretting over how she would explain why she was loitering about in the hall should anyone happen upon her. Fortunately, no one had come along before Sabrina had reappeared. Stepping into the hall, she had gestured for Brinna to enter the room, then walked off, leaving her staring after.
    A moment later, Brinna had straightened her shoulders and slid into the room to find Joan seated in the chair by the fire awaiting her. Brinna had not hesitated then, but had walked determinedly toward her. After rejoining the group, she had spent the better part of that afternoon considering everything she had learned to date. And it had seemed to her that, while Lady Joan was reluctant to marry Royce, it was due to some obvious misconceptions. Someone had misled her. Lord Thurleah was neither a backward oaf nor a country bumpkin givento rough wooing. He was just as polite and polished as any of the other lords. And it seemed to Brinna that she was in a position to correct this situation. All she had to do was tell Lady Joan the truth about Lord Thurleah’s nature and the girl would resign herself to being his bride. Lady Joan, however, did not appear to wish to hear what she was trying to tell her. Still, she’d decided she had to try. “He isn’t what you said. He doesn’t woo roughly. He—”
    “Brinna, please.” Joan laughed, digging through her chest for Lord knows what as she went on gently. “My dear girl, you are hardly in a position to judge that. It is not as if you have spent a great deal of time around nobility.”
    “Aye, but, he-he spoke real pretty. He—”
    “You mean he was very complimentary?” Joan asked, pausing to frown at her as Brinna nodded