wondering if he should
have let her ride. She looked incredibly tiny on the back of the stallion, yet he had to admit she looked
very much at ease in the saddle as she put the big stud through its paces. She was, he thought, a
natural-born horsewoman. Ashlynne reined the horse to a halt in front of Magny. "Are you sure you don't
want to try him?" Magny shook her head. "Not me." "Mag, it would be such fun if we could go riding
together. You could ride the old nag my father bought for my mother. He's too old and lazy to do
anything but walk." Magny shook her head again. "No. I like having my feet on the ground, thank you
very much." With a sigh of exasperation, Ashlynne wheeled the stallion around and touched her heels to
its flanks. Just then, old Otry came out of the barn, shaking the dust out of one of the horse blankets. The
sudden flapping noise, combined with the waving blanket, spooked the stallion and it raced toward the
opposite side of the corral, bucking wildly all the way. Falkon swore under his breath as the stallion made
a quick turn; he felt his heart plummet as Ashlynne toppled over the horse's rump. The stallion fled to the
far side of the corral, head high, eyes wild. "Lynnie!" Magny ducked through the rails, only to be pulled
up short by Falkon. "Stay here," he said brusquely. "Otry! Get that damn blanket out of here!" He was
running toward Ashlynne as he spoke, his heart pounding with fear as he knelt beside her. Damn! She
was lying facedown, unmoving, her eyes closed. His hands were trembling as he ran them over her arms,
down her legs. Nothing seemed to be broken. He tunneled his fingers through the heavy mass of her hair,
marveling at its softness as he checked her head for swelling. He was wondering if he should try to turn
her over when her eyelids fluttered open. Ashlynne blinked and blinked again, felt her cheeks grow hot as
she realized what had happened. She had been thrown. And he had seen it. She started to get up, but
Number Four placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her down. "Are you all right? Do you hurt
anywhere?" "Of course I'm all right." She pushed his hand away and sat up, her heart pounding at his
nearness. "Here now! What the hell is going on?" Falkon glanced over his shoulder, swore under his
breath when he saw Ashlynne's father striding toward them, his face contorted with rage. "She was
thrown, Mr. Myrafloures," Magny explained quickly. The anger on Marcus's face turned to concern as
he entered the corral and ran toward his daughter. "Ashlynne!" "I'm fine, Father." She held out her hands
and her father lifted her to her feet. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked anxiously. "It was all my
fault, Lord Marcus." Otry shuffled into the corral, his rheumy old eyes filled with fear as he faced his
employer. "It's all right, Otry," Ashlynne said, brushing the dirt from her clothes. "What happened, Otry?"
Marcus asked. "Father, it wasn't his fault at all. I should have been paying more attention." And she
would have been, if she hadn't been showing off for Number Four. "I'm fine, really." She looked up at her
father and smiled. "Nothing badly bruised but my ego." Marcus frowned at her, and then laughed. "Come
along, let's go up to the house." He brushed a bit of dirt from her cheek. "You'll want to clean up before
dinner. And for goodness sake, don't say anything about this to your mother." With a nod, Ashlynne
slipped her arm around her father's waist and they left the corral. Magny fell into step beside them. "See,
Lynnie?" she said. "See why I don't ride? You could have been killed." "Don't be silly, Mag. That's not
the first time I've fallen off a horse, and it probably won't be the last." Marcus looked at Magny and
grinned. "We'll get you on a horse one of these days," he predicted. "Just wait and see." Ashlynne fought
the urge to glance over her shoulder. She could feel Number Four watching her. Warmth flooded her
cheeks as she recalled the
have let her ride. She looked incredibly tiny on the back of the stallion, yet he had to admit she looked
very much at ease in the saddle as she put the big stud through its paces. She was, he thought, a
natural-born horsewoman. Ashlynne reined the horse to a halt in front of Magny. "Are you sure you don't
want to try him?" Magny shook her head. "Not me." "Mag, it would be such fun if we could go riding
together. You could ride the old nag my father bought for my mother. He's too old and lazy to do
anything but walk." Magny shook her head again. "No. I like having my feet on the ground, thank you
very much." With a sigh of exasperation, Ashlynne wheeled the stallion around and touched her heels to
its flanks. Just then, old Otry came out of the barn, shaking the dust out of one of the horse blankets. The
sudden flapping noise, combined with the waving blanket, spooked the stallion and it raced toward the
opposite side of the corral, bucking wildly all the way. Falkon swore under his breath as the stallion made
a quick turn; he felt his heart plummet as Ashlynne toppled over the horse's rump. The stallion fled to the
far side of the corral, head high, eyes wild. "Lynnie!" Magny ducked through the rails, only to be pulled
up short by Falkon. "Stay here," he said brusquely. "Otry! Get that damn blanket out of here!" He was
running toward Ashlynne as he spoke, his heart pounding with fear as he knelt beside her. Damn! She
was lying facedown, unmoving, her eyes closed. His hands were trembling as he ran them over her arms,
down her legs. Nothing seemed to be broken. He tunneled his fingers through the heavy mass of her hair,
marveling at its softness as he checked her head for swelling. He was wondering if he should try to turn
her over when her eyelids fluttered open. Ashlynne blinked and blinked again, felt her cheeks grow hot as
she realized what had happened. She had been thrown. And he had seen it. She started to get up, but
Number Four placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her down. "Are you all right? Do you hurt
anywhere?" "Of course I'm all right." She pushed his hand away and sat up, her heart pounding at his
nearness. "Here now! What the hell is going on?" Falkon glanced over his shoulder, swore under his
breath when he saw Ashlynne's father striding toward them, his face contorted with rage. "She was
thrown, Mr. Myrafloures," Magny explained quickly. The anger on Marcus's face turned to concern as
he entered the corral and ran toward his daughter. "Ashlynne!" "I'm fine, Father." She held out her hands
and her father lifted her to her feet. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked anxiously. "It was all my
fault, Lord Marcus." Otry shuffled into the corral, his rheumy old eyes filled with fear as he faced his
employer. "It's all right, Otry," Ashlynne said, brushing the dirt from her clothes. "What happened, Otry?"
Marcus asked. "Father, it wasn't his fault at all. I should have been paying more attention." And she
would have been, if she hadn't been showing off for Number Four. "I'm fine, really." She looked up at her
father and smiled. "Nothing badly bruised but my ego." Marcus frowned at her, and then laughed. "Come
along, let's go up to the house." He brushed a bit of dirt from her cheek. "You'll want to clean up before
dinner. And for goodness sake, don't say anything about this to your mother." With a nod, Ashlynne
slipped her arm around her father's waist and they left the corral. Magny fell into step beside them. "See,
Lynnie?" she said. "See why I don't ride? You could have been killed." "Don't be silly, Mag. That's not
the first time I've fallen off a horse, and it probably won't be the last." Marcus looked at Magny and
grinned. "We'll get you on a horse one of these days," he predicted. "Just wait and see." Ashlynne fought
the urge to glance over her shoulder. She could feel Number Four watching her. Warmth flooded her
cheeks as she recalled the
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