"I do like surprises."

He laughed and released her with a light pat. "Find your clunky boots and see to that owl. Samuel's dinner won't wait."

Chloe recovered her good humor with habitual speed and, Plato having been fed, came to the table with a ready hunger. Samuel carved a leg of mutton, ladled boiled potatoes, green peas, and parsnips onto her plate and set it before her as she took her usual seat at the side of the long table.

"Would you like a glass of wine with that, lass?" Hugo raised a questioning eyebrow as he was about to take his own seat at the head of the table.

Chloe shook her head and gave him a quick smile. "No, thank you, just water."

"I think Samuel's dinner deserves accompaniment," Hugo said calmly. "Fetch two glasses." He took the cellar key from the wall and went down.

Chloe looked anxiously at Samuel, who shrugged slightly and said, "Do as 'e says, I should."

She took two wineglasses from the dresser and then stood at the table, uncertain where to place them.

Hugo came up with a bottle of claret. "You and Samuel, lass," he said with a slight smile, pulling the cork.

Deliberately, he examined the cork, sniffed it, nodded, placed it on the table, and filled their glasses. Then he sat down and began to eat.

A collective easing of tension rippled around the table. Hugo had set himself a test and had passed it.

Chloe helped Samuel with the dishes while Vivaldi filled the house from the library; they could both hear the harmony in Hugo's soul as it flowed from his fingers.

Afterward she went into the library and stood behind him, one hand lightly clasping his neck. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. "You're tired. You had a long ride. Why don't you go up to bed?"

"I'm not tired," she denied, spoiling the effect with a deep yawn.

Hugo laughed. "No, of course you're not. Go on upstairs." His voice softened. "I'll come up and wake you later."

Some instinctive wisdom told her that she couldn't insist that he accompany her, nor could she stay with him until he was ready. Hugo had too dense a thicket around himself for such a new relationship to penetrate. She had no rights of possession, no right to intrude on his privacy. His age and experience demanded that she respect his ruling on the time, the place, and the manner in which they conducted their liaison.

"Promise?"

He reached up, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her face down to his, kissing her firmly. "Promise. I'll play you a lullaby."

"But I dont want to go to sleep yet."

"Didn't I say I'd wake you?"

She nodded and left, the soft strains of a nursery lullaby, cleverly varied by the pianist, accompanying her up the stairs and drifting through her open window as she undressed.

She hadn't expected to fall asleep, but the music worked its magic and within minutes she was sleeping peacefully.

Samuel took himself to bed soon after, and Hugo continued to play for himself, softly now so as not to disturb the sleepers, enjoying the quiet of the house, the knowledge of the sleeping girl waiting for his waking touch, the satisfaction of another day's battle fought and won.

Across the courtyard, three dark-clad figures ran in a huddled crouch, hugging the shadows. The side of the house overlooking the courtyard was in darkness, and they couldn't hear the now-muted strains of the piano from the library, where only a single candle cast its light.

Silently, one of the three lifted the latch on the stable and they crept inside. A horse shuffled in the straw, whickered in alarm at the scent of strangers. The three moved fast, piling straw in a corner of the building. Flint scraped on tinder, a yellow flare lit the cobwebbed corners, threw an outsize shadow of a horse's head on the wall.

The yellow flare was put to the pile of dry straw. A horse whickered again, a panicky sound as the smell of burning filled the confined space.

The three figures backed out of the building, latching the door behind them. Then they flew across the courtyard, no longer worrying about hugging the shadows, and disappeared into the underbrush along the driveway.

The straw caught, but it burned slowly at first. Thanks to Billy's lack of husbandry, it was mixed with wet straw that had been moldering in the kennel.

Hugo caught the faint smell of smoke from the open library window at the same time one of the horses

screamed in tenor. The scream woke Chloe instantly, and as instantly she recognized the sound.

She was out of bed and down the stairs without thinking. Hugo was already wrenching at the locks on the side door as she raced across the hall.

"What is it?"

"Fire," he said curtly.

"What the 'ell's goin' oa'" Samuel, pulling on his britches over his nightshirt, hopped down the stairs.

But Hugo had the door open and was out in the courtyard. Smoke poured thick and black through the open stable window and wreathed under the door. The stamping of hooves and the high-pitched, terrified screaming rent the air in a horrific cacophony.

"Get back!" Hugo bellowed as Chloe bobbed up beside him. "And stay out of the way!"

Chloe jumped back obediently as he wrenched open the door, leaping to one side as he did so. Flame licked out at them, and the roaring and crackling of the straw pile added a hellish din to the already ear-splitting noise of terror.

Hugo covered his face with his arm and plunged into the smoke. He knew where each of the horses was stabled. The bolts on the stalls were too hot to touch, and his fingers blistered as he hauled them open. The animals were not tethered, but they were too terrified to find their own way through the smoke and flame.

He grabbed the mane of his own black stallion and dragged the terrified animal out of the stall, praying one of the powerful hooves wouldn't fell him as the beast reared and plunged. But as he smelled the fresh air, he charged forward, knocking Hugo to his knees as he raced into the courtyard.

Samuel was- beside Hugo now, wrenching at the bolts of the other stalls. It was impossible to see anything now, and they were guided by the screams and stamp-

ing hooves. Hugo could smell his own hair singeing, his skin was burning, his nostrils like cinders, his lungs heaving with the lack of air.

Dapple was released. Samuel was struggling with one of the two hunters, both of which were too terrified to find their way out of the stalls. Suddenly Chloe was beside him. She had the hunter by the mane and was leading him around, her voice, choked with smoke, speaking to him with a desperate urgency that was still somehow quiet and soothing. She pointed him toward the opening and slapped his rump.

As he lunged forward, she left Samuel and was stumbling down the aisle, her head buried in the sleeve of her nightgown. Her chestnut was at the far end of the aisle, with Rosinante. She could free only one of them.

The chestnut was young and inexperienced. He resisted all her efforts to lead him. By now her head was about to explode, her lungs were on fire, and she knew she was going to lose consciousness. With a last effort born of desperation, she scrambled halfway up the scorching wooden rail of the stall and fell forward on the gelding's back. Somehow, she got one leg over and kicked hard with her bare heels against his flanks, steering him out of the stall. The gelding exploded out of the stall and out of the stable into the courtyard.

Hugo was staring frantically around the courtyard as the released horses milled and stamped and whinnied. It was a bright night, the moon hanging full and round, low in the sky. Billy had appeared now, his face white in the moonlight, his usually vacuous expression a terrified blank. But Chloe was nowhere to be seen.

"Chloe!" Hugo bellowed in desperate fear just as the chestnut hurtled out of the burning building, his eyes rolling, lips pulled back over great yellow teeth.

"Goddammit!" Hugo yelled, his fear turning to rage. He grabbed Chloe by the waist and swung her off the

horse, holding her in midair. Her eyebrows and the wisps of hair on her forehead were singed, and black tears of pain and desperation streaked down her smoke-blackened cheeks.

"Of all the lunatic, reckless things to do," he raged. "I told you to stay back." He shook her as he held her off the ground, beside himself with terror-induced fury.

"I had to rescue Petrarch," she cried as impassioned as he. "Petrarch was still in there! I couldn't leave him."

"Petrarch?" For a moment he was bewildered, then he understood. The damn chestnut had finally been christened. "I was just going in for him," he declared, setting her on her feet with a jarring thump.

"But he couldn't wait!" she cried, rubbing her tears with the back of her hand, smudging her face with black. "I couldn't wait for you… And Rosinante… he's still there." She dived suddenly beneath his arm and raced to the stable, ignoring everything he'd just said.

"Chloe! Come back here!" He lunged and caught her arm, spinning her away from the burning building. "Didn't you hear a word I said?" He almost threw her backward into Samuel's arms. "Don't let go of her!" Then he dived once more into the smoke-filled stable, stumbling down the aisle, crouching low to the ground. By the time he reached the end stall, his lungs were about to burst and he was blinded with smoke. The heat was so fierce, he could feel his clothes beginning to smolder, scalding his flesh.

Somehow, he grabbed the mane of the enfeebled nag. The hair was burning to the touch and he could smell the animal's scorched hide. He hauled him backward out of the building, thankful that the years of deprivation had reduced the beast to a weight that he could physically control.

He staggered into the yard just as his lungs were

about to yield to the smoke. Rosinante buckled at the knees and fell to the cobbles, where he lay on his side, his flanks heaving, foam bubbling from his mouth, his eyes rolling.

Chloe dropped beside the nag, tears still pouring down her cheeks. She laid a hand on the animal's tortured flank and then looked up at Hugo. "Put him out of his misery. He can't breathe. He'll never recover from this."

"I'll fetch your pistol," Samuel said.

He was back in a few minutes and silently handed the pistol to Hugo. Chloe was still crouching beside Rosinante, murmuring to him as if she could somehow reach him through his agony.

"Go into the house, Chloe," Hugo commanded brusquely, bending to lift her to her feet. "Right away!"

"It's all right, I don't need-"

"Go! And put that kitchen overcoat on while you're about it." He knelt to place the pistol against the animal's head. The shot rang out and Rosinante jerked once and was at peace.

"I'll kill Jasper."

The soft-spoken ferocity of the statement brought Hugo to his feet in one movement. Chloe was standing to one side, out of his line of sight as he'd shot the horse. But she was still coatless and had clearly remained in the courtyard.

"I told you to go into the house!"

"I didn't need to," she said, her mouth taking on the stubborn line he was beginning to know.

"Go and put a coat on!" he ordered her in clipped accents. A battle royal with his willful ward would have to wait until the fire was under control.

Chloe went for the coat without further protest and then ran to join them at the pump, where they were frantically filling buckets.

"I'll work the pump," she said, seizing the handle from Billy.

Half an hour later, the blaze was under control. The stable was solidly built of lime-washed stone, and while the straw and the wooden partitions of the stalls burned merrily, the flames finally exhausted the fuel.

Chloe was drenched with sweat from pumping the handle, her hands blistered, her nightgown beneath the overcoat torn and black with smoke, her face and hands and feet as filthy as a coal miner's. But without flagging she turned to calming the horses and settling them in the barn, where the stench of charred wood and burned straw wouldn't reach them. While she was thus occupied, the three men heaved Rosinante onto the cart and buried him in the far field.

It was past four o'clock before Billy went to his bed in the loft above the old dairy, and Hugo, Samuel, and Chloe staggered into the kitchen.

"Cup 6' tea won't come amiss, I reckon," Samuel declared, setting the kettle on the range.

"I'm parched," Chloe agreed, shrugging out of the overcoat. She rubbed her stinging eyes with the heels of her palms.