The Milliways stable is full of beautiful animals, horses with noble breeding -- "threaded stock," as Susan Allgood might have said -- but Lineave is a particularly fine mare, carefully bred and trained to perfect behavior. Her action, what little Caspian has seen of it, is light and fluid, and he's as eager as Kate to take her out to the space beyond the stable and see how she works under the spring sun.

He'd never laugh at a lady, even one hinting so transparently as Kate, though the sea-gray eyes sparkle with amusement at her self-sacrificing sigh.

"Would you mind?" he asks, handing her the lead once the halter is buckled on. "Best not to accidentally jar my head, you know. And, being Marian's, I suppose she might prefer a lady's company."

Not that he won't be right there watching.