Bridget burrowed deeper into her makeshift bed in the hayloft and let out a contented sigh. She was cozy as a bug nestled in a rug. Her stepfather wasn’t shouting at her, and no one was making noise in the stable below her. It felt too good to be true—
Her eyes flew open. She stared at the plump white pillow cushioning her head. Then her gaze shifted beyond the pillow to the walls, which were painted with an array of wildflowers. Her hand held onto a rose coverlet. There was no sign of hay in sight.
Wait, no, this is too good to be true…
Wait, no, is too good to be true…The memories came back to her slowly. She glanced around, taking in the opulent room. The last thing she remembered was having dinner with those three fancy gents. Had she fallen asleep at the dining table? She must hav
