course,” he said, still tapping his hand with the whip.
“Would you mind if I looked at your whip? I’ve never seen one quite like that before,” she said.
“It’s been passed down through generations of my family. Napoleon gave it to one of my great-uncles,” he said as he handed it to her.
“It looks as if it’s barely been used at all,” she said, sliding her fingers over the leather.
“Oh, of course not,” the count said. “It’s mostly for show. A true horseman only uses a whip in the direst circumstance.”
A sliver of relief slid through her and she smiled. “You’re a wise man.”
“You were worried I would whip the horse,” he mused, surprising her with his perception.
“It’s my job to be protective of them and anyone who rides them,” she said.
His lips lifted in a half smile. “Don’t worry. The whip shall remain sheathed.”
She sighed and dipped her head. “Thank you very much, Count Christo.”
“My pleasure,” the count said. “It’s nice to see the prince’s new stable master so conscientious. A refreshing change.”
“Thank you again,” she said, this time unable to resist a smile, then left to check on the other riders and horses. She came upon Bridget on one of the geldings.
“Everything okay?” Eve asked, automatically checking the security of the saddle and stirrups.
“Peachy, as you Yanks would say,” Bridget said. “The good news is that Stefan found a way to take care of those pesky protesters.”
Eve blinked. “Protesters?” she echoed in confusion.
Bridget grimaced. “Oh, no. Stefan’s assistant didn’t call you? We thought he would be the best one to explain the problem.”
“What problem?” Eve demanded, her mind whirling at all the problems protesters could cause. What if they decided to throw rocks at the riders or horses? She shuddered at the thought.
“There was an article in the newspaper yesterday. Stefan and I were busy, so we sent Phillipa around to check on you until Stefan’s assistant got in touch with you. I can’t believe he didn’t do that,” Bridget said with a frown. “I assure you Stefan will be furious. But he’s fixed it. The royal guard will march alongside the parade to protect us.”
Eve frowned. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion. A celebration of Chantaine’s beautiful horses. “Why the protest?” she asked.
Bridget sighed. “The citizens think Stefan is spending too much money on the horses … and his new horse master. To them, the horses don’t earn their keep.”
“Well, that would be easily fixed,” Eve said.
“How?” Bridget asked.
“Put Black out to stud. The payment for his sperm could feed a third-world country. Sounds like it’s time to spread it around,” she said.
Bridget snickered. “Can’t wait to see you convince Stefan of that.”
Furious that he hadn’t discussed this with her, she balled her fists, but hid them behind her back. “No time like the present. Later, Your Highness.”
Eve searched the crowd for His Highness and immediately spotted him. He stood tall and confident, resplendent in his dress riding clothes next to Black. She marched toward him.
“Your Royal Highness,” she said and bent her knees. As a curtsy, it sucked big-time, but it was better than nothing.
“Ms. Jackson. Good to see you. All the horses are in good form,” he said.
She moved closer. “I just hope they remain in good form. The protest I never heard about could cause problems.”
“I’ve taken care of it,” he said.
“I should have been informed. It will look ridiculous to have an army of soldiers escorting the horses. This is supposed to a celebration of pride in the heritage of the royal stables of Chantaine.”
“Unfortunately, not all the citizens see it that way,” he said.
“There’s an easy solution to the money problem,” she said.
“What’s that?” he asked, glancing around the crowd.
“Release Black’s seed,” she said.
His head whipped around as he focused on her. “Pardon me?”
“You know what I’m saying. You need to let Black provide stud service. You’ll make tons of money.”
“I’ve been waiting—”
“For what? The perfect filly?” she asked.
His eyebrows knitted in disapproval. “Who are you to tell me when I should send my stallion out for stud?”
“I am the royal stable master. You hired me for this very purpose,” she said, lifting her chin.
A trumpet sounded. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“Darn right, we will,” she said. “And you better cut the number of guards for this party in half or you’re going to look like you’re headed into war.”
Chapter Four
Eve walked the route of the parade next to the horses. Actually, she ran, trotted, skipped and walked, dividing her attention between the horses and potential protesters. At one turn in the street, she heard hecklers and searched the crowd. Within seconds, the palace guard swarmed like bees. She wished she could talk to them and tell them the value of the prized horses that represented their country, but she knew it wasn’t her place.
Pushing aside the effects of the heat of the afternoon, she returned to the last of the parade where Stefan rode astride Black. At every turn, the crowd screamed and clapped in delight. Understandably so. Both Stefan and Black were prime specimens. The spectators threw flowers at them, and she was relieved to see Black take it all in stride.
Suddenly from the corner of her eye, she saw a child streak out of the crowd toward Stefan and Black.
Instinctively, she chased after the boy child. She barely caught him in her arms.
“Prince Stefan,” the child wailed. “I want to ride with Prince Stefan.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” she said as the child struggled in her arms. “I don’t want you to get caught in the horse’s legs. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She felt Stefan’s glance at her and looked up at him. Her gaze met his, and the connection between them zinged again. He glanced at the boy and lifted his hand, waving
