and I can’t help but believe that the horses are a little green.” She shuddered delicately. “I hate the image of Count Christo being thrown. He’s eighty-two years old. Sweet man, a little daft. He always insists on bringing a whip with him when he rides in the parade.”
Eve felt her heart sink to her feet. “A whip?” she said, appalled, then sucked in a breath of air. “A whip,” she said again, her voice rising.
Bridget shot Eve a cautious glance. “He hasn’t ever actually used it.”
“But he carries it,” Eve said, distressed. She’d learned the uselessness of whips a long time ago.
“He’s an old man,” Bridget whispered. “It gives him a false feeling of control.”
Eve took another deep breath and clenched her fists in her lap. More than anything, she wanted to run to the stables and begin her work with the horses. More than ever the rest of this palace protocol and orientation seemed like horse crap. She didn’t want to waste one more second. Glancing at Bridget, she saw that dashing away from the princess wouldn’t be possible. She clenched her fists again then released them, resolving that she would head for the stables as soon as the meal was done.
Hours later, after Eve had skipped the afternoon orientation session, she worked with a third of the many palace horses. This one was a gentle palomino mare that, like the others, hadn’t been ridden often enough. She pushed down her anger that the horses hadn’t been exercised. Yet, at the same time, she knew Stefan had been stalling. For her.
A smidge of guilt mixed in with her anger.
The scent of horseflesh reached her on a cellular level as she reined in the palomino. The horse submitted to her, but Eve felt the mare’s urge to run. She would need to ride most of the horses once a day, if not twice during the next weeks. And the whip—God help her. How was she going to get the whip away from Count Christo?
Eve returned the mare to her stall and walked to the separate building that housed the stallion. Black was Arabian and quite the handful. She would work with him first thing in the morning, she decided as she leaned against the wall opposite his stall where he paced restlessly. The good news was that he wasn’t beating down the walls of the barn.
She felt more than heard footsteps approaching and, even before she turned, her nerve endings went on alert. Turning, she saw Stefan’s strong, tall form. Emanating a restless energy and power that reminded her of the stallion, he wore black riding pants and a half-buttoned shirt. His gaze was intent. “I’m the only one who rides Black,” he said.
Eve refused to be intimidated. This was her job now. She would own it. “How often do you ride him?”
“Two or three times a week,” he said. “Hard.”
“He needs a minimum of five times per week,” she told him. “Look at how restless he is.”
“That’s because he’s a stallion,” Stefan said. “Are you questioning my treatment of the horse?”
“Of course,” she said. “That’s why you hired me.”
His mouth lifted in a half grin. “We’ll do Black my way.”
“For a week,” she said. “If he’s still restless, he’ll be ridden more often, and I’ll be the one riding him.”
Stefan chuckled. “You?” He shook his head. “He’s too much for you to handle. He was too much for the previous two men to handle.”
“We’ll see,” she said, confident she could handle Black. She was not nearly as confident about Stefan. She watched him as he approached the stallion. The horse seemed to immediately calm. Stefan placed a bridle and saddle on the horse. He led him out of the stall, mounted him and galloped into the distance.
Chill bumps rose on her arms at the sight of man and horse flying into the moonlight. There was a mystic connection between the two of them that she couldn’t deny. She felt a rush of excitement and tried to temper it with resolve. Stefan was a powerful man, but he had distractions. He wouldn’t be able to ride the stallion every day. He had other demands. It wouldn’t take long before she would step in as a substitute to help Black release some of his energy. Less than a week, she suspected, and she would be ready….
Exactly one week later, Stefan stared into the empty stall of his prized stallion and felt a stab of alarm. Where is Black? Has someone let him out? Escaped? He walked into the stall and stared at the walls. What had—
Realization hit him and his alarm shifted to anger. Eve had taken Black for a ride. She’d told Stefan her plans, but since he’d stated that he would be the only one to ride the stallion, he’d dismissed her statements. He’d assumed she would follow his orders. Frustration rushed through him as he glanced at his watch. He’d left his office later than usual for his ride this evening, but she still shouldn’t have defied his orders.
He paced from one end of the barn to the other, his temper rising with each step. Hearing the sound of hoofbeats outside, he immediately strode to the barn door. He watched in shock as Eve swung off the stallion and led him around the corral for a cooldown. Black loped alongside her as docile as a lamb. He heard her voice, low and somehow seductive, as if she were making small talk with the stallion.
As she turned around, Black glanced upward. The horse must have caught his scent. His ears prickled and he gave a soft whinney before pulling away from Eve and trotting toward him. Stefan felt a measure of satisfaction that Black had left her behind so easily.
“There you go,” Stefan said to the horse, rubbing Black’s sleek throat. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Eve, her hair escaping the long braid that hung down her back, stepped toward Black and Stefan. Her hands rested on her hips, her lips were firm and unsmiling.
“You were told not to ride him,” Stefan said, deliberately keeping his voice mild as he patted the horse.
“And I told you that he needs to be ridden more frequently. If you don’t do it, then I will,” she said. “You’ve only shown up twice this week. He’s been so restless it’s a wonder he didn’t kick down the walls of his stall.”
“It seems you don’t understand. What I say goes about Black,” he said, turning toward her.
She met his gaze. “But you still expect me to be in charge of his health, well-being, diet, etc….“
“Yes,” he said, relieved the impertinent woman was beginning to understand.
She nodded. “Okay. I quit,” she said and turned to walk away.
Stefan stared at her in shock, again. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. “You can’t quit.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Sure I can. You and I agreed that you would let me be in charge of running the stables. That includes Black. If you’re going to interfere with me performing my job—”
“Interfere,” he repeated, nearly speechless at her lack of respect. “As your employer, it’s my right to agree or disagree with how you conduct your duties. Particularly in regards to Black—”
“Not if your plan isn’t in the best interest of the horse,” she interrupted, surprising him yet again. With
