The Prince's Texas Bride (5 page)

She picked up the phone to call the groomer, when
she heard a knock on her door. Glancing up, she found Phillipa in the doorway. “Well, hello, Your Highness. What brings you here?”

Plastering a smile on her face, Phillipa laced her fingers together, then unlaced them. “Please call me Phillipa. This is just a little visit. I know the big day is tomorrow and I wanted to see how you're doing.”

Eve noticed that the bookish princess shifted from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, what could be wrong?” Phillipa asked, walking into the small office. “Have you been here all day? Did you go out for lunch?”

Confused, Eve wondered what was behind Phillipa's discomfort. “We've been grooming today, so I've been here since 6:00 a.m. I ate a sandwich at my desk for lunch. Are you sure there's nothing bothering you? Are
you
concerned about the parade tomorrow?”

Phillipa waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, no. People don't focus on me. I know how to keep a low profile.”

“Okay,” Eve said, still confused by the visit. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Phillipa shrugged and smiled again a bit too brightly. “Not a thing. Stefan and Bridget both have events today, so they asked me to stop in and visit you.”

“That was nice,” Eve said, torn between the royals' compassion and her desire for them to have complete confidence in her. “I've hammered out all the details.”

Phillipa clasped her hands together. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Double check my to-do list for tomorrow, give the beauties a little extra attention, then hit the sack,” she said. “Why?”

“Just curious. I can have chef deliver a light dinner to your quarters,” she said.

“Not necessary. I won't be eating much anyway.”

“Oh, I insist,” Phillipa said. “All of us are very pleased with the job you're doing. We're very happy that you're here in Chantaine.”

“Thank you,” she said, wishing she could feel more pleased, but something just didn't ring right about this situation. Although Phillipa had been warm and friendly to Eve, she'd never visited her in the stables. Eve had been told the youngest princess was working a grueling schedule to complete her advanced degree as quickly as possible.

“You're welcome. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” Phillipa said and turned away.

Eve frowned for a moment. Something was going on, but she wasn't sure what it was. She groaned in frustration. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

 

After a restless night, Eve arose when it was dark and dressed in a formal riding outfit. She much preferred to stay in the background but had been told that the press might ask her a few questions. After eating a protein bar and drinking a cup of coffee, she went to the stables and supervised the rest of the grooming. The parade was scheduled for two o'clock and would depart from the Palace Square.

One of her missions was to separate Count Christo from his famed whip. The elderly man strutted around his assigned horse. Eve had assigned the man Pilar, a lovely older mare. “She's beautiful, isn't she?” Eve said to the count. “Pardon me, I'm Eve Jackson, the royal stable master. I've heard of you. Aren't you the famous Count Christo?”

The count lifted his shoulders and chin in a show of pride. “Yes, I am, and yes, this is a lovely mare. Are
you sure she'll be able to keep up with me? I'm quite the horseman, you know,” he said, pulling out his whip and tapping it against his hand.

Eve's stomach dipped at the sight of the whip. “Pilar has one of the best pedigrees in the prince's stable. She has spirit and she responds well to a gentle lead. I'm sure you've encountered that kind of mount before.”

“Of 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.”

E
ve 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 her to bring the child to him.

“Are you sure?” she called, surprised yet not.

He nodded and she carried the little boy to him. One of the guards stepped forward to help lift the boy into the saddle in front of Stefan. The crowd roared with delight. “Find his parents to meet me at the end of the route.”

Eve searched the crowd and immediately spotted the astonished, beaming parents of the boy. The young couple were already walking down the street. The father carried a sleeping infant in an infant carrier on his back.

Eve caught up with them. “Hello, I'm Eve Jackson, the royal horse master. Is that your son taking a ride with Prince Stefan?”

The woman gave a huge nod, clearly still stunned. “My son, Ricardo, he is so active. He got away from both my husband and me. Thank you for catching him. I can't believe he is riding with Prince Stefan.”

Eve couldn't help smiling at the joy on the couples' faces. “His Royal Highness asked that I make sure you meet your son at the end of the parade. We don't want your son to be frightened.”

“Frightened,” the father echoed. “I can only wish. The boy shows no fear.”

“I understand,” she said sympathetically. “Mr.—?”

“Benito,” he said. “Raul and Gina Benito, thank you for your kindness.”

“My pleasure,” she said and gestured for a guard to escort the young couple through the throng of observers. She ran ahead to make sure her assistants were taking care of the horses and riders properly. She knew there would be hundreds of photographs taken by the press of all the horses and riders.

The next hour passed in a flurry of activity as the horses were released from their royal duties and guided back to the barns.

“Ms. Jackson,” a man called from a few feet away. “Welcome to Chantaine. Your first royal parade is a huge success.”

“Thank you. I'm thrilled for the citizens of Chantaine to get the opportunity to see the beautiful horses that represent their country,” she said and motioned to one of her assistants to take two more of the horses back to the stable.

“Oh, but they are not Chantaine's horses. Everyone knows Prince Stefan has a weakness for fine horseflesh. These are Prince Stefan's horses.”

“Number one, I wouldn't call it a weakness. Number two, these horses do represent Chantaine just as your beautiful beaches and the palace and palace grounds do.”

The man lifted his eyebrow. “Easy for you to say. You make a much better salary than most of the citizens of Chantaine. The prince's horses aren't remotely self-sustaining.”

“It wouldn't be hard for them to be self-sustaining,” she couldn't keep from saying in defense of the stable.

“What do you mean?”

“Black. He's worth a fortune as a sire,” she said, then feared she'd revealed too much. He didn't look like a member of the press and she didn't see a camera. “I need to go. I was taught to earn my keep,” she added meaningfully, and then walked away.

 

Much later that evening after she'd showered and put on her pj's, her cell phone sounded, signaling a text message. She glanced up from the book she was reading and glanced at her phone. Meet me in the lower courtyard in thirty minutes. SD

Eve was torn between irritation and curiosity. The man was way too accustomed to giving orders. In other circumstances, she would have laughed and said forget it. But this was Stefan and the situation was totally different. Plus she was dying of curiosity.

She jumped out of bed and changed into a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt. With her hair still damp from the shower she'd taken earlier, she just decided to let it air-dry. After a few moments of feeling antsy, she gave in to her restlessness and decided to take the long way to the lower courtyard. She stopped by a bush of blue flowers that reminded her of Texas bluebells and felt a twist of homesickness. Back home, she'd stayed busy with her job, working with the horses on the ranch where her aunt worked and volunteering. Staying busy kept her from thinking too much about how much she missed her brother since he'd left all those years ago. It also kept her from getting involved in a serious relationship. From a young age, Eve had been
determined to steer her own ship, and she'd never met a man with whom she'd willingly share the wheel.

She heard the snap of a twig, but before she could turn around she heard his voice.

“Congratulations, Eve. Well done.”

Pleasure welled up inside her and she turned around to find Stefan, his shirt partly unbuttoned, his hair mussed and carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Surprised by his gesture, she felt a secret rush of delight. “Congratulations to you, too. The crowd loved it when you gave Ricardo a ride on Black. Champagne?”

He shrugged. “You worked hard. I thought you deserved to celebrate.”

“You could have just sent the bottle to my apartment, couldn't you?” she asked, unable to resist the chance to tease him.

He shot her a look with a glint of the devil in his eyes. “Okay,
I
deserve to celebrate, too. Come on,” he said and walked toward the lower courtyard. They entered the area surrounded by tall hedges and he gestured toward the stone bench. “Hold these, please,” he said and handed her the glasses.

“Wow,” she said.

“What?” he asked as he released the cork without spilling a drop. He tilted the liquid into the two glasses. “You said
please.
I don't hear that word from you all that often,” she said and offered him a glass.

“Are you always this charming when someone tries to thank you?”

“You knew what you were getting when you hired me,” she said and lifted her glass in salute. “Congratulations on choosing such spectacular horses for your stable
and for giving a little boy and his parents the story of their lives.”

“Congratulations for pulling it all together,” he said and clicked his glass against hers.

They both took a sip of the champagne. “I must confess I was worried about the combination of the protestors and your royal cavalry.”

He smothered a chuckle. “Royal
guard.
”

“Close enough,” she said and took another sip. “Have you been busy with interviews with the press?”

“And a cocktail party with the riders. I told my assistant to make sure you were invited.”

She shook her head. “I thought it would be better for me to make sure the real stars were taken care of after the show.”

“Of course,” he said. “Next time, remember you have staff for that.”

“No one refuses the prince?” she said. “Except for his family.”

“Are you saying you don't want to attend a party at the palace as a guest?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “It's a little out of my everyday routine,” she confessed.

“I can't believe you would be intimidated. I haven't seen anything else intimidate you,” he said.

“When I was eight years old, my brother told me to never let them see me sweat.”

“That's pretty young for that kind of instruction. What was the occasion?” he asked.

Another move due to her parents' inability to keep jobs and pay bills. Another new school when she'd wondered how long they would stay in this place. How long until people found out her father drank away most of his paycheck? “One of those times in elementary school
when the kids teased or bullied. It happens to most kids at one time or another.”

He looked at her for a long moment and frowned. “I don't like the idea of that.”

“What?” she asked, his intent gaze making her stomach slip and slide.

“The idea of someone bullying you.”

Something in the way he looked at her made her feel as if she were taking a free fall with no net. She tried to shake it off, but wasn't completely successful. She wasn't accustomed to someone being protective of her. “It didn't happen often,” she drawled.

He chuckled. “I bet it didn't,” he said and chucked her chin with his index finger. “Do you see him often? Your brother?”

His question slid under her radar, right through her ribs. She rarely mentioned her brother because his absence from her life was still painful to her. “Eli left a long time ago. He had to go. It was the only way.” She took a quick breath and shook her head, hating the fact that Stefan had found her vulnerable spot. “Can we talk about something else?”

He paused a half beat, then nodded. “Of course. We're here to celebrate,” he said with his most charming smile and clicked his glass against hers again.

She took a quick sip but spilled the champagne on the front of her shirt as she pulled the glass away. Frustration prickled through her. “This is why I don't drink very often,” she muttered, futilely pulling at her shirt.

“I can see where it would be distracting during a date,” Stefan said.

Glancing up, she saw his gaze fixed on her breasts. She looked down and was mortified by the outline of her nipples against the shirt. “Oh, great. This is
embarrassing,” she said and crossed her arms over her breasts. “See why I'm not big on formal parties? Even a private celebration in the seclusion of a faraway courtyard is not safe.”

Stefan took her glass and tossed it onto the soft bed of grass along with his, then took her chin in his fingers. “Trust me, Eve. If a man chooses to be with you in a courtyard, he's not thinking of safety,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. In another lifetime, she wondered if she could have turned him away. She'd turned so many others away. But she sensed that Stefan was strong enough. Man enough. She paused a heartbeat, then opened her mouth, opened herself to him.

Something between them clicked and snapped at the same time. If she believed in that kind of thing, she would have said it was electrical. But Eve didn't believe. At least, she never had before.

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past her lips, tasting and testing her. She slid her hands upward to his strong shoulders, wanting to absorb his strength and power into her. The kiss turned deeply passionate, almost carnal, making her cling to him.

He murmured something delicious against her lips, and suddenly she felt the night air against her back as he unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt. His hand on the bare skin of her waist stopped her breath. Seconds later, one of his hands slid upward to her breast, and she pushed against it, resenting the barriers of her shirt and bra. She wanted to feel his skin.

Part of her was shocked at the force of her desire, but another part of her knew she'd been waiting for this—for him—for years. She felt as if she were riding a tsunami of sensation and refused to fight it. She tugged at his
shirt, he pulled at hers, and buttons flung loose. Seconds later, he unfastened her bra and her breasts sprang free. He immediately covered one of her breasts with his hand.

Her nipple was hard and sensitized to his touch. He swore under his breath as he toyed with her nipple at the same time as he French-kissed her. She drank in the spicy, masculine scent of him and felt as if the world was turning sideways.

Stefan clasped his hand beneath her hips and lifted her upward. At the same time, he lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth, she felt his hardness pressed against her.

Dizzy with want, she slumped against him.

Stefan groaned, lifting his head and pulling her tightly against him. “We need to be together,” he whispered. “I want you in my bed.”

A shiver of the need he expressed raced through her. “How? Where?”

He gave a rough sound of frustration. “If it were up to me, it would be here and now. But I want privacy for the both of us.”

She sighed and tried to gather her wits. Was this what she really wanted? Was he what he really wanted? Eve was only certain of one thing. She couldn't
miss
him. Stefan affected her in a way no man ever had, and she craved the ultimate closeness with him. She wanted him so much it scared her, but she wasn't going to let her fear keep her from him.

“Then when?” she finally asked and met his gaze.

His dark eyes met hers, and she saw the strained passion there. The strength of it reassured her rather than frightened her. “You make it difficult for me not to take you now,
chérie.
Tomorrow night,” he said. “I'll make
arrangements for you to come to my suite. I'll work it out tomorrow.”

A ripple of anticipation and nerves raced through her. “It may not be wise—”

He covered her lips with his fingers. “It's beyond choice. We both feel it.”