The Princess's Proposal. Valerie Parv

      Chapter Three

      As soon as he heard himself ask the question, Hugh recognized his mistake. He needed to meet the princess again if he was to persuade her to sell Carazzan to him, but he hadn’t meant to sound as if he wanted to see her again for her own sake.

      The problem was he did, he thought with an inward sigh of frustration. She’d brought him face-to-face with something he hadn’t thought about in a long while—how much time he spent alone. Granted, it was from choice. He was well aware that he had no need to spend even one night alone unless he wanted to. He usually wanted to. This felt different. And dangerous.

      “I’m hosting a session for the Children’s Right to Ride organization at my country house the day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. Her voice sounded brittle, as if she, too, questioned the wisdom of another meeting even as she set it up.

      He already knew that Right to Ride was the Carramer equivalent of the various riding for the disabled groups he supported back home. He was a big fan of the benefits horse riding provided to people with disabilities but hadn’t expected someone like the princess to share his passion. Maybe negotiating with her wasn’t going to be such a battle after all.

      It wasn’t as hard as he expected to picture her helping children with problems. This whole lavish evening had been on their account, he recalled. He hoped it was because she cared about the children and not only because it was her royal duty. There was one way to find out.

      “I’ll be there.”

      “I’ll have an invitation sent to your hotel.”

      She might have known he would be punctual. Cindy had found out where he was staying and issued the invitation. Cindy knew everything, except why Adrienne felt so strongly attracted to the last man who should interest her. Adrienne told herself she wanted to see him to ensure that Hugh kept her secret, but there was more to it.

      With a worrying prescience, she knew he was there before he joined her at the white railing as she watched several children with varying degrees of disability being introduced to the thrill of riding. They were under the supervision of skilled therapists, with teams of side walkers to ensure their safety, but to the children all that mattered was the experience of being on a horse.

      Hugh greeted her formally, as if the kiss had never happened. The kiss that had left her mouth swollen, the feel of his hand branded on her nape. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or annoyed. He was the white knight type, she sensed, and she’d had her fill of white knights in her two brothers. She was ready to show them, and any other candidates for the role of protector, that she didn’t need them. She could look out for herself.

      All the same, when the tall, rangy American smiled a greeting at her and her gaze settled on his generous mouth, she felt a surge of response deep inside. It had nothing to do with needing a man to protect or save her, and everything to do with needing one to love her, she thought, feeling her mood notch downward.

      Count your blessings, she told herself sternly. How could she let her petty problems depress her when others had so much more to worry about? “Look at that little girl,” she said, as much to herself as to Hugh. “With such limited use of her legs, she has to do all the work with her arms, but she’s having the time of her life.”

      “It’s also helping her a great deal,” he added, thinking of similar sessions he had organized at his own ranch. “I recall seeing a tape showing how the steps a horse takes involve the same muscles and joints that humans use. Put someone with restricted movement capability on a horse and they get to feel what normal movement is like for the first time.”

      “It’s a lot more fun than other kinds of therapy,” she commented.

      He saw her lovely features twist into a grimace. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

      She nodded. “When I was fourteen, I broke my ankle when my horse rolled on me. After spending weeks in a cast, I needed physiotherapy to get full movement back and be able to ride again. It was pure hell.”

      “I know what you mean. As a kid I had my share of broken bones, too.”

      “Was it a horse-riding accident for you, too?”

      A shadow darkened his features. “I wasn’t that lucky.”

      She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she was left to wonder about the bleak look she glimpsed in his eyes before he turned his head away. At the gala, he had mentioned growing up without a family. Losing her parents had been the worst experience of her life, but at least she had their memory and her brothers’ love. She might chafe against their overprotectiveness, but she couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have their love and support through thick and thin. Had Hugh suffered from being alone, possibly even physically?

      She had a feeling Hugh wouldn’t welcome her sympathy, so she returned her attention to the riders, hoping he would think that her blurred vision was on their account. A little boy was being lifted from a wheelchair onto a horse. As he saw the world from above people’s heads for the first time, his small features glowed with delight.

      “In our program we had one who couldn’t see,” Hugh said, a burr in his voice. “Somehow the horse knew to let her touch him from head to toe. He never moved a muscle.”

      “They’re amazing that way.”

      Amazing was the word she would use for how she felt right now. The Right to Ride movement was her favorite cause, but the sudden heightening of her emotions had little to do with the children and everything to do with the man beside her. With one foot anchored on the bottom railing and both arms looped over the top one, he looked to be in his element. “The children or the horses?” she asked in an attempt to keep her feelings where they belonged.

      “Both. Whenever I host sessions for a similar organization in America, I’m awed by the courage of the children who achieve so much against horrendous odds. I’m also struck by how the horses always know to be gentle with them.”

      He had summed up her feelings exactly. Somehow she hadn’t expected such empathy from him. It felt wonderful and dangerous, she sensed, as if it brought them closer than was wise. Nevertheless she found herself turning to him to ask, “Would you like to look around?”