The Prince's Cowgirl Bride. Brenda Harlen
have lost both of them if you hadn’t been here.”
He touched a hand to her arm, to reassure her. When he felt the muscles go taut and heard her breath catch, he knew she was feeling more than just gratitude. Whether or not Jewel Callahan liked him, she wasn’t immune to him.
He let his hand drop away and kept his voice light. “She’s a beautiful filly.”
“‘The prettier they are, the more trouble they are.’”
His brows rose in silent inquiry.
“Jack Callahan’s words of wisdom,” she explained.
“I’m guessing you gave him a lot of trouble.”
Her cheeks flushed in response to the compliment, but there was sadness lurking in the depths of those stormy blue-gray eyes as she shook her head. “Not really.”
“Well, if I’d had to put money on it, I would have guessed the foal was a colt,” he said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you said that she wasn’t due for another couple of weeks, and it’s been my experience that females are rarely on time for anything, never mind early.”
Her lips quirked at the corners, just a little. “I could pretend to take offense at that comment, except that I set my watch ten minutes ahead to help me get where I’m going on time.”
It was the first insight she’d given him of her character, and while it wasn’t a significant revelation, it was enough to give him hope that she might be warming up to him.
“Does it work?” he asked.
The smile nudged a little wider. “Usually.”
The foal, her hunger now sated, curled up in the straw to sleep, and Scarlett moved to the feed bucket for her own dinner.
“Of course, the process of birth doesn’t fit into any kind of schedule,” he acknowledged.
“You obviously have some experience with that,” she noted.
“I was eight years old the first time I saw a foal born.”
And a few years after that, he’d witnessed a breech birth, and the complicated and time-consuming process of turning the foal. Even now, so many years later, he remembered the profound sadness that had washed through him when the roan filly was finally pulled free of her mother’s womb. Even covered in what he’d referred to at the time as the slime of birth, he’d thought she was perfect and beautiful—and he’d known that her complete stillness was unnatural.
“You grew up on a farm?” she asked.
Her question drew him back to the present and made him want to smile. He’d never heard the royal palace described as such, but he supposed, in a way, it might be considered that. “The horses were more of a hobby than anything else.”
“How many?”
“It varied. Sometimes half a dozen, sometimes more than twice that number.”
“We have between eighty and a hundred here at any given time,” she told him.
“I guess that means I’m going to be busy.”
She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the mare and her foal. Another minute passed before she said, “This is a prestigious establishment. The races around here draw crowds from around the world and focus a lot of attention on Callahan. Two years ago, a former British prime minister was at the derby. Last year, it was the Princess Royal from some small country in the Mediterranean.”
“You have a point, I’m guessing, other than name-dropping.”
She nodded. “I can’t afford to make mistakes where the business is concerned.”
“You didn’t make one in hiring me,” he assured her.
“We agreed to a one-week trial period,” she said. “If we’re both satisfied with the way things are working out by the end of the week, we can discuss further terms.”
“Then I’ll look forward to our discussion at the end of the week.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?”
“Confident,” he corrected, and smiled.
“In any event, I’m only looking for someone to fill in for a couple of months while Grady has a cast on his leg.”
“Riding accident?”
“No. He tumbled off a ladder while taking down his Christmas lights.”
“In May?”
Now she really smiled. “He didn’t want to do it in January when it was icy and snowy because he might slip and fall.”
She was even more beautiful when she smiled, when her eyes sparkled with humor and her lips tilted up at the corners. His gaze lingered on her mouth for a moment, wondering if it would taste as soft and moist as it looked, and certain that putting the moves on his new boss would be a good way to lose his job before he’d started.
He took a mental step back, because as attracted as he was to Jewel, he really did want this job.
He had three university degrees and countless royal duties waiting for him at home, but what appealed to him right now was the opportunity to work in these stables.
It was nothing less than the truth when he told Jewel he’d been riding since before he could walk. His father had taught all of his sons to ride, and with the duties of his office monopolizing so much of his time, the brothers had grown to appreciate those all-too-rare occasions when they’d raced across the hills together.
After his father’s death, Marcus had started spending even more time in the stables, because it was there that he could recall his fondest and most vivid memories. It was when he was with the horses that he felt his father’s presence most keenly. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed working with animals until this opportunity had come up and he wasn’t going to blow it because of a woman—no matter how much she tempted him.
Still, he couldn’t prevent his gaze from skimming over her again, couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever seen eyes such an intriguing shade of gray-blue, if her hair was as silky as it looked, if the pulse fluttering at the base of her jaw would race if he brushed his fingertips over it.
He curled his fingers into his palms to resist the temptation to do just that.
Something had changed.
Jewel wasn’t sure how or when, she only knew that it had.
One minute they were joking about Grady’s clumsiness, then he was looking at her as if nothing existed but the both of them, as if there was no time except in that moment.
The very air around them seemed to be charged with an electricity that heightened her senses, amplified her awareness of him, magnified the needs that had been too long ignored.
She wasn’t the type of woman whose knees went weak at the sight of an attractive man—at least, she never had been before. But that was precisely what had happened when she’d caught her first glimpse of Mac Delgado in the café.
He was a man who would make any woman look twice, so she didn’t fault herself for doing so. Even her sister, who was unquestionably devoted to her husband, had sighed in appreciation when he’d walked in the door.
But he was also young—probably a decade younger than her—and she was old enough to recognize the dangers of getting involved with a man just because he was nice to look at.
Okay, he was a lot more than nice to look at, and he’d already proven that he was more than a pretty face. But she’d made the mistake of following her heart once before. She’d ignored her sister’s concerns and her father’s demands, and she’d let herself get swept away by her dreams. And she’d come home with those dreams and her heart shattered.