Maggie sent what she hoped was a quelling look and forced her attention back to Valentin on stage.
He was wrapping up, and she clapped along with the crowd as he pinned a medal on the chest of an older sailor. They shook hands, and Valentin came down the steps as another man in uniform moved behind the microphone and began to speak.
Valentin strode to them, forcing his brother to shift out of the way as he moved to stand at Annika's side.
Valentin kept his focus on the stage, his expression blank. But a muscle ticked in his cheek.
Something was definitely wrong.
Max glanced at Maggie briefly. He wore a smirk, one that was entirely out of place. What was his game? Was he purposely antagonizing his brother?
And Annika. Today was Maggie’s first interaction with the woman. Surely she and Valentin were in love. They were engaged! A wedding date had been set for next summer.
But wouldn't a woman in love avoid any hint of impropriety? Especially at such a public event?
It's politics. She heard Luc's whisper from several days ago tickle her memory banks. He'd been talking about the board meeting, the interplay she hadn't understood.
Was this politics, too? A power struggle between the two brothers? What was Max thinking?
On the ranch, things were simple. The family worked together to keep the place running, to take care of the animals, to turn a profit. If Maggie had a problem with someone, she talked to that person and worked it out. There were no hidden agendas, no power plays.
If this was what it was like to be royalty in Glorvaird, she'd gladly leave it behind when she returned home.
6
Two days before the gala, Luc found himself in a place he'd never been before. The castle stables.
Maggie had kept her promise. Luc had assumed it was one of those things adults said to placate a child. A promise they'd never keep.
But he was learning he shouldn't assume anything with Maggie. Of course she'd kept her word.
She'd called him last night to coordinate the visit, and they'd ended up talking for over an hour. She was funny and open and curious. And he was in trouble, because he liked her. Too much.
Now, she and Guinevere walked slightly ahead of him, talking easily as Maggie pointed to a dappled gray in one of the stalls. She'd worn jeans and a pale pink button-down shirt, which he was sure she hadn’t found in Tirith's closet. The tails of her shirt were untucked, and her hair was down around her shoulders.
He could almost imagine her as she must be on her Texas ranch. Maybe add a cowboy hat and a smudge of dirt across her cheek, and the image would be complete.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, wrinkling her nose when she caught him staring.
She and Guinevere moved to the next stall. His phone dinged, and he fished it out of the pocket of his slacks. An email. From Ernest. He let the women pull away as he quickly scanned it.
Even with revenue from the gala, without the funding from the charity board, his brother's foundation wasn't going to make it through the year. It was clear from the text that Ernest was discouraged.
Bitter disappointment surged. Luc had worked tirelessly on the week's events and squeezed funding from every conceivable charity and grant he could think of.
And it wasn't enough.
Maybe he should give up. Ernest could go back to his job in the public sector, but Luc knew he didn't really want that.
A glance at Guinevere, animated as she talked horses with Maggie, was all it took for Luc to know he couldn't give up. His niece would be devastated.
He just needed to think of a stone he'd left unturned. Someone with deep pockets. They didn't need much to meet the foundation's first-year needs. Fifty thousand dollars. It was a drop in the bucket for some people.
"Uncle Luc!"
Guinevere's call pulled him out of his panic-induced brain fog. This wasn't the time to fix his brother's funding problem.
After he dropped off Guinevere, he'd seclude himself in his office and see what could be done.
