This man, this prince, stood next to her as if they’d beenmatesall their lives.
Her brain said,Get him out of here.But her heart said,Now hold on, give this half a sec.
While he inspected her land, she took a moment to inspect him a bit closer. He wore his thick dark hair long on top but trimmed about the ears and neck. His blue eyes, evenly set in a Greek profile, sad and introspective.
Then, in the time it took for a puff of wind to cool her face, she and he were the same. Two wounded souls speared by disappointment, grief, and anger. He, the young, grieving widower and a future king. She, a desperate, humiliated actress, shame queening it over her.
“Buck said you were probably here, feeding your herd. Shall we get on? Where do we start?”
“Hey, Prince, seriously, you don’t have to help me. You didn’t come all the way from Lauchtenland to feed rabbits and goats.”
“Why not? I’ve cleaned a few stalls in my time.” The prince started for the barn and Gemma hurried to catch up. He shoved open the doors as if he’d been here a hundred times and stepped onto the barn’s wide stone thoroughfare. Light from the opposite opening captured the golden hue of the limestone.
The barn was truly the nicest structure on the whole property.
“Our own yellow brick road.” John spied the aprons on the hook and tied one on. Ole Blue decided this newcomer was his buddy and stayed just off his heels.
When he reached for the gloves, she conceded. Guess he was going to help. “We start with the rabbit cages, move to the goats, then the horse stalls. They stay out at night, but I leave the door open in case they want to come in. Silver hates thunderstorms.”
She instructed and he followed, a natural with the bunnies, knowing how to hold them, talk to them. Then on to the goats, charming Miss Frances by the mere sound of his voice. By the time they’d fed the cats and cut up apples and carrots for the horses, they’d fallen into a natural rhythm.
Then he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and Gemma felt the strange euphoria of hope, of desire, of being alive. But she bristled and pushed against it.
After tonight, he’d be off with whatever he came to Hearts Bend to do. Hang with Buck and what all. She’d never see him again. All she had to do was remember this moment, and one day, when she was an old woman who wore a scarf around her neck even in the summer, she’d tell the local children about the time a prince carried her across the finish line, then cleaned rabbit cages and fed the goats.
Chapter Five
John
He removed his apron and gloves, caught the water bottle Gemma tossed his way, and leaned against the open barn door.
“Is this place yours, Gemma?”
“Every square inch. Paid cash for it two years ago.” She anchored against the opposite side and drank from her water bottle. “The barn is in good shape but the land and house need work.”
What did he hear in her voice? Not much of a Southern accent, grant you. But was there a bit of embarrassment? Resignation? “Nothing money and hard work can’t handle,” he said.
She moved her hand through a blade of sunlight, and for a moment he believed she captured a few precious beams. “There’s a fridge behind the last stall with water and soda. Help yourself if you want more.”
He thanked her and drained his water, tossing the bottle to the bin marked Recycle. “Tell me about the horses.” He thought of Briley, wondered how he was doing, catching the memories he carried with him, fighting the old sensations of sadness. He was content in this moment and refused to let it go.
“Here they come.” Gemma turned toward the open back barn door. “Ask them yourself.”
A warm spike of blue made her eyes wide and bright. She was a quagmire, this one. A blend of shadow and light. As if she didn’t quite trust herself. Yet, there existed a natural, almost regal confidence. His stature, such as it was, seemed not to faze her at all.
A giant Clydesdale ambled under the barn opening, his head millimeters from the top. Beside him, a Shetland pony trotted, nose raised, bouncing as if he, or she, was the grandest horse of them all. The wee thing could’ve walked under the Clydesdale with room to spare.
Last but not least, an elegant, sleek, gleaming, and stunning thoroughbred.Briley. So much like Briley. His eyes glistened.
“Hey, Prince, you okay?” A few steps away, Gemma regarded him, looking close but not too close to his own veils and shadows. Sheknew. He felt it.
He cleared his throat, whispered he was fine, and moved toward the thoroughbred whose tender countenance tugged at him. Could he bury his head against that sleek neck and weep?
“Her name is Races to Win but I call her Whinny. Careful, she’s like ole Blue and not too keen on men. To be honest she’s not terribly fond of women either. Her owners, a greedy racing couple, ran her into the ground. Her father was a Kentucky Derby winner and her mother won races all over Florida and California. They thought they had a Triple Crown in her but chose cheap trainers and overzealous jockeys. I’m not sure how they got away with it for so long, but by the time the racing world caught onto them, they’d moved on to another horse and neglected Whinny. She lived in a barn not fit for any breathing beast. When she was rescued she suffered from rain rot and her bones stuck out from every angle. Her hooves were in horrid shape. Took me a year with lots of love and money to get her back to normal. Thank God her owners were banned from racing.”
“Thereisjustice in the world.” John reached for an apple and stepped toward Whinny. She snorted and raised her head when he got too close. “Ole Blue, talk to her, tell her I’m a good lad.”
Gemma took the apple from his hand, and Whinny stretched, sniffing, wiggling her lips to reach the piece without stepping any closer.
