His Royal Prize. Debbi Rawlins

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СКАЧАТЬ swore that Prince was the only creature on God’s green earth that understood her. Of course they shared a similar past. He’d been a runt, unwanted and shunned by breeders. Her parents had dumped her on the steps of St. Mary’s before she could even talk. Which was sort of a blessing. She obviously hadn’t said anything bad that ticked them off or made them not want her. Reminding herself of that helped when she felt down and alone sometimes.

      As soon as she saw Prince stick his head out of his stall, she broke into a grin. Now Prince Charming here had shown all the naysayers a thing or two. He’d turned into a fine stallion. Even some of the trainers and breeders who’d snubbed him earlier had changed their tune and offered her a heap of cash for him. It made her burst with pride. Not that she’d ever sell him in a million years. Even though he’d cost her every dime she’d saved.

      “How ya doing, boy?” She reached into her pocket for his daily cube of sugar while she stroked his neck with her other hand. “You look mighty handsome today, young man.” She laughed when he nuzzled her neck. “Thanks, but you still get only one cube.”

      She led him out of the stall and into the outdoor riding ring. The sun was low enough that it wasn’t too hot, and she really wished she had the time to take him out for a good run. In another week the annual Hill Country Breakneck Race was going to make her and Prince a small fortune. Assuming they won. Although she had little doubt they would. Prince was that fast.

      He was smart, too, and eventually she’d probably show him, just as Mac Coleman, the head trainer at the ranch, suggested.

      “Come on, boy. Let’s see what you remember.” She led him around the ring at a slow pace. Sunlight gleamed off his shiny black coat. He looked like velvet in motion and her heart swelled with pride.

      After a few more turns, she shaded her eyes and looked at the pink-streaked horizon. The sun was still visible, but she guessed it was about four-thirty or five. She had to go work with Khalid. Prince sensed he was about to be penned again and pulled back a little.

      “I’m sorry, boy, I wish I could stay longer.” She stroked the side of his neck, whispering to him in the low murmuring tone he liked. “If I don’t work, who’s going to pay for all that feed you scarf up like there’s no tomorrow?”

      Prince let her rub his velvety nuzzle before throwing his head back out of reach. She laughed, knowing this was his way of telling her he understood but didn’t like it.

      Working with Khalid was no chore, and Livy was careful not to show her eagerness in front of Prince as she returned him to his stall. Khalid was amazingly beautiful, a quick learner, and she loved the Arabian colt as if he were her own.

      He greeted her with youthful enthusiasm as soon as she approached him, shifting between his two front hooves, nodding his head, knowing he’d make her laugh.

      “Come on, you little ham.” She led him outside and he strained against the lead, anxious to get started with his lesson. He seemed a little more spirited than usual and she had to calm him down several times during their session.

      After leading him around the third time, she understood why Khalid was so animated. He loved audiences and two people stood on the southern slope watching them. Startled, Livy wondered how long they’d been standing there, and when she didn’t resume training, the pair started down the slope toward her and Khalid.

      The men didn’t walk side by side, the one with the dark full beard lagged several feet behind. He was wearing the type of clothing the Colemans wore when showing Arabians.

      She tugged the rim of her hat down to cut the sun’s glare and squinted for a better look at the man in front of him. He was taller, broader, his hair black and shiny, and he had on some kind of brown silk shirt. Not the usual ranch garb.

      She knew the Colemans were expecting company, but when the other hands were speculating at breakfast that royalty was coming to visit, she’d thought it was a bunch of hogwash. Of course everyone knew that Alex, Mac and Cade were descendants of some Arab sheikh…as hard as that was to believe. She knew that Cade’s wife, Serena, was from the mid-East and that her father had visited once. But she didn’t think any more of those people would be coming here.

      Khalid whinnied and she absently patted his neck, helplessly fascinated by the approaching stranger. He sure walked as if he owned the place.

      The instant he was close enough that she could see his face, Livy knew he had to be royalty. Her mouth knew it judging by the way it got drier than withered cotton. And trying to keep her heart from pounding through her chest was like nailing pudding to a tree. He was downright beautiful. Just like one of those princes in the fairy tales.

      And he was coming straight toward her.

      Should she bow? Curtsy? Heck, her knees were so weak she’d be lucky not to fall on her fanny.

      About twelve feet away he stopped, and so did Livy’s heart.

      Every fairy tale she’d ever read flitted through her head.

      He waved the man behind him forward. “Bring the servant boy to me,” he commanded in lightly accented English.

      Livy blinked. Boy? Was Mickey trying to sneak up on her? She shot a look over her shoulder. Not a soul was in sight. Her attention immediately returned to the handsome stranger. He was looking directly at her.

      She blinked again. He thought she was a—of all the damn nerve.

      “My master summons you.”

      She jumped at the gruff, heavily accented voice so close to her ear. Tilting her head back, she peered up into the dark face of the bearded man and scowled. “Your what?”

      The man frowned down at her, confusion taking the edge off his barbarous look. He hesitated, glanced at the other man, then said, “You will come.”

      She had a good mind to knock the turban off his head just as she’d done to Mickey’s Stetson. Although this contraption would be more of a challenge. And then again, playing along could be a heck of a lot more fun.

      She paused a moment longer, pulling her hat rim down lower, while trying not to look at the tall, handsome man waiting for her. Of course his high-and-mighty attitude had taken a bite out of his appeal.

      “Come on, Khalid,” she said, in as deep a voice as she could muster. “Let’s go see what this guy wants.”

      He was only a few yards away and it was ridiculous to have to walk to him, but she did, leading Khalid in spite of his noisy protests. When Khalid halfheartedly reared, she whispered a few soothing words and he immediately calmed down.

      Assured he would behave, she looked quizzically at the stranger, but he had eyes only for Khalid. Incredibly beautiful eyes. So dark blue they almost looked black. But it was the admiration she saw in them that warmed her heart. The man looked at Khalid as if he were the most magnificent horse in the world. Which Khalid was. Next to Prince, of course.

      The man lifted his hand, and Livy stroked Khalid’s side, letting him know it was okay to allow the stranger to touch him. The bearded man had immediately stepped several paces back, and while the other man checked Khalid’s teeth, Livy freely studied the strong jut of his jaw, the deep cleft that dented his cleanshaven chin.

      He had to be the sheikh. Except he was awfully young. About thirty, she guessed. Maybe СКАЧАТЬ