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Butler had raised the whip again, his rage transforming him into a madman, ready to deliver the second strike, when Nic blocked him with his left arm and punched him directly in the face. The patron reeled from the force of Nic’s counterattack and toppled onto a bridle rack, unhinging it.
The door of the tack room flew open and two of Butler’s massive bodyguards came in, advancing on Nic.
“It’s about time!” Butler bellowed, clutching his cheekbone. “Hold him, you stupid fools!”
Nic managed to land a blow to the solar plexus of one of the bodyguards, but the other one came from behind and managed to trap his arms behind him. He lifted his right knee, angled his foot, and with all his force brought it down to bear on the leg of the other bodyguard. The man grunted in pain but didn’t loosen his grip as he struggled to break free. An uppercut snapped his head back and his vision dimmed. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was Butler’s voice, filled with cruel anticipation: “No one plays me for a fool, Fernandez, and gets away with it. After I’m done with you, you can be sure you will be of no use to Walkden or any other team.”
* * *
Lexie bolted upright from bed, her heart pounding so hard she had to lay a hand over it to keep it from jumping out of her chest. She had a vague recollection of her dream, only impressions of the sound of thundering hooves, horses with their shrill cries, and a thick, heavy cloud of dust rising from the ground and enveloping her in a suffocating embrace.
A shaft of dying sunlight penetrated a slit in the heavy brocade curtains that adorned one wall of her room in the royal apartments. Lexie was quite the expert on approximating the time of day it was by the angle and quality of the Seirenadan sun. As an amateur photographer in the past, it was all about the light. And sometimes, not too often though, it was also about the shadows. She had come to infer it was late afternoon, and if she had a choice, she would have gone back and burrowed with her heartache under the covers.
The sliver of remaining sunlight was not enough to illuminate the whole room for her to be able to make out the time on her clock. Her nerves had been strung so tight she had not been able to sleep in the almost 14-hour flight from LAX to the small principality that had been ruled by the House of Ligueria for six hundred years. Julian had no difficulty in that area and had only resurfaced when they were landing to inquire if she had been able to rest. She lied. He cocked a golden eyebrow and knew he didn’t believe her. Stefan took one look at her when she had arrived at the Palace and merely said in his imperious manner, “Rest. We will talk later.”
So this was later. Lexie turned on the bedside lamp and automatically reached for her mobile phone. There were two missed calls from Blair and a text message. She read it and her chest tightened with alarm. She quickly pushed her way out of bed and felt lightheaded by the sudden change in blood pressure as she stood up. Rummaging frantically through her wardrobe, she hastily pulled on a shift dress and cardigan and dialed her personal assistant’s number.
“Where is Prince Stefan right now?” she demanded, her voice sounding tremulous.
There was a pause before Theia replied, “He is in his study. In a meeting.”
Was she just overwrought, or did she detect a hint of hesitation in Theia’s answer?
“Your Highness, I don’t think it’s a good time to see him. He is very busy−“
Lexie cut the connection off. The staff made themselves scarce when a royal was about. They were trained not to show any emotion except polite deference. Nonetheless, they exchanged bewildered glances when the normally sedate and graceful Princess almost ran through the corridor of the royal apartments, bounded down the grand staircase to reach the ground floor and then turn with haste towards the south wing to the prince’s study.
Stefan’s study was sacrosanct. No one, not even Lexie, entered it without being summoned. Only Leonardo, his Press Secretary, was able to step inside at any time.
Lexie knocked but didn’t wait to be shown in. She pushed open the heavy mahogany door and saw three heads whip towards her direction; one blond, one brown, and one in a neat chignon.
