“I spoiled it with ‘and not green like horseshit,’ though, didn’t I?”
“Just a touch. But admiring the shirt? That was good. If your man’s not interested, you can both pass it off as an observation. And if he is, he can flutter his lashes and respond. Go on and try again,” Mother said, nodding in encouragement. “Only try not mentioning shit this time.”
“No shit, got it,” he said, grinning. “Which, let’s face it, is a good conversational guideline generally.”
“Goes without saying, really.” Mother folded his arms across his chest. “Have another go. Find something you like about me.”
Vasily looked Mother up and down again, trying to decide. He wasn’t handsome exactly, but he was attractive in a way that Vasily found hard to define. Maybe it was the laugh lines on his face that spoke of his good humour, or perhaps it was the leanly muscled physique gained as a result of hard work. Or it might have been his easy, open smile and the patience that shone in his deep brown eyes.
Whatever it was, Vasily found himself at a loss. How was he meant to choose justonething he liked?
He might have gone on staring except Mother shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze, his arms dropping to his sides and something like hurt flitting across his features. “It’s all right if you make something up,” he said quietly. “It’s not like this is real.”
Vasily’s heart clenched at the thought that Mother didn’t think he had anything to offer. “No, it’s not that,” he said hastily. “It’s that I’m spoilt for choice.”
Mother raised an eyebrow, giving an uncertain smile, and Vasily pressed on. “My problem is that I can’t choose just one thing. How can I, when there’s so much to like about you?”
Mother’s smile returned in full force, and Vasily found he could breathe a little easier. “Oh yes, lad. If you say things like that, you’ll knock your young man off his feet.”
“Thank you,” Vasily said, right before he wondered why his gut twisted at the thought of saying those things to someone who wasn’t Mother.
He patted Vasily on the shoulder. “We’ll practice some more, and you’ll be courting young Jeremy in no time. But for now, how about you help me check the rest of these hooves?”
“Of course,” Vasily said, basking in the warmth of the smile Mother gave him. They moved through the rest of the stable, working side by side in companionable silence even as Mother’s words rang in Vasily’s ears and his mind whirled. Because while he was pleased that he’d successfully flirted, Vasily found to his surprise that Jeremy wasn’t the person who came to mind when he imagined using his new skills for real.
Rather, it was a certain stablemaster with long legs, a crooked smile, and laughing brown eyes.
* * *
Vasily spent that night lying in bed thinking of other things to say to Mother that might pass as romantic, more encouraged by his eventual success this afternoon than he’d thought he’d be. It was gratifying in a way he hadn’t expected, to have someone respond to his overtures—even if itwasonly make-believe.
Mindful of Mother’s comment about avoiding flying hooves, he waited to try again until they were walking up to the castle for supper. “Nice night tonight,” he said casually, glancing up at the clear skies and full moon. “Cold, though.”
“Mmm,” Mother said, his hands tucked under his armpits. “Bloody cold.”
Vasily swallowed. “I could warm you up a bit if you like?” He extended a hand, palm open, like he expected Mother to take him up on his offer—not that he really thought hewould, but if he was going to try this, he was going to do it right.
Mother stopped walking for a moment and looked at him, head tilted, before smiling. “I’d appreciate that,” he said, lacing their fingers together. The coolness of his touch was offset by the warm glow that spread through Vasily from head to toe.
He expected Mother to let go of him after a few steps, but he kept their hands linked until they were almost at the castle, shortening his long strides so that they were side by side. He gave Vasily’s hand a squeeze and only let go as they approached the side gate. “Well done, Vas.”
“Thank you.” Vasily ducked his head to hide the heat that rose in his cheeks at the compliment.
He couldn’t hold back his grin, though, and he found himself smiling all through dinner and laughing with Ollie over the newest stable boy’s misadventures in sorting out the tack. The poor lad had managed to get the reins tied in a knot around his ankle, of all places. It reminded him of the conversation he’d had with Mother, and Vasily reflected that he’d been right—with some more practice, surely he’d be able to gather up the nerve to talk to Jeremy and make his interest known.
As if summoned by a thought, Jeremy slotted into place across from him at the trestle table. “Vasily, my foreign prince!” he exclaimed, arms spread wide.
He froze, all the blood draining from his face. “What did you call me?”
Jeremy grinned. “My prince among men. My treasure from a foreign land.”
Vasily stared at him blankly, trying to make sense of his words and wondering who’d revealed his secret, and Jeremy’s smile faded.
“It was, I was just…” Jeremy ran a hand down the back of his neck, ducking his head. “Forget it.”
Vasily stared a moment longer before understanding flooded through him and he laughed, mainly from relief. “Oh!It was a term of affection.”
Next to him, Mother scowled and muttered, “Could have fooled me.” Louder, he said, “I don’t need any more princes in my stables,thank you very much.”Then he fixed Jeremy with a glare that had him picking up his plate and scurrying away to the other end of the table.
