Page 68 of Scars and Crowns

I don't even let him finish. "No, you're not." My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "You just fell off a horse in front of half the estate." I step closer before I can stop myself. "Can you walk?"

He nods once. "I can." The first step makes him wince. That's enough to answer. Without asking permission, I slip beneath his uninjured arm and guide him toward the private medical tent standing just beyond the field.

He doesn't argue. Which worries me even more. People continue staring as we pass. I don't care. Let them.

Inside the tent, I point firmly toward one of the folding chairs. "Sit."

He obeys. Again . . . Far too easily. I rummage through the first-aid box sitting on a nearby table until I find antiseptic, gauze and adhesive strips.

Only then do I realise my own hands aren't completely steady. "You could've been seriously hurt." I kneel in front of him, dampening the gauze before carefully cleaning the cut along his jaw. "You took that turn far too quickly."

"It's polo, Daisy." There's amusement hiding beneath the words. "People fall."

"That doesn't mean you're supposed to." I dab the antiseptic perhaps a little more firmly than necessary. He inhales sharply. Good. A tiny, thoroughly unreasonable part of me feels satisfied. Maybe now he'll understand how frightened he made me.

"I wasn't being reckless." His voice softens. "I just wanted to win." My hand pauses. I look up at him.

"Since when do you care about winning?" For a long moment he doesn't answer. He simply watches me. Then something shifts behind his eyes.

Something older.

Quieter.

"I finally got to play." His smile is small. Almost self-conscious. "I spent years standing beside that field wanting this so badly I could hardly breathe." A tiny laugh escapes him. "I never told anyone." He looks away briefly. "I wasn't allowed to want things loudly." The words settle heavily between us.

I stare at him for a moment before returning to the scrape on his face. "I knew." His eyes lift again. "I always knew." A smile tugs gently at my lips. "You thought you hid it well."

"You didn't."

I smooth another piece of gauze across his jaw. "Every year you'd tell me it was just a game." I shake my head softly. "But your face always gave you away."

His gaze never leaves mine. "You always noticed." There's something achingly gentle in the way he says it.

"You saw things no one else ever looked for." The words leave me strangely breathless. I don't trust myself to answer. Instead I concentrate very hard on fixing the adhesive strip over the graze. My fingers linger a heartbeat longer than they need to. Only then do I become suddenly aware of how close we are. I'm kneeling between his knees.

His face is only inches from mine. If either of us leaned forward even slightly . . . "Your Highness?" The doctor's voice shatters the moment before it can become anything else. I jerk backwards so quickly I nearly lose my balance. The palace doctor enters carrying his medical bag. "I can examine—"

"My wife is already handling it." Yuvaan doesn't even let him finish. His hand finds mine before I realise he's reaching. His fingers curl gently around my wrist. Not possessively. Not urgently.

Just . . .Naturally.

He gives the faintest tug, drawing me back toward him. "Thank you, Doctor." His eyes never leave mine. "She's got it."

The doctor blinks. Looks from him to me. Then, wisely deciding his services are no longer required, offers a polite nod before quietly stepping back outside.

The flap of the tent falls closed behind him. Silence returns. I suddenly become acutely aware of the warmth of his hand around mine. Of how close we're sitting. Of the way he's looking at me.

Not hurried.

Not distracted.

Simply . . . Looking.

As though there isn't a single place he'd rather be than sitting in this quiet tent with a scraped jaw and my fingers still caught loosely in his. Heat creeps steadily up my neck. "You didn't have to do that." My voice comes out embarrassingly soft.

He doesn't let go. "I wanted to."

Just three words.