Page 23 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

Rosie nodded and forced a smile. Horses were a luxury back in her village. From what her cousin had once told her, they were horrendously expensive to keep. Slowly, she forced herself to come closer to the horse once more.

“Here. Take these.” He took her hands in his. Then he placed one of her hands on the saddle stub he had called the pommel and put the horse’s reins in the other. His hands were warm and calloused.

“Ready?” he asked. Then, without waiting for her answer, he knelt and interlaced his hands, palms up. “Step on and spring up.”

Rosie stared down at him. “You mean… you want me to step on your hands?”

He nodded. “Exactly. Put one foot on, and I’ll toss you up. Just keep hold of the pommel, or you might go over.”

Oh. Oh dear.

Rosie swallowed, and before any more fear could assault her, stepped on his hands with her slippered foot. Then, for a brief moment, she was flying. And she might have gone over, had the prince not put the pommel and reins in her hand first.

“Oh!” she exclaimed when she realized that she was actually sitting on the great beast.

“There’s a first time for everything,” the prince said, sounding quite pleased with his work. “Next time, it will be easier.”

Next time? How often did he expect her to ride? Furthermore, did he expect her to ride with him?

“When did you start riding?” she asked in an effort to distract herself from her fear. She was just so far from the ground!

“As soon as I was old enough to hold the reins,” he said, swinging his long leg up and over his behemoth of an animal, and then pulling himself gracefully up onto its back. And though Rosie would never have admitted it for the world–not even to her sister–the deft, elegant move took her breath away.

Aside from Frederick, who had been a bear up until a few weeks before, she had never spent much time around men. Well, young men. Men her age. Her father and the clergyman who had tutored her didn’t count. But she had always wondered with deep curiosity what it was about men that made other girls swoon and fawn over them. But there in the stables, her neck warming as she watched him, she suddenly understood.

She understood with embarrassing clarity.

“… Father says I threw the loudest and most defiant fit of my life when he removed me from the horse.” Jonathan chuckled, unaware of Rosie’s sudden revelation. “Now, remember what I taught you. You’ll want to keep your strength in your center. If you allow yourself to flop around, you’ll fall off. But don’t be stiff as a stick either.” He paused and surveyed her critically, which made her blush even harder than she already was. “I’ll have to ask Natalie to get you a pair of riding boots.”

Riding boots? Once again, Rosie wondered whether he was planning on putting her up on horses often. Surely he wouldn’t want her to get special riding boots for one or two rides alone. Her heart gave an extra thump.

She tried to scold it. Here she was, acting like a silly little ninny with the crown prince waiting on her–literally–hand and foot. What right did she have to hope he would take her riding again? Or to spend more time with her in any capacity?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his smile fading. “Do you not wish to ride? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not it at all,” she hurried to say. “That is, I’m so very, very grateful to you. And I do wish to try, but… But you’re the crown prince,” she blurted. “Surely you have somewhere better to be. As opposed to here, I mean, fussing over me.”

“Lady Rose,” he said quietly, his face growing solemn. “You helped save my brother’s life. More than once. And you’re due the same honor your sister is now receiving. Not the blame for a malicious troll’s attack on royal property.” Then he nodded at the reins in her hands. “Touch her side with your foot. Don’t kick her sharply, but apply enough pressure for her to feel it. It lets her know you want her to walk.” Then he clucked to his horse, who began walking toward the stable door. Rosie did as he directed, and much to her relief, her horse obediently began to follow.

“I’m curious,” she said as they moved out from under the stable and into the weak sunlight of the morning. There was a thin cloud cover blanketing the sky. “Why were you in the kitchens so early in the morning?”

His face darkened again. “My valet was told by one of the maidservants that the baker had summoned the court ladies once she’d engaged you in cleaning the floors.” His jaw grew tight, and for a brief moment, he looked rather terrifying. “Apparently, she hasn’t recovered from the disappointment of not getting to bake the royal wedding cake, and she knew she would curry favor with Miss Marianne and the others by humiliating you.”

Rosie’s first instinct was to feel that horrid humiliation all over again. And yet… She glanced at his hardened features once again. He was clearly angry.

Was he angry… for her?

If he was, he didn’t stay that way. His face relaxed as they ventured out onto a path that led between the gardens and the orchard, the prince giving her gentle instructions as he did.

“We won’t make today’s ride long,” he said, turning at a bend in the path that led past several rows of orange trees. “Riding is good exercise, but difficult on the body the first few times. You’ll regret it if you stay in the saddle too long. That said,” he paused, searching her face with those piercing blue eyes, “if you don’t wish to ride again… That is, if it’s too hard–”

“Oh, I like challenges.” Rosie smiled, but this time, it was real. And she meant it. The horse had been terrifying at first, but its methodical rocking rhythm was soothing, and flexing her muscles again felt unreasonably delicious. “I was used to being quite active in the woods, and I dislike being indolent, especially now that there are so many people serving me.”

“Is that why you’re so often out in the gardens?” the prince asked.

Had he been watching her? Or had the servants reported this as well? Either way, he had been interested enough, it seemed, that he had exerted himself to find out. Rosie couldn’t help but smile.

“I suppose it is,” she said, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Somewhat, at least.”