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“She’s out in the pasture with Ash—a shoulder massage.” The man’s face was a beacon of tomatoes.

“A shoulder massage? In the field?”

He cleared his throat. “That’s right. Just past the copse of trees. She needed a cool down.”

“Before the massage?”

“Yup. Now,” he coughed, fist over his mouth, “I have to see to Regulus. I’m taking some of the grooms to make sure she’s all right.”

“Just out of curiosity, who’s giving Blackmare the shoulder massage?” She tried to ask innocently, to no avail.

Grice’s face split into grin, and he winked when he said, “The new chap.”

“That will be all.” She ended that conversation with as much aplomb as she could muster. “Thank you.” And then she begged her feet to slow down and walk at a normal pace, but…well, it must have been the sunshine and glorious weather, because they practically skipped her the entire way through the copse and into the open field.

And that’s when she got her look.

That look that she needed of the stablehand.

The look above all other looks that would wipe him clean from her mind.

Yes. That look.

Except…

Not.

Except…

Exactly opposite.

Emerging from the river was a half naked man—the man—raking back his hair, water moving at half speed, trickling down his chest, enjoying every inch of its journey.

Holy stars above.

Her heart stopped.

She thought he was a large man before, but…

But…

Now. Her hands flew to her mouth. Her heart. Her head. Her eyes. Nope. That didn’t last. They landed on her ears. Because that was helpful in a moment like this.

What had he done to deserve a body like that?

And then he caught sight of her.

Damn. Damn. Drat. And damn.

And the odiously arrogant man…what did he do? He jerked his chin up at her. And…winked.

Damn him.

Her heart pooled inside of her chest.

“Come to see me again, have you?”

And well…she couldn’t deny it.