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Afterward, Trace had told Alec to take her back to the house so she could clean herself up, and he’d returned to the guest house himself for a shower and change of clothes. But he’d been quick about it because he’d had a hunch the princess would be back, and he’d been right. The princess had stayed with the vet while he gave Suleiman intravenous fluids merely as a precaution, then stayed, even after the vet left.
Trace stayed with her, Alec hovering in the background until Trace told him he might as well turn in. “No sense both of us hanging around,” he told the other man. “And you’re on duty tomorrow, so you’d better get some sleep.”
Trace glanced at the princess from time to time after Alec left, but didn’t say anything. He wanted to tell her there wasn’t anything more for her to do, so she might as well go to bed, too. But he knew that wouldn’t happen, not until she dropped from fatigue. At one point when he looked at her she caught his gaze and held it. There was gratitude in her lovely eyes, and something more. Admiration. The kind of expression that made a man feel ten feet tall and invincible.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“No big deal,” he replied. “You already knew what the problem was, and the vet got here fast. We were lucky it wasn’t anything more serious.”
Yes,” she agreed. “But I could not get Suleiman up. It could have been so much worse if you had not—” She caught her breath and her eyes darkened.
He shrugged. “I just happened to know what to do, that’s all.”
Her eyes betrayed her curiosity. “Yes, but how did you know? You are not a veterinarian. Were you raised with horses? I have wondered...”
Although Trace laughed, he felt a touch of bitterness. “No, Princess,” he said. “I was raised by my grandparents, and they couldn’t have cared less about horses...or me.” He caught himself up quickly, realizing he’d revealed something he would rather not have revealed.
She didn’t say anything at first, just turned to watch Suleiman for a minute. Without looking at Trace she said, “But you are a natural horseman. There is no question of that. So how, if you were not raised with horses...?”
“I was cowboy crazy when I was a kid,” he said with a half-smile of remembrance for the boy he’d been. “I delivered newspapers, mowed lawns in the summer and shoveled snow in the winter to earn money to take riding lessons when I was twelve.”
This time when she looked at him her admiration was for the single-minded determination of the boy he’d been, not just the man he was. “I understand that kind of dedication,” she said, her green eyes shining, and Trace remembered this woman had obtained her doctorate at the age of twenty-five. Since most math PhDs took five to six years to complete in addition to a four year undergraduate degree, that meant she had to have started very young, putting aside everything else in her drive to achieve her goal.
“When I was fourteen,” he continued, “I was ‘hired’ by the stable where I took lessons, and I worked there for the next four years. At first they just paid me with more lessons and free rides, but when I was older they paid me in cash, too. I cleaned out stalls, groomed horses, fed and watered them, led trail rides, and even gave lessons myself toward the end.” He smiled at her. “So yeah, I’ve seen colicky horses before, not to mention a few other ailments. Haven’t lost one yet, though some of it was just plain luck.”
“But you are not a cowboy now. Why did you stop working there?”
“I joined the Corps at eighteen. The US Marine Corps,” he clarified. “I wanted to see the world.” He chuckled. “That used to be the recruitment line for the US Navy—‘Join the Navy and see the world.’ But I didn’t want to be a sailor. I wanted the toughest bunch of SOBs this country had to offer, and I got it.” Then he realized who he was talking to. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Sometimes my language is a little rough around the edges. Blame it on the cowboy, not the marine.”
Her green eyes twinkled mischievously. “It is nothing,” she assured him. “I have heard worse.” She laughed under her breath and said something in Zakharan, the earthy curse he’d thrown at Alec and Liam the first day.
Trace was hard put not to display his shock, but he managed it. How the hell does a princess know that? “Sounds like a curse,” he said, wondering if she’d tell him.
She laughed again, this time with delight. “It is, but I dare not translate it for you.” Then her eyes turned wistful. “It is Andre’s favorite curse. Not in public of course. He is very circumspect in public, very much the king. But I have heard him use it...on occasion.” Her face retained its wistful expression, but an amused, remembering smile touched the corners of her lips.
