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But as I look around the room, everyone planning my life for me, it’s all too much.
“I…” I begin, but can’t squeak out another word. My throat closes up, the noose around my neck suffocating me the longer I stand here.
My eyes lock with Jameson’s, searching them. For what? I’m not sure. Then my gaze falls on the binder in front of him, which is open to a list of potential wedding dates, all of them in less than a year.
My grandmother had mentioned a spring wedding, but seeing it in black and white makes it real.
Too real.
Panic races through me, and I finally summon the strength to move.
But it’s not toward an expectant Jameson Gates.
Instead, I whirl around, darting out of the room as fast as I can.
Chapter Six
Esme
Sunlight warms my face as I walk past the famous Lamberside Palace gardens and toward the back of the property where the stables are located. When we first moved here following my uncle’s death, my grandfather having died shortly thereafter and making my father the new king, my mother brought me out here practically every day. Wanted to give me something that reminded me of my old life.
My horse, Lightning, did just that. During that difficult time, she became like a therapy animal to me. Gave me a taste of something normal in a world that was anything but.
I hope she still holds the same soothing magic she did when I was a little girl.
As I follow the line of perfectly manicured trees, the weight suffocating me grows lighter, becoming almost nonexistent when I slip through the open barn door of the stables. I don’t even care my heels are covered in dust. All that matters is the peace surrounding me.
Inhaling the comforting scent of earth, grass, and manure, I make my way down the line of stalls, taking time to visit with each of the horses for a few moments. Some of them I’ve known most of my life. Others are relatively new additions. While I appreciate each of these animals, there’s one in particular that will always hold a special place in my heart.
As I reach the last stall, I smile when I see the chocolate Arabian with a streak of lightning between her eyes.
“Hey girl.” I run my hand down her forehead and to the bridge of her nose.
Her excitement at seeing me is obvious, a whinny escaping her throat. I bring my head to hers, breathing in her scent that reminds me of simpler times. This horse has been one of the few constants in my ever-changing life. Which is why the palace stable head knows not to even think about selling her and replacing her with one he can train to race.
Lightning may be slowing down for an Arabian, especially now that she’s nearing twenty, but I don’t care. She’s one of the last reminders I have of my mother. Because of that, she’s irreplaceable.
I duck into her pen, taking a few minutes to brush her coat, the repeated movements calming me. I understand why people suffering from PTSD or anxiety find success with equine therapy. Just being in the presence of this magnificent creature settles my nerves. Something I didn’t think possible minutes ago when I stormed out of that kangaroo court of a meeting.
“Rough day?”
Spine stiffening, I immediately look toward my right, worried my father sent someone to drag me back to his office. When my eyes fall on Creed, I exhale a relieved breath.
His imposing frame is clad in a pair of camouflage pants and a tight-fitting, olive green t-shirt, his chest and arm muscles on full display. It should be a crime for someone to look that good in just a t-shirt.
Then again, Creed Lawson would probably make a paper sack look sexy.
“You could say that.” I slip out of Lightning’s pen, but still make a conscious effort to maintain a respectful distance between us. “What are you doing out here?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“I’m meeting your brother at the armory so we can do manly things and shoot guns.” He makes a show of scowling and widening his stance, flexing his arms slightly.
Which only causes my mouth to water even more than before, but I attempt to mask the heat crossing my face with a subtle laugh.
“Then I saw you walking out this way and sensed something was wrong, especially since a dress and three-inch heels aren’t typical riding attire.”
“They’re not,” I agree.
“I followed you to make sure you’re okay. So…” He steps toward me, eyes awash with concern. “Are you okay?”
