The Prince's Texas Bride / The Reluctant Princess. Leanne Banks

going to happen.

      She swallowed over a hard lump in her throat. Pushing that option aside, she made her plans. The horses, then the beach.

      Eve took a micro-shower, French-braided her hair, then visited the royal beauties in the barn and petted and cooed over them. Her heart twisted at the way they all seemed to know her. Even Black indulged her for a few moments before he stamped away.

      She stood for a long moment, inhaling the scent of fresh hay and clean horses, branding it into her memory. Then she grabbed a taxi for the beach and made the driver promise to return to fetch her at twelve forty-five. Eve spread her towel on the sand, stripped down to her bikini and sat down on the beach.

      She stared at the waves. Whitecaps topped azure water as the tide crashed into shore. The surf was a little rough. She would test it in a few moments, she decided. For the moment, she would focus on the sensation of sun shining on her and the way the ocean looked as if diamonds flickered on top of it.

      Inhaling the unique scent of Chantaine, she tried to find a way to preserve the vanilla beachy smell in her mind, the memory of that evening ride with Stefan. All that would never happen between them flashed through her mind. Eve couldn’t stand it. She picked up her towel and scrambled up the sandy hill to the road to hail a taxi.

      An hour later, Eve sat in Franz Cyncad’s office trying to look cool as she resisted the urge to drum her fingers on her black pants–clad leg. Franz was frowning. Not a good sign. He glanced up at her from behind his desk and his gold-rimmed glasses. “You spoke to Marco LaChalle yesterday during the parade,” he finally said.

      “I didn’t meet anyone named Marco. I was focused on the horses and our surprise child rider. A man approached me toward the end of the parade. I barely spoke to him.”

      Franz pulled off his glasses. “You told him Black could earn billions in stud fees.”

      “I told him Black could earn a fortune in stud fees,” she corrected, still determined to remain calm.

      “He apparently interpreted a fortune as a billion,” Franz said.

      “That was his interpretation, not mine,” she said, now barely resisting the urge to fidget. Was she going to survive this or not? Based on Franz’s dour expression, she suspected not.

      “Unfortunately, we must deal with Mr. LaChalle’s report. We need you to recant your position.”

      It took a full moment for Franz’s comment to sink in. “I can’t do that. It would be an outright lie,” she said at the same time Stefan walked through the door. “Black is worth a fortune in stud fees.”

      “He’s not ready,” Stefan said.

      “Your Highness,” Franz said and stood.

      Suddenly, Eve remembered she was supposed to do the curtsy thing. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said and stood. “But I disagree. As a professional,” she added. “It’s appropriate to have a specialist assess a stallion for stud purposes at the age of four. Black is over four. His pedigree is phenomenal. He has the potential to produce amazing foals.”

      Stefan shot her a cool glance. “You are not the appropriate person to assess when Black should breed.”

      She nodded in agreement. “True. I’m only the stable master you hired to train and advise you on your horses. So, whatever.”

      Stefan blinked. “Whatever?”

      “American version of do what you want. I’ve done what I can do,” she said.

      His eyes narrowed. “What would you suggest, Ms. Jackson?”

      Oooh, she thought. The Ms. Jackson wasn’t a good sign. “I suggest you get Black assessed by the veterinarian, then get moving with providing his sperm, at a cost, to superior mares. Spreading his sperm is part of his purpose. I’m sure Black would agree with my assessment,” she said wryly.

      Stefan lifted an eyebrow and paused. “Put out a press release saying the palace is having Black assessed for stud service. Be prepared for a deluge of calls. Keep records. We’ll return calls later,” he said.

      Silence followed. “Will Ms. Jackson be remaining on as stable master? Or will she be moving on?” Franz asked.

      “Ms. Jackson remains,” Stefan said and turned and left the room.

      Eve stared after him, stunned and uncertain.

      Franz glowered at her. “God help us. More records. More return calls. Would it have been so hard to recant your position?”

      “Sorry,” she said. “But yes.”

      Franz sighed again. “Double the workload,” he muttered.

      “It will ultimately be double the money. Black will earn his way and make your job easier. Just give it a little time.”

      “We don’t have a lot of time, Ms. Jackson,” Franz said. “Chantaine’s economy is in the loo. Our people are suffering.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Cyncad, but the world economy is struggling. Everyone is suffering. We’re all going to need to get creative to find a way to get Chantaine on the high road. I’m on your side.”

      “Hmm,” Franz said, putting his glasses his face and returning his attention to the laptop in front of him.

      Eve waited a long moment. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Cyncad?”

      “Not now, Ms. Jackson. I shall contact you if I need to. You may proceed with your plans for the day.”

      Eve paused, still confused. “Thank you,” she said. “Have a good day.”

      Franz gave a short nod, and Eve left the man’s office, still unsure of her status. She hadn’t been fired. Still, what about her relationship with Stefan? Would she be meeting him tonight? Or not?

       Chapter Five

      After her meeting with Franz and Stefan, Eve felt at loose ends. She checked on the horses, but it was a day off for them, too. After the weeks of preparation, the royal horses seemed determined to laze their day away. She did busywork in the barns and returned to her room, but she didn’t know what to do with herself.

      In the back of her mind, she wondered if Stefan still wanted to be with her, but based on his curt appearance this afternoon, she couldn’t imagine her phone ringing. Her cell rang, catching her off guard. Her stomach clenched. Was it Stefan? She glanced at the caller ID and felt a stab of disappointment. It was Bridget.

      “Hello,” Eve said. “How are you?”

      “Bored and irritated. I was supposed to go to dinner tonight with a friend, but she bailed because she’s not feeling well. You must come with me,” she said, sounding autocratic, then changed her tone. “Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

      Eve laughed despite herself. “Sorry, Bridget, but I don’t think I would be very good company tonight.”

      “Oh, why not? The parade was a huge success. I took a quick glance at the photographs in the newspaper. You should be flying high,” she said.

      “You obviously didn’t read the entire front page. There’s been some controversy about breeding Black, and I was called to the woodshed by Franz Cyncad.”

      “Woodshed?” Bridget echoed. “What woodshed?”

      “It’s a figure of speech. The woodshed is where you’re taken for punishment, a spanking.”

      Bridget gasped. “Franz struck you? Does Stefan know? This is totally unaccepta—”

      “No, no, no,” Eve said. “Franz didn’t spank me. He’s just very unhappy with me.”

      “Oh, well, Franz is always unhappy. It’s in his job description. If you had a meeting with Franz, it’s all the