Читать книгу The Prince's Cowgirl Bride - Brenda Harlen, Brenda Harlen - Страница 8

Four hours later, Marcus had checked out of his hotel and was retracing the route to Callahan Thoroughbred Center after Jewel had—reluctantly—reversed her decision about hiring him.

He wasn’t sure he believed in fate, but he couldn’t deny feeling that he’d been in the right place at the right time—first, when he’d walked into the café and noticed Jewel sitting at the counter, and again when a young stable hand rushed into her office to warn that an expectant mare was having trouble with her labor.

Not just any mare, as it turned out, but one Jewel had raised since it was a newborn filly, and she’d been frantic at the thought of losing both mother and baby.

With the vet more than an hour’s drive away and most of her own personnel at the track in preparation for the next day’s race, she’d had almost no choice but to trust Marcus’s assurance that he could turn the breech foal. Of course, she’d given it her own best effort first, demonstrating more strength and stamina than he would have expected of a woman who was about five-feet-three-inches tall and hardly more than a hundred pounds. And only when her own efforts proved futile had she stepped aside for him.

He’d been sweating when he was done, not just because it was a messy and physically demanding task, but because he knew this was his only chance to convince her to give him a chance. He hadn’t considered why it mattered or why the opinion of a woman he’d only just met meant anything to him, he only knew that it did.

Having been born royal, even if he had been the last of four sons, meant that he was accustomed to a certain amount of deference from the cradle. The wealth he’d inherited aside from his title ensured that he could live his life as he chose, while dictates of custom and tradition established the parameters within which he was expected to make those choices.

Now he was twenty-five years old and still didn’t have a clue about what he really wanted to do with his life—except that at this point he wanted to know Jewel Callahan better. The woman in question, however, had made it clear that she only wanted a hired hand.

Of course, she didn’t know who he was. He’d enrolled in school as Mac Delgado, trusting that the use of his mother’s maiden name as his own would help him avoid media scrutiny and allow him to concentrate on his studies. And it had worked—more successfully even than he’d anticipated. In fact, soon after coming to America he’d realized few of his classmates could find Tesoro del Mar on a map. They certainly never suspected that Mac was a member of the royal family.

His anonymity hadn’t made him any less sought after by the female coeds, confirming that his looks, charm and intelligence were almost as big a draw to members of the opposite sex in America as his royal status had been in Europe. And he found it interesting that the characteristics that had attracted so many women in the past were the same traits that made Jewel wary.

She was grateful to him—he was sure of that. Whether she felt anything beyond appreciation for his actions in delivering the foal he was less certain. But now that he’d been hired on, albeit on a trial basis, he would have some time to find out.

What he found, when he detoured to check on the new foal, was that the woman in question had the same idea.

She was standing at the gate, her arms folded on top of it, her attention riveted on the mare nursing her baby.

“Hard to believe she caused such a fuss only a few hours ago,” Marcus noted.

“And scary to think how differently things might have turned out.” She turned to face him. “I didn’t expect you’d be back so soon.”

“I didn’t have a lot to pack,” he told her.

But before he’d checked out of the hotel, he’d taken the time to shower and change, as he saw she had done, too.

Her jeans had been discarded in favor of a pair of khaki pants, the navy T-shirt replaced by a soft yellow one, and the band that tied her hair back had been removed so that the riotous golden curls tumbled over her shoulders.

She dug something out of her pocket, held it out to him. “The apartments aren’t big or fancy, but they’re conveniently located, a fact which you’ll appreciate at 4:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

He nodded and took the key she offered. “Thanks.”

“There’s a cafeteria on site, but also a refrigerator and microwave and some dishes and cutlery in your room.”

He nodded again.

She tilted her head, and studied him as if he was a mystery she was trying to figure out. “When I told you I didn’t think you were right for the job, I thought that would be the end of it.”

“So did I,” he admitted.

“Why did you follow me to the birthing shed?”

“Curiosity. Impulse.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Well, I’m grateful you did,” she told him. “I could have lost both of them if you hadn’t been here.”

He touched a hand to her arm, to reassure her. When he felt the muscles go taut and heard her breath catch, he knew she was feeling more than just gratitude. Whether or not Jewel Callahan liked him, she wasn’t immune to him.

He let his hand drop away and kept his voice light. “She’s a beautiful filly.”

“‘The prettier they are, the more trouble they are.’”

His brows rose in silent inquiry.

“Jack Callahan’s words of wisdom,” she explained.

“I’m guessing you gave him a lot of trouble.”

Her cheeks flushed in response to the compliment, but there was sadness lurking in the depths of those stormy blue-gray eyes as she shook her head. “Not really.”

“Well, if I’d had to put money on it, I would have guessed the foal was a colt,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you said that she wasn’t due for another couple of weeks, and it’s been my experience that females are rarely on time for anything, never mind early.”

Her lips quirked at the corners, just a little. “I could pretend to take offense at that comment, except that I set my watch ten minutes ahead to help me get where I’m going on time.”

It was the first insight she’d given him of her character, and while it wasn’t a significant revelation, it was enough to give him hope that she might be warming up to him.

“Does it work?” he asked.

The smile nudged a little wider. “Usually.”

The foal, her hunger now sated, curled up in the straw to sleep, and Scarlett moved to the feed bucket for her own dinner.

“Of course, the process of birth doesn’t fit into any kind of schedule,” he acknowledged.

“You obviously have some experience with that,” she noted.

“I was eight years old the first time I saw a foal born.”

And a few years after that, he’d witnessed a breech birth, and the complicated and time-consuming process of turning the foal. Even now, so many years later, he remembered the profound sadness that had washed through him when the roan filly was finally pulled free of her mother’s womb. Even covered in what he’d referred to at the time as the slime of birth, he’d thought she was perfect and beautiful—and he’d known that her complete stillness was unnatural.

“You grew up on a farm?” she asked.

Her question drew him back to the present and made him want to smile. He’d never heard the royal palace described as such, but he supposed, in a way, it might be considered that. “The horses were more of a hobby than anything else.”

“How many?”

“It varied. Sometimes half a dozen, sometimes more than twice that number.”

“We have between eighty and a hundred here at any given time,” she told him.

“I guess that means I’m going to be busy.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the mare and her foal. Another minute passed before she said, “This is a prestigious establishment. The races around here draw crowds from around the world and focus a lot of attention on Callahan. Two years ago, a former British prime minister was at the derby. Last year, it was the Princess Royal from some small country in the Mediterranean.”

“You have a point, I’m guessing, other than name-dropping.”

She nodded. “I can’t afford to make mistakes where the business is concerned.”

“You didn’t make one in hiring me,” he assured her.

“We agreed to a one-week trial period,” she said. “If we’re both satisfied with the way things are working out by the end of the week, we can discuss further terms.”

“Then I’ll look forward to our discussion at the end of the week.”

“Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Confident,” he corrected, and smiled.

“In any event, I’m only looking for someone to fill in for a couple of months while Grady has a cast on his leg.”

“Riding accident?”

“No. He tumbled off a ladder while taking down his Christmas lights.”

“In May?”

Now she really smiled. “He didn’t want to do it in January when it was icy and snowy because he might slip and fall.”

She was even more beautiful when she smiled, when her eyes sparkled with humor and her lips tilted up at the corners. His gaze lingered on her mouth for a moment, wondering if it would taste as soft and moist as it looked, and certain that putting the moves on his new boss would be a good way to lose his job before he’d started.

He took a mental step back, because as attracted as he was to Jewel, he really did want this job.

He had three university degrees and countless royal duties waiting for him at home, but what appealed to him right now was the opportunity to work in these stables.

It was nothing less than the truth when he told Jewel he’d been riding since before he could walk. His father had taught all of his sons to ride, and with the duties of his office monopolizing so much of his time, the brothers had grown to appreciate those all-too-rare occasions when they’d raced across the hills together.

After his father’s death, Marcus had started spending even more time in the stables, because it was there that he could recall his fondest and most vivid memories. It was when he was with the horses that he felt his father’s presence most keenly. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed working with animals until this opportunity had come up and he wasn’t going to blow it because of a woman—no matter how much she tempted him.

Still, he couldn’t prevent his gaze from skimming over her again, couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever seen eyes such an intriguing shade of gray-blue, if her hair was as silky as it looked, if the pulse fluttering at the base of her jaw would race if he brushed his fingertips over it.

He curled his fingers into his palms to resist the temptation to do just that.

Something had changed.

Jewel wasn’t sure how or when, she only knew that it had.

One minute they were joking about Grady’s clumsiness, then he was looking at her as if nothing existed but the both of them, as if there was no time except in that moment.

The very air around them seemed to be charged with an electricity that heightened her senses, amplified her awareness of him, magnified the needs that had been too long ignored.

She wasn’t the type of woman whose knees went weak at the sight of an attractive man—at least, she never had been before. But that was precisely what had happened when she’d caught her first glimpse of Mac Delgado in the café.

He was a man who would make any woman look twice, so she didn’t fault herself for doing so. Even her sister, who was unquestionably devoted to her husband, had sighed in appreciation when he’d walked in the door.

But he was also young—probably a decade younger than her—and she was old enough to recognize the dangers of getting involved with a man just because he was nice to look at.

Okay, he was a lot more than nice to look at, and he’d already proven that he was more than a pretty face. But she’d made the mistake of following her heart once before. She’d ignored her sister’s concerns and her father’s demands, and she’d let herself get swept away by her dreams. And she’d come home with those dreams and her heart shattered.

It was a mistake she wouldn’t ever make again.

She pushed away from the gate. “I’ve got other animals to see to, and you need to get settled.”

But as Jewel walked briskly from the barn, she felt anything but settled.

She’d meant what she said when she told him she couldn’t afford to make mistakes with respect to the business. She was even less willing to take risks where her heart was concerned.

Though the idea of a casual affair held a certain and undeniable appeal, Jewel didn’t dare let herself think about it. Because she’d never been able to share her body without first opening up her heart, and she had no intention of opening up her heart again.

You’re too young to have resigned yourself to being alone.

Jewel tried to ignore the echo of her sister’s words in her head, along with the admonition of her conscience that she’d lied to Crystal when she’d claimed she wasn’t settling for less than what she wanted. Because the truth was, she wanted a husband, a family, a life outside of the farm where she’d grown up.

But while it wasn’t entirely accurate to say that she was happy being alone, she was content. She’d become accustomed to quiet nights and an empty bed, accepting that was the price to be paid to protect her heart.

And if she sometimes desperately yearned for a baby of her own to hold in her arms, well, she’d just have to accept that wasn’t going to happen for her—not without a ring on her finger first. And since she had no intention of falling in love again, she would just have to be satisfied with her role as doting aunt to any children her sister might have.

As for Mac Delgado, she was probably misinterpreting her feelings for him because she was grateful for his help in delivering Scarlett’s foal, exaggerating the attraction because it had been so long since she’d been with a man.

She frowned, trying to figure out exactly how long it had been, then realized if she had to think about it that hard, she probably didn’t want to know.

When Jewel left the stables, she saw that Russ had returned from his errands in town, and her lips curved with genuine pleasure as she made her way toward him. Her smile slipped a little when she noted the scowl that darkened his usually handsome face.

“Did you see Scarlett’s foal?” she asked.

His only response was an abrupt nod. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the barn. “Was that him?”

“Who?”

“The guy who drove up in the fancy wheels. Is he the new groom Cody said you hired?”

She nodded. “Mac Delgado.”

His scowl deepened. “What do you know about him, JC?”

“I know that he doesn’t panic under pressure.”

“You hired him because he helped deliver a foal?”

“It’s not my usual interview technique, but I’d say he more than proved himself. If he hadn’t been here, I might have lost both Scarlett and the baby.”

“Cody would have come through for you.”

“Cody was shaking so badly I’m surprised he managed to dial the phone when I asked him to call the vet.”

“You’re mad that I wasn’t here.”

She shook her head. “There’s no point in being angry about anything. There weren’t any of the usual indicators that she was going to foal so soon and, truthfully, if she’d waited another couple of weeks, you’d be gone anyway.”

“Is that why you hired the first guy who showed up here?”

She shifted her gaze away, not willing to admit that she still had her own reservations about Mac—though they were more personal than professional. And considering the way he’d come through for her, she figured she owed him a chance. “I don’t answer to you, Russ.”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But it used to be we talked about things, made decisions together.”

“That was before you decided to leave.”

“Are you going to throw that up at me in every single conversation we have over the next nine days?”

“Maybe.”

His jaw tightened.

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Russ. I know that wasn’t fair.”

“I’m not abandoning you, Jewel.” The quiet words were filled with understanding.

She nodded, grateful that he didn’t say what they were both thinking. Like her mother. Like Thomas and Allan and everyone else who had ever claimed to love her. And she knew he honestly didn’t see his leaving as yet another abandonment—but it sure felt that way to Jewel.

Marcus worked closely with Russ over the next seven days, learning the routines of the farm and getting acquainted with the animals and the people who worked with them. He barely crossed paths with Jewel during that time and she certainly never stopped to engage him in conversation. In fact, the most response he ever got from her was a nod acknowledging his presence—certainly no more than any other employee.

At first, he enjoyed the novelty of being treated just like the other men. But after a few days, her indifference started to frustrate rather than amuse him. Until he realized it was studied indifference—and that she would only have to make such a deliberate effort to ignore him if she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.

He heard her name come up in conversations and blatantly eavesdropped, trying to piece together a picture of who the woman referred to by most of her employees as “JC” really was. He was surprised to learn that she’d spent some time on the rodeo circuit before her father’s first heart attack several years earlier, after which she had come home to help with the running of the facility. He also learned that she was both liked and respected by the men in her employ, most of whom had been with the Callahan Thoroughbred Center for years.

The owners who came to the onsite track to monitor the progress of their horses weren’t as unanimous in their praise. While they thoroughly approved of the facility, they weren’t sure that “Jack’s daughter”—as Jewel was frequently labeled—had her daddy’s head for business. And then they’d look across the fields and shake their heads. Mac had yet to figure out what that was all about.

By the end of the week, he was exhausted. But it was a good exhaustion—the kind that came from hard physical work. His hands weren’t as soft as they’d been the first day he came to the farm, but the sting of blisters was a small price to pay for the enjoyment of working with the horses and the satisfaction of knowing he’d done a good job.

“Hey, Mac.” Crystal tossed him an easy smile and a quick wave as she passed by the track, where he was watching some of the yearlings work out.

“Hi, Crystal. Where are you racing off to?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

“Haven. And I’m late.”

“Where’s Haven?”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. “How long have you been working here?”

“My seven-day trial period ended today. Since your sister hasn’t fired me yet, I assume she’s willing to keep me on.”

“I can’t believe she hasn’t told you about Haven,” Crystal said, picking up her pace again. “She never misses an opportunity to rope someone into helping out, if she can.”

“Helping out with?” he prompted

She stopped outside of a barn that was on the far side of CTC’s property. He’d noticed the building before, but because it was so distant from the hub of CTC, he’d assumed it was owned by someone else. There was a brass oval on the door with the silhouette of a horse’s head inside it and the word “Haven” spelled out in brass letters above it.

“This is Haven,” she told him.

He followed her inside, immediately noting that it was as clean and organized as any of the buildings at CTC if somewhat more utilitarian in design. The floor was concrete rather than cobblestone and the names of the stalls’ residents noted on white boards rather than engraved on brass plates, but the stalls were still twelve-by-twelve and filled with straw bedding.

“Jewel started Haven for old or injured racehorses. The big money winners are well taken care by their owners, but those with less successful careers are sometimes neglected and often resented because of the high cost of their maintenance. Those unwanted animals come here until she can find them new homes.”

A huge draft horse tossed his head over the stall door and whinnied.

“That isn’t a thoroughbred,” he said.

“No,” Crystal agreed. “Some of them are, some aren’t. But they’re all horses that have been rescued or are in need of rehabilitation.”

“So this is what she does in her spare time,” he murmured.

“Jack Callahan established the Center,” Crystal told him. “Jewel took over running it after he died because she could, and because she loves horses. But CTC is a business. This is her passion.

“And this—” she indicated a powerfully built chestnut in the end stall “—is Cayenne. Also known as The Demon Stallion.”

“Temperamental?” he guessed.

“You might say,” Crystal agreed. “His trainer thought a heavy hand with the crop would teach him to obey. Instead it taught him to be mean. And then there was an incident in the stables and—” She shook her head. “Let’s just say his owners wrote him off.”

Marcus had heard about trainers like that and thought the crop should be used on them. How anyone could abuse such a beautiful animal—or any creature—was beyond him. And while he didn’t doubt Cayenne was capable of acting like a demon, right now the horse just looked wary, and scared.

He moved closer, keeping one eye on the stallion and his voice low.

“How did he end up here?”

“Jewel heard about him from a friend of a friend, or something like that. It’s hard to keep all of their stories straight sometimes.”

He was starting to realize there was a lot more to the story of Jewel Callahan than she wanted him to know.

“Anyway,” Crystal continued, “the owner was looking to unload him rather than invest in further training, so Jewel made him an offer. Now she’s faced with the challenge of undoing the damage that has been done so that she can find a good home for him.”

“Who decides what a good home is?” Mac asked.

“Jewel, of course. But never before a personal interview with the potential buyer and a thorough inspection of the premises.”

“Is there anything she doesn’t do?” he wondered aloud.

Crystal grinned. “She doesn’t make a cheesecake that compares to mine.”

“I have a weakness for cheesecake,” Mac admitted.

And he had a growing fascination with Jewel Callahan. The more he knew about the beautiful, stubborn woman who had reluctantly given him a job, the more he wanted to know. And he had a pretty good idea about how to get what he wanted.

Cayenne was in the paddock when Jewel returned to the farm after her trip into town, so she knew her sister was cleaning his stall. Knowing how much Crystal hated that job, she felt a twinge of guilt that she’d been gone as long as she had, but only a slight twinge. Crystal had been helping out at Haven since they took in their first horse, but with her own business turning into such a success, she’d had to severely cut back her volunteer time. Since she was only able to put in a few hours on Tuesdays and Fridays now, Jewel figured mucking out a couple of stalls was actually necessary to keep her in practice.

But as she carried the bags of vitamin supplements through to the storeroom, she couldn’t resist teasing. “You must be losing your touch, Crys, if you didn’t manage to sweet-talk some cute stable hand into doing that for you.”

But the head that popped up in response to her comment was neither blond nor female, and “cute” was far too bland a description to do it justice.

“Hey,” Mac said.

“Obviously she hasn’t lost her touch,” Jewel muttered beneath her breath.

But not so quietly that Mac didn’t hear, because he flashed her an easy grin that, even from a distance of twenty-five feet, made her tummy quiver.

“Does that mean you think I’m cute?” he asked.

She ignored the question. “You haven’t mucked out enough stalls already this week?”

“More than enough,” he assured her, leaning on the handle of the pitchfork.

“Where is my sister?” Jewel asked. “And how did she con you into doing her job?”

“She didn’t con me—she bribed me.”

“With?”

“Promises of homemade cherry cheesecake.”

Jewel began stacking bottles and jars on the appropriate shelves. “I’d say she got the better end of the deal, but she does make a spectacular cheesecake.”

“Pot roast was also mentioned,” he told her.

“Crystal invited you up to the house for dinner?” Not that she objected, exactly. And since Simon had a late meeting and Crystal would be dining with them, she had no reason to object. But she was still a little wary of her sister’s reasons for issuing the invitation.

“She thought it would give you and I an opportunity to talk about my duties for the next several weeks.”

“If you want to stay on, I’d be happy to have you continue doing what you’ve been doing.”

“I want to stay on,” he told her. “And I want to help out here.”

She closed and latched the door. “Why?”

“Because it’s obvious to me that you could use a couple extra hands.”

“I could use a dozen extra hands,” she admitted. “But Haven doesn’t have the funds to hire any help. Mostly we take on coop students from the local high school.”

“And you come in every day after they’re finished to redo what wasn’t done properly,” he guessed, tossing fresh bedding into the stall.

She shrugged. “They’re kids. They do the best they can.”

“And they’re scared to death of Cayenne.”

“There’s no shame in being afraid of a twelve-hundred-pound animal. Randy Porter trained horses for more than thirty-five years and even he watches his step around Cayenne.”

Mac finished spreading the straw before he turned to her. “I could work with him.”

She’d have to be crazy to let him. He’d proven he was a competent groom, but what he was suggesting was way beyond the scope of anything he’d been doing in the past week, and Cayenne wasn’t like any of the horses he’d encountered at CTC. The Demon Stallion had earned his nickname by being both difficult and unpredictable, and though Jewel had been working with him personally over the past couple of months, she’d made little progress.

But while she might worry about Cayenne’s inconsistent behavior, her own had been no better. When she’d started training him, she’d planned to spend a couple of hours with him every day. The reality was that she didn’t always have a couple of hours to spare, there were simply too many demands on her to be able to dedicate the time and attention he needed.

And there were too many reasons why she should refuse Mac’s offer, not the least of which was that if he started hanging out around the Haven stable, their paths would cross more often.

On the other hand, if she spent enough time around Mac she might become inured to his presence so that warm tingles didn’t dance through her veins every time he looked at her, and her heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled.

“Dinner’s at six,” she finally said. “We can talk about it then.”