31
The next morning, Vasili found himself in his mother’s stable again, but with Stefan this time. “You were right,” Stefan was saying as he moved to another stall down the aisle. “I’ve never seen finer blooded whites. Are you sure she wouldn’t sell me one for Tanya?”
“I know my Alex,” Vasili replied. “She’s as stubborn as a mule. I’d love to have one for myself, but I knew from the beginning that I didn’t dare ask. She doesn’t even know how much I admire her babies, and I certainly wouldn’t let her know how much I want Prince Micha.”
“But you, cousin, are a mere count, while I happen to be a king. With all the headaches the title gives me, it ought to afford me a few benefits to go with it.”
Stefan might be teasing, but Vasili took the subject seriously. “Don’t count on it. It she wasn’t impressed by my being related to royalty, what makes you think she’ll be impressed by you? And I’d really hate to see you ask, Stefan, and get told no.”
Stefan chuckled. “Don’t make it sound as if it never happens. I’ll have you know Tanya has no qualms about telling me no quite frequently.”
“Ah, but Tanya has special privileges. I never heard the rest of us daring to so offend you, Your Majesty.”
For that, Vasili got a punch that produced only a half-joking wince. “And who are you trying to impress with that bull? Shall I name you times and dates when you have refused to do what I ordered?”
“Only in your best interest.”
Stefan snorted. Vasili grinned and rubbed his shoulder.
They had spent the morning together, catching up.
But Lazar had gotten to Stefan last night, and he’d filled him in on a number of things Vasili would rather not have had repeated.
As a result, he’d been suffering quite a bit of ribbing this morning, and Stefan had decided he had to meet this “little barbarian” who thought one of his elite personal guards was no more than a court dandy.
But arriving at the house, Vasili had found that although Alexandra had sat through several hours of his mother’s lecturing this morning, she’d finally escaped to the stable. And at the stable, he had been told she and the Razin brothers were exercising some of her horses at the nearby park.
“I suppose I can wait until you marry the girl,” Stefan said now, “then buy one of the mares from you.”
“Not a chance. If I end up marrying her, the horses will remain solely hers.”
“That’s not the way Lazar tells it.”
“Lazar knows damn well I didn’t mean what I told her about selling them, and you know me better than that, Stefan. Besides, my life would be in danger if I made any claim to those horses, and don’t think I’m joking. I’m not.”
“She can’t be that—well, never mind.” Stefan shrugged. “I suppose if I want one, I can buy one from her father, as Lazar did.”
“Hers are better,” Vasili said with an unmistakable note of pride.
“Don’t rub it in, when you’ve assured me I can’t have one. Now, if I’m going to meet the lady, I suppose we should take a ride through that park on the way back to the—Jesus, is that her?”
Vasili swung around, and he had to wonder just how long Alexandra had been standing behind them.
Considering some of the things he’d said to Stefan, he had color mounting his cheeks.
Yet her expression was completely bland.
She couldn’t have heard anything, or she’d be showing some definite signs of anger.
Stefan’s surprise was for obvious reasons.
He’d been told she wore nothing but breeches, but seeing a woman of her attributes so abundantly displayed would give any man pause.
She had removed her coat and was holding it over one shoulder with a finger.
Her other hand was thrust in a pocket. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold outside.
And as usual, long strands of her ash-blond hair had escaped from under her hat.
She looked adorably disreputable—for a baroness.
“Come here, Alex, and meet my illustrious cousin,” Vasili said.
She stepped closer, though she did so rather slowly. “Do I call you Your Majesty, or, since we’re apparently going to be related through marriage, do I call you Stefan?”
“I would prefer Stefan.”
“What about curtsying?”
Vasili answered. “Without a skirt? Perhaps a bow would suit you better.”
She didn’t rise to the bait, and Stefan said quickly, “Neither is necessary. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Alexandra. My wife is even more eager and has invited you to come to the palace this afternoon.”
“I’ll be bus—”
“She’ll be there,” Vasili cut in, and his look was full of warning for her not to contradict him.
She didn’t bother, though she had no intention of complying.
It would be too embarrassing to maintain her rustic ruse at the Cardinian court.
Besides, just as she had held herself aloof from his friends on the trip, she intended to maintain a distance from his royal relatives.
At least she would try. But she wasn’t crazy.
She had as much healthy wariness for royalty as anyone with any sense did.
And King Stefan of Cardinia, with those scars on his cheek and his golden eyes, which were so much more prominent than Vasili’s, would have intimidated her even if he weren’t a king.
The less she had to do with him and his wife, the better.
He must have sensed her wariness, or was so accustomed to inspiring it that he had made it a habit to keep introductions brief.
He took her hand—he had to lift it from her pocket—and kissed the knuckles, saying, “It is my hope that I will soon welcome you to the family, Alexandra. But now I must return to the palace, though I would like to view your stallions first. I assume they have returned with you?”
She merely nodded, and with a parting smile, Stefan headed outside to where the stallions were being walked after their brisk ride. She stared after him, uncomfortable with the feeling that she could like him if she let herself. It took her a moment to realize that Vasili hadn’t followed him out.
She wished that weren’t the case. She wasn’t at all happy with him at the moment, though when had she ever been?
But now she was confused by what she’d overheard.
He’d lied about intending to sell her horses.
He’d concealed from her his admiration for them, and that he was as much a connoisseur of fine horseflesh as Lazar was.
Had he guessed that it would raise him in her estimation if she’d known, that she could never hate anyone who loved horses as much as she did?
She wasn’t going to mention what she’d heard.
She needed time to figure out his motives for deceiving her.
And she had to wonder what else about him wasn’t true.
Even hearing him call her “my Alex,” which was what had stopped her in her approach, made no sense to her, and she was alarmed by the thrilling pleasure it had given her.
Refusing to examine her feelings for him, she could only conclude that it had been so much easier when she had been able to hold him in complete contempt.
“You’ll have to dig out one of those dresses you claim to have for this afternoon,” he told her.
“No, I won’t. Convey my apologies—”
“You’re going, Alex. You don’t refuse an invitation from a queen any more than you would one from a king. Even you have to know that.”
Again she didn’t rise to the bait, which his condescending tone only made more tempting. “Your mother is determined to monopolize my mornings with nonsense, Petroff, leaving me no time to waste on visiting. You can tell that to your queen.”
“I’ll tell her no such thing. Did you lose your temper with my mother?”
“No, I was kind enough to humor her, though I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep my patience. For now, she thinks she made some progress.”
“Did she?”
Alexandra snorted. “What do you think?”
He grinned at her. “I think you will do what you want, despite well-meaning advice—except for today. Be ready and dressed appropriately, Alex, by two o’clock. I’ll pick you up in my carriage—”
“No—”
“Or Stefan’s soldiers can escort you.”