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“We’ve got nothing but time,” Rick said. There was a sweetness in his voice. Was he warming up to me? I assumed yes.
“I guess.”
“There is no better way to get to know someone than this. Well, if you’re a horse person?”
“We’re all a bit odd, yes.”
He smiled, displaying dimples—glorious dimples! And then, his chin! He spoke, but I was oblivious. I now found him especially handsome—sweaty, dusty, down-to-earth. I tried not to let it show. Again, this was a ruse. We were doing this for legitimate reasons. I wasn’t about tofallfor him. He was the annoying prince, but I couldn't ignore the way his smile made me feel.
“You know, horse people are good people,” Rick said. “I think we’ll get on just fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
I had a sudden urge to kiss him. This was new! It was the way he looked at me. Maybe I was off-kilter or just delirious by this point in the evening, but I so badly wished to lean my face closer and graze my lips to his. I knew it would feel good. Certainly, Rick had kissedplentyof girls, so it’s not like I would appal him, right? Then, as I debated what to do, we turned towards a noise.
Plop!
We both smiled.
“Well, fuck!” Rick chuckled.
I leapt up, elated to see horse manure in the barn aisle. Suddenly, all was well. I gave Barney a big hug and kiss. He snorted in my face. He was fine now. He’d live to see another day. I was so relieved.
Barney let out a long fart and weburst into laughter.
“Well, sorry. He’s a bit rude,” I laughed.
“It’s okay. I’ll take it.”
“Sorry we wasted the evening like this, Rikard.”
“It was lovely. No better way to get to know someone than in a crisis waiting for a horse to take a shit,” Rick said. “I think we did fine.”
“We made a good team,” I agreed.
Twelve
Rick
Is Love in the Heir?
Prince Rikard was spotted in Neandia with none other than Queen Alexandra. They held hands and got cosy in these exclusive photos taken of the Prince with the twenty-one-year-old monarch. Not much is known about the until-now reclusive young queen. She is an enigma. Love between two royals is a sweet surprise. While both palaces say the two were merely out for a ride at the Queen’s stables on the royal estate in the Neandian countryside, we call foul on that account. The Palace in Blavenberg says the Prince is in residence in Neandia in preparation for the Gold Cup polo tournament. Many foreign royals are expected to arrive from throughout Europe for the charity event.
Guilt befell me as I led Alexandra into a full-on fake arranged marriage. She lacked a complete picture of our circumstances, but she was down to play games with the tabloids that haunted our lives. Thankfully, our press were game. The agreement was thatExclusive,our big broadsheet in Lundhavn,would run all stories first.
And run they did! Without so much as a request, Alexandra and I were spotted outside her barn together with photographers staged in the bushes. Photos of us holding hands and looking oh-too-cosy were enough evidence. The press cover-up was a win-win for us both.
It worked. Alexandra was happier than I had seen her. She was freer, lighter. It was as if the floodgates were opening. After the night nursing poor Barney back to health, I struggled to lie to her. Something about her grew on me. The more she let me in, the more I liked her. And the more we successfully hoodwinked the press, the happier we both were. She came alive. I didn’t expect to feel anything, but I was happy to be part of this story. We did it together, but Alexandra was the one who had the most to gain—a real, free life was waiting.
Besides our barn spotting, the press caught us having a casual dinner alongside her sister Astrid in town. We briefly held hands. It was above board because we had a chaperone. We had plausible deniability but it all felt a bit naughty. It didn’t hurt that Alexandra was as happy as ever to be out, free, and eating a big dinner. Her enthusiasm made the mundane more interesting. And while holding hands wasn’t inappropriate, it was a choice way to anger one’s octogenarian oppressor.
Then, came the Gold Cup—one of the most important events of the season. While it changed hands every year, Neandia was hosting. My entire string appeared the week before the event. We were spotted arriving at the grounds the night before the event to check on my horses.
“I’m going to get flak for this,” Alexandra said as we walked into the barn, always under the eye of a waiting telephoto lens.
“What?” I asked.
“The dress.”
