The Prince's Cowgirl Bride

“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.