Chapter 5

“Brie! Brie, wait a minute.”

Turning, Brie shielded her eyes from the sun and watched Bennett step into the gardens with two Russian wolfhounds fretting at his heels.

His Royal Highness Prince Bennett de Cordina was dressed like a stablehand—worn jeans tucked into the tops of grimy boots, a shirt with a streak of dirt down one sleeve. As he drew closer, she caught the earthy smell of horses and hay on him. Like the dogs that fretted around his legs, he seemed to hold great stores of energy just under control.

“You’re alone.” He gave her a quick grin as he put one hand on the head of one dog and slipped another under the collar of the second. “Easy, Boris,” he said offhandedly as the dog tried to slobber over Brie’s shoes.

Boris and … Natasha, she thought, flipping back in her mental files for the names Reeve had given her. Even dogs couldn’t be ignored. They’d been a present to Bennett from the Russian ambassador, and with his penchant for irony, Bennett had named them after characters in an American cartoon show—inept Russian spies who found it difficult to outwit a squirrel and a moose.

Bennett controlled his dogs—barely. “It’s the first morning I’ve seen you out.”

“It’s the first morning this week I haven’t had meetings.” She smiled, not certain if she was guilty or pleased. “Have you been riding?”

Did she ride? Her mind worked at the quick double pace that was becoming familiar. She thought she knew how to sit a horse, how to groom one. Brie struggled for the sensation even while she smiled easily at her brother.

“Early. There was some work to do in the stables.” They stood awkwardly a moment as they both wondered what should be said. “You don’t have your American shadow,” Bennett blurted out, then grinned a little sheepishly when Brie only lifted a brow. “Alex’s nickname for Reeve,” he said, and shrugged off any embarrassment. He generally found it a waste of time. “I like him, actually. I think Alex does, too, or he’d be more frigidly polite and pompous. It’s just harder for him to accept an outsider right now.”

“None of us were consulted about it, were we?”

“Well, he seems okay.” Bennett let Boris rub up against him, not noticing or caring about the transfer of dog hair. “Not stuffy, anyway. I’ve been meaning to ask him where he gets his clothes.”

She felt both tolerance and amusement, and wondered if this was habitual. “So the man might not be easily accepted, but his clothes are?”

“He certainly has an eye for them,” Bennett commented as he pushed aside one of the dogs’ heads. “Does it bother you to have him around?”

Did it? Brie plucked a blossom from a creamy white azalea. It had been a week since she’d returned to the palace. A week since she’d returned to the life that wasn’t yet her life. Feelings were something she had to re-explore every day.