“I wouldn’t disagree with him. Let’s say, I believe in results, and I’ve never seen any results that would reflect any kind of psychic connection between man and beast. Certainly none between woman and beast.” Davidow’s mocking smile had a touch of malice. “But I’m willing to be convinced. Actually, eager. I lost another stable boy yesterday when he was trying to put a saddle on Chaos. He ended up with two broken legs. But Masenak wants this horse tamed, and I’ll try anything to give him what he wants.” He gestured for her to precede him. “It’s entirely on his head…and yours. Chaos is waiting.”

*  *  *

The racetrack itself was impressive, Sasha thought. It could have held its own with Churchill Downs, Santa Anita, Ascot, Meydan in Dubai, or any of the other racetracks she’d seen in the books Alisa had bought Sasha for her library. Everything pristine and clean and beautifully built. The grandstand didn’t have the capacity of those other tracks, but the seats were far more luxuriously crafted.

“Admit it.” Masenak’s gaze was on her face. “It’s bloody wonderful.”

“Why ask me? My opinion shouldn’t matter. I don’t know much about racetracks.” She was climbing to sit on the top rung of the fence dividing the track from the grandstand. “I’ve always been more interested in the horses.” She took another look around. “I guess it’s okay. The art-deco-style furnishings in the grandstand look a little ornate.”

He stiffened. “You know nothing about—”

“There he is,” Davidow interrupted to gesture down the track. “I left two stablemen to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t go wild again and hurt himself trying to break down the barricades.” He smiled crookedly. “I don’t know why. If anything did happen, there’s no way they could get near enough to help him unless they shot him with a sedative.”

“Magnificent,” Masenak murmured, his gaze on the black. “Not the usual thoroughbred. But look at his lines…”

She was looking at them. She had always thought he was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. Tall, proud, splendid. The slightly bony knobs on that wonderful head, the graceful arch of his back, the shining black of his coat. The spirit…That fantastic spirit. Nisean. Pure Nisean. She tried to keep her expression noncommittal. She mustn’t let Masenak see that she cared about him. Every emotion was a weapon in his hands.

But she was afraid she might have revealed something. He was gazing at her too intently. “Don’t you want to go say hello to him as you did Zeus, Sasha?”