Page 65 of My Queendom for a Horse

“For the Grand National.” I realize he’s right. “Which will make it more likely that he could win.” If I won that, I wouldn’t need to sell the land at all. I could pay off the note, the demands of the lawsuit, all of it. It should even cover my taxes on the Ireland winnings, the Grand National winnings, and maybe part of King George.

Maybe after I did that, Dad might transfer the farm to me outright. The Grand National’s not until April, but. . . “The King George money could pay the next balloon payment.”

“Kris, let me assume the loan and change the terms. At least let me do that.”

I shake my head. “Not unless I have no other choice.”

“You’re so stubborn.” He brushes a stray lock of my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. “It’s one of the things I love about you.” His eyes drop to my mouth again, and I realize he’s going to kiss me.

Who cares about the perfect time or place?

Miraculously, Obsidian doesn’t stop us this time. He paws at the ground and snorts, but he doesn’t body check Sean. He doesn’t bite anyone. He’s actually quite well behaved as Sean’s lips finally meet mine.

The little zing that has always accompanied physical interaction with Sean is still there. His mouth slants over mine with an eager energy that I appreciate. He’s always been so forthright and open with physical affection, so different than Brits usually are in social settings.

His right hand brushes against my cheek, caressing me openly, but then he finally lets me go. “If you can’t come for Christmas, if you insist on driving out to England in the middle of the most wonderful holiday of the year, at least I’ll have this memory to keep me smiling.”

“I do want to go,” I say. “It’s just not a good time.”

Thankfully Sean doesn’t sulk—he never has. Obsidian must have believed I meant what I said when I left him in the old barn, because he doesn’t crash our date. The time Sean and I spend together at dinner is even better than our second first kiss. If I spend a little too much time staring at the window, expecting a black horse head to appear, well, that’s my fault. Or is it Obsidian’s? His craziness is making me act nutty, too.

When Sean drops me off, I’m actually disappointed I didn’t change my mind and agree to go. Clearly when he knows it matters, Obsidian can behave himself. Maybe he’d be fine for a few days in the trailer. He’s not a big fan of John, but surely he’d behave around my dad.

But the second I reach the stairs in the house that lead up to my room, I see him through the picture window on the landing, rearing back and neighing loudly from the hill by the old barn. He didn’t race over and ruin the end of my date, and he’s not here now, screaming outside. But clearly he’s ready for me to change him. The poor guy has spent more and more time searching the internet frantically for some kind of clue to exactly what happened to him and why, and less and less time sleeping. It’s not good for his brain.

He’s starting to worry he won’t be able to break the curse, and I don’t blame him. I was starting to think maybe he didn’t have magic at all before we realized he could use it when he was touching me. We’ve made no progress there, though, and it’s not as if he can carry me around like I’m Thor’s hammer. He’ll either need to figure out how to access his magic without me, or learn to manage without it. Hiding in my barn is not much better than being buried underground. Aleks knows it, too.

My dad was no help at all when I asked him about it. He did remember there were some old stories about a witch or animal shifters of some kind, but he insisted they were in his grandmother’s journals. Journals he has no idea how to find.

I change into something more comfortable than the dress I wore to dinner and slide my arms into a heavy coat, and then I jog out to the barn. Obsidian’s pacing out front.

“You’re trashing the ground there.” I frown. “A dumb beast wouldn’t know what he was doing, but you can see it with your own two eyes.”

I point, and he heads inside. We’ve developed a method that works beautifully. He wanders into a stall, I reach my hand through the hay feeder space to change him, and I don’t have to see anything I shouldn’t in the process. His clothes are already hanging over the side wall of the stall, so it’s really much less personal than it was at first.

The first words out of his mouth when he’s human surprise me. “I absolutely hate that stupid British guy.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t flog you.”

“You will not fly out to spend Christmas with him.”

My hand practically flies to my hip. “You have as much right to tell me where I can go and what I can do as you had to shove him into the dirt.” I wish I had a whip. I’d give him the flogging Sean didn’t.

Aleks is always in a hurry. He never behaves in a slow and measured way like Sean does, but he’s worse today. He’s practically slamming his arms and legs into his pants and shirt. It’s like he’s angry with the clothes for not already being in place, for not effortlessly doing their jobs.

“He had that coming to him. Human or horse, that guy’s no match for me.”

“No match for you?” I roll my eyes. “He could buy you and sell you and buy you again.” I realize as I say the words that I did actually buy him, so that joke came out kind of strange.

Aleks glares at me. “People shouldn’t buy people.”

“Usually it’s a phrase that means someone is much better off than you. But in this case.” I wave my hands at him. “I’m still not used to people who can be horses. Do you really blame me? It’s not exactly normal.”

Aleks storms out of the stall, his hands fisted at his side. “Call him, and make him come back.”

“Come back?” I ask. “I thought you hated him.”

“I do.” He looks confused, as if I’m the one not making sense.

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