Page 43 of My Dark Horse Prince

“Those are not good cold.” He pushes the raspberry syrup toward me.

“Thanks.” I daub some on. “A surgeon in Latvia told me that the damage from that idiotic horse slamming me into a wall could be repaired. Probably.” I drop my voice. “But he said there’s a fifty-fifty chance it doesn’t work, and if I fall on the wrong side of that. . .I’m crippled for good.”

Grigoriy’s eyes harden. “I hope Aleks found you a better surgeon.”

“I’m nervous about what he’ll say. I don’t want to waste Kristiana’s money, but if there’s a chance I can fix my leg and get my life back, I selfishly want to take it.”

“It’s not a waste of her money, even if it doesn’t work.”

“It is, though,” I say. “In a wheelchair, there’s no way for me to earn the money back. I need to be able to teach horseback lessons, at least. That means that I need to be able to groom horses, lead them, lunge them. If I can’t do even that.” I throw my hands up in the air. “She says it’s fine. She said she doesn’t care, but. . .”

“Aleksandr knows that I’ll pay him back once I have the money. I’m the one paying—so don’t worry about paying it back. Without you, I won’t even be able to earn the money. It’s an even trade.”

“Why are you being so nice?” I ask. “And why do you keep joking about marrying me? You can’t really want to marry someone you just met. Is it because Aleks is getting married?”

“My parents died when I was sixteen,” he says. “After that, I was raised by my aunt and uncle—my mom’s brother and his wife. They were great to me. They were happy. They were kind. They worked hard. My uncle started pestering me when I was about twenty-five to get married.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea how I was supposed to choose someone, so I asked him how he chose my aunt.”

“And?”

“He said he met lots of women. Smart women. Funny women. Beautiful women.”

“He liked them all?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t say. But he told me that none of them were the right person. It wasn’t until he met my aunt and his heart said, ‘mine,’ that he knew. I’ve been looking and listening since then—with a hundred-year hiatus—and I’ve never met anyone that I cared about one way or another.”

My pulse has picked up, and something he’s saying is making me feel. . .tingly? Nervous? Excited? Terrified? All of those things. And others I can’t describe.

I hate it.

And I love it.

“Okay.”

“That night, when I saw you broken and bleeding, it was a dark night. I was a horse. I couldn’t shift because my powers weren’t working. I had no idea where I was or what was going on. I couldn’t do a thing. So I crouched down by you and thought, at least I can warm her up. At least she won’t be alone when she dies.”

He looks like he might cry. Honestly. It’s strange to see.

But then he inhales sharply. “But then, after I touched you, my powers worked, and I saved you.” He shrugs. “I haven’t wanted to share you since then. I figure that’s my sign.”

That simple. He saw me. He saved me. He wants me.

I’m not sure what I expected, but that’s not it. “That’s not a good reason to get married.”

“What is a good reason to get married?” He looks serious.

“There isn’t one.” I cross my arms.

Kris pokes her head through the doorway. “You two look cozy.”

“What time is my appointment?” I ask. “You didn’t say before you left.”

“It’s in. . .” She glances at her watch. “Forty-one minutes.”

I try to leap to my feet, forgetting in my adrenaline-laced panic that my leg is unsound, and I collapse on the floor. The pain’s so bad, I don’t even have space to be embarrassed.

“Mirdza.” Kris crouches next to me, but a split second later, she’s replaced.

Grigoriy’s beside me, his face full of concern. His dark blue eyes are scanning me, and his hands brush against my forearms. “Do you want help getting up, space to breathe, or someone to curse at?”

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