Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

He turned to look at me and searched my face.

“Take it slow, now,” he said.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Still though, he did not look away. What he searched my face for, I did not know. Horror, maybe. Or fear. But I felt neither.

Looking up into those kind, thoughtful eyes, I felt nothing but protected and safe. Much to my surprise, lying there in the muck and in such terrible pain, a blush warmed my cheeks.

He looked as though he could sense my growing panic. From the situation but also from having him this close to me.

“What’s your name?” His voice was low and even, calming me the same as he was doing for Nellie.

Breathless and tongue-tied, I managed somehow to stammer, “My name is Iris. Thank you for helping me.”

As he worked to get Nellie off of me, he told me his name was Randal and that he had just been passing when he heard me cry out in pain. In his every careful gesture, it was clear to me that he cared for me and Nellie both. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed by the mess that I’d gotten myself into, just concerned that neither of us got hurt more than we were already. Once I was out from under her, he offered me his hand.

I reached up to take it. My palm and fingers positively disappeared in his.

“Can you stand?” He asked me, looking down at my leg in concern.

Gulping down the pain, I nodded. But as soon as I tried to put weight on my left leg, it gave way beneath me. I braced myself for an ungraceful landing in the muck, but he had me safe in his strong arms. He scooped me up like I was weightless and carried me over to an old tree stump nearby.

Randal moved a massive stone from a few yards away—one that I had never been able to shift an inch—and placed it in front of me so I could elevate my leg.

“Now,” he said, “Tell me how to help the cow.”

I blinked at him. What had I done to deserve this kindness?

“You’ve done enough, really, I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. I’ll be able to help her.”

He wasn’t hearing of it. “Hell no. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

I looked at Nellie, prone in the mud. The calf’s feet were out of the birth canal, as they had been for the last two hours.

“The calf is breached,” I said. “Do you know anything about cows?”

Randal drew back one side of his mouth in a grimace, and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Not a goddamned thing. I wish I did. But I’m a good listener. So tell me what I need to do.”

This situation was far from ideal. But all we could do was try.

“You’re going to have to restrain her head, most likely. If we could get her across the field, we could get her in the head gate. But it’s too far away.”

“That’s alright,” he said, rolling his sleeves up over his gigantic forearms. “I can hold her. Promise.”

He was…massive. And for a long second I found myself just staring, with my mouth half open, at his absolutely staggering size. Those forearms were like the posts that held up the house.

Nellie’s labored grunt snapped me back to reality. Here goes nothing. Step by careful step, I walked him through it. He listened to everything that I said and followed my instructions to the letter.

Unlike many male farm hands I’d known, he didn’t rush or make assumptions. He treated Nellie with care, unlike most, who treated the livestock with a cold cruelty as though they had no feelings.

I guided him though how to tie the calving rope, what to do with the calf’s nose and head, and how to uncatch the elbow so that the calf was in the right position. Although it was hard, difficult, and messy work, Randal never balked or complained. He never second-guessed me either, never made me feel less-than for being a woman, or so much younger than he was.

He treated me with respect and consideration, which was a very welcome surprise. There was a job to do and we did it—together.

Finally, the calf tumbled awkwardly from the birth canal. Its gangly body lay motionless in the mud. That was the first time I saw Randal panic. He dropped to his knees beside the helpless calf.

“Fuck, she’s not breathing, Iris. What do I do?”

This part always panicked me as well, but somehow I kept calm, knowing that if I showed any doubt it would only make things worse for him. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s alright. Tickle her nose.”

He tilted his head and blinked a handful of times, with genuine confusion on his face.

“Do what?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.