Playing the Royal Game - Page 42

He called to a maid, had her bring him some more crystals and water, but antacids were no longer working. There was a constant burn in his gut, and though he never went after a woman when she stormed off, this time he did, for he was not proud of his words and he wanted to apologise for them.

* * *

She wasn’t in their suite, nor back in her little turret, nor did he find her in the kitchen, the place he had found her after their last row. But finally he found her out at the stables, still fizzing with anger, and she was heaving a saddle onto an equally temperamental mare.

‘What on earth are you doing?’

She didn’t bother to answer.

‘She’s not suitable for riding....’

‘You ride her,’ Allegra said.

‘I know how!’

He dismissed the worried-looking stable boy with a flick of his wrist.

‘He did warn me,’ Allegra said, ‘so don’t bite his head off later.’


‘You cannot ride her.’

‘I want to,’ Allegra said. ‘Anyway, I need the exercise apparently.’

She mounted the horse and felt the power beneath her, and even if she didn’t feel quite so brave now, she refused to show it.

‘Allegra, you are being ridiculous—this could be dangerous.’

‘I’ve had riding lessons,’ she called over her shoulder as she trotted across the yard. ‘My father—’


‘This is not some docile mare from the local pony club that your father had you join, so he could flirt with the mothers....’

He was loathsome, so loathsome she kicked off, and just tried to concentrate on staying on, because this was a huge powerful beast she was riding, and he was right, this wasn’t some little pony she had trotted around a ring on. She couldn’t see for her tears, couldn’t think for her anger, she just wanted speed and space. And she wanted him to come after her, she admitted with a sob; she wanted him to be with her in this, to be the man she had thought he was.

Suddenly she lost her footing in the stirrup; she sailed through the air and collided with the grassy floor. Her landing didn’t actually hurt that much, for she was in agony already, but she felt the thud to her head, and goodness it was a relief to cry, to lie on the grass as he ran over, not to have to hide her tears.

‘Lie still.’ He was incredibly calm. ‘Where does it hurt?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did you hit your head?’ His fingers examined her; there was a large lump forming on her forehead that was worrisome and his fingers worked their way down her body, a slow perusal as he checked for anything obvious. He expected her to wince or call out in pain, but she just lay there crying.

‘Nothing seems broken.’ She looked up to him and maybe he had had a fright after all, because he was actually sweating. Or maybe that was more from the rapid ride over to collect his casualty. ‘You have a nasty lump on your head though.’

‘Sorry...’ She looked up but there were three of him, all swimming around. She’d been nothing but trouble, she knew that—he was as trapped as she.

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for.’

Oh, but she did. She turned her head and was sick into the grass, more embarrassed than she had ever been in her life to be seen like this. ‘I should have just broken my neck, then you could have been a poor widower.’

‘Allegra...’

‘Then you wouldn’t have had to marry. You could just sleep with everyone and behave as horribly as you like and they’d say, “But poor Alessandro, who can blame him?”’

‘Allegra.’ He was very, very calm and she knew she was rambling. ‘You have a head injury.’

‘Thanks to you.’ She was cross-eyed trying to look at him. ‘You just let me ride off.’ It was the most stupid thing to say, but she was past caring, lying on the grass, slurring her words. ‘I could have been miles away....’

‘Had I chased you she would have just gone faster—she’d have thought it was a race.’ She had no idea the fear that had gripped him as she had ridden off, to stand and watch helplessly as she jumped onto the most temperamental mare. He had come to apologise but instead he had had no choice but to stand and watch the inevitable, to see her tumble. ‘Your stomach...’ He had not checked it, he was not a doctor, but the thought of a hoof kicking her actually made him feel sick. He was vaguely aware of activity behind him and he shouted orders, called for the doctor to meet them back at the palace and then he turned and spoke gently to her. ‘Let’s get you back home.’

Tags: Carol Marinelli Billionaire Romance
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