Page 38 of The Artist and the Dragon

Perhaps, but… “I always have my eyes on you, Miss Kinsley,” he whispered.

A small hitch in her step was the only indication that she heard him. Thank the Goddess there was no one close enough to listen in.

Behind them, a roar of cheers went up. The racers must be taking their positions, ready to begin. Bronwyn stopped near the edge of the practice ring, a simple wooden fence separating them from the paddock. A trumpet blared, cutting through the ongoing cheers, and she jumped to face the main course.

“We’re missing the race,” Malik said as he came to stand near her.

“So we are.” She turned back toward the horses and leaned on the railing much as she had near the racecourse. No care was taken with the coarse wood that might pull at the delicate threads of her sleeves. Instead, her attention seemed very far away as she hunched in on herself.

Malik joined her at the railing, but she angled her head away from him and tucked her arm closer to her body. That simply wouldn’t do.

“Did you know I used to love riding?” he said with a feigned carefree air.

Like a cat waking from a nap, she slowly turned her head. Not all the way toward him, but enough to show she listened.

“It was one of my favorite pastimes as a boy, one my mother loved as well.” He stared wistfully at the beautiful chestnut that galloped by. It reminded him of the one his mother had favored. “She took me to the countryside as often as she could manage. We’d go riding, take long walks. She had some of the staff teach me how to fish and hunt like a gentleman. At the time, I thought she simply loved the outdoors, and I believe she did, but I think most of our excursions were excuses for her to get away from my father … and to keep me away from him as well.”

When he glanced at his companion, she was staring up at him, her posture more open. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not something I share often. Doesn’t quite fit with my current image.” He winked.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes and went back to watching the horses, but he swore he saw the slightest flicker of a smile before it vanished just as quickly. Either way, she wasn’t as closed off anymore, didn’t lean as heavily on the railing.

Malik inched closer. “Something has upset you. Will you tell me what’s the matter?”

She swallowed thickly and gave him a long, hard look. Her lips thinned, and for a moment he thought she’d flee again, but finally, she said, “Mr. Yarwood said something that bothered me, that’s all.”

“He was unkind to you?” Malik’s hand tightened into a fist at his side.

“Not to me. Not exactly. He…” Her fan slid closed, and she laid it atop the railing before turning back to him. “He gave me much to think about.”

“Things that will help our cause?”

She huffed. “I’m unsure.” Once again, the horses claimed her focus. In the stands, cheers rose and fell as the racers likely completed a lap.

“And how did you end up down here? Alone?” An unwise move on her part, given all that had happened. To say nothing of what people might think of a princess roaming the outbuildings.

“I went looking for Lord Griffith,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Malik nearly swore under his breath.

Bronwyn either didn’t notice his sudden shift in mood or didn’t care. “He’d gone to place a bet with some others, but when I came down, I didn’t see them in the betting lines.”

“Perhaps he’d gone back up? There are multiple sets of stairs. Or gone to fetch you a drink on this hot day.” Why, oh, why was he making excuses for the man? Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t stop.

“Yes. Maybe. But I didn’t want to go back up there and be confronted by Mr. Yarwood again. Or worse, Lord Osian.”

Malik wrinkled his nose at the name. “I’m sorry you had the misfortune to meet him.”

She looked up at him, quite serious. “Please tell me he’s on your list.”

He gave a breathy laugh. “He’s one I have my eyes on, yes.” And had for some time. Something about the man unsettled him, and Bronwyn, too, it seemed.

She hugged her arms closer to herself. “Maybe you could just scratch him off now,” she mumbled, staring once more at the horses.

“So bloodthirsty.”

The sideways glare he received had him holding back another chuckle.

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