Page 37 of His Royal Matchmaker

“High school. A gift from my father.”

The wistfulness in his voice is barely there, but I pick up on it anyway.

“You must miss him,” I say softly.

His eyes meet mine, surprised by my perception. “Every day. But especially here. He loved this place.”

The moment hangs between us, tender and raw. Guy clears his throat from down the aisle.

“If you two want to get that ride in before lunch, you’d better saddle up,” he calls.

The spell broken, Hugo steps back. “Right. Let me show you how to get Cinnamon ready.”

The next half hour is a blur of learning to brush horses, understand saddles, and figure out stirrups. I’m clumsy and nervous, but Hugo is patient, explaining everything clearly and demonstrating when I get confused. By the time I’m finally sitting atop Cinnamon, I feel like I’ve accomplished something monumental.

“Look at you,” Hugo says, swinging effortlessly onto Midnight’s back. “A natural.”

“A natural disaster, maybe.” I grip the saddle horn like it’s my only link to survival. “She’s so tall!”

“You’re doing great. Just relax. Horses can sense if you’re tense.”

“That’s not helping me relax!”

Hugo laughs. “Just breathe. I’ll lead you, and we’ll go nice and slow.”

True to his word, we start at a gentle walk, following a well-worn trail that winds through meadows dotted with wildflowers. Gradually, I begin to relax, to feel the rhythm of Cinnamon’s movements beneath me.

“This isn’t so bad,” I admit after we’ve been riding for a while.

“Told you,” Hugo says, looking so natural on horseback it’s like he and Midnight are one creature. “Nothing beats riding for clearing your head.”

The sun warms my shoulders, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of grass and flowers. Despite my initial fear, I find myself enjoying the peaceful pace and beautiful surroundings. It’s the perfect setting for a heart-to-heart talk.

“So,” I begin. “About your relationship training. I thought about it a lot last night. The thing is, I’m not really qualified to teach relationship skills directly.”

“You’re a matchmaker,” he points out. “Surely that counts for something.”

I hesitate, then decide honesty is best. “I’ve never actually been in a long-term relationship myself.”

He pulls gently on Midnight’s reins, bringing her to a stop. Cinnamon halts beside them. “Never?”

“Never,” I confirm, feeling my cheeks warm under his scrutiny. “I’ve dated, of course. But nothing that lasted more than a few months.”

“Yet you’ve successfully matched couples?”

I nod. “I understand compatibility. I can see when two people will work well together. I just haven’t found that for myself yet.”

Hugo considers this, his expression thoughtful. “So, you’re a physician who doesn’t take her own medicine?”

“More like a chef who hasn’t found her favorite dish yet,” I counter. “But my parents have been married for forty years. I’ve learned a lot from watching them.”

“Like what?” Hugo asks, genuinely curious.

We start riding again, side by side where the trail widens.

“Well, my dad says the secret is three things: listening, compromise, and never going to bed angry.” I tick them off on my fingers, nearly losing my balance in the process. Hugo reaches over to steady me, his hand warm on my arm.

The touch nearly makes me come undone, and I force my attention back to the task at hand. The work. What’s important.

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