In the Arms of the Elite by Stunich C. M

Author:Stunich, C. M. [Stunich, C. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Young Adult
Amazon: B07SVPWVVV
Goodreads: 46217806
Publisher: Sarian Royal
Published: 2019-06-07T07:00:00+00:00

The next morning, Windsor and I have breakfast on the deck with Alex and Charlie before the princess excuses herself for a trip into town. Dad and I play a few rounds of chess before he gets tired again, and decides to settle down with a book.

I notice he opens to the back and reads the ending first.

Chills creep over me from head to toe as I watch him, smiling privately to himself before he flips back to the first page again.

“He’s reading the last page first, so he’ll know how it ends in case he …” I trail off, pausing behind Windsor as he leads me to the stables to pick a horse. We’re going riding today which makes me a little nervous. I think I rode a pony at someone’s birthday party once when I was seven, but that’s as far as my experience goes.

He looks back at me, and then turns fully around, dust settling around his riding boots.

“Sometimes, we take pleasure in whatever we can. Nobody knows how much time they have left, Marnye. Either of us could fall off one of these horses and die today. Who says Charlie has less time left than anyone else? Let the man read his ending, and don’t let yourself fall victim to pity. He doesn’t want that from you.”

“How do you know that?” I snap back at him, raking my fingers through my rose-gold hair. It’s a bit longer now, and it’s starting to curl like Windsor’s does, right on the top.

“Because he loves you. Pity does nothing for the one being pitied. It’s an empathetic agony to the one doing the pitying. Now, come and see what I’ve got for you.” Wind turns around as my cheeks flush, and I exhale, following after him and finding a beautiful … rose-gold horse in the barn.

“Is this a horse to match the Maserati, Windsor? Because if it is, then I’m declining.”

He laughs at me, and strokes the nose of the beautiful animal as it lifts its head over the edge of the stall door to look at us with big, trusting brown eyes.

“No, I’m afraid it’s not. This is my mother’s mare. Her coloring is called amber champagne, but I thought you might like her.” He pats the horse, and then leads her out of the stall and outside where his own shiny black horse from yesterday is waiting.

There’s a set of steps for me to use to get on the horse’s back, the smell of the leather saddle in the hot sun reminding me of Windsor’s own leather polish and daffodil scent. He walks me around the paddock for a while and we start our lessons. Once I’ve figured out how to actually ride the damn thing without falling off, we go for a short trot around the property, sun streaming across our backs.

We get back to the house in time for lunch, and I find that my thighs are unbelievably sore.

“Happens to all first-time riders,” Wind tells me cheerily (and maybe with a touch of perv, too), letting my dad win at checkers.

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