A Royal Mess: A Royal Mess / Her Knight To Remember

“See you at dinner,” she managed, then walked out calmly, sedately, as if she had near-miss kisses every day of her life.

Alone in the kitchen, she sagged against the sink and drew a deep breath.

And wondered at the fact that she wished they hadn’t missed at all.

THE NEXT DAY after breakfast, Natalia stepped out into the sunshine. Everyone had been in a huge hurry to be out and gone. Though they’d all smiled—well, except Sally—at what Natalia thought had been an incredibly inventive casserole dish made from bread, eggs and sausage, they’d still vanished the moment she’d turned her back.

They were busy, she understood. It didn’t matter. She was having a great time. It felt almost wrong, this lovely rush of joy she got piddling around in the kitchen, and she didn’t want it to end.

Feeling good and nice and sure of herself, she moved off the porch, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. She would have denied it to her dying day, but she stood there, a kitchen full of work to do, secretly hoping for a peek of Tim.

Just a peek, mind you, just one, of his tall, built, wildly sexy self. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since yesterday, when he’d touched her.

Nearly kissed her.

She hoped to catch him working, which meant she’d get a good look at all those muscles in action, stretching taut beneath his shirt. Maybe he’d be hot—hot enough to have removed said shirt, for an up-close-and-personal view.

Something deep inside of her pitter-pattered at that, and she moved off the porch. When she did, the animals in the side stockade, the “pity pets” Sally had called them, all came to hopeful attention.

Her heart stopped. Her palms went damp. It was ridiculous, this terror, and she knew it. She even knew where it came from. Every year in her hometown the royal family rode in the Christmas parade. When she’d been five, her father had deemed her old enough to sit on a pony by herself. How proud she’d been, forgetting to hold on to the reins so that she could wave to one and all.

But then a pack of Labrador retrievers from the float behind her had broken loose, and startled her pony into rearing. In her velvet Christmas finery, Natalia had slid off the back and to the ground. She had still been sitting there when the pony had decided to let go of all it had eaten for a week.

Covered in pony dung, which stuck nicely to her dress, the dogs had run in circles around her while the entire town…laughed.

Yep, nearly twenty years and she still harbored this irrational fear of animals.

She took another couple of steps and so did Tim’s animals—toward her. Actually, the little three-legged pig came running. Well…hopping, but he was good at it, moving as fast as three short legs would take him, his snout quivering with such velocity it nearly took him off the ground into flight. At the fence that separated them he pressed his snout against it and let out a series of frustrated snorts.

Startled, Natalia stopped short, her heart pounding. But there was a fence between them. A good one. She was safe. Determined to get over herself, she took another step, even closer.

The goat came, too, but it wasn’t until it bumped right into the pig that Natalia remembered the thing was blind. Which didn’t stop it from lifting its head over the fence and sniffling, searching…for food, she realized as she nearly fell backward to get out of the way.

The ancient horse shuffled forward, too, stepping over the pig until all six eyes—four good and two not—waited expectantly.

“But…I don’t have anything,” she told them, lifting a hand to her racing heart. “I’m sorry.”

Still, they pressed against the wood, putting out whatever they could, which in this case was a very muddy snout, a set of teeth surrounded by a goat’s beard and a soft, searching muzzle.

They cried, each looking so unexpectedly adorable she had to laugh. “I’m telling you, I’m not carrying food.” She lifted up her hands, which turned out to be a bad idea as it started a wave of enthusiasm on their part.

They looked so hungry, her heart tugged. “Hold on,” she said, then raced back to the house and grabbed the first thing she found in the fridge.

Back at the stockade, her three new friends were now making a huge ruckus. Oh, boy. They looked ready to rumble for the three carrots she’d brought, and not nearly as adorable as she remembered. “Don’t eat me,” she begged, and bravely handed one to the old horse, who in its excitement, dropped the carrot to the ground.