Royal - Danielle Steel Page 0,69
ambled over. He seemed very pleased with himself.
“How old are you?” he asked when he got to her, without introducing himself or asking her name.
“Why?” she asked him, annoyed by his bad manners, supercilious style, and arrogant attitude.
“Because you don’t look tall enough to ride a decent-sized horse. Do you ride ponies?” He was almost laughing at her, and she was furious but didn’t show it.
“I’m twenty-two, and I can ride anything you can. I’m going to be a jockey one day,” she said, sticking out her chin.
“Oh please, not another feminist. It’s my personal belief that women aren’t made to be jockeys. They don’t have the nerves for it.”
“Really? When was the last time you saw a successful male jockey taller than I am by the way? At least we know you’ll never be one.” He was six feet three or four, and irritatingly good-looking, in a kind of studied way. He looked as though he considered himself God’s gift to women, an opinion Annie didn’t share.
“I have no desire to be a jockey, and spend my life with a mouth full of mud, my face covered in dirt as I cross the finish line.” He looked immaculate in his white jodhpurs, and Annie had taken an instant dislike to him.
“I suppose the white pants work well for you. Do you play polo?” He looked the type, a spoiled rich boy whose main interest was showing off to women. He looked vaguely familiar but she didn’t recognize him, and she didn’t think they’d ever met before.
“Yes, I do play polo. I take it you don’t?”
“It’s not my sport. It’s too tame.”
“Don’t be so sure. Polo can get rough too.”
“Mostly at cocktail hour when you talk about it.”
“Are you visiting?” he asked her.
“I’m going to be working here for the next two months,” she said proudly.
“That should be interesting. I’ll be working here too. Maybe we can have some fun, and exercise the horses together, if you think you can handle them.”
“What makes you think I’m such a sissy?”
“You’re such a little girl. I’d be afraid you’d get hurt.”
“Let’s have a race sometime. It would be fun to see if I can beat you,” she said, smiling at him.
“Trust me, you can’t. I’ve got the biggest horse in this stable. He’s the only thing here that has longer legs than I do.” She wanted to slap him just listening to him.
“I accept the challenge. Little People against Big People. The difference is I’m not afraid to get mud in my hair or my teeth, as you pointed out earlier.”
“You must look charming when you race.”
“I’m not interested in how charming I look. All I care about is winning.”
“At least you’re honest about it. Most women like to pretend they don’t want to compete with men.” She looked too small to him to be a man-eater, but she sounded like one. Normally she wasn’t, but she hated men like him. They put women down constantly, and thought themselves superior. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Anne Louise,” she said simply, and it didn’t ring any bells for him.
“No last name?” he asked, supercilious again, and this time she let him have it.
“Windsor. Your Royal Highness to you.” She laughed at him then and walked away, as he blushed purple. Lord Hatton and her father found her then, and the queen’s stable master glanced at the tall young man in the white jodhpurs.
“I see you’ve met my son, Anthony Hatton. I saw you talking to each other. No mischief together please. Tony likes to ride the fastest horses we have here, and your father tells me you’re a demon when it comes to speed too. I expect you both to behave and not egg each other on, if you exercise the horses together. This is not a racetrack.” He was serious and Annie promised to act responsibly, while his son rolled his eyes and looked amused.
“The horses need real exercise, Father, you can’t just trot them around a ring when they’re used to racing.”
“Let’s just be clear about it. If you lame one of our horses, I’ll shoot you, and have you hanged for treason.” He looked at Annie then, appearing demure as she admired the horses. “I’m shorthanded this month, and Anthony offered to help me out. That usually means he does exactly what he pleases and rides anything he wants. Your father tells me you’re a hard worker and I can count on you, Your Royal Highness. I need