Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera (37 page)

“Go, Ki. Be safe. Tell my brother I’ll remember him well,” Drace said, kissed her once more, and set her away from him. He stood shaking with the force of his emotions.

Ki hung her satchel over her shoulder and grabbed the rolling case by its strap. She took a step backward toward the wall of magic. Wind picked up and lifted the loose strands of her hair.

Drace saw her through a blur; either it was tears or the magic, he couldn’t tell.

With a sob that tore at his soul, Ki took another step back. A keening moan escaped her as the wind now pulled at her. Her head went back and her hair whipped around her.

Pride neighed in fear and jerked at the lead in Cerise’s hands. When he reared she lost her hold and the stallion backed away.

Drace took one more step back from Ki and then there was nothing. He jerked to awareness when Cerise touched his arm. He still shook but felt numb at the same time. He took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped his eyes with his hand. Without a word, he went to Pride and took the dangling lead rope. He took Cerise’s hand in his other one and together they walked back to the stables.

Ki lie on her back, breathless, her head pounding, feeling a deep, dragging fatigue. She opened her eyes and gazed into the concerned silver ones of Nimbus. The leaves on the trees rustled overhead. “I made it back?” she asked him, feeling disoriented.

“Yes, my Lady. You are home and you are safe. Both of you made it back unharmed.”

Ki rolled onto her side, curling into herself, and let the tears of loss come.

“EUROPE?” DRACE LOOKED at Cerise as if she’d lost her mind then lifted the bale of hay shoulder high and shoved it into the stack. He turned, pulled off his gloves, accepted the bottle of water she offered him, took a healthy swallow, and handed it back to her. He put his gloves back on, and reached for another bale on the back of his pickup.

Cerise huffed behind him. “Damn it Drace! Will you listen to me for a second?”

He tossed the hay into line with a small grunt then leaned into the stack. “I am listening to you,” he said, and then straightened and continued to unload the hay.

Cerise sat in a corner on an overturned bucket, fuming. “I can’t talk to you when you’re all over the place.”

“I’m not all over the place. I’m right in front of you.”

“Stop being a butt,” she grumbled.

Drace raised an eyebrow then climbed onto the back of the truck to get the last two rows. He threw the hay over his head to the top row in the barn stack. His biceps strained against the material of his long sleeve shirt. He’d rolled the cuffs back almost to his elbows and Cerise saw sweat running down his throat into the open vee of the front.

Wisps of hay stuck out of his hair, which was doubled up at his neck. Cerise fought down the urge to pick them out. His hair was black with sweat. It was close to a hundred degrees in the hay barn even with the vents wide open.

With another grunt of effort, Drace threw the last bale. He pulled off his gloves and shoved them into the back pocket of his worn Levis. He sat on the side of the truck bed and unbuttoned his shirt.

“May I talk to you now?” Cerise asked peevishly.

“Look, I had to get the rest of this damn hay out of the meadow before it rains this evening,” he snapped.

“This is why I want you to go with me to Europe,” she groused back.

“Why? Cause it’s gonna rain?” Drace quipped.

“Don’t be stupid, you ass. You’re snapping and snarling at everyone. You work yourself into exhaustion everyday so you can sleep at night. You’re not eating well…”

“Enough!” Drace yelled. He dropped his head and rubbed the heels of his hands tiredly into his eyes. His voice dropped to a more civil tone. “Enough already.”

Look, I know you’re just trying to deal with everything, but I think it might be a good thing to get off the farm for a while. I really could use your help in looking at a couple of horses in Europe. I want another show jumper. You have a much better eye than I do. We can do some sight seeing while we’re there. You know, a vacation.”

Drace looked at her expressionless.

She tried a different tact. “You told me while you were still recovering from your accident that when you came home you wanted to go to Holland someday to look for some mares to cross with Pride. You also said something about Andalusians to try and cross breeding with the Friesians. You’ve got the money now to do that, and the time.”

He straightened his back, groaned when his spine popped in a couple of places, took his shirt off and looked for a dry spot to wipe his face. Unable to, he wiped it anyway and stood up to jump off the tailgate.

Cerise looked at the tattoo he had gotten right before he had moved from Las Vegas. It covered most of the bicep on his right arm. It was a phoenix rising from flames that seemed to move with the movement of his muscles. She thought she knew the reasoning behind the tattoo’s subject, but had not asked him yet.

Drace pulled his shirt back on but didn’t bother to button it. He threw his gloves onto the dash of the truck through an open window. “Hop in,” he ordered.

He started the truck and pulled out of the barn and onto the dirt road towards the houses and main barns. He stopped the truck for a moment to watch Pride as the stallion galloped and played in his new pasture. Drace swallowed heavily then continued on to the guesthouse. The two-bedroom guesthouse had been given to Cerise when she became old enough to be on her own.

Drace stopped the truck in front but left the engine running. “How long?” he asked. She gave him a puzzled look. “How long do you plan to be in Europe?”

“I was thinking three weeks, maybe more, but we can make it shorter if you like. Please, Drace.” She turned in the seat to look at him, with a pleading expression.

Drace ignored the look, stared at his hands on the steering wheel, and said, “Let me sleep on it.”

Cerise leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’ll let me know tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

After closing the door, she leaned in the open window. “Drace?”

“What now?” he growled, but without his former heat.

“Go take a shower. You have got a righteous odor about you,” she teased.

“You know what, brat? You are a mean little woman. Now get out of my window or I’ll stay.”

A
week later, Drace found himself in the international lounge at Reagan International Airport. He had been quiet on the ride to the airport and now he sat brooding as they waited for the flight to board.

Cerise had ordered each of them a glass of sherry. She took a trial sip from her own glass. “I remembered you like sherry. This is a good way to prepare for Spain, don’t you think?”

Drace tried a swallow. “Nice,” he muttered.

“It’s not too sweet is it?”

“Cerise,” he said suddenly, causing her to jump.

“Don’t try so hard, okay?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“It’s probably subconscious, but you’re treating me like I’m so fragile I might slit my throat or something.” Before she could respond he said, “I’ll admit the thought did cross my mind.”

She gasped, “D…”

“It didn’t linger, alright? Don’t panic. I’m fine. It’s true, life is going to be hard without….” He shook his head, dismayed, not able to even say Ki’s name. Drace coughed and then took another swallow of sherry, letting its pleasant burn settle in his stomach. “When I’m being an ass, tell me. Otherwise, let me alone. When I’m ready, we’ll talk.”

He was relieved that first class boarding for their flight was announced at that moment.

Once they were airborne, Drace leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been thinking about something that I can’t figured it out.”

Cerise put down her magazine. “And what’s that?”

“I was twenty-seven when I went to Oralia. Had a birthday that spring just before Hopa while I was there. Came back to Vegas within seconds of when I went to Oralia. Had another birthday, so am I twenty-eight or twenty-nine?”

“That is a puzzle…. If you go by the time you’ve lived here and there, then I’d say twenty-nine. But, going by the year of your birth here in this plane…twenty-eight. Now, you’re two years younger than I am and I refuse to age any faster, so let’s say twenty-eight and leave it as that. But it we go by how you act sometimes, the answer could be twelve.”

Drace laughed. “Which would make you fourteen. As I recall, you were a royal pain in my butt back then. Dad’s too.”

“All those new hormones made me that way,” Cerise said.

“How do you explain it now?”

Cerise smiled. “You’re an ass,” she said and returned to her magazine. She didn’t say it but was glad he was getting his feistiness back.

Drace leaned back in his seat and thought about a fourteen-year-old Cerise. He’d lost his playmate that year when she had blossomed; boys and clothes became more important than a nephew and playing cowboys and Indians, or his favorite: King Arthur.

He laughed quietly at that memory. Cerise had always agreed to be the damsel in distress while he had been the hero knight. He laughed to himself at the irony of it.

Even when her interests changed, they still had the horses in common. She’d been a top competitor in show jumping during her teenage years and into her early twenties. But she had never lost the closeness they always had shared.

Drace sighed deeply and closed his eyes.
Thank God I still have Cerise.

CERISE ENTERED the adjoining bedroom of the elegant Alfonso XIII Hotel in Seville.

Drace lay sprawled on his stomach, hair covering his face, still in his jeans. He hadn’t even made it under the covers.

She went to the bed and lifted the hair off his face, and was greeted with one eye glaring at her. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine,” she said in her best perky cheerleader voice.

“Get out,” he growled.

“It’s just jet lag. You’ll feel better once you get some coffee in you.”

“How come you’re not jet lagged?” he moaned

“Because I didn’t drink two glasses of wine and three beers on the way over. I’ve got aspirin in my room, if you’re interested.”

Ten minutes later, Drace walked carefully into Cerise’s room and sat gently at her table. He put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He moaned quietly.

“You would probably feel better if you threw up,” Cerise offered. She poured his coffee and placed the aspirin in front of him.

“Think I’ll pass, thank you. My head couldn’t take it,” he said.

“I was going to order breakfast unless you want to go out,” Cerise said, pouring her own cup full.

Drace parted his fingers and gave her a baleful look through them. He took a deep breath through his nose then picked up the coffee cup. His hand shook slightly as he put the aspirin into his mouth then took a drink.

“English muffin with jelly?” she suggested.

“Whatever,” Drace grumbled then stood, cup still in his hand. “I’m going to take a shower. What the hell time is it anyway?”

“Well, 11:00 a.m. here, 5:00 a.m. at home,” she answered, amused.

Drace walked out of the room, massaging the back of his neck with one hand. “Better order more coffee,” he grumbled as he left to shower.

Drace had an appointment to view some Andalusians on a large farm northeast of Seville toward Cordoba on the banks of the Guadalquivir River. While he showered, Cerise went down to the concierge to arrange for a rental and get directions entered into the GPS.

Drace met Cerise in the lobby dressed in pair of pressed Levis with his cowboy boots. His light gray t-shirt with its tribal print design was tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and stretched across his broad chest. He wore a dark brown Aussie slouch brim hat over his loose dark hair.

Cerise was dressed similarly in jeans, paddock boots, a bright yellow tee, and a dark blue baseball cap, her long red-gold pony tail draped out the back of her cap.

The drive was uneventful. As soon as they exited the rental car, Drace and Cerise were escorted into the Montoya’s home for refreshments. Afterwards, Don Alejandro led Drace to the barn where the mares he had for sale were stabled.

Cerise had to choke back a laugh as Don Alejandro’s daughter Señorita Montoya was practically drooling as they followed the men to the barn. Miss Montoya didn’t lift her gaze from Drace’s butt the entire walk.

Don Alejandro directed them to a small paddock next to the barn and requested his daughter to bring out the first mare for their inspection. “All of our mares are broken to drive as two and three-year-olds. They make beautiful carriage horses, Señor,” the Don told them. “If the mare has not been sold during that training, we then break them to saddle. All our mares are bred at four years old.”

Teresita Montoya led out the first mare, a striking chestnut five-year-old. The young woman stood the mare still for Drace to inspect. He ran gentle hands over the mare, checking the soundness of her legs, the strength of her back, even her teeth. He could see things in just looking at a horse that Cerise had never been able to fathom. When he went into inspection mode, he was to the point.

The chestnut mare he dismissed politely, requesting the next horse. The Don had stepped away to tell his daughter which horse to bring out next.

Cerise leaned closer to Drace. “What was it about that mare you didn’t like? I thought she was quite lovely.”

Drace leaned against the paddock fence. “I noticed a weakness in her back while she was standing. She shifted her front legs to take the pressure off her back.”

“I didn’t notice at all,” Cerise replied.

“The mare did it every time she stopped and stood still,” Drace said and then straightened from the fence as Teresita came out with a blood bay mare with four white feet and a snip of white on the soft part of her nose.

Cerise heard him make a small noise of approval. The mare was big for an Andalusian, but still refined. Her blood red coat shimmered in the late summer sun.

Don Alejandro joined them at the fence. “This is Amada. It means ‘beloved’. She is in foal to one of my stallions. I will show you our breeding stallions in a short while.”

He called an order to his daughter who led the mare around at a trot.

Drace repeated his inspection then asked for the mare to be turned loose. Teresita removed the mare’s halter and moved the horse off at a canter. Drace watched the horse run and play.

He repeated this process with two other mares: one black and one dark dappled gray with black legs, mane, and tail. Afterwards, he asked to ride the blood bay mare and then had Cerise ride the dark gray one.

Drace mounted after helping Cerise on the gray. He watched her put the gray through its paces. Cerise was an excellent rider and rode the mare well, keeping her hands light on the reins. She was laughing with pleasure when she came to a halt beside him. “She’s wonderful, Drace. She has a nice feel, and such a soft mouth.”

Drace smiled at Cerise then gently kissed to the mare he rode. He rode for a few minutes, warming the horse up. Before he finished, he asked the mare for a half pass at the trot. It was a little rough, but the mare tried to obey his cues. He finished the ride in a big circle then halted. He went over to the paddock fence, stopped again, and then dismounted.

“That was wonderful,” Teresita exclaimed. “She had not been taught the half pass.” She hopped off the fence and put an admiring hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Señorita Montoya,” he said and carefully moved away so that her hand fell from his arm.

Don Alejandra came up and clapped Drace on the back. “Come, let us go and see the stallions. I will show you sires of the foals those two mares carry.”

Drace and Cerise followed the two Spaniards into the coolness of the stallion barn. The Don himself led out each of the two stallions in question. The bay mare had been bred to a lively black stallion and the gray mare to a bay stallion.

Drace was walking past a stall when a curious dark chestnut stallion stuck his head out over its stall door. Drace stopped and the horse looked at him with large dark eyes. Drace turned to look into the stall. “Don Alejandro, may I see this horse?” he asked, rubbing the stallion’s soft nose.

“Of course,” Don Alejandro replied and slipped a halter over the horse’s proud head and then led him out.

Drace smiled with pleasure at the sight of the stallion in the sunlit paddock. The dark chestnut stallion’s coat glimmered with fiery glints.

“Oh Christ,” he whispered as the stallion trotted around the Don at the end of his line. “Is this horse for sale?” Drace asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“Si, Señor, MacKinnon, but he will not go cheaply,” the Don answered truthfully.

“I’d like to ride him if I may.”

“Of course, Señor.” The Don ordered a groom to have the horse saddled for Drace to ride.

Afterwards, the group retired to the house for cool drinks.

“So, Señor MacKinnon, it would seem you know horseflesh. Have you seen anything you like today?”

“I’ve seen some wonderful horses. You have impressive stock, sir. Contessa, the dark gray and the bay, Amada.”

The two men negotiated and reached figures that pleased them both.

“Now, sir, the stallion. I didn’t catch his name,” Drace inquired.

“Leon de Corazon.
Lion Heart in English, or more literally, Heart of the Lion.”

Drace sat back in his chair and took a long swallow of tea while he gathered himself. The horse’s name had caught him unaware. It was strange because the moment saw the stallion’s inquisitive eyes, his first thought was:
Ki would love him.
“How much for the horse?” he asked.

The Don gave an astronomical figure, which moved Drace into a serious business mode, continuing to negotiate until the Don finally gave in to Drace’s final offer for the stallion. Afterwards, the two men made the necessary arrangements to get the three horses shipped to Virginia.

As they were driving away from the farm, Cerise turned to Drace and said, “You paid entirely too much for that stallion.”

“Maybe…but I wanted him.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to have bigger boobs, but we don’t always get what we want,” she argued.

“You can buy those too, if you have the money,” he teased, enjoying her frustration.

“How much would little Miss Tessa have to pay for you, big boy?”

Drace laughed. “They didn’t sell enough horses today to afford me, lady.”

Cerise laughed with him, glad to see him this happy. It had been awhile.