The prospect of interacting with Stefan on a semisocial level still made her uncomfortable. She was at ease dealing with him over matters concerning the horses, but beyond that, she found the man unsettling. After hearing his sister Tina talk about how overbearing he was, she’d been certain she’d find him a selfish chauvinist. But she was beginning to see that he was far more complex than she’d first thought. He had a lot on his shoulders and he didn’t shift one bit under his responsibilities. To her, it appeared that he was trying to bring the siblings together for the sake of Chantaine, and the independent-minded Devereaux weren’t making it easy.
Eve finished getting dressed and walked from the staff quarters to the palace. A guard allowed her entrance, and she climbed the marble steps to the third floor and wandered down the long hallway to an open doorway from where she heard voices—Bridget’s in particular.
Eve peeked around the corner and caught her first glimpse of the lavish dining room. With a different table, the room could have easily held twenty people. Instead, a round table dressed in a crisp white cloth and set with crystal glasses, sterling silver and bone china sat in the center of the room.
The elegance and luxury of the room reminded her of the differences between her background and that of the Devereaux family. Her parents had moved frequently to stay a step ahead of the debt collectors, which meant she’d never stayed in one school very long. A flood of memories washed over her of walking into school, wearing clothes with holes in them, suffering the stares of her classmates and feeling completely out of place.
Her stomach knotted. What was she doing here? She took a deep breath and told herself this was a different time, a different situation. The siblings distracted her from her panic.
Bridget, Phillipa and Jacques stood beside the table.
“The goal for this evening’s meal is to get Stefan to cut me some slack,” Bridget said. “I need a vacation in Italy. Phillipa, you can cover for me for just a couple weeks—”
Phillipa shook her head. “You know I’m in the middle of my dissertation. I can’t take off for two weeks.”
Bridget sighed. “Maybe we could cut down some of the appearances.” She glanced at Jacques, who bore a striking resemblance to Stefan. “And you could help.”
Jacques looked appalled. “Me? I’m playing in a soccer match in Spain this weekend.”
“Well, I can’t keep doing all this on my own. Lord knows how Tina managed it,” Bridget said.
Eve strongly considered turning around and leaving at that point, but Jacques glanced up and looked at her as if she were a lifeline. “Please do come in. Eve Jackson?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she said. “I’m surprised you remember since we met so briefly last month.”
Jacques’s lips lifted in a flirtatious grin. “Please call me Jacques, and I make a habit of never forgetting the name of a beautiful woman.”
Eve couldn’t resist smiling in return. She could tell Jacques was on the road to be a class-one heartbreaker. “Thank you, Jacques. I appreciate the flattery, especially since I haven’t spent much time outside the barn since I arrived.”
“I’m determined to change that,” Bridget said. “Just because your position requires you to work with the horses doesn’t mean you’re married to them. Tomorrow you can join me for a day at the beach.”
Eve shook her head. “No beach for me until after the parade.”
Bridget scowled. “Tina is going to—” She broke off as Stefan walked into the room. “Welcome, Stefan. I persuaded Eve to join us tonight. She’s been cooped up in the barn far too long. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
Eve blinked at that last remark, feeling a stab of chagrin. She’d assumed Stefan had already been informed and approved of her presence at the meal.
Stefan looked at her, his gaze falling over her from head to toe and back up again. “Of course not. I’m glad you thought of it, Bridget,” he said, his gaze not straying from Eve’s. “Our pleasure, Eve.”
“Thank you, Your High—” she started, but stopped when he sliced his hand through the air.
“Stefan, please. Shall we sit?”
As if on cue, three staff members immediately entered the room.
“I chose Chateaubriand for the menu tonight,” Bridget said. “I asked the chef to choose everything else … well, aside from the chocolate mousse torte. Do you like chocolate, Eve?”
Still self-conscious, Eve fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “Like is an understatement. I’ve been known to make dessert the main course when it’s chocolate.”
Bridget laughed in approval. “Well, you won’t want to skip any of the courses tonight. Our newest chef is fabulous.”
“Here, here,” Jacques said. “Much improved over food at the university.”
Eve lifted her water glass and took a swallow. “Newest,” she echoed. “How new is he?”
Bridget glanced at Stefan. “Three months, would you say? The employment director had to replace the former chef.”
Hiding a grin of amusement behind her glass, Eve took another sip and met Stefan’s gaze. “Is that so?”
He raised a dark eyebrow as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “The employment director made that decision. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, I know why he was dismissed,” Phillipa said. “He was coming to work later and later due to a drinking problem. The employment director set him up with a special rehabilitation program.”
Stefan lifted his glass of wine, his lips twitching in amusement before he took a sip. “Eve seems to be under the misguided impression that I fire so many staff members we may as well have a revolving door for them.”
All four Devereaux stared at her with questions in their eyes. Eve coughed as her water went down the wrong way.
“What on earth made you think that?” Phillipa asked. “Stefan delegates almost all of the hiring to the employment director.”
“I never said that. I—” The gleam in his eyes told her he was enjoying her discomfort far too much. Eve frowned at Stefan, rising to the challenge. She was a Texan, for Pete’s sake, and she refused to be intimidated. “How many horse managers have you gone through? How long did my predecessor last before you bumped him off?”
Shocked silence followed, and Eve lifted her chin even as she felt herself being stared down by everyone in the room.
Stefan’s bark of laughter broke the silence and the tension. “To Americans,” he said and lifted his glass. “You don’t take crap from anyone.”
Stefan’s siblings gaped at her in surprise. Bridget recovered first, lifting her glass in salute. “We can learn by her example.”
Stefan lifted his hand in disagreement. “There’s a difference between defending oneself and constantly quarreling.”
“But, Stefan—”
“Enough, Bridget,” he said and turned to Phillipa. “How are your studies progressing?”
Stefan held her attention with how he conducted himself. He exhibited a magnetism that combined power, intelligence and complete masculinity. She’d never met a man who possessed such a combination. She was accustomed to sly cowboys and corporate managers with egos bigger than their paychecks.
She studied his hands as he cut his beef and lifted his glass of wine to his lips. His fingers were long,