Free Princess In Denim by Jenna McKnight

warmed up the horses for a mile, let them out for a frisky lope after that and then settled into a companionable trot, side by side. Their escorts followed at a discreet distance, so they were almost alone. Enough to talk freely. Chloe was dying to call him "William" instead of "Your Majesty."
    He nodded toward a steep hill ahead and to the right. "That would be a good location for a health care facility, Your Highness."
    "Yes," she said, feigning interest. "Please, call me Moira."
    She was rewarded with a warm smile that lit up his eyes.
    "If you will call me William."
    "I'd like that...William." It felt so good to finally say it, she almost got giddy.
    "You blush beautifully, Moira."
    That made her giddy.
    "And I like your laugh. It is like the breeze blowing gently through tiny bells."
    "A wind chime," she said. "How poetic, William."
    "I enjoy the view of the river from the hilltop. Would that be all right?"
    She'd have followed him anywhere right then. "Sure, but I need to tighten my girth first."
    "The groomsman—" he began, but by the time he finished offering someone else's services, she'd dropped her stirrup, leaned down, pulled the buckles tighter and had her leg back in position again.
    She took one look at his raised eyebrows and grinned at him. "I'm not very good at letting people do everything for me," she confessed.
    "So it appears. Your staff in America must have had it quite easy."
    She didn't want to get into that. "Let's do that hill now."
    Halfway up at the steep, boulder-strewn hill, Chloe's saddle slipped just enough for her to realize her girth had loosened again. She tightened her legs and wondered what kind of substandard equipment they had in this country. She was just reaching for a handful of mane when the saddle tilted to the left, then broke free completely.
    The mare panicked and jumped to the right, then whirled on her forehand. Chloe got dumped on the left and tucked into a protective roll that carried her partway down the hill before she stopped. She'd fallen plenty of times in the past; what trick rider hadn't? But rolling over and over left her head spinning when she sat up.
    "Moira!"
    Not spinning so much, though, that she didn't melt inside when William's arms circled her.
    "Hold still," he ordered.
    As if she wanted to move while his hands roamed her arms and legs, feeling, she supposed, for broken bones. The thundering in her ears was new, and it took her a moment to realize that it was their escorts charging up to them.
    There were queries of "What happened?" and "Are you all right, Your Highness?" and orders of "Someone catch that damned mare!"
    But Chloe couldn't have cared less. William's arms were warm and strong and tender as he sat behind her to lend support she didn't need, except for the fact that she found it difficult to breathe with him touching her all over. His chest was hard and solid against her back. His thighs cradled her hips sturdily. His breath teased the top of her head as he gave orders to all the men in a low, controlled voice that did nothing to disguise his fury.
    He had the escorts hopping to do his bidding. All Chloe wanted to do was recline in his arms a bit longer. She supposed, though, that she should let him know she was unhurt.
    In another minute.
    The saddle landed at her side, next to William's knee, and William's man-at-arms held the end of the leather girth, where there should have been three buckles.
    "All three gave way, Your Majesty. They must have been cut."
    "Whattaya mean, cut?" Chloe would have bolted right out of William's arms, except that he held her close.
    "Your Highness, you should not move," he warned.
    "I'm fine." She reached for the girth and saw remnants of stitching, little pieces of broken threads all that remained on the off side, where one seldom checked. "Maybe it's dry rot."
    "Your Highness...Moira, please be careful," William cautioned. "You might have internal injuries."
    "I'm fine," she snapped, and bolted to her feet. "Is