Читать книгу The Rancher's Hand-Picked Bride - Elizabeth August, Elizabeth August - Страница 12

With an outward show of confidence to mask her inward trepidation, Gwen entered the fenced grazing area adjacent to the stables with Jess. Jess whistled. A large black stallion looked their way. Gwen had the distinct feeling the animal had known they were there all along, but was waiting to hear them announce themselves. Then with an easy grace, the horse turned in their direction and approached.

Gwen took an involuntary step backward as the animal reached Jess and bent his head toward the cowboy.

“Afternoon, Raven. Looks like we’re going to have company on this ride.” In an aside to Gwen, Jess added, “He won’t bite. You can step forward again.”

She hated the fact that she’d shown even a moment’s cowardliness in front of him. With a long step closer, she placed herself right next to the beast. “Good boy,” she said firmly, and patted his neck the way she’s seen people do in the movies.

“I can’t believe you live in Texas and haven’t learned to ride,” Jess commented, as he slipped the lead halter on Raven.

Raven moved slightly and, with every ounce of control she could muster, Gwen managed to stop herself from jumping away. Instead, she sidestepped as gracefully as her shaky legs would allow. “I’ve never had any need to.”

Jess smiled. “I told you there’s no reason to be skittish around Raven. He’s a lot gentler than he looks.”

Gwen continued to eye the horse cautiously. “I prefer to stay away from anything too big for me to throw.”

Jess’s smile broadened. “So that’s why you’ve always kept me at arm’s length.”

A confident smiled curled one corner of her mouth. “Oh, I can throw you. I have a black belt in karate.”

Jess continued to grin. “Maybe someday we’ll just have to see about that.”

Gwen had never felt so tightly strung and the temptation to release some of her tension by proving to him right then and there that she wasn’t being flippant was strong. But even as her body prepared to toss him, something deeper stopped her. It was a very peculiar reaction to the thought of physical contact…something between excitement and terror. Again she recalled sharply the effect his hand had had on her arm and the currents of electricity his simple brushing against her in the kitchen had sent through her body. Drawing a deep breath, she shut down her body’s fight mode. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Jess’s smile vanished, and he regarded her narrowly. “Don’t you ever joke or have any fun?”

“Not when I’m on a job.”

Jess turned to Raven. “I’d watch my step with her,” he warned the animal.

Raven snorted and nodded his head as if he’d understood.

Jess turned back to Gwen. “I’ll cut Lady Grace out for you. She has an easy lope.” Swinging up onto Raven’s bare back, he nudged the horse and they headed to the far side of the fenced area.

“Raven and his master are well paired,” she muttered, recalling the animal’s almost human reaction to Jess’s warning. Well, he and his master could mock her all they wanted. What any male thought about her—what any person thought, she corrected—didn’t matter to her.

A strong nudge on the middle of her back sent her forward. “What do you—” she growled, turning around to confront her assailant. The words died when she found herself face-to-face with a chestnut horse. And there was, she was sure, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

In spite of the animal’s size, she found herself thinking that he was like a little boy, playing a game. “Don’t think you can get away with pushing me around,” she warned him sternly.

He cocked his head to one side as if sizing her up.

Remembering what Jess had told her about handling horses, she placed her hands on her hips and said curtly. “Behave yourself.”

The chestnut straightened and took a step forward.

“Oh, great. A horse who bucks authority,” she muttered. Unable to stop herself, she took a step back only to find herself up against the fence.

The horse nudged her shoulder gently, then stepped back.

Suddenly realizing he was asking to be her friend, Gwen experienced an overwhelming sense of delight. “Okay, tough guy,” she said, moving forward and patting his neck. “Or should I say tough gal?”

“Tough guy was correct,” Jess said riding up with a gray mare on a lead rope.

Gwen continued to grin at the chestnut. “So, what’s his name.”

“Cantankerous.”

“Cantankerous?”

Jess dismounted. “He earned it.” Nodding toward the stables, he added, “Come on. We’ll get these horses saddled and you can have your first lesson.”

“See you later, buddy,” Gwen said, giving the chestnut a final pat on the neck, before falling into step beside Jess.

The gray she noticed seemed almost lethargic and definitely disinterested in her. An elitist, she decided. She’d never been fond of elitists. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Cantankerous was following and a hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth.

“I’d rather ride the chestnut,” she heard herself saying without even realizing she’d been going to speak aloud. Inwardly, a nervous twinge spiked through her. What did she think she was doing? She was a novice rider. She didn’t need a horse that was unpredictable.

Jess frowned. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“I thought cowboys were supposed to feel a bond with their mounts. Well, I sort of feel that with Cantankerous.” She couldn’t believe she was arguing with him over which horse she should ride. She was no judge of horseflesh. Still, she thought she saw a plea in the chestnut’s eyes asking her to choose him.

“I suppose there could be a personality match between the two of you,” Jess conceded.

Gwen gave him a dry look. Then in a moment of honesty, she heard herself saying, “You could be right.”

Jess regarded her thoughtfully. “So you are capable of not taking yourself too seriously all of the time.”

“I have my moments,” she replied.

“Great.” He grinned. “There’s hope for you yet.”

His approval caused a warm glow to spread through her. So, maybe she did take everything a bit too seriously. Immediately her jaw tensed. She’d had to learn to be hard in order to survive. “I think I’m doing just fine exactly as I am.”

Jess frowned with impatience. “I was only suggesting that you could lighten up a little bit.”

Her shoulders stiffened with dignity. “And I choose to stay the way I am.”

“Stubborn,” Jess muttered, releasing Lady Grace.

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief as he turned his full attention to saddling the horses. In spite of her bravado, he made her want to relax her defenses and show the softer, more vulnerable side she kept hidden from view. Fear suddenly washed through her. No, her inner voice ordered. Every instinct screamed that lowering her defenses could be dangerous and the protective shield she kept around herself once again solidified.

“Time to mount,” Jess announced, cutting into her thoughts. “Always from the left,” he added.

“That part I know.” Rounding the horse, she grasped the horn of the saddle and tried to get her foot up into the stirrup. It was a stretch she couldn’t quite make. “I didn’t realize how tall he was,” she said looking around for a bucket to give her some height.

“Here, I’ll give you a hand up.” Jess cupped his hands in the shape of an open stirrup. “Hold on to the horn and get ready to swing up into the saddle when I give you a lift.”

Gwen nodded, firmed her hold on the horn, then slipped her foot into his hands. The contact unexpectedly caused her legs to weaken. She couldn’t believe it. He was wearing heavy gloves and she was wearing boots, yet heat was rushing through her as if they were touching skin against skin.