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The Rancher's Hand-Picked Bride. Elizabeth August
Читать онлайн.Название The Rancher's Hand-Picked Bride
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Автор произведения Elizabeth August
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
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.
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