Man of Her Dreams by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online

a wonder he swats flies, he’s so gentle. If he was any quieter, he’d be dead.”
    â€œOh.” Hesitantly she reached a hand toward the horse’s muzzle. The gelding touched her fingertips, flared his wide nostrils, and snorted. With a little yelp, Maggie bolted backward, slamming into Rylan’s chest. His hands came up to cup her shoulders.
    â€œAre you sure you want to do this, Mary Margaret?”
    â€œAbsolutely!”
    It wasn’t going to further her cause any to have Ry know she was afraid of horses. Horses were his life. He wasn’t going to want a wife who wouldn’t share that with him. She was simply going to have to overcome her fear. Literally dragging her feet, she inched toward Killer, reaching out to pat his shoulder, careful to stay an arm’s length away. “I love riding, but it’s been a little while since I’ve done it, that’s all.”
    â€œLike in another lifetime.” Ry chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement.
    A little smile tugged at his firm lips. She really was too darn cute in her brand-new riding togs. The buff-colored breeches hugged her well-rounded derriere. Her tall, polished brown boots had yet to get a scuff mark on them. She was now regarding Killer with a look of determination that said she was going to ride this horse if for no other reason than that she had spent about two hundred and fifty bucks on the outfit.
    She’s playing right into your hands, old boy,
he told himself, resisting the urge to grin. Maggie had never shown the least interest in riding until he’d retracted his proposal. Now, all of a sudden, she was an avid equestrian. It was all he could do to keep from patting himself on the back.
    Maggie insisted on leading her own horse down the aisle and out into the yard. Willing herself to be brave, she took hold of Killer’s reins near the bit and started toward the wide opening at the far end of the long stable. The sound of steel-shod hooves ringing on the concrete made her stomach queasy. The animal ambling along beside her stood five feet three inches tall at the shoulder. She couldn’t see over his back. Katie had once told her the average thoroughbred weighed around twelve hundred pounds. That was one thousand seventy pounds more than her own weight.
    Winding their way around grooms mucking out stalls and stray dogs exploring their foster home, they exited the stable at the end that faced the outdoor arena. In the ring, Ry’s trainer, Christian Atherton, was putting Rough Cut through his paces over an array of jumps. The big bay Hanoverian moved with power and grace, cantering to his fences lazily, then sailing over them with an ease that was positively arrogant.
    Maggie watched, feeling a mixture of awe and fear. The handsome Atherton made it look easy. Maggie knew it was not. A fall on a difficult course had nearly killed Katie Quaid five years ago when she had been in contention for a spot on the Olympic show jumping team. Even after years of intense training, a masterful equestrian faced risks. Horses could be unpredictable.
    She cast a dubious glance at Killer. The horse was half dozing, flipping his lips together, a habit that made him look as if he were talking to himself. She didn’t want to imagine what he was saying—probably something about lulling a greenhorn into a false sense of security.
    â€œLeg up?” Ry asked impatiently. He hadn’t missed the way Maggie had been watching the horse and rider in the arena. Particularly the rider, he imagined. If there was a woman on the face of the earth who was immune to the cultured British charm of Christian Atherton, Ry had yet to meet her. Chris, while a close friend, was everything Ry was not—handsome, charming, sophisticated, worldly, the consummate ladies’ man. None of that had bothered Ry before; he aspired to none of those things. Suddenly he was ready to bellow like a wounded moose because