Man of Her Dreams by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online Page A

Maggie’s gaze had lingered on the man a second longer than was necessary.
    Too preoccupied to notice Ry’s new mood, Maggie congratulated herself. She’d picked up a book on horsemanship the same day she had purchased her outrageously expensive riding clothes. The book had explained the rudiments of riding, step by step. “Leg up” was a term she was now thoroughly familiar with. She took the correct position beside the horse, lifting her left foot behind her so Ry could assist her in mounting.
    â€œYour Mr. Atherton is one of the best, isn’t he?” she asked innocently.
    Ry’s grumbled answer was lost in her squeal of surprise as he grabbed her ankle and nearly tossed her over the horse. She had to grab Killer around the neck to keep from landing in a water trough. As Ry mounted his horse, Maggie righted herself in the saddle and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She watched as Rough Cut started to refuse a fence, then took it in a tremendous leap that almost unseated his rider.
    Working her reins into her gloved hands, Maggie swallowed hard. She already felt that her perch on the brown gelding’s back was a precarious one. This must have been how Humpty Dumpty felt, she thought, trying to will herself to have good balance. If Killer had to step over anything higher than his shadow, she was going to end up on her head. Maybe she should have bought that velvet-covered riding helmet after all.
    She cast a surreptitious glance at Rylan. The breeze tossed his dark hair. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, but then he’d been riding practically since he could walk.
    â€œThis trail we’re going on…it doesn’t have any jumps on it, does it? I mean, I’m not really in the mood for that sort of thing today,” she hastened to add.
    His humor returning, Ry rubbed a hand across his mouth and shook his head. “No, no jumps.” He nudged his mount with his heels and began leading the way out of the stable yard toward the wooded hills. Unable to resist, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Just a little bit of water to swim through.”
    Maggie’s stomach did a back flip. She turned her wide brown eyes on the animal beneath her. Killer didn’t exactly resemble a sea horse. In fact, he looked distinctly
un
seaworthy. She urged him after his stablemate, almost bouncing off when he swung into a loose-limbed trot. “Uh, Rylan, sugar, can we discuss this swimming business?”
    â€œDon’t worry, Mary Margaret,” Ry said straight-faced. “Horses are excellent swimmers—as long as their rider knows what he’s doing.”
    Maggie gulped.
Lord have mercy, you’re in trouble now, McSwain.
    What Maggie spent half the ride imagining as a raging torrent turned out to be a pretty little stream with a bed of pebbles. Not only did the horses not have to swim through it, they barely even noticed it as they waded through.
    â€œVery amusing, Rylan,” she remarked sardonically.
    â€œI thought so,” he said with a chuckle.
    The ride was pleasant—generally. Killer turned out to be as amiable as Ry had promised, which helped Maggie relax somewhat. But she hadn’t realized how quickly her uninitiated body would begin to protest the unfamiliar activity. She was no health nut, but she did get a certain amount of exercise in her work, running around for clients, going up and down the stairs of the homes she had to decorate. Lately she had also been on another of her sporadic workout kicks.
    She discovered, however, that riding a horse exercised muscles nothing else did. Her ankles burned with pain from trying to maintain the correct position of heels down. Her arms and shoulders ached from trying to steer Killer away from the bushes he wanted to snack on. Her thighs began to quiver from gripping the saddle. Her new boots made her feet ache. Not even proper breeches could keep her bottom from getting saddle-sore.
    Still, she