Read Online The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) by Joan Johnston - Free Book Online Page A

ridiculous. She’d spent most of her youth on a horse.
    North gestured to a fat white gelding and said, “Whitey’s friendly. Mount up and I’ll check the stirrups.”
    Whitey was a far cry from the sleek thoroughbred hunters she’d ridden as a child. Even so, she shivered as she contemplated getting back on a horse, even one as tame as this. “Whitey looks like he should have retired a few years ago,” she muttered.
    “You say something?” North asked.
    She patted the docile gelding. “Whitey and I will get along just fine.” Jocelyn grimaced at the western saddle, with its horn in front and high cantle in back. It was far more bulky than the English saddles on which she’d ridden in her youth.
    “Problem?” North said.
    “No problem,” she said, as she placed her foot in the stirrup and mounted. Even if there was, she would never admit it to him.
    Her heartbeat immediately ratcheted up a notch. I’m not afraid, she told herself. Nevertheless, her hands began to tremble. She took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to expel the anxiety she felt.
    She jerked when North removed her left foot from the stirrup and stared down at him. “What are you doing?”
    “Your stirrups are too short,” he said.
    By the time he’d lengthened both stirrups, Jocelyn was feeling decidedly uneasy. She’d seen enough western movies to know that cowboys didn’t post—that is, rise in the stirrups and sit in the saddle in rhythm with a trotting horse—the way English riders did. The stirrups were now too long to do that, anyway. She felt awkward and out-of-place, which was unusual for a diplomat’s daughter like herself.
    “You okay?” North asked.
    She stared at the hand he’d placed on her thigh and tensed as her flesh warmed beneath his touch. She was sure the gesture was intended to comfort her, but it was only making things worse. “I’m fine,” she said, pulling her knee away.
    A moment later he was on his horse, a big black stallion, and kicked him into a canter. She watched in admiration as the man and the horse moved in one fluid motion, before she kicked Whitey in the ribs and said, “Let’s go.”
    To her surprise, the placid animal went from standing still to a lope in a matter of seconds. Instead of feeling joy at the sensation of the wind in her hair once again, she felt scared. She grabbed the horn and tugged on the reins to slow her horse down. The animal was so responsive, he sat back on his haunches, bringing him to a sudden stop. She slid up onto Whitey’s neck, grabbing hold with both hands to keep from going over his head.
    It reminded her vividly of her long-ago accident, when her horse had refused a fence, and she’d taken such a terrible fall. She was breathing heavily and trembling horribly and wanted off this horse. Now. But she couldn’t move. She was clinging to Whitey’s neck for dear life and frozen with fear.
    She heard hooves thundering back in her direction and looked up to see North pull his horse to a stop and frown at her.
    “I thought you said you could ride.”
    “I can. I…”
    Before she could say another word, a powerful arm circled her waist, and North lifted her off Whitey and held her tight against his side. His voice was right in her ear as he said, “Do you think you could swing your leg over my horse’s back and sit behind me?”
    Jocelyn would have done anything that got her left breast out of contact with North’s chest. She took a deep breath to gather herself and said, “Sure.”
    North wrapped the reins around the horn and used both hands to help her make the transition. She whimpered when the stallion sidestepped, but he gripped her tighter and said, “I’ve got you.”
    After a little maneuvering, Jocelyn found herself sitting comfortably on the stallion’s back behind North. Once she was in place, he pulled her hands around his waist and said, “Hang on.”
    She was afraid he’d kick his horse into a lope, so she grabbed hold of his waist. But