Read Online Waking Up With a Rake by Connie Mason, Mia Marlowe - Free Book Online Page A

back with the sidesaddle in hand, Olivia had adjusted her skirts to make certain her ankles were modestly covered.
    “My turn to handle the reins,” she said with deceptive sweetness. She suspected he disliked not being in control, but after her accident, the sooner she held the reins, the better. She’d be less likely to lose her nerve altogether.
    His brows knit together. “Duncan can be a handful.”
    So can I danced on her tongue. After her abysmal showing as an equestrienne this morning, the boast died before it could pass her lips.
    “Very well.” She held the reins out to him. “But let’s see how fast you go when you’re on the scupper for a change.”
    He grinned, put a foot in the stirrup, and swung himself up behind her with her sidesaddle balanced on his left shoulder. He steadied it with his left hand and reached his right arm around her waist, cinching her close.
    “Actually, with this saddle in tow, I’m rather shorthanded. It appears you do need to keep the reins,” he said, his breath warm in her ear. “But bear in mind, if I tumble off, I’m likely to take you with me, so no jumping this time.”
    “Being unhorsed once a day is more than enough.” Her voice caught, thinking of poor Molly. As soon as Olivia explained to her mother that there had been an accident, but that she was fine, she intended to spend the rest of the day seeing that Molly had hot mash and a gentle rubdown and all the care she required to mend.
    They rode in silence, and after only a few paces, Olivia decided it hadn’t been a very good idea to change places with Rhys after all. His chest expanded and contracted against her spine. His strong thighs were tight around her hips. And his arm at her waist felt strangely proprietary. Even on a dance floor, she’d never been so physically close to a man.
    Every fiber of her body was on high alert. She was acutely aware of his deep breathing, even if his warm breath hadn’t been washing over her nape. His splay-fingered hand touched the slightly ticklish spot at the base of her ribs, but she didn’t feel at all like laughing. That odd fluttery feeling was back, threatening to swamp her chest.
    A cold wind soughed over the rolling hills. The clouds that had been gathering began to spit rain at them, stinging needles of it with a hint of ice thrown in for good measure.
    “I think we might chance a bit more speed,” Rhys suggested. “Unless you prefer a drenching.”
    She squeezed the gelding with her thighs, and he answered with a brisk trot that quickly smoothed into an even, rocking canter.
    Olivia loved to ride, loved the speed, the freedom, the thrill of power that controlling such a large animal gave her. Having a large man at her back only intensified the experience. She and Rhys moved as one, settling into the rolling rhythm of Duncan’s gait.
    The effect was decidedly…unvirginal.
    She was relieved when they pulled into the stable just as the rain turned to snow. Rhys dismounted and then helped her down, holding her longer than necessary before allowing the tips of her boots to touch the hard-packed stable floor. She moved away from him quickly and stood at the open doorway.
    “Poor Molly,” she said, looking out at the gathering whiteness.
    “You there, boy,” Rhys called to the stable lad who was mucking out stalls. “Have you a cart that will hold Miss Symon’s mare? She’s been injured and needs to be brought in without having to walk through this weather.”
    “Right-o, guv.”
    He told the boy where he might find Mr. Thatcher and the two horses he was leading back. When Rhys promised him a crown if he managed to bring the mare back safely in less than half an hour, the lad fairly flew to the other part of the stable where the draft horses were kept.
    “A crown?” It touched Olivia that Rhys seemed as concerned for Molly as she was. “For a man who lives by the turn of a card, you’re liberal with your gratuities.”
    “I’ve been winning of late.