the curve of his buttocks. Until today, no thought even remotely similar to that had ever disturbed the serenity of her mind. Now tremors shook her body, an unfamiliar heat coiled and uncoiled in her belly. Maybe this was why her grandmother said a lady should keep herself separate from men on all but formal occasions.
For most of her life, Pilar had chafed against her grandmother’s tight restrictions, but she’d never rebelled. Then Laveau had gone off to war, leaving no one to run the ranch. Her grandmother had insisted they hire an overseer, but they didn’t even have the money to pay their servants. Despite her grandmother’s objections and continual predictions of failure, Pilar assumed management of their ranch.
The last four years had gradually turned her into a different woman. She knew she could never return to being the biddable girl she used to be. She also knew she could never be the silent, obedient wife her Mexican fiancé expected. She felt confident of her ability to make decisions, to act on them.
But this newfound sense of physical awareness, this unforeseen and unmanageable fascination with Cade—especially his body—was something she was neither confident about nor able to control. She’d never felt anything like this before.
Except when Cade kidnapped you.
She refused to take that comparison seriously. She had been a virtual child then, frightened, thrilled, fascinated by the whole experience. It had been the single most exciting event of her life.
But she was a woman now. How could she explain her reaction today?
“I’ll hold him while you mount up.”
Pilar came out of her self-absorption to see Rafe holding the bridle of the buckskin and Cade preparing to climb into the saddle.
“Better stand back,” Earl said to Rafe. “I give Cade five seconds before that buckskin tosses him.”
Despite having been hobbled, the horse had fought the lasso over his head, the bridle, blanket, and saddle. He should have been exhausted by now, but Pilar could tell from the wildness in his eyes that he had neither exhausted his energy nor given up the fight. He watched Cade’s approach with fearful expectancy, sidling away when Cade reached for the saddle horn. Rafe held the horse’s head tight against the hitching post. A single powerful leap, and Cade was in the saddle. Rafe let go of the bridle and jumped back.
Pilar had watched the men break horses all day, watched the horses expend every available ounce of energy to get rid of the men on their backs. But watching Cade ride the buckskin was like seeing it all for the first time.
The horse came alive with incredible energy, jumped straight into the air, came down on stiff legs, spun to the right, reversed to the left, spun to the right again, bucking furiously as it turned rapidly.
With a swiftness she didn’t think possible, the buckskin broke into a run, stopped dead in its tracks, thrust its head between its legs, and threw its hindquarters into the air.
Cade left the saddle, sailed over the horse’s head, and landed in the cut-up dirt. Rafe ran to grab the buckskin’s bridle. When Cade didn’t move immediately, Pilar waited, breath suspended.
“Damn, that’s one fine horse,” Cade said, still lying on the ground. “I’m claiming him.”
“You’ll have a damned hard time doing that with your face in the dirt,” his grandfather said.
Cade pushed himself into a sitting position. “Just trying to make him think he hurt me.”
“You fooled me,” Broc said. “I thought he knocked the wind out of you.”
Feeling as though he’d knocked the wind out of her at the same time, Pilar finally relaxed enough to take a full breath. Cade got to his feet and brushed the sand from his shirt and pants.
“How can he be thrown like that and not get hurt?” she asked Broc. It was a foolish question. She’d seen it happen all day. She’d been shocked and surprised at first. Now she felt worried and fearful.
What had changed?
Maybe
For most of her life, Pilar had chafed against her grandmother’s tight restrictions, but she’d never rebelled. Then Laveau had gone off to war, leaving no one to run the ranch. Her grandmother had insisted they hire an overseer, but they didn’t even have the money to pay their servants. Despite her grandmother’s objections and continual predictions of failure, Pilar assumed management of their ranch.
The last four years had gradually turned her into a different woman. She knew she could never return to being the biddable girl she used to be. She also knew she could never be the silent, obedient wife her Mexican fiancé expected. She felt confident of her ability to make decisions, to act on them.
But this newfound sense of physical awareness, this unforeseen and unmanageable fascination with Cade—especially his body—was something she was neither confident about nor able to control. She’d never felt anything like this before.
Except when Cade kidnapped you.
She refused to take that comparison seriously. She had been a virtual child then, frightened, thrilled, fascinated by the whole experience. It had been the single most exciting event of her life.
But she was a woman now. How could she explain her reaction today?
“I’ll hold him while you mount up.”
Pilar came out of her self-absorption to see Rafe holding the bridle of the buckskin and Cade preparing to climb into the saddle.
“Better stand back,” Earl said to Rafe. “I give Cade five seconds before that buckskin tosses him.”
Despite having been hobbled, the horse had fought the lasso over his head, the bridle, blanket, and saddle. He should have been exhausted by now, but Pilar could tell from the wildness in his eyes that he had neither exhausted his energy nor given up the fight. He watched Cade’s approach with fearful expectancy, sidling away when Cade reached for the saddle horn. Rafe held the horse’s head tight against the hitching post. A single powerful leap, and Cade was in the saddle. Rafe let go of the bridle and jumped back.
Pilar had watched the men break horses all day, watched the horses expend every available ounce of energy to get rid of the men on their backs. But watching Cade ride the buckskin was like seeing it all for the first time.
The horse came alive with incredible energy, jumped straight into the air, came down on stiff legs, spun to the right, reversed to the left, spun to the right again, bucking furiously as it turned rapidly.
With a swiftness she didn’t think possible, the buckskin broke into a run, stopped dead in its tracks, thrust its head between its legs, and threw its hindquarters into the air.
Cade left the saddle, sailed over the horse’s head, and landed in the cut-up dirt. Rafe ran to grab the buckskin’s bridle. When Cade didn’t move immediately, Pilar waited, breath suspended.
“Damn, that’s one fine horse,” Cade said, still lying on the ground. “I’m claiming him.”
“You’ll have a damned hard time doing that with your face in the dirt,” his grandfather said.
Cade pushed himself into a sitting position. “Just trying to make him think he hurt me.”
“You fooled me,” Broc said. “I thought he knocked the wind out of you.”
Feeling as though he’d knocked the wind out of her at the same time, Pilar finally relaxed enough to take a full breath. Cade got to his feet and brushed the sand from his shirt and pants.
“How can he be thrown like that and not get hurt?” she asked Broc. It was a foolish question. She’d seen it happen all day. She’d been shocked and surprised at first. Now she felt worried and fearful.
What had changed?
Maybe
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