The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty by Donna Kauffman

detail she’d noticed in the clothing she’d seen him in so far, she could easily imagine him in a nicely cut, proper English riding jacket. For certain, those tight English riding pants would show off…well, what wouldn’t they show off was more like it. Not that he couldn’t do some damage in jeans and chaps, it’s just that he wasn’t the scruffy cowboy type. Far more lord of the manor. With a little Latin flair.
    â€œOkay, now what?”
    Now I need a fan, and something cold to drink, and an extended period of getting myself seriously under some kind of control , she thought. She motioned to the rope. “Hold it with some slack. Click a little, with your tongue, then nudge her with your heels or knees. She knows what to do.”
    â€œHow do I steer?”
    â€œTug a little on the left rein for left, right for right. Pull back and release to slow her down and stop. You don’t have to yank, just a steady pulling motion until she slows down to where you want her, or comes to a complete stop.”
    â€œSounds simple enough.”
    She smiled. “Should be. Let’s see how you do.”
    First, he leaned forward and spoke gently to Petunia, making her ears twitch forward and back. Then, he straightened and, after a gentle nudging with his heels, they moved smoothly along the fence line. She wished she could say she was surprised, but by now, she wasn’t.
    â€œYou’ll get used to her rolling gait. Just keep your weight centered, stay relaxed, knees with even tension, which is to say, very little. She’ll be very sensitive to the tension she feels in your body, which is mainly telegraphed by how tightly you hold the reins, and the pressure you exert with your legs against her sides.”
    Not that he appeared to need this little bit of instruction.
    She let them go around the ring once at a steady walk, then said, “Okay, now, slow her down. You can pull back slightly on the reins.”
    He pulled Petunia to a stop right beside her.
    â€œPretty good,” she said.
    â€œPretty good?”
    â€œOkay, you were very good.” Probably needed to hear that after every performance, she thought, knowing she was being less than charitable, but reaching for anything that would give her an edge against the effect he seemed to be having on her so effortlessly. “For a beginner.”
    He took the comment in stride, but didn’t tip his imaginary brim again.
    â€œNext class we’ll work on turning around and coming in to the center of the ring. After that, we’ll work on speed. Trotting, then cantering.”
    â€œNo galloping?”
    â€œNo galloping.”
    His dark eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “How about outside of the ring?”
    She smiled dryly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”
    â€œWell, the idea is to eventually ride the horse in something other than an endless circle.”
    â€œYes. But this isn’t like the movies. I hate to break it to you, but trail riding rarely involves galloping.”
    â€œDo you?”
    â€œTrail ride?”
    â€œGallop your horse. In or out of the ring.”
    â€œNeither at the moment—she’s pregnant.”
    â€œBut otherwise?”
    She folded her arms. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œYou normally work with racehorses. I assume it’s rather like guys who work around race cars. Or Lear jets.”
    â€œYou think I’m a speed junkie?”
    He looked down at her from his higher perch, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually, I don’t know what to think about you.”
    â€œI could say the same,” she responded, before she thought better of it.
    He held her in silent regard for a long moment. He seemed quite relaxed, but Petunia stepped a little restlessly, proving there was more tension in him than he was showing. “Could I interest you in grabbing a bite to eat? Later, once you’re free?”
    The