Black Hills Bride (8 page)

It was amazing. Incredible.

And she was green with envy.

Jealous of the horse, as much as of the man.

There was something in the way Erik looked at Victory and spoke to him that made her heart turn over. She wondered what it would be like to have Erik look at her that special, loving way, speak those soft, affectionate tones into her ears.

But she shook the thought away, replacing it with the opposite side of the coin. Erik had a nasty habit of interceding on her behalf, taking care of her.

Well, she didn’t want to be taken care of by a man. Especially this generous, attractive man whose very presence pulled on her heartstrings.

She was fine on her own. She had to be. And
she
wanted to be the one bonding with Victory, riding with the wind blowing in her hair.

The mountain air pinched her lungs as she struggled with her emotions. This was obviously Erik’s God-given gift, training horses. But in fulfilling his special gift, he’d taken away hers.

It was high time to make her presence known.

V
ictory was a beauty, all right, Erik thought. He was going to be a great trail horse when he was properly trained, and Erik had enough confidence in his own abilities to know it wouldn’t take long.

He could easily picture Dixie riding this fine mount, her satin-black hair brushed back in the wind, exposing her peaches-and-cream complexion to the bright sunshine. Her eyes would shine with her usual cheerfulness, combined with her passion for life.

Victory broke into a canter that matched the rhythm of Erik’s heartbeat. He wanted to see Dixie on this horse. He wanted to be the one to put her there.

He swallowed hard and urged the horse into a gallop.

Vic had an excellent, comfortable gait, and he was a smart young horse. Erik knew it with the same gut instinct that told him the horse was ready for Dixie to ride, with his assistance.

He couldn’t wait to share the news with Dixie, let her know her new horse had the makings of a fine trail horse. Put her up in front of him, wrap his arms around her and show her firsthand the thrill of the wind in her face as they galloped together through the open fields.

“What are you doing with Victory?”

Startled, Erik pulled back on the reins too hard and Victory protested, bucking beneath him.

How long had she been here? He’d been certain he was alone. He’d been so wrapped up in the horse, in surprising Dixie, that he hadn’t detected her presence.

And he sure never expected to see her again this soon. He figured she’d be wallowing in self-pity for at least a day.

He should have known better.

He sure did now. Far from self-pity, she was angry again, though she looked more beautiful than ever with her aqua eyes blazing and her arms akimbo.

He wet his dry bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. “Just trying him out.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“What?” He slid off the horse and led him to where Dixie stood, near the edge of the corral.

“No, you weren’t,” she repeated. “You weren’t
trying Victory out.
I don’t know exactly what you
were
doing, but some things are obvious enough. Do you care to explain?”

She sounded angry, but the harshness was tempered with curiosity.

He shrugged. It was obviously a rhetorical question. His attention was better spent on his horse.

Her horse.

She wasn’t really interested in what he’d been doing with Victory, putting him through his paces so Dixie could ride him.

Her only concern was that he’d done it without her permission. Just like the stubborn woman. The fluttery feeling in his chest settled into lead in his gut.

“Well?” she demanded, and then softer, “I’d really like to know.”

Surprised, he met her gaze and realized she was telling the truth. What he’d mistaken for anger was something else. Jealousy? At what?

Uncomfortable with emotions he couldn’t identify in her, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to ride him?”

“Victory?” She sounded startled, almost alarmed.

He grinned. “He’s your horse, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then ride him.”

Her eyes gleamed with excitement as her gaze turned to rest on Victory. “Oh. Okay.”

She sounded a little shaky, but equally determined in her efforts.

He didn’t blame her, after what had happened this afternoon. It was one of the reasons he’d taken Victory back to the corral in the first place. That and wanting to make Dixie smile, do something for her no one else around here could do.

Use his gift for horses to give her a gift.

Only, she wasn’t supposed to find out about it.

He shook his head. Doing something nice for someone just because he—well,
liked
them, was a new experience for him. Uncomfortable. It threw him off center, like swinging around in circles on a Brahma bull.

She slid between the corral posts and walked up to Victory, holding out a sugar cube on her open palm. Despite her inexperience with horses, she looked as if she belonged there, with this horse.

Love flowed from her eyes, and Erik swallowed hard as he watched her.

“Hello, boy. Remember me?” she asked softly.

Her voice had a husky quality about it that turned Erik’s knees to jelly.

He clenched his fists, needing to get a grip on it before he went and fell in love with her, or something equally foolish. Like maybe diving off the side of a cliff headfirst without looking to see where he would land.

He knew firsthand what love did to a man. His father wasted away when his mother died in childbirth with her third baby. Erik had only been eight, but he knew it was love that made his father go away.

Andrew Wheeler had become a shell of a man, working himself to death, unable to share his love with the children who reminded him so very much of her.

How could God do this to a man, never mind the small boys who’d grown up virtually without parents?

It was a battle his father fought until his grave.

And Erik still fought it now. As a man, Erik understood his father’s pain, but as a child, all he’d known was that empty ache, the feeling of rejection he could never quite shake off.

And his brothers hadn’t fared much better.

Rhett’s wife left him, and Ethan hid under the security of his expensive business suits and mounds of money.

Erik shook his head, not allowing his thoughts to go further. Loving a woman made a man weak. Period.

And God made him weaker. He wouldn’t let it happen to him, no matter how his heart leapt like a calf whenever Dixie was around.

He was a man. Of course he reacted to seeing a beautiful woman. What man wouldn’t?

He might not be able to control his longings, nor even his stray thoughts when he got a whiff of her perfume or when she faced him off with her stunning eyes shooting sparks.

But he could—would—control his actions.

Firming his jaw, he walked Victory around in a small circle, wrestling within himself to turn his attention to the horse and not the woman. He had faith that Victory was ready to ride, but Dixie would need him here to help work out the kinks.

“Ready?” he asked gruffly.

She nodded, her eyes wide. The color of the ocean, he thought distractedly.

He jerked his shoulders as he warded off the thought. The horse snorted and yanked his head on the lead, and Erik chided himself for getting sidetracked again, and so easily.

See? He was already showing weakness. And if there was one thing he despised, it was a weak man.

“The hardest part is going to be mounting. He’s still a little skittish when he can’t see what’s going on. Just slide on him nice and easy.”

Erik talked to Dixie, but made eye contact with Victory, calming the horse with his gaze.

Dixie eyed the large Appaloosa, then began to walk hesitantly around him.

“Place a hand on his rear to let him know you’re there. Otherwise, you’re liable to get kicked,” Erik instructed. “Come on over here to the left of the horse, and I’ll boost you up.”

She looked relieved. He’d been mounting horses since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, but Dixie was obviously new to this, and she was a great deal shorter than he was. He chuckled.

He was unused to laughing, yet it happened often when he was around Dixie. The smell of fresh peaches alone could make him smile.

He wouldn’t follow that thought to its natural conclusion. Or any conclusion at all.

One thing he knew for sure—he couldn’t touch her. He cupped his hands to offer her a lift, but she just stared at his laced fingers, perplexed. “What’s wrong? Put your boot on my hands and climb aboard.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But my boot’s filthy,” she protested.

He laughed from his belly this time. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t mind.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of in my life.”

He grunted and leaned against the horse’s neck.

“Can’t you lift me up?” she asked peevishly.

“That’s what I was trying to do,” he snapped back, more annoyed with his own reaction to her than with her words.

“Erik,” she warned, letting him know she didn’t buy his sudden thickheadedness. She held her arms toward him, gesturing for him to pick her up.

His lungs burned as he struggled to inhale. Didn’t the stubborn woman realize what she was asking of him?

No. Of course not. Why would she? To her, he was nothing more than her foreman. And right now she was expecting him to do his job.

He exhaled what air was left in his lungs, concentrating on the burning tightness in his chest. She wasn’t giving him any choice. He thought he might choke. Strangle.

Reluctantly he stepped forward, reaching for her waist. The scent of peaches nearly drove him mad. His large, rough hands easily spanned her waist. She was so tiny, so vulnerable.

He wanted to kiss her. And suddenly he knew he would kiss her.

She lifted her hands to his shoulders and tilted her chin up toward his, inadvertently encouraging him.

Victory wandered to the edge of the corral, intent on the long grass peeking through the railing, but Dixie didn’t appear to notice. Her gaze was caught with Erik’s.

He hesitated, his head swimming with the scent of peaches. He should go retrieve Victory, but his feet felt glued to the ground.

It would take little more than the slightest shift for their lips to meet, and he knew the moment when she realized it, too, the moment she tensed in his arms and tried to pull away.

But it was already too late. Too late to back out. He could no more not kiss her than stop his own heart from pounding in his ears.

He bent toward her, closing his eyes, soaking up the experience with his other dynamically amplified senses. Framing her face, he brushed his lips softly over hers, the merest butterfly kiss, yet a world-rocking revelation.

The skin on her face was every bit as soft and smooth as he’d imagined it to be, a marked contrast to his rough, callused fingertips. Her warm breath, coming in short bursts, met and mixed with his.

When she sighed and leaned into him, he kissed her again, deeper this time, wanting her to experience with him the myriad of feelings that swirled around and through him like the colors of a rainbow.

“No.” He heard Dixie’s voice, almost a whimper, from somewhere beyond the haze he was feeling. His equilibrium had disappeared, leaving him feeling as if he were floating upside down, but her single word cut through to the center of his soul.

Immediately he dropped his hands from her and stepped back, uncomfortable with the way she stared at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. Apparently she was as stunned by his actions as he was.

As his world righted, his conscience pricked him, and he wondered if he should apologize. He wondered if he could.

I know. I shouldn’t have kissed you.

But he found himself unable to say the words out loud, so he just shrugged.

“Don’t do that again.” She scowled, her voice low and raspy.

He felt a moment of panic when she spoke, wondering if he’d ruined everything, if she might fire him for his presumption.

But a moment later, his panic abated as she walked over to the grazing horse and grasped his uneven mane in one hand, lifting her foot to be boosted up onto his back.

Her gaze was clear, as if nothing had happened between them. Maybe that’s the way she wanted it to be.

Maybe it was for the best.

He strode to her side and cupped his hands, helping her mount. Victory shifted, but didn’t protest. He probably barely felt petite Dixie on his back.

Erik handed her one end of the rope, keeping the other to lead her around the corral.

“Comfortable?” he asked. If she was going to ignore the sparks between them, he could do no less. Or more.

She sat ramrod-straight and stiff as a mannequin. “This is the first time I’ve ever ridden bareback,” she admitted in a wobbly voice.

And probably the second time she’d ever ridden in her life,
Erik added silently. “It’s better to learn to ride this way first. Close your eyes.”

“What?” she exclaimed, causing Victory to sidestep. Then whispering, she continued. “You’re kidding, right? Close my eyes?”

What? Did she think he was going to try to kiss her again?

“I’ve got the horse in hand, Dixie,” he pointed out wryly. “Close your eyes and feel him shift. It’ll help your other senses become attuned to the way Victory moves beneath you.”

He ran a hand down Victory’s neck, then scratched him behind the ears, eliciting a low whicker in response. “The goal of a good rider is to become one with the horse. You have to learn the peculiarities unique to Victory. Then he’ll never surprise you.” He struggled to keep a straight face. “Most of the time, anyway.”

Looking chagrined, Dixie closed her eyes.

He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see him. There was something oddly wonderful about teasing her.

“I can feel it,” she said, her voice low in awe. “I can feel it, Erik. His muscles, his stride. This is glorious.”

Erik swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Now open your eyes, but keep your concentration focused on the horse.”

She did as she was told, her face radiant with this new discovery.

“And try to relax. You won’t ever blend with the horse if you don’t loosen your posture. You look like a brick wall up there.”

“Oh,” she said, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. “There. Is that better?”

He nodded. “Want to try a trot?”

“Do you think I can?”

“I think you can do anything you put your mind to,” he replied, enormously aware of his double meaning.

They spent another hour together in the ring. Dixie was a natural horsewoman, someone who automatically did things right without having to be told. And when he did have to instruct her, it only took once.

He showed her how to hold the reins, how to direct Victory to the right and to the left, and the most important command,
whoa.