The Riding Master (11 page)

Looking forward to tomorrow night,
she texted back.

“See, Mother. I’m not chasing this one away,” she muttered.

There were times when she pondered if the weight of her mother’s influence had helped contribute to the failure of her marriage. Rayne’s distrusting nature had made her uncomfortable with the long line of conceited, social bigwigs Foster constantly pursued. When she began to spend more time at the stables than attending parties, Foster had pulled away. Soon his days at the office grew into late nights, and instead of confronting her husband, she had buried her emotions in the world of horses.  

The musical tone of an incoming text brought her back from her painful memories.

What are you doing?

“What am I doing?” She scanned her kitchen, looking for inspiration. When Frank let out a loud snore from the floor beside her stool, she grinned.

Watching the furry mop snoring next to me
, she texted back.

Are you in bed?

Rayne laughed at the suggestion, knowing what he was thinking. All the embittered resentment stirred by her mother’s phone call retreated to the depths from which it had been summoned.

Sorry, I’m in the kitchen.
How is your meeting going?
she typed into her phone.

On a break, but going well. Hoping to get on the road for home soon. Tired of sleeping in a hotel
.

Miss your bed, huh
? she teased.

Very funny. I’ll make you pay for that.

Promise?

Several seconds passed before he texted back,
Must go before I need a cold shower. Sleep well and dream of me.

Standing from her stool, she read over his last text once more and smiled, satisfied that he was sufficiently encouraged. After turning off her phone, she eyed Frank still snoring on the floor.

“I think if there was a dog Olympics for sleep, Frank, you would get the gold medal.”

One brown eye opened and looked up at her, but the dog’s body never budged.

After getting a slow moving Frank outside to do his business, she turned out the lights, set the alarm, and checked the locks on the doors before retreating to her bedroom.

In the confines of her soft gray bedroom, Rayne changed into her favorite nightshirt, waited until Frank got comfortable on her gray and white comforter, and then slipped between the sheets of her brass bed. Her mind wandered ahead to her coming day at the stables, her lessons, and her meeting with Trent.

All the time they had spent together on the phone had strengthened her connection to him. She was less apprehensive, but despite their intimate interlude, she worried exactly what would happen when she was alone with him.

Slinking down in her bed as Frank’s snoring started up, she mulled over the idea of sex with Trent. It had been so long since she had been motivated to think about sex, and she recalled all of those girlish notions she had entertained before marrying Foster. What would it be like to be held in the arms of a man who was passionate, experienced, and interested in only pleasing her? Her mind raced with images of Trent’s firm ass in her hands, his thin lips on her neck, and his naked body rubbing against hers. As the pictures in her head grew even more erotic, her body began responding. Giggling at her arousal, Rayne rolled onto her side.

“What in the hell is wrong with me?”

Closing her eyes and willing sleep to take her until morning, Rayne already knew what her problem was. She only hoped the handsome Trent Newbury was the solution.

Chapter 8

Rayne arrived at the stables soon after sunrise, eager to take Bob out for an early trail ride before her classes. She was also anxious to see Trent, and decided a morning workout with her horse might help settle her restless nerves.

As she took Bob through his paces on the trail, she practiced things she would say to Trent when she first saw him, trying to come up with opening lines that sounded seductive, sexy, and yet not too desperate.

“Hey, did you have a productive meeting?” she mumbled while Bob’s ears swerved back, listening to the sound of her voice. “No, that’s terrible. A productive meeting sounds something like a productive cough. Ugh.”

She loosened Bob’s reins as she rode along a narrow path toward the stables. “How about…hello, Trent. It’s really, really good to see you.” She shrunk down in her saddle. “Now I sound desperate. Who am I kidding? I am desperate.”

Taking in the thick trees on either side of her, she admired the changing color of the leaves and how the gold and red on the branches gave way to waves of green. The dirt path below Bob’s hooves kicked up a wave of dust as a light breeze brushed past her face.

“What do you think?” she asked the horse. “Should I be assertive or more laid back? You know, let him come to me?” She shook her head at memories of having the same conversation with her tall palomino, Jasper, when she had a crush on a boy from a neighboring school.

“Here I am a grown woman and I still don’t know how to act around boys.” She observed how Bob’s ears jockeyed back and forth, attentively listening to her every word. “You ever have problems talking to women?” Rayne chuckled. “Yeah, I bet they’re all over you, huh, Bob?” She patted his sleek neck. “You’re the best looking guy in the barn.”

As they came over a slight rise in the trail, she spotted the white jumping ring at the rear of the barn, and in the ring she saw the massive black gelding named Titan that belonged to Selene Kendrick. Over eighteen hands in height and with a temper to match his size, whenever Titan’s hooves pounded the ground, every nearby building shook.

The black horse moved in and out of the particular gaits and intricate footwork required in dressage, but when Rayne saw a tall man emerge from the early morning shadows on the side of the ring, her interest perked up. She recognized Trent’s long legs and determined stride as he walked up to Titan and patted Selene’s shiny black boots as she sat atop the thick Morgan horse.

“Son of a….” Rayne’s eyes stayed glued on the ring as she gently tapped Bob’s sides, urging him down the path. When the dirt trail meandered behind a thick clump of trees, blocking Rayne’s view, she kicked a little more eagerly, wanting Bob to move faster.

After getting around the high trees, she finally got an unencumbered view of the ring, and then urged Bob to slow down. She watched as Trent motioned about the ring and then waved his hand at Selene. Titan returned to the rail, and Selene put him through another series of difficult drills.

Getting closer to the ring, Rayne could hear Trent’s deep voice calling to Selene, but could not quite make out the words. Selene’s flirty, girlish giggle responded to Trent’s comments, and Rayne debated whether or not she should approach the ring. But as Selene’s playful twittering continued, and then Trent’s harmonious chuckle joined in, Rayne’s decision to interrupt them turned into a gut-wrenching retreat. Wishing she had not seen the two of them, she quickened Bob’s pace for the stables.

Beneath the protective shadows of the barn’s tin roof, she quickly took Bob to her red tack room door and secured his reins to a nearby hitching post. As she undid the buckles of his girth, the sound of Selene’s laughter rang in her ears.

“I should have known.”

She hoisted the English saddle and white fleece pad from Bob’s back and carried them into her tack room. After flipping on the single light bulb hanging by a cord above, she whisked the pad from beneath the saddle and placed it to the side. Grunting slightly, she lifted the saddle onto a wooden rack on the wall.

Rayne was shaking out the fleece pad and placing it on a hook to dry out when a shadow crossed her open tack room door. Thinking it was just Bob shimmying around his hitching post, she never bothered to turn to check on him. That was until she heard the distinct sound of boots entering her tack room, and then the thump of the thick red door closing.

When she spun around, Trent was standing in the doorway. His long-sleeved, white button-down shirt hugged his thick arms, and the few buttons he had left undone afforded a view of his smooth, tanned chest. His wavy black hair was slightly windblown, and his blue jeans were covered in dust. But when she caught sight of his winsome grin and the sparkle in his gray eyes, Rayne was done for.

“I saw you coming back from the trails.” He shifted closer to her. “I was hoping to see you before you set out on your ride, but I just missed you.”

She gave him a cool look of indifference. “Yes, I wanted to take an early morning ride before my classes.”

He angled closer still, making Rayne take a step back. “I would have come after you on one of the schooling horses, but I got held up with an instructor.”

“You mean you got held up with Selene. I saw you two in the back ring when I came in from the trails.”

His grin grew wider. “You saw me and didn’t stop by to say hello?”

She took another step back. “You were…busy.”

“Busy?” He came up to her and stared diligently into her eyes. “Is that what you really thought?”

She turned to a wooden shelf on her right with an assortment of brushes and currycombs on it. Picking up a soft white brush, she avoided looking into his face. “I need to see to Bob.”

Trent never budged, blocking her path. “Bob can wait.”  

She kept her eyes on the brush in her hand, and ran her fingers over the soft white bristles. “How was your dinner party?”

“It was a dinner party. Tyler was gracious, and his wife, Monique, was very kind. She’s a writer. I told her about you, and she wants to meet you.”

Rayne raised her eyes to him. “You told her about me? Why?”

“Because she wanted to know if I was seeing anyone, and I told her I was seeing you.”

“Seeing me?” She shook her head. “You’re hardly seeing me, Trent. One dinner and a few phone calls are—”

He took the brush from her hands and put it back on the shelf. “What is it? You’re distant again. You weren’t like this the other night.”

“I’m not sure the other night was such a good idea.” She circled around him to the tack room door, but he held her arm.

“It was a very good idea. You opened up to me and you promised to talk to me whenever something was upsetting you.”

Rayne struggled to remember the little bits of information she knew about the man. “Are you sure you want to be with me?” She wrenched her arm away from his grip. “Or maybe there’s someone else you find more appealing.”

“Ah, I think I get it. This is about Selene and me in the ring. She’s not my type, Rayne.” His gaze drifted over her curves.  

“Your type?” She folded her arms over her bosom and jutted out her chin, trying to appear impervious to his charm. “What exactly is your type, Trent? I guess I’m just beginning to wonder if I would be your first choice in a line up with other women…or your last.” She scooted to the door of the tight-fitting tack room, but he barred her way by placing a thick arm before her.

“I only want a woman who intrigues me, excites me, and makes me want her. And that woman, is you…only you, Rayne.”

“A skittish horse excites you? That’s what you called me. So once you have broken me, Mr. Newbury, then what?”

He moved right up to her, lowering his head to her face. “You know that a horse is never truly broken, it just agrees to submit to your pleasure for a little while. So maybe the question you should be asking is…when are you going to submit to me?” 

Her pulse raced as she stared into his hypnotic gray eyes. He smelled of sweat, dust, and a hint of his sexy cologne. Rayne’s body began to ache with longing.

He let his lips hover over hers. “All week I have been able to think of nothing else but you, and the first time we see each other, you’re jealous of a woman I cannot stand.” He smiled and placed his hands about her face. “You are a wonder.”

“You really can’t stand Selene?”

“Her laugh is as fake as the rest of her body. Forget about her.” Trent contemplated her lips. “Now what do you say to a proper hello?”

He kissed her and Rayne instantly surrendered to him. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her so close that she feared she would not be able to draw a breath. His mouth teased her, encouraged her, and when she parted her lips, his tongue darted in and out, driving her mad.

As his lips worked their way down her neck, his hand skimmed her right breast and then roamed over her abdomen until it curled into the crotch of her beige jodhpurs. “You know what I want to do to you right now?”

Rayne giggled. “Yeah, I know.”

“Turn around.”

Rayne’s eyes flew open. “Here?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Just do it.”

With a pensive pout on her lips, she faced the racks of saddles on the wall.

His hands came around her hips to the zipper on the side of her riding pants. “Ever since the other night on the phone, I’ve wanted to touch you.” He pushed the clingy fabric down her thighs.

“Trent?” She wiggled in his hands.

He crashed into her, shoving Rayne into the saddle before her. Grabbing at the saddle to steady herself, she tried to fight against him. “We can’t,” she protested.

“Relax,” he murmured, placing his mouth against her ear as his hand slid along the elastic band of her beige panties. “You told me the other night you wished I could touch you. Well, I’m here now.” He lowered her hand from the saddle in front of her. He kissed the back of her neck and then lightly nipped at her skin, just as he took her hand in his and slid them both inside her underwear.