Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558) by Jillian Hart

delineated muscle.
    â€œI’ve been getting her used to a bridle. She doesn’t like it.” Night Hawk stroked one big hand down the horse’s cheek. “I’m having a small problem training her. I don’t know anything about a lady’s sidesaddle.”
    â€œNeither do I.”
    â€œThat must be how you ride in Ohio.”
    â€œI’ve never ridden a horse before.”
    â€œNow I understand why your father ‘forgot’ to buy you a mare.” Night Hawk climbed over the rails and then held out his hand.
    Marie looked at his wide palm, callused from hard work, and laid her hand on his. Heat seared through her like lightning across a dark sky. Light burst within her so bright it hurt.
    Night Hawk’s eyes went black. His strong fingers curled around the side of her hand. Had he experienced this, too?
    She concentrated on fitting her shoe on the lower rung and climbing. Her skirts caught the wind and twisted tight around her ankles, but Night Hawk held her steady.
    Her feet touched the ground, but she couldn’t feel it.
    A warm velvet horse’s nose bumped against her shoulder in greeting. Dazed, Marie stroked the mare’s neck and tried to marvel at the heated coat that stretched tautly over the steely muscles beneath. Night Hawk moved close, tying a rope he’d lifted from one of the fence posts, and slipped the makeshift halter over Kammeo’s nose.
    â€œShe is your first horse, and you will be her first rider.” Night Hawk shouldered close to slip the pliant hemp over the mare’s ears. “You’ll learn together.”
    Excitement thrilled through her. He nodded once in understanding, as if he could read her secret wishes and dreams.
    â€œHold the rope tight, right here.” He placed her hand firmly in front of his.
    At once she felt the quivering life force of the mare and the steady steel of the man. Like a dream, he led the way deeper into the field, walking beside Marie as if he belonged there. As if he were a part of her.
    He spoke low, and Kammeo moved. The rope pulled taut, and Marie felt a connection to the man that she couldn’t explain. Night Hawk halted behind her, with only the wind between them. Her body tingled and burned as if they were touching, chest to back, thigh to thigh.
    â€œDon’t be afraid,” he murmured.
    She blushed. He’d noticed she was trembling, but she wasn’t afraid.
    â€œKeep her going in a circle.”
    Â 
    His words breezed against the back of her neck, sending arrows of pure sensation down her spine.
    â€œHold on tight.”
    She needed to hold on to her senses, that’s what she needed. But Night Hawk stepped away, leaving her alone with the rope. Kammeo didn’t miss a beat and when Night Hawk spoke, the mare broke into a disciplined trot, leaving Marie to rotate in a smaller circle of her own, faster against the wind and the sun.
    He leaned against the fence. “Are you getting dizzy?”
    â€œNot yet, but if she goes any faster…”
    â€œTurn and walk backward. I can come help.”
    â€œNo.” Simply looking at him, with his hair bound at his nape and his shirt snapping open to let the sun worship his bronze chest, pleased her immensely. She wanted to feel his touch more than anything in the world.
    Embarrassed by her thoughts, she turned, leading with her back shoulder, and the world stopped spinning so fast. Kammeo broke into a blinding gallop. The land became a swirl of green grass and golden sun.
    Then Night Hawk’s hand covered hers and brought the mare to a stop. Disappointed, Marie swayed into a steely chest. Lean, muscled arms enfolded her and kept her steady. How wonderful it was when wishes came true. He smelled like summer wind and mowed grass, and he felt hotter than the sun.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    â€œI will be.” If she could catch her breath and find the good sense that had obviously taken leave of her.Marie