Leaping Hearts(23)

It was a jumper’s paradise.

And the stallion’s blood was running hot as he looked around at his new playground. The horse knew what he was going to be doing and his eyes held the relish of a warrior facing a worthy opponent. Impatient footwork and fervent whinnies told A.J. he was ready to get started.

Not yet, Flash Gordon, she thought.

First, they’d have to get through some flatwork. Less exciting by far than galloping over fences, it was a critical part of training. Working together in the various gaits, she and the stallion would have a chance to get to know each other better as well as warm up before the more strenuous part of the workout.

Devlin asked, “Need a leg up?”

“Thanks,” she said, and took Sabbath’s reins over his head, holding them in her left hand. She put her other hand on the back of the saddle and lifted her left leg, waiting for Devlin to boost her up.

He stepped in behind her, bringing his body close to hers. As he bent down and touched her lower leg, he smelled again the subtle lavender scent in the waves of hair tied at her neck. He couldn’t help wondering if her skin would smell the same.

The training, he reminded himself as he touched her ankle. You’re here for the training.

A.J. was caught off guard by the sensation of his hand on her leg, and then she was plucked from the ground and up on the stallion’s back. She felt the saddle come under her and Sabbath shift his weight but it was the way Devlin’s hand lingered on her calf that she focused on.

“You settled up there?”

“Yup,” she croaked.

A.J.’s stomach lurched as she watched him go to the center of the ring. She was wondering what color his eyes were when he made love and had to bite her lip to keep from cursing aloud in sexual frustration.

The only color she had to worry about was brown—the color of the dirt she was going to eat if she didn’t pay attention. She was on an unfamiliar horse who was known for trouble and if she wasn’t on top of her game, she was going to get thrown. Just then, Sabbath threw his head up and pawed at the ground, as if to emphasize her point.

Good thing they were going to warm up slowly, she thought, struggling to rein him in. A little easy flatwork was about all she felt up to at the moment.

The stallion had other plans.

Just as she leaned down to check the martingale’s fit one last time, still dwelling on Devlin, the horse’s keen sense of timing kicked in. He knew that her shifting weight meant she was distracted and he used it to his best advantage. Half rearing on his hind legs, he kicked out for the center of the ring, flashing toward a jump at breakneck speed.

A.J. had to think fast. She regained her balance on instinct alone, narrowly saving herself from being thrown by Sabbath’s powerful surge. With lightning speed, the stallion’s massive chest and hindquarters were eating up yards of ground and she had to quickly assess where he was so hell-bent on taking them. Looking at the approaching fence, she had no doubt they could handle it but he was fresh out of the stall and she didn’t want him to get injured. More important, she had to teach him he couldn’t fly out from the bit and take off anytime the mood struck him.

Throwing her body deep into the saddle, A.J. used her weight to push into the stirrups and draw back on the reins like she was trying to uproot an oak stump. The stallion’s thundering hooves slowed down some and she seized the opportunity to shift herself to one side. The change in balance derailed his course so he missed the jump and came to a sputtering prance at the far end of the ring.

It all happened so fast that Devlin would have missed the defection except for the sound of pounding hooves. Glancing up at the noise, he saw the towering black horse lunge forward and he watched for A.J.’s reaction, knowing that it would tell him more about her skills as a rider than he’d learn in a week of structured training. Instead of becoming flustered by the unexpected, she focused and reeled the horse in without being too hard on his mouth or injuring either one of them. It was the measured response of a real pro and Devlin felt relief. When a horse bolts, all the training in the world couldn’t help a rider with poor instincts. In the saddle of an out-of-control animal, a rider either had the right impulses or suffered from their lack by hitting the ground.

The woman’s instincts were good.

And she was going to need them, he thought, walking over to the pair.

“Good defensive riding,” he said.

A.J. heard the approval in his voice and warmed to it. “Well, we know one thing. He’s strong and fast.”

“Great timing, too.”

Sabbath was fidgeting under her, impatient. She held his head firmly with the reins.

“I should have been more prepared.”

“You did fine. It was inevitable he’d try something.”

Devlin smiled at her and she felt optimistic. The horse was every bit as athletic as she’d hoped and her trainer was showing real promise as an ally. So what if the former just tried to toss her like a football and she was completely attracted to the latter? Even though her half-cocked decision had cost her a lot of money and an argument with her family, she thought things might just work out all right.

Sabbath whinnied and threw his head, hooves pawing at the air.

Or maybe not, she thought, getting him under control again.

“Now that he’s made his point about being a rebel,” Devlin said, meeting the stallion’s eyes evenly, “let’s see what happens when he’s asked to behave.”