Free Come Be My Love by Patricia Watters

to a carnal adventurousness.
    His blood heated at the mere thought.
    Ever since he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd been consumed with prurient thoughts of losing himself in her soft, feminine curves. He imagined her breathless and eager in his arms, her lithe body writhing against him and sizzling with passion. He released a long, hot breath. Ah, yes. He definitely hoped it would be like that. It would be a ruddy shame if he'd misread this provocative little minx. He was apt to get his eyes scratched out.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Mandi looked at Sarah, worried. "You sho ' you know what you's doin '?" she asked.
    "Don't fret so," Sarah replied. She slipped into the light wool jacket of her riding habit and buttoned the coat. "Besides, Governor Cromwell is a—" she started to say gentleman, then reconsidered "—a man who would never take advantage of a lady." At least, she didn't think he'd take advantage. But she couldn't dismiss the devil-look in his eyes when he'd insisted on accompanying her to the cottage. Nor could she banish thoughts of his stolen kiss in the coach. But he'd kissed her only to prove a point, which was to demonstrate how weak and dependent the female sex was. Well, she'd show him weak and dependent!
    " Ah'm not worried about the guv'nor takin ' advantage," Mandi said, "but the folks in Victoria might start gossipin ' if you's ridin ' alone with him."
    "We're only riding a short distance," Sarah said, smoothing the folds of her skirt. "We'll be gone less than an hour. Certainly, there's no harm in that?" She angled her beaver hat on her head and turned to view herself in the long mirror on the wardrobe, wondering what Jon would think of her new riding habit with its crisp, tailored lines. She had to admit that in spite of his patronizing demeanor, she found him attractive, dangerously attractive in fact.
    Mandi eyed her in the mirror and said, "You sho ' do look pretty."
    Sarah gazed at her own reflection. "Do you like my hat better like this—" she squared it on her head   "—or this?" she tilted it slightly to the side.
    "Ah reckon to the side," Mandi said. "Mind you don't knock your hair loose, though."
    A smile tipped Sarah's lips. She'd actually like to do just that. Hats, like layers of garments, were confining. And the day was coming when she'd doff her hat, allowing her hair to flow free, slip into a pair of breeches, and ride astride like some of the more venturesome women of San Francisco were doing...
    A series of quick, sharp knocks resounded. "Miss Ashley," Ida called through the closed door. "Governor Cromwell is ready to take you for your ride."
    "Thank you." Sarah hesitated in front of the mirror for one last glimpse. On impulse, she snatched off her hat and tossed it on the bed. Jon would be shocked to find her going out hatless, but she didn't give a scrap. It would be her second gesture in the name of dress reform.
    Reaching for her gloves and riding crop, she left the room before Mandi could admonish her for her impetuous behavior.
    At the head of the stairs, she paused. When she looked down, her heart rate quickened with a suddenness that made her aware of each heavy beat. Jon stood just inside the front door. Tall and strapping, he wore an open necked shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and thick chest and tapered into tight breeches that clearly defined his maleness. Standing with feet apart, hands on his hips, the man exuded an aura of power and strength, a kind of raw, untamed bearing that she found dangerously compelling. Trapped in his dark gaze, she started down the stairs. "Good afternoon, Governor," she said, pulling on a black kid glove to occupy her restless hands.
    "Good afternoon, Miss Ashley," Jon replied. "I trust you're ready for the ride?"
    "I'm ready to see the cottage," Sarah said, "as I'm anxious to settle into my own place."
    On the porch Jon offered his arm. Sarah placed her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow. As they walked toward the stables, he said, "I