Free Wildblossom by Cynthia Wright

caused Geoff to lean away instead. "I've found your dramatics rather entertaining. I've never known a woman quite like you!"
    The amusement in his voice made her laugh softly, then step back. "I'm not giving up completely, but I'll try to play straight with you from now on. If I get the ranch back, I'll win it fairly or I'll figure out a way to buy it, but I won't try to drive you away with any more horrid displays. I owe you that much for saving Gadabout."
    The pinto nudged her mistress and tossed her mane. Reaching out to gently stroke the pony's neck, Geoff said, "I'll accept that for the moment. Shall we cry peace?" He thought he saw a blush creep into her lovely face. "This situation can hold more enjoyment than you know."
    "That's what I'm afraid of."
    A crazy wave of captivation hit Geoff then. Shelby's eyes were averted, and he found himself staring at her luscious mouth and wondering what she would do if he bent to taste it. He felt a hot clench of arousal at the thought. However, when he began to lean toward her, Gadabout pushed between their bodies, more aware of the situation than her mistress.
    "Look here," he said to the pinto with mock severity, "I've just saved your life. I suggest you treat me accordingly!"
    * * *
    During the next few days, a real friendship began between Shelby and Geoff. True, there were other stirrings as well, but Geoff's breeding served him well. He was careful with her, aware that she was inexperienced with men and that he might frighten her off permanently if he touched her before she was ready.
    In other respects, however, Shelby was strong and daring and self-assured. Geoff had known women rather like her in England, but most of them were outdoorsy girls with lots of brothers... and they resembled the horses they adored so.
    Not Shelby, Geoff reflected as he watched her stride toward him one sunlit afternoon. How glorious was her cinnamon-hued hair, swirled up atop her head and fastened with tortoiseshell pins. And her eyes—candidly blue, tilting just a bit to follow the lines of her winged brows.... She was the most arresting woman he had ever seen, from the way her crisp white blouse tucked neatly over her breasts to her style of walking: purposeful, yet with a lovely, innate grace.
    "Have you already finished making that stew?" he asked, leaning against the gate to the corral.
    "Yes, it's all in the pot, simmering, and not a moment too soon." She shaded her eyes against the sun. "I do wish we were rich enough to have a cook. I've tried, and God knows Uncle Ben has shamed me into some accomplishment, but whenever I'm slaving over that stove on an afternoon like this—"
    "I heard that there is an old grub-wagon cook in Cody who has gotten too old for the trail," Geoff said, watching her.
    "Oh, we could never afford such a wild extravagance, especially since I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself...." Shelby's attention was wandering as she watched Marsh and Cal come out of the stable with a couple coils of rope, leading a frisky young stallion. "Wait a minute! What are you all doing loitering around here in the middle of the day? There's so much work to do! The roundup is next week!"
    The two young cowboys stared at the dirt and scuffed the toes of their boots to and fro, leaving Geoff to explain. Gallantly, he straightened and said, "You've discovered us, I fear. I've been needing instruction in some of the skills particular to ranch life. The boys and I have been taking time off here and there to practice riding western style, and now—"
    "I can't believe my ears! To flagrantly waste daylight hours in such a manner—"
    "Ma'am," Cal interjected, "we could use an extra man around here, 'specially with Jimmy, Ben, an' Titus in Billings." He finished rolling a cigarette, licked the paper, and added, "Seems to me that this time spent workin' with Geoff on ropin' and ridin' western, is sorta an investment."
    "Geoff?" Shelby was incredulous. When had this English tenderfoot won the