Free Lorraine Heath by Texas Glory Page A

of his boots as he walked away.
    She rolled to her side and watched as the shadows played around the room. Her room.
    She wondered how long he would give her before he insisted on making it “their” room.
    She slept fitfully through the night and finally crawled from the bed in the early hours of the morning to prepare herself for her first ride on a horse. It was then, in the quietness before dawn, that she noticed the many things she’d overlooked the night before.
    She washed her face using the water that filled the heavy oak washstand. She gazed at her reflection in the oval mirror that hung on the wall. She imagined Dallas usually shaved here. His shaving equipment rested on a small table beside the washstand. She knew he was skilled with a razor. His chin and cheekshad been smooth and carried no nicks or scars, save one small one just below his left eye, but she didn’t think a careless razor had created it. His mustache had been evenly trimmed.
    Using one of the two towels he had set beside the washstand, she patted the moisture from her face. Then she walked to the mirrored dresser, sat in the straight-backed chair, and unraveled her braid.
    On the dresser, he had placed a small bottle of bay rum. Her brothers often doused themselves with it, yet it had smelled different on Dallas’s tanned skin. He owned this ranch, but she didn’t think he spent nearly as much time in his office as her father did. Dallas’s features were too brown, too weathered.
    She swept up her hair, then quickly donned her red riding habit. She’d only worn it once. The day Mimi St. Claire had delivered it to her, a gift from Cameron in hopes he could convince their father to let her ride. She had admired the woman for traveling to the ranch, unescorted, in a buggy. She had envied the woman the freedom she had to come and go as she pleased because she was not shackled to a man.
    Cordelia had asked her father if perhaps she could do the same, but he had forbidden her to travel unescorted, as though he didn’t quite trust her to return. No one had found the time to escort her to town after the day Dallas had set aside the land.
    She had devoted so many years to caring for her mother that staying at home had become a way of life that she had seldom questioned. She had grown up with her father’s adage, “A woman’s place is in the home, tending her menfolk.”
    Cordelia jumped at the rapid-fire knock. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room and opened the door. She was struck once again with the handsome shape of Dallas’s chiseled features. His gaze slowly traveled from the tip of her hat to the tips of her toes.
    “We need to go,” he said in a voice that sounded as though he were strangling.
    She followed him down the stairs and into the early morning darkness. He had tethered two horses to the front veranda.
    “This is Beauty,” Dallas said as he placed his hand on the mare’s chestnut rump. “She’s about as docile a horse as you’ll ever find. Pull back on the reins to stop her. Give her a gentle nudge in the sides to make her go. For the most part, she’ll just follow my horse.”
    “Sounds easy enough,” Cordelia said.
    Dallas looked at her and squinted. “You’ve never ridden?” he asked as though he thought he’d misunderstood her the night before.
    She shook her head. “My father considered it unseemly and dangerous for a woman to ride a horse.”
    He walked backward until he stood by the horse’s shoulder. “You just grab the saddle horn, put a foot in the stirrup, pull up, and swing your other leg over.”
    Although she was tall, she still found the horn to be exceptionally high as she wrapped her hands around it. Dallas grabbed the stirrup and held it steady after her foot missed it twice. She slipped her booted foot into the stirrup, took a deep breath, and bounced up. Dallas grabbed her waist with one hand, pressed his other hand to her backside, and hoisted her over. Heat flaming her cheeks,