The sun rose higher in the sky, and the air grew more oppressive. Perspiration dripped off her forehead, and her mouth felt so dry that it could have been lined with cotton.

“Okay, you can dismount,” he said finally, stepping to the side of her horse and raising his hands as if to catch her.

Not wanting to chance another intimate encounter, she shook her head. “I can do it!”

He stepped back, a doubtful look on his face. “Okay, take both feet out of the stirrups.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced at the ground. Big mistake. She lifted her gaze to the sky and shifted her weight. Saying a silent prayer, she grabbed hold of the saddle horn, pulled her one foot free, and froze.

“Well?” he queried.

“Don’t rush me. I want to do it right.” Actually, she just wanted to keep from falling on her rear.

Grasping the saddle horn, she half slipped from the saddle. Her left foot still in the stirrup and her right leg draped over the leather seat, she dangled from the side of the horse like a flag at half-mast.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No!”

Chase folded his arms across his chest and tried not to laugh, but the gleam in his eyes gave him away. Even the horse looked amused and nickered.

“Let me know when you’re done hangin’ like a possum,” Chase said.

Emily would rather have died than ask him for help. Even so, she finally gave in, her face flaring with humiliation.

Chase grasped her around the waist with both hands and gently lifted her to the ground. After gaining her footing, she slumped against the fence and reached around to rub her sore backside.

Thinking the lesson over, she was surprised when he told her to mount again.

“Can’t we stop?”

“Stop?” He stared at her, incredulous. “We’re just gettin’ started.”

“We’ve been at this for a good long while.” Hours. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

He narrowed his gaze, and for one brief second, she imagined a look of sympathy in the depth of his eyes. But the look vanished as quickly as it had come, making her question if she’d seen it at all.

“Like I said. We’re just gettin’ started. The sooner you learn to ride, the sooner we can start your shootin’ lessons.”

She stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “S-shooting lessons?”

“The only sin in this land is inexperience,” he said. “That’s why you’ve gotta learn to ride and ride good. You also need to know how to handle a firearm for your own safety. You won’t do me or anyone else any good dead.”

Temper flaring, she planted her fists firmly on her hips and glared at him. “So that’s what this is all about,” she stormed. “You don’t care about me. All you care about is your blasted ranch!” How foolish to think he had been teaching her to ride for her own benefit.

He reared back. “You knew what you were gettin’ yourself into when you—”