Linda Turner

Under His Protection


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      “I’m not taking any chances with your safety,” he said flatly. “If you don’t like it, call Buck.”

      She wasn’t going to do that, and they both knew it. “Fine,” she retorted. “Have it your way. I’m going to bed. You don’t have to sleep on the couch—there’s a downstairs guest room.”

      “The couch in the family room is better—it’s close to the stairs. I’ll be able to hear you if you need help.”

      She wasn’t going to need help—she had to believe that or she wouldn’t sleep a wink. But all she said was, “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” Retrieving a blanket and pillow from the downstairs linen closet for him, she said, “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

      She felt his eyes on her all the way up the stairs, and it was all she could do not to look back. What was it about the man that made it impossible for her to ignore him? she wondered as she reached her room and began to get ready for bed. She was upstairs, he was down, and she knew it was impossible to hear what he was doing. Still, she could have sworn that she could hear every breath he took. She had to be losing her mind.

      Irritated with herself for being so fanciful, she crawled into bed a few moments later and closed her eyes with a tired sigh. She might as well have tried to catch forty winks in the middle of the Denver airport—it wasn’t going to happen. Frustrated, she punched her pillow into a more comfortable position, but even though she felt safe with John sleeping downstairs, she couldn’t put the note out of her head. She might not know the name of whoever left the warning on her pillow, but it was obviously someone who thought they had a chance of inheriting the ranch by scaring her into leaving.

      It wasn’t going to happen, she vowed grimly. She wasn’t going to be the one who let the family down. And she wasn’t going to live in fear or hide in her room on her own ranch!

      The decision made, she finally fell asleep and was up the next morning with the sun. If she expected to catch John still sleeping, she was doomed to disappointment. Not only was he already awake, but he’d returned the pillow and blanket he’d used to the linen closet, started a pot of coffee in the kitchen, then locked the back door on his way out.

      He was, she had to admit, thoughtful. But she needed a heck of a lot more from him than thoughtfulness. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she went in search of him and found him in the barn loading fencing supplies into the back of the ranch pickup.

      He looked up in surprise at her entrance, but before he could say a word of greeting, she said, “I thought you already repaired the fence.”

      “The ranch is fifty square miles,” he retorted. “Repairing fences is a never ending process.” Throwing the last roll of barbwire into the bed of the truck, he studied her with a sudden frown. “What are you doing up so early? You haven’t found any more notes, have you?”

      “What? Oh, no, thank God! I just couldn’t sleep. I’m just so angry!”

      “I don’t blame you,” he told her. “Whoever left that note is nothing but a coward.”

      “He’s wasting his time,” she said flatly. “I’m not going anywhere and neither is my family. This is our ranch, and no one’s taking it from us. If that means it comes down to a fight, then so be it.”

      John had seen her frustrated before, but he’d never seen her so stirred up. She was furious, and she had every right to be. She and Buck and her sisters weren’t doing anything except trying to live up to the terms of Hilda Wyatt’s will. And because of that, they were getting harassed by some thugs who didn’t think they were entitled to the place. Too damn bad! The Wyatts were Hilda’s legitimate heirs and the will was valid. They were staying.

      “I told Buck when he hired me that he could count on me to help any way I could,” he told her quietly. “That promise extends to you and your sisters. Anyone who even thinks about going after you is going to have to go through me first. You know that, don’t you?”

      Surprise flared in her eyes. “I appreciate that,” she said huskily. “Thank you.”

      “You’re not in this alone. If there’s anything I can do…”

      “You can help me make this ranch mine,” she said simply. “I thought about it last night, and I’m not going to cower in my room like some scaredy-cat who jumps at her own shadow. I’m not going to live in fear. This is the Wyatt family homestead and I’m a Wyatt. I’m going to work this ranch like I own it.”

      A slight smile curled the corners of his mouth. “You do own it. So I guess this means you want to know how to do something more than gather eggs.”

      “I do. You were right. If I’m going to be the boss, I need to know everything that’s involved in running the ranch. I need you to teach me.”

      “Then let’s go ride fence,” he said promptly, then caught her off guard when he tossed her the keys. “You drive.”

      “What? Me? Are you joking? I can’t drive. I’m not used to driving on the right side of the road.”

      Amused, he only grinned. “There aren’t any roads where we’re going, so it doesn’t matter. Just don’t hit a tree or knock the fence down and we’ll get along fine.”

      Her heart pounding, Elizabeth was in no mood to appreciate his sense of humor. Did he know what he was asking of her? It wasn’t only driving on the opposite side of the road that was the problem, it was the steering wheel and the pedals and everything else being opposite of where they were supposed to be. She wasn’t ready!

      John, however, didn’t give her a chance to voice a second objection. Walking around the truck, he slid into the passenger seat. “Oh, yeah,” he asked innocently as he watched her gingerly settle behind the steering wheel, “you do know how to drive a standard, don’t you?”

      In the process of slipping the key into the ignition, she looked sharply at the long gearshift that stuck out of the floorboard in front of the old pickup’s bench seat. “Oh, God.”

      John’s lips twitched. “Why do I have the feeling this could be a problem?”

      “Because it is,” she retorted, horrified. “I don’t even know where to start.”

      “First,” he chuckled. “You always start in first.”

      When she just looked at him, he almost laughed. Did she have any idea how funny she was? He almost asked her, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the question in her current mood. “Well?” he asked, lifting a dark brow at her when she just sat there. “What are you waiting for?”

      “You to show me where first is,” she replied. “How am I supposed to find it when it’s not marked?”

      “Push the clutch in,” he said, nodding toward the pedal next to the brake. “That’s it. Now put it in first.” When she just looked at him, he reached across the distance between them and brought her hand to the stick shift. A split second later, his fingers closed over hers and he moved the gearshift into first.

      Unable to take her eyes off his hand covering hers, Elizabeth told herself she was just trying to figure out where the different gears were, but she knew it was more than that. She barely knew him. How could his touch feel so right?

      “When you shift into second, you have to hang your head out the window and howl at the moon.”

      Caught up in her thoughts, his words suddenly registered. Frowning in confusion, she looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

      “Just seeing if you’re listening,” he said dryly. “I thought I lost you there for a minute.”

      Hot color singeing her cheeks, she dropped her gaze back to their joined hands. “I was just—”

      …wondering what your hands would feel like moving all over my body.

      The thought shook her to the