His Defender

by Stella Bagwell

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” she mumbled absently.

  From the troubled frown on Naomi’s face, Isabella could see that the image her godmother had experienced had nothing to do with a birthday celebration. And when Naomi pulled her into a tight hug, she said, “Be very careful, my daughter and say your prayers to the Great Spirit. You’ve been living among danger.”

  Naomi didn’t have to tell Isabella that. From the very moment she’d walked onto the ranch, she’d been in danger of losing her heart to Ross. As far as Isabella was concerned, any other kind of danger was insignificant.

  Isabella quickly exchanged goodbyes with Naomi, then climbed into her car and drove away from the old adobe house. Once she reached the main highway that headed toward Dulce or south to the T Bar K, she decided not to drive into town to see what progress the carpenters had made on her new office. At this moment the building didn’t feel all that important to Isabella. Not nearly as important as getting back to the ranch.

  As it turned out, Isabella didn’t get to discuss anything with Ross that evening at supper. He sent word to the house that Linc was having trouble with another foaling mare and he would be staying down at the horse barn to help his cousin through most of the night.

  Isabella went to bed early, plagued by the fact that a few hours without Ross’s company left her feeling far more lonely and restless than it should have. For hours she lay awake, staring into the darkness, asking herself what she should do. Head home to the Jicarilla? Or stay and let herself fall a little bit more in love with Ross Ketchum?

  Chapter Nine

  When Isabella woke the next morning, she immediately climbed out of bed and walked over to the sliding glass doors, certain she would see that a rainstorm had swept through the area. But instead the red ground beyond the doors was dry and the early sun was rising in a clear sky.

  The scene put a puzzling crease in the middle of Isabella’s forehead and she reached up and rubbed the tiny frown with her fingertips. She would have sworn she’d stirred in her sleep to see lightning crackling over the mesa. Or had that been a part of her dream?

  For long moments she stood there in her nightgown, staring out at the distant mountains as she tried to catch and hold the fragments of her dreams. None of the fleeting images were clear. Except for a fractured glimpse of galloping horses coupled with the urgent sense that Ross was calling to her for help.

  Concerned that her nightmares might be some sign of warning, she tried to shake the uneasiness away. She was getting worse than Naomi, she scolded herself as she reached for her robe. What she needed was hot coffee and a couple of Marina’s homemade tortillas.

  Moments later, she walked into the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt. Ross was sitting at the table, eating from a plate filled with bacon and scrambled eggs covered with ranchero sauce.

  She’d never seen him in the house this late in the morning and the surprise of finding him here must have shown on her face because he chuckled and motioned to the chair at his left elbow.

  “Come on and sit down, Bella. I’m not a ghost.”

  She pushed a hand through her tangled hair while thinking how pale and disheveled she must look to him. She hadn’t even taken time to run a brush through her hair and her robe and gown were thin silk. Not the sort of fabric to hide one’s nakedness. But she was already here in the room with him and there was nothing she could do about it now, except sit down and hope he didn’t notice.

  “Good morning, Ross.”

  “Good morning, yourself. Want Marina to cook you some breakfast?”

  Isabella glanced around for Marina and found the woman was nowhere in sight.

  “She’s gone to the laundry room,” Ross answered her unspoken question.

  “Oh. Well, Marina never cooks my breakfast anyway. I usually just warm up a tortilla or two.”

  While she went to the cabinet and poured herself a cup of coffee, Ross clicked his tongue with disapproval. “That’s not enough food for a bird. And surely not enough to start your day.”

  She carried the coffee over to the table and Ross immediately got up to help her into her chair. She murmured her thanks and for a moment he lingered behind her chair, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair.

  “You’re welcome, Bella.”

  The low spoken words were more like a caress and heat rushed to her cheeks as she thought about his big hands moving over her face, her throat and breasts. That day at the meadow his hands had scorched her and yet he’d touched her with a tender reverence she would have never expected. She’d not been able to forget that. Not for even one moment.

  “You’re—uh—getting a late start this morning, aren’t you?”

  Clearing his throat, Ross returned to his chair and picked up his fork, although the desire for food had left him the moment Isabella had walked into the room in her scarlet silk and bare feet. It was obvious she’d just gotten out of bed. Her eyes were still a bit puffy, her face bare of makeup, her black hair tangled around her shoulders. She looked earthy and sexier than hell. Not to mention beautiful. The chance to see her like this, with her hair down, so to speak, was definitely worth a few hours of missed work.

  “I didn’t get to bed until two. So I took the liberty of sleeping a bit later this morning,” he told her.

  For a man who’d gotten only a few hours of sleep, he looked fresh and alert. His dark hair was damp and fell in reckless curls across his forehead. His jaw was newly shaven and emitted the faint scent of tangy spices. He was the most masculine thing she’d ever seen in her life and just looking at him made her feel small and womanly.

  Glancing from him, she sipped her coffee. “How is the mare? Did she finally foal?”

  “Yes. About one this morning. A little colt. Black with a stripe on his face. He’s going to be a dandy.”

  The smile she heard in his words brought her eyes back to his face and the sight of his joy over the colt lifted her spirits.

  “Maybe he’ll make up for you losing Snip.”

  He shoveled a forkful of eggs toward his mouth. “No horse could take Snip’s place. Not even Juggler. And I’m not counting him lost yet.”

  From what he’d told her, the stallion had been missing for two or three months now. She couldn’t believe he still held out hope to get the animal back. “Then you don’t think he’s dead?”

  “No. I think someone stole him.”

  The conviction in his voice had her studying him closely. “To hurt you?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe just because he’s an animal worth a lot of money.”

  Isabella leaned forward. “I thought you said he couldn’t be sold—something about the identification tattoo in his mouth.”

  “I said he couldn’t be sold at a public sale. Privately—well, you can always find someone willing to buy a horse like Snip without asking questions about where he came from.”

  “I see.”

  The corners of Ross’s mouth tilted upward. “That mind of yours is always working, isn’t it?”

  No, she thought. Sometimes it was dreaming. About him. About things she shouldn’t be dreaming at all. “I’m just trying to put a few facts together. That’s the only way I’ll ever be able to help you.”

  Just her being here was helping him, Ross thought. Just having the house filled with her feminine presence had made his life so much richer, so much sweeter. It didn’t matter that the agony of wanting to touch her was always with him. The most important thing was that she was here where he could see her face, hear her voice and know that when he came in for the evening she would be waiting for him.

  Careful, Ross. You’re starting to sound like you want a wife instead of a lover.

  The thought creased his forehead with a frown and he turned his attention to cleaning up the remaining food on his plate.

  Sensing his withdrawal from their conversation, Isabella rose to her feet and went to the gas range where she found Marina had laid out a plate of flour tortillas and a cube of
butter for her.

  She had switched off the gas burner beneath the skillet and was drizzling the heated tortillas with honey when Ross left the table and walked up behind her.

  “Actually, I’m glad you came to the kitchen before I left the house this morning,” he murmured. “I have an invitation for you.”

  Her heart beating fast, she whirled around and looked at him a bit skeptically. “An invitation? For another horseback ride?”

  God only knew how much he’d like to have her completely alone to himself, Ross thought. But what good would that do, when he’d made that damn pact with her to keep his hands to himself? At the time, he’d held the notion that she would eventually break and invite him into her arms and possibly even into her bed. But so far that hadn’t happened, and he was beginning to wonder if all the heat he’d felt that day at the meadow had been one-sided.

  “No. It’s something much more refined than that. The Cattlemen’s Ball is tonight and I’d like you to go with me.”

  Surprise parted her lips. “You mean, as your date?”

  Her disbelief amused him and he chuckled softly. “I’d rather introduce you as my date than as my lawyer.”

  She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or used. No doubt he had plenty of women who’d be eager to be his companion for the evening. But maybe he figured squiring her would give the gossips something else to discuss besides the sinister happenings on the T Bar K. Or maybe he wanted everyone to think he didn’t have her hanging around the ranch because he needed a lawyer, she was simply here as one of his love interests. The thought irked her. But she knew she would go with him. No matter what his reasons.

  “I’m—you took me by surprise, Ross. I had no idea this ball was coming up. You haven’t mentioned it.”

  “That’s because I forgot all about it until Victoria reminded me a couple of days ago.” He grimaced. “I’m not really into these sorts of social events. But since I am a local cattleman and I’m on the board of directors, I feel obliged to attend. And I sure as hell don’t want people to think I’m guilty and hiding.”

  “No. That wouldn’t be good at all.”

  His expression softened as his hand came down on her shoulder. “So will you go?”

  Isabella realized she was trembling inside. Not because she was going to be his date for the evening, but because he was only inches away and his hand was like a torch against her skin.

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out before she was finally able to answer. “Yes. Of course I’ll go. What time should I be ready?”

  “The dance starts at eight. So we’d better leave the ranch by seven.”

  “And what do the women wear to this event?”

  His eyes slid sensually up and down the thin silk covering her body. Her rigid nipples were thrust against the bright material and just the sight of them was enough to make him hard.

  Unable to stop himself, he moved a step closer and slid the palm of his hand to the side of her neck. “Oh—I don’t know. Soft, frilly things. It doesn’t matter. You’ll look beautiful in whatever you decide to wear.”

  As Isabella watched his eyes darken with desire, she realized her breath was getting shorter and shorter. If he didn’t move away soon, she was going to do something stupid, like kiss him. And then she would be lost, truly lost. He would know just how very much she wanted him and to him that was all that mattered.

  “Ross, you don’t have to charm me. I’ve already said I’ll go.”

  His gaze focused on her lips. “Hmm. I’m not trying to charm you. I’m trying to tell you how beautiful you are.”

  She groaned. “I just got out of bed. My hair isn’t brushed and my face is bare. I know how I look.”

  His fingers slipped beneath her hair to press against the nape of her neck. Isabella wondered how much longer she would be able to stand on her wobbly knees. If he continued to touch her she was going to have to grab hold of his shirt, grab hold of him. And that would never do.

  “The way you look makes me want to pick you up and carry you right back to bed,” he suddenly whispered. “It makes me want to bare every inch of you to my sight. To worship every part of you with my lips.”

  Just hearing him say the words aloud was enough to send blood rushing hotly through her body. In an unconscious act of defense, she placed her palms against his chest. “Ross! Please don’t say such things to me!”

  He pressed his aching manhood against her hips so that she could feel just exactly what she was doing to him. The pressure bent her backwards until the knobs of the range were gouging into her back, but it was Ross’s body that was in danger of burning her.

  His head bent, his lips hovered close to her ear. “I have to say them, Bella. Because I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you.”

  Wanted. He wanted her. But there’d been no mention of love. He would never love any woman, he’d told her. And she had to remember that included her.

  Glancing away from his probing eyes, she bit down on her bottom lip. “Other men have wanted me, too. But they didn’t get me. And neither will you. I can’t play that game, Ross.”

  “This isn’t a game, Bella. Is that what it feels like to you?”

  It felt dangerous, she thought. Dangerous and yet, at the same time, wonderful. “Ross,” she said thickly. “You…promised—”

  His hand came up to touch her cheek. “Yeah,” he said huskily, “I promised not to kiss you…make love to you. But it’s costing me, Bella. And I think it’s costing you, too.”

  Instantly, she thought of last night and how much she’d missed him when he hadn’t returned to the house. And now she wanted him so badly that her whole body was aching. He was right. Fighting the desire between them was costing her. But giving in to it would be an entirely too high a price to pay.

  Swallowing at the tightness in her throat, she looked up at him. “Maybe—uh, maybe you’d better find yourself another date for the ball tonight. And…maybe you’d better find another lawyer.”

  Her suggestion cooled his blood and he stepped back from her. Although he kept a hand on her shoulder, as though he expected her to bolt from the ranch right then and there.

  His jaw tight, he said, “No. You’ve already said you’d go with me. And as far as getting another lawyer, you agreed to stay here on the ranch and help me.”

  Had she? She didn’t remember saying exactly those words. But she supposed her silence had said it for her.

  Groaning at the mix of emotions swirling around her, she eased away from him and walked to the middle of the kitchen. “Ross…my being here isn’t doing either one of us any good.”

  He walked up behind her and threaded his fingers through her long, thick hair. The simple touch melted what little resistance she was attempting to hang on to.

  He said, “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “All right. All right,” she said crossly, hating herself for caving in to him so easily. “I’ll go with you to the dance. I’ll stay…a few more days. But—”

  He tossed up his hands. “I know. I can’t touch you. I can’t kiss you. I can’t tell you how much I want to make love to you.” His lips twisted with sarcasm. “Tell me this, Bella, am I going to be allowed to dance with you tonight?”

  She looked at him, her eyes full of pain. “I’m doing this for both our sakes,” she said quietly.

  He shook his head. “No. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Why? I know that you’re an intelligent woman. You can see for yourself that I’m not another Winston Jones. Or—” he stopped, his brows lifting as his eyes searched her face. “Maybe it’s not Winston Jones who’s made you so jaded toward men. Maybe one of those lawyers you worked for down in Dona Ana County broke your heart and now you’re taking it out on me.”

  Isabel couldn’t stand it anymore. She jerked away from him and hurried out of the room. Ross’s long strides caught up to her just as she was stepping into her bedroom.

  As his fingers caught hold of her arm, she whirled on
him. “What are you doing now?” she demanded. “Haven’t you said enough?”

  “No. It’s you who hasn’t said enough.”

  Her lips pressed together in a hard line. “I haven’t exactly heard you airing all your dirty laundry to me,” she accused.

  His gaze traveled over to the queen-sized bed she’d slept in, with its tumbled covers and pink, tangled sheets. It was so easy, too easy to picture her beautiful body stretched out on those sheets, shamelessly waiting for him.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked gruffly. “That I’ve had lots of women and I didn’t give a damn about any of them?”

  She went still as she stared curiously up at him. “Is that true?”

  He made a sound of disgust. “I have been a bit of a playboy, I won’t deny that. But there haven’t been that many women. And I can honestly say I never led any of them on. Is that what happened to you? Some man made promises and didn’t come through?”

  She pulled away from him and walked over to the glass doors where she’d stood earlier this morning and tried to make sense of her dreams.

  “It doesn’t matter, Ross. What happened to me down in Las Cruces has nothing to do with this…well, whatever this thing is between us.”

  He walked over and stood just behind her left shoulder. “So something did happen?” he asked softly.

  She breathed deeply and tried to gather her scattered senses. Maybe she should tell him about Brett. Maybe then he’d understand why she couldn’t give her body to him.

  “Nothing as earth-shattering as you’re thinking,” she mumbled. “I…there was a man…a law officer. And for a while I believed he honestly cared for me.”

  “And you cared for him?”

  She could feel him inching closer and then his hand was sliding up her arm, over her shoulder and finally stopped against her cheek. Her heart beating fast, she turned her head toward him, her eyes full of pain.

  “At the time I believed he might be the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. But once our relationship moved toward something more serious it—it all fell apart.”

  “Why? You refused to sleep with him?”