The Protectors: Defending His Own / Guarding Jeannie

“How dare you!” George’s thin, white cheeks flushed pink.

Ashe led Deborah away from George, quickly ushering her through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

“That was a horrible thing to say to George,” Deborah said.

“I was justified, don’t you think?” Ashe pulled her close, leaning over to nuzzle her neck with his nose.

She gulped in a deep breath of air. “Yes, you were most definitely justified. George always has been a little snot! He’s so immature.”

“A little snot?” Ashe chuckled. “I guess that does aptly describe George, doesn’t it?”

Deborah loved the feel of Ashe’s arms around her, the security of his strength, the sensuality of his nearness. She didn’t know what she had expected to happen tonight. Between Ashe and Whitney. Between Ashe and George. But she certainly hadn’t expected to feel so light and free and thoroughly amused.

It suddenly hit her that neither she nor Ashe were the same two people who had left this country club eleven years ago. They had both grown up.

Ashe was no longer in awe of the wealthy social set that ruled the county. His dreams weren’t wrapped up in a sexy package called Whitney Vaughn. He wasn’t an angry, outraged, spurned lover.

And Deborah no longer saw herself as a wallflower beside her exquisite cousin. Any residue of leftover jealousy she might have once felt disappeared completely. She was strong. She was successful. She was attractive.

And Ashe McLaughlin wanted her!

They moved to the music, giving themselves over to the bluesy rendition of an old Glenn Miller song. They spent nearly an hour on the dance floor, wrapped in each other’s arms. Occasionally Deborah noticed some curious stares and heard a few whispered innuendoes. None of it mattered, she told herself. She and Ashe were presenting themselves to the world as lovers. She could not allow herself to think otherwise. When the danger to her life ended, Ashe would be gone.

But during the duration of his stay, they could become lovers. She didn’t doubt for one minute that Ashe wanted her. He had made that abundantly clear. The question was did she dare risk giving herself to him? Did she dare risk falling in love with him all over again? How could she become his lover and continue lying to him about Allen?

“Are you about ready to leave?” Ashe whispered, then kissed her ear.

Deborah shivered. “Yes. I think everyone has seen us and drawn their own conclusions.”

“We don’t have to go back to your house.” Ashe ran his hand up and down her back. “We could find some place to be alone.”

“No. I’m not…Just take me home. I can’t handle a repeat performance of that night eleven years ago when we left the country club together.”

“It wouldn’t be the same. We aren’t the same,” he said. “We’d both know what we were getting into this time.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? At least for me.”

The music came to a end. Couples left the dance floor, while others waited for the next set to begin. Deborah pulled away from Ashe, intending to make a quick exit. Ashe jerked her into his arms, grasped the back of her head with his hand and kissed her, long, hard and devouring. Every rational thought went out of her head.

When she was weak and breathless, he ended the kiss, draped his arm around her shoulders and escorted her off the dance floor, past a glaring Whitney and her openmouthed guests.

“Every person in this room knows you’re mine,” he whispered as they walked out into the hall. “And since they’re aware of my reputation, no one will doubt that I’m the kind of man who’d kill to defend his own.”

Chapter Seven

Deborah folded the blueprints and laid them aside. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on the plans for Cotton Lane Estates, although she had promised Vaughn & Posey’s backers a detailed report on their present subdivision project.

She lifted the cup of warm coffee to her lips and downed the sweet liquid. Clutching the coffee mug in her hands, she closed her eyes. In a few days, Lon Sparks’s trial would begin and she’d be called on to testify. The waiting had been almost unbearable, not knowing what might or might not happen. She couldn’t give in to her fears and allow the likes of Buck Stansell to frighten her into backing down from doing what she knew was right. But sometimes she wondered what her mother and Allen would do if anything happened to her. Her mother’s health was so precarious, and Allen was still so young. What if he lost both her and her mother?

Ashe McLaughlin had a right to know he had a son. That’s what her mother had told Deborah’s father years ago and that’s what she kept telling Deborah now. If anything were to happen to the two women in Allen’s life, he would still have his father.

But how could she tell Ashe the truth? She and her mother had kept the true circumstances of Allen’s birth a secret for ten years. What would Allen do if he suddenly discovered that the two people he loved and trusted most in the world had been lying to him his whole life?

No, she didn’t dare risk losing Allen’s love by telling Ashe the truth. She had no way of knowing how Ashe would react and whether or not he’d tell Allen everything.

Her mother had warned her that sooner or later Ashe would have to be told. Deborah had decided that it must be later, much later. She had to be strong. Just a little while longer. Ashe wouldn’t stay in Sheffield if she wasn’t in danger. He would walk out of their lives and never look back, the way he’d done eleven years ago. She could trust him with her life, but not with her heart—and not with Allen’s future.

When she heard a soft knock at the door, Deborah opened her eyes. “Yes?”

Annie Laurie eased the door open. “Mr. Shipman’s on the phone. He says it’s urgent he speak to you.”

“Mr. Shipman? The principal at Allen’s school?”

“Yes, that Mr. Shipman.”

“Okay. Thanks, Annie Laurie.” Deborah picked up the telephone and punched the Incoming Call button. “Hello, Mr. Shipman, this is Deborah Vaughn. Is something wrong?”

Ashe slipped by Annie Laurie and into Deborah’s private office, closing the door behind him. Deborah glanced at him.

“Ms. Vaughn, you need to come to school and pick up Allen,” Mr. Shipman said. “I’m afraid there’s been a problem on the playground during PE class.”

“Has Allen been in a fight?” Deborah asked.

Ashe lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if saying “Boys will be boys.”

“Oh, no Ms. Vaughn, I didn’t mean to imply that Allen had gotten himself into any trouble. Quite the contrary. It seems that when the fifth graders were playing softball during PE, a stranger approached Allen. Your brother won’t tell us what the man said to him, but Allen seems terribly upset. I thought it best to phone you immediately.”

“Yes, yes, you did the right thing, Mr. Shipman. I’ll be right over.” Deborah’s heartbeat throbbed loudly in her ears, obliterating every other sound, even Ashe’s voice. “Please, don’t leave Allen alone. Make sure someone is with him until I pick him up.” Deborah returned the phone to its cradle.

When Deborah didn’t respond to his questions, Ashe grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. “What’s going on? Has something happened to Allen?”

“A strange man approached Allen on the playground during PE. Mr. Shipman said the man upset Allen.” Deborah clutched the lapels of Ashe’s jacket. “What if—Oh, God, Ashe, what if Buck Stansell sent someone to hurt Allen?”

“Did anyone besides Allen get a good look at this man? Did they see whether he was on foot or driving?”

“I didn’t think to ask, dammit.” Releasing her hold on Ashe, Deborah walked around to the front of her desk. Yanking open the bottom drawer, she lifted out her leather bag and threw the straps over her shoulder. “I have to pick up Allen and take him home. I have to make sure he’s all right. If anyone dares harm him, I’ll—”

“I’ll take care of anyone who threatens Allen, in the same way I’ll handle anyone who threatens you.” Ashe held out his hand. “Give me the keys to your Caddy. I’ll drive. On the way over to the school, pull yourself together. Allen doesn’t need to see how upset you are.”

Deborah took a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s just that, in the back of my mind, I kept wondering if and when Buck Stansell would target Mother or Allen. Oh, Ashe, I can’t let anything happen to Allen.”

“Nothing is going to happen to Allen.” He took her hand in his. “I promise.”

Within five minutes they marched side by side into Richard Shipman’s office where Allen sat, silent and unmoving, in a corner chair. The minute he saw Deborah, he ran into her open arms.

“Give us a few minutes alone with Allen,” Ashe said to the principal, who immediately nodded agreement and exited his office.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Deborah asked, bending on her knees, hugging her child close, stroking his thick blond hair. “Tell us everything.”