The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,54

wanted to believe someone else was to blame for the tragedy.

But why now? Why two years after the wagon wreck? she asked herself repeatedly. It was too suspicious not to raise concern and doubt.

Bearing that in mind, Adrianna pocketed her pistol in her jacket, then exited Quin’s former bedroom. She nearly jumped out of her own skin when a shadowy silhouette pounced on her.

“I knew it,” Quin muttered sourly. “I told you that you aren’t invited to this meeting tonight and I damn well mean it, Boston!”

“You are not my boss, my father or my husband,” she sniped as she jerked her arm from his grasp.

“Butler!” Quin called out loudly.

“Tattletale,” Adrianna snapped at Quin.

Hiram Butler—the traitor—stepped around the corner. Adrianna glowered mutinously at him, then glared pitchforks at Quin. “What did you do? Pay him to side with you?”

“No, that’s your tactic.” Quin smirked. “I lost my foreman to that trick, as you well know.”

Adrianna stared down Butler when he walked up beside her. “I thought you were my loyal friend and part of my family,” she said, trying to shame him.

“I am,” Butler affirmed. “Which is why I have no choice but to stand guard over you while Cahill rides off on his foolhardy errand.” He glanced meaningfully at Quin, then Adrianna. “No sense both of you walking into a death trap.”

Quin clasped her shoulders, turned her around, then gave her a nudge over the threshold of his former bedroom. No doubt, he didn’t want Butler to know she and Quin had become intimate in the master suite. She should tell her overprotective accountant about last evening’s escapade so he would be tempted to shoot Quin, she thought spitefully. And she would be happy to load Butler’s gun for him.

“And stay there,” Quin barked sharply. “Butler will be sitting outside the door until I get back.”

She glowered at Quin. “What if you don’t come back? Am I supposed to stay here forever?”

“If the news of my demise arrives in a day or two, then take over the house and run the ranch as you see fit,” he offered generously.

“And deal with your wayward family?” She scoffed in annoyance. “They might swoop in like vultures after you’re gone. No, thank you. I have my own problems so I have no need of yours, Cahill.”

She did have a serious problem. She was very much afraid that she was in love with Cahill. She must be, because the thought of him walking into a trap and never coming home terrified her. She had never felt so protective of a man, never felt so content with a man. Cahill challenged her, amused and aroused her. She didn’t want to lose him.

When Quin shut the door—slammed it was more accurate—Adrianna flounced on the bed. “Butler, you are not going to hear the end of this!” she shouted at her turncoat of an accountant.

“I didn’t expect to, my dear,” Butler said from the other side of the door. “But it’s for your own well-being.”

Adrianna blew out an exasperated breath when she heard Quin’s footsteps recede in the hall. Taking advantage of the noise Butler made by scooting a chair in front of the door to block her exit, she opened the window. She glanced speculatively at the private balcony outside the master suite, then she surveyed the sloped roof outside Quin’s former room.

Back in the day at her country estate, she and Rosa had performed disappearing acts and acrobatic maneuvers so they could sneak from the house for midnight rides and walks along the river. The only difference between now and then was Adrianna was inspired by the noble purpose of saving Quin from disaster.

Quietly, she straddled the windowsill, then eased onto the steep roof. She made as little noise as possible, so as not to alert Bea and Elda, who might be part of the conspiracy with Butler. It wouldn’t surprise her, considering their loyalty and affection. She loved her overprotective, adopted family despite their misguided intentions, she mused as she inched along the wooden shingles to reach the balcony. She slung a leg over the railing, then glanced around, trying to decide how best to descend to the ground without breaking her neck.

The only sensible escape route was to crawl along the overhanging tree branch that was a few feet beyond the railing. She pulled off her boots, then tucked them in the waistband of her breeches. Apprehension sizzled through her as she balanced on the railing and extended herself to grasp the