Page 112 of Her Redeemed Protector

“It’s like the baby knows you’re there,” she murmurs.

“And I won’t want to be anywhere else,” I say, admiring her body, slightly obsessed with her bump. She’s more than just sexy curves. She’s luminous, stunning, and natural.

I rise and extend my hand to her. “Take a walk with me?”

She grasps my hand, exaggerating her struggle to get up. Little by little, I pull her to her feet and steal a kiss.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says.

We stride toward the stable, the chatter and laughter from Rodolfo and Micah getting louder. Rodolfo is in the midst of a lesson, hanging onto every word Micah says about riding. Ranger and Ruby, our loyal dogs, weave excitedly around them, their presence supportive and watchful. I can’t help but chuckle. The boy has that typical youthful reverence for anyone but his own folks.

“He’ll learn soon enough who has the best advice,” I murmur to Savannah, who only smiles in agreement, her eyes warm with affection for our makeshift family.

In the stable, anticipation gleams in Misty’s eyes. Savannah reaches out, her touch gentle on Misty’s muzzle. After I forced her to run away that night, the mare came backto the ranch the next morning, standing in front of the front gates as if waiting for us.

“Sorry, Misty, I’m not allowed to ride until the baby arrives,” she explains. “We’ll walk together, okay?” she promises the creature who’s been more than just a horse to us.

“I’ll take you herding tomorrow,” I assure Misty, rubbing her neck. “We’ll go for miles. But today, I need your help in carrying these.” I secure our picnic supplies onto her back, making sure everything is balanced and easy for her.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Savannah’s voice is almost a whisper as she seeks Misty’s consent in their silent language of mutual respect and understanding.

Misty paws at the ground, snorting happily as if in agreement. Her tail flicks as Sav guides her out of the stable.

We set off along a path that winds its way toward a secluded patch of sage field. The air is filled with the earthy scent of wildflowers. Even here, in this tranquil escape, my instincts as a protector sharpen—I watch over Savannah with a hawk’s vigilance, noting how the afternoon light catches in her hair, the way her hand rests over her belly.

She eases her posture, gracefully leaning toward me—her special way of acknowledging she likes my protection.

As we reach a fork in the trail, I glance toward where the old foreman’s quarters once stood. Nothing but the promise of new foundations disrupts the landscape. Micah had gone ahead with the demolition.

“Talk to me, Hux,” Savannah encourages.

“I’m fine, baby,” I reassure her, giving her hand a calming pat. “I’m not haunted by ghosts anymore. Honest.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“And you? Have you managed to ‘dress up’ your angry wish about the Mitchell Ranch?” I say calmly, knowing moments of honesty are never scarce between us.

“Well, the short answer is no,” she concedes. “Fabian’s set on buying the land, mostly for Kayla’s sake. But even if he rebuilds, it won’t be the same. Mitchell Ranch as it was is gone, and I’ve come to terms with that.”

“I’m sorry, Sav.”

“Don’t be. I’m keeping all the good memories and replacing the bad with this,” she says, spinning with her arms open, face gazing at the expanse of Starfire.

I bear-hug her, resting my chin on the curve of her neck. “Thatta girl.”

Together, we walk deeper into the field, surrounded by the vibrant, wild beauty of the open meadow.

The afternoon unfolds with a serene simplicity. We spread out on the blanket, indulging in Micah’s legendary meat pie, the crust flaky and golden, alongside a collection of sweet treats thoughtfully prepared by my mom. The conversation is light, filled with laughter, and the contented quiet of two people who know each other’s hearts.

After lunch, we lie back, hands linked, watching the clouds drift lazily above us. Savannah’s head rests against my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek. “I can lie here forever,” she murmurs, her voice a contented sigh carried away by the breeze.

“Do you want to live here?” I ask, the question hanging between us like the floating wisps above.

“Well, maybe in the future,” she replies pragmatically, her gaze still fixed on the sky. “I still have my dad in Helena and my work, I guess.”

And I still have Red Mark. I know I have a lot more of me that I’d like to give, and retiring from my job is not on my agenda anytime soon.

My hand tightens around hers. “Although you need to take it easy on your work, okay? You know your limits. I get it. ButI’m going to say it even though you’re going to give me a hard time for it.” My voice is filled with the weight of my concern and love.

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