Promises Keep (The Promise Series)

by Sarah McCarty

  “You trying to figure out what I’ll be like in bed?” he asked.

  Shock brought her gaze flying to his. She was half hoping to find a joke lurking in the golden depths, but there was only a steady regard. For the life of her, she didn’t know what to answer. She settled for “I hadn’t gotten that far.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He leaned back as if trying to get a glance at her expression. She tucked her chin tighter. He erased her efforts by the simple act of sliding his hand around the base of her neck. His thumb under her chin brought her face up and her eyes with it.

  “If you agree to marry me, there won’t be any hiding or any games.” His face, along with his voice was serious, but there was an underlying steadiness that told her he wasn’t boasting but making her a promise. “From the moment you say yes, you’ll sleep in my bed, accept my touch, accept me into your body, and share my life.”

  “And in return?”

  “In return, you get my promise that I’ll do my best to make you happy, and that no one will ever hurt you again.” His thumb slid back and forth under her chin almost like a caress. “Anyone wanting to get to you or our children will have to go through me and, Angel, for all my flaws, I’m not an easy man to take down.”

  That Mara could believe. She closed her eyes, swallowed and then asked what she was afraid of most. “What if I can’t?”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Accept your touch?”

  The finger under her chin paused. Her heart beat in her ears as that thumb pressed up and over. As her head tilted, he said, “Let’s find out.”

  He was going to kiss her. She froze, the old terror beating at her sanity.

  “Steady,” he whispered just before his long black hair fell like a silk curtain between her and the light. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, but held still.

  His lips were dry and firm as they touched hers. He pressed lightly. Once. Twice. She didn’t breathe until he pulled a fraction back after the third. Her gasp for air was loud in the room.

  “Open your eyes.”

  It was impossibly hard to do with his hand holding her head, his scent surrounding her, his face just inches from hers. She felt trapped, overwhelmed.

  “Open them.” Somehow, his insistence made it easier to obey.

  The light was behind him so she couldn’t make out much beyond the slant of his cheekbones and the darkness of his eyes. “I want you to keep your eyes open while I kiss you.”

  “Why?”

  “I want you to know who’s kissing you.”

  “Oh.” He stared at her a long moment. What did he want her to say?

  His thumb slid over her chin. It came to rest against her bottom lip. His thumb was much rougher than his lips. Harder, too. He pulled down, sliding his thumb in until it rested against the barrier of her teeth and was cushioned on the moist inner lining of her lip. There was the kiss of cool air and then he was bending his head again. Light disappeared and something hot and moist traced around his thumb. Lightly. Ever so lightly it almost tickled. She tried to pull away.

  His hand tightened on the back of her neck. His hair brushed her cheek as he shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

  “But,” her lips closed over his thumb with the word. It felt strange.

  “You accept my touch however I want it. That’s the deal.”

  Technically, he was expanding on the deal, but since this was awkward but not sinister, she held her tongue. As curious as he, as to how much she could take.

  This time, when he bent his head, she forced herself to relax.

  When he stroked her lips with his tongue, she was better prepared. She didn’t jump. She leaned back into his hand and let him take charge. She took his low hum as approval. She closed her eyes.

  “Keep them open.”

  Startled, she jumped, rapping his thumbnail on her teeth. He withdrew his thumb.

  “Why? I can’t see anything.”

  “I told you why.”

  So he had. She sighed, but this time kept her eyes open as he pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue traced her lips, teasing and flirting with the slit. More of those tickling sensations had her lips twitching and her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. Even through his shirt, he was warm. She curled her fingers into the muscle. There was no give. Just hard solid man beneath her touch.

  As if he sensed the tension creeping into her thoughts, he whispered, “Relax, I’ve got you.”

  And he did, but not in a way that terrified. He was in control. She could see it in his eyes. Feel it in his touch. She relaxed a little more, allowing him to guide her in this. Feeling a burgeoning curiosity where she’d expected revulsion. Interest, where she’d expected fear.

  His tongue slid past the seal of her lips and brushed the lining of her upper lip. A shock of pure sensation shot through her body. Her nails pressed into his shoulder as she struggled to make sense of it.

  He caught her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth, slowly releasing it, letting it slide between his teeth as it sprang back into place. He absorbed her shiver into his big frame, holding her a little closer as she tried to make sense of the feeling gliding through her, giving her time to adjust.

  While her lips were still tingling, he said, “Open your mouth.”

  “Why?”

  Before her lips could close, his mouth was on hers, his teeth against hers, his tongue between her teeth stroking hers. It was strange, foreign, and mildly alarming.

  She held perfectly still as he plundered her mouth. Not breathing, not doing anything, not sure she should be doing anything. Uncertainty gnawed at her control. His big hand slid down her chest, cupping her breast. Memories roared. She couldn’t help bracing against him.

  “Steady,” he murmured into her mouth. “Just relax into my hand.”

  She gathered the last of her courage and gave herself to him. His thumb drew slowly across her nipple, pushing her control. It was now or never to protest. It took everything she had, but she didn’t move, didn’t jerk away. She put her faith in him, his promise, and held on.

  And it got better. The uncertainty remained, but the fear receded. She was able to stay still beneath him, feeling his finger stroke her nipple, feeling fleeting shivers of something radiate out from his touch, and then, when her lungs burned with the need to draw a breath and her fingers ached from their grip on his shoulders, he pulled back. “Breathe.”

  She did, hard shuddering breaths that hurt as much as they relieved. It was only as her breath stabilized that she realized she was still staring into his eyes and he didn’t look displeased.

  His thumb stole over her lips, smoothing the moisture from the corners. “I’m satisfied.”

  He was satisfied. The unspoken question of whether she was, hung between them. She had to make a decision. Cougar or one of a hundred other men. She looked out the window, beyond the trees, to where the frothy clouds shifted and regrouped as the winds tossed them this way and that. They made the best of what they had, and they endured. She could do no less.

  She brought her gaze back to his, studying every nuance of his expression as she asked, “If I’m with child, do you promise to love him or her as your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if the baby doesn’t look like you?”

  His hand dropped to her stomach. His eyes didn’t flinch from hers. “Any child of your body is mine in my heart and in my mind. Anyone who implies differently will have to deal with me.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She’d never find a better hedge against future harm. The day Cougar McKinnely broke his word would be the day they’d be making snowballs in Hell.

  Feeling like she was stepping off a cliff she said, “I’ll marry you.”

  Three little words and Mara sealed her fate. Outside, the birds still sang their happy songs, and the sun still hung yellow and bright in the morning sky. It was only she who felt ch
anged forever.

  * * * * *

  “Well, young lady,” Doc said a half hour later, straightening Mara’s nightgown. “I’d say you’re well on the road to recovery.”

  “Thank you.” It was all she could do to squeak out the one syllable. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life as when Doc had lifted her clothes to look at her ribs. She felt the bed shift as Doc stood. The quilt settled lightly over her chest.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  She shook her head, keeping them tightly closed. “I’d rather wait until you leave the room.”

  “I don’t know whether this will reassure you or not, but I haven’t lost a single patient to embarrassment yet.”

  She could tell from the tone of his raspy voice, Doc was smiling. “I might just be your first.”

  “Nah. Heidi Bickle was seven shades redder than you when I examined her during her first pregnancy.”

  She cracked her right eye, just wide enough to see Doc’s ear-to-ear grin. “I take it she didn’t just poof off in an embarrassed rush to see her maker?”

  “Far from it. She gave birth to her seventh child last month.”

  Mara cracked her left eye and studied her tormentor. “You’re not going away, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Rats.”

  “Lots of folk feel that way.” Doc took the ladder-back chair from against the wall and set it perpendicular to the bed. His knees cracked as he sat in it. He rubbed the left one, as he said, “Getting on in years.”

  Mara smiled and levered herself carefully up against the pillows. “Not that I can tell.”

  He smiled, reaching for his pipe. “Ah, a diplomat.”

  “I’m trying to get out of any future examinations.”

  Doc poured tobacco from a pouch into his pipe. With his forefinger, he tapped the mixture down. “I’ve still got to take the stitches out of your head in a week.”

  “Can’t I do it myself?”

  “Only if you’re double-jointed.”

  “That’s a no, right?”

  He smiled around the pipe stem. “That’s a no.” His left eyebrow arched in her direction. “Mind if I smoke?”

  What was she supposed to say? It was his house. “No.”

  The sound of the match rasping against his boot was loud in the silence. The smell of spice and tobacco filtered through the room as Doc puffed three times before pointing the stem in her direction.

  “You agreed to marry the boy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of your own free will?” The chair creaked as he shifted his weight.

  “Yes.”

  Doc put the pipe back in his mouth. “Tough decision?”

  She grimaced. “Very.”

  “He point you out any options?” he asked around the stem, one bushy eyebrow raised in a way that made her think of his son.

  “No.”

  That inspired a smile. “Didn’t think so.”

  “You find that amusing?”

  “Yup.” He blew another smoke ring toward the ceiling. “You’d think so too if you knew Cougar the way I do. The boy’s got a fair streak a mile long and six deep.”

  Mara watched the ring drift in an ever widening circle toward the whitewashed ceiling until it disintegrated into nothingness, and said nothing.

  “You don’t believe me,” Doc asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Can’t say that I’m surprised, but when you’re ready, you’ll see signs.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He chuckled. “For now, I guess you’ll have to.”

  Mara stared at him, the way he seemed so comfortable sitting in that chair, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to while away the hours, blowing smoke rings and telling tales. She didn’t believe it for a moment.

  “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” He rocked the chair back onto two legs. “You don’t have to marry Cougar.”

  He could have knocked her over with a feather. “What?”

  Doc smiled gently around the pipe he had clenched in his teeth. “You have options, Mara, whether Cougar felt obliged to offer them or not.”

  Mara pushed her hair off her face and grimaced. “I don’t particularly want to marry the Reverend either.”

  Doc chuckled and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I can see the wisdom of sticking with the devil you know, but marrying Swanson wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  A flutter of hope made itself known in her chest. “Just what did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously.

  “You are more than welcome to stay here with Dorothy and me.”

  She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she let it out on a disappointed sigh. “I overheard Dorothy say my only option was to marry.”

  “I’ve no doubt you did,” Doc shrugged, “but there are a couple of things you’ve got to understand about my wife. She’s a good woman, but it fair grates her nature to see young folk walking around unhitched. The other thing is, she dotes on Cougar.”

  “And what Cougar wants, she does her best to see he gets?” Mara asked, unable to keep the resentment out of her voice.

  Instead of taking offense, Doc laughed outright. “Not quite.”

  He blew another smoke ring, this one not so perfect due to the smile tugging at his lips. “A couple of years ago, Cougar went and got engaged to a young woman named Emily Carmichael.”

  “No doubt a totally respectable woman.”

  “That’s about all she had going for her,” Doc said, surprising her. “I thought Dorothy was going to bring down the roof when Cougar announced his intentions.”

  “What did she have against her? Didn’t she come from a good family?”

  “Yes.”

  Recognizing a cue when she heard one, Mara asked, “Then what was the problem?”

  “The woman was about as useful as dandelion fluff, and, Lord, could she whine.”

  “Whine?”

  “She whined if Cougar was late to pick her up. She whined when he messed her hair. She whined if it was too hot, too cold. Hell, the woman whined even if it was just right.”

  “You didn’t like her either.”

  “Nope.” Doc’s teeth clenched around his pipe stem before he uncrossed his legs. His boot made a soft thump as it landed on the floor. “The more I got to know her, the more she wore on me. I think she wore on Cougar too. If his honor hadn’t been involved, I think Cougar would have been out of the engagement three months after he got into it.”

  “People break engagements all the time. My mamma was engaged twice before she married my father.”

  “Maybe it’s different for a woman. Maybe it’s how the boy grew up, but honor is everything to Cougar. Once he gives his word, he’d rather die than break it.”

  That was good to know seeing as how she’d gambled her future on Cougar’s word. “Cougar mentioned Emily died a year ago?”

  Doc took a puff on his pipe, grimaced, and set it on the bed stand. “Gone out,” he offered by way of explanation. The chair creaked as he settled back in it. “The girl died last year in a flash flood.”

  “How terrible!”

  Doc ran his hands over his hair. “To my way of thinking, the terrible part is, she didn’t need to die at all.”

  “I’m sure she couldn’t help a flood.”

  He sighed, ran his hands over his hair again and then finally said, “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but if the woman wouldn’t have been so worried about getting her new dress wet, she needn’t have died at all. And I wouldn’t have come within inches of losing my son!”

  His vehemence took Mara by surprise. It must have shown on her face because Doc waved his hand in her direction. “Forgive me. There was no reason to go on about that just to explain why Dorothy wants you for Cougar. Not when the answer is so clear.”

  Mara raised her eyebrows. “It is?”

  “Yup.” Doc roll
ed to his feet. “Dorothy believes you’ve got the guts it’ll take to make Cougar’s dreams come true.”

  “And you don’t agree.”

  Doc turned to her in surprise. “Oh, I agree. I just don’t like to see anybody railroaded into anything.”

  Mara smiled. “You’re a nice man.”

  “Well, I expect you won’t have to go far to find someone to tell you different.” His grin defied the statement. “Still, you keep in mind that you’re welcome to stay with Dorothy and me. No matter how that ruffles folks’ feathers.”

  By folks, she assumed he meant Dorothy and Cougar.

  “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  He nodded and headed for the door.

  His “I expect I do,” lit a warm ember in the chill of her despair, but despite Doc’s offer, she knew she had to marry. To take him up on his offer would only delay the inevitable and bring shame and ostracism to the only people who’d ever shown her kindness. And that she simply would not do.

  Chapter Eight

  What she would apparently do was sit still while Cougar gathered everyone around for a hasty wedding that seemed as unreal as her agreement to marry him in the first place. She sat in the bed while he stood, his only compromise to her insistence that she be upright. In her hands, she held the bouquet of roses he’d handed her. All she’d had time to do with her hair was run a quick brush through it, because when Dorothy suggested they put it up, Cougar had turned those intense eyes on her and said, “No.” Dorothy had been upset, but he had stated in the low drawl that brooked no argument that she was beautiful the way she was, and had gone out to get the flowers.

  So, now she sat in bed, her groom on her left side, Doc and Dorothy on the right and the Reverend Swanson at the foot, bible in hand, and she was getting married. This was not how she’d pictured her wedding.

  To Cougar McKinnely, of all people.

  He said his vows, steady and sure. No doubt in his voice, and if it’d made sense, she would have said satisfaction in his gaze as he glanced at her. When the Reverend came to the part in the ceremony where rings were to be exchanged, he stumbled to a halt, his glance flicking between Cougar and Mara.