by Dee Davis
Praise for Dee Davis:
"Author Dee Davis begins the excitement on the first page and the reader cannot come up for air until the last page has been turned. Romance, excitement, danger, betrayal, it's all in here! Recommended!" –Huntress Book Reviews
"The Promise is a wonderful romance that manages to bridge the plausibility gap and make time travel all too possible...Characterization is just one of Ms. Davis' strong points and is once more amply demonstrated with The Promise." –Scribesworld, 4 1/2 Stars
"Ms Davis is masterful in blending her characters and their relationships to tie her storyline together. The Promise is more than the name of a silver mine; it's a promise of an unusual, sensual adventure that will hold you spellbound. It's a story where love does conquer all, and one I highly recommend." –Romance Reviews Today
"This riveting book was hard to put down once I started reading it. As always, I eagerly look forward to the next Dee Davis book." –Best Reviews, four stars
The Promise
Dee Davis
The Promise is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
Copyright 2002 by Dee Davis Oberwetter
2014 Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
Originally published as a mass market paperback in the United States by Dorchester Publishing in 2004
Cover design: Frauke Spanuth, Croco Design
http://www.deedavis.com
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Table of Contents
Also By Dee Davis
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
EPILOGUE
SNEAK PEEK AT EVERYTHING IN ITS TIME
CHECK OUT THESE BOOKS BY DEE DAVIS:
ABOUT DEE DAVIS
Also by Dee Davis:
Romantic Suspense
Dark Of The Night
Dancing In The Dark
Midnight Rain
Just Breathe
After Twilight
Liars Game Series:
Line of Fire
Eye Of The Storm
Chain Reaction
Still of the Night (Novella)
Last Chance Series:
Endgame
Enigma
Exposure
Escape
A-Tac Series:
Dark Deceptions
Dangerous Desires
Desperate Deeds
Daring (Novella)
Deep Disclosure
Deadly Dance
Double Danger
Dire Distraction
Matchmaker Chronicles
A Match Made on Madison
Set Up In SoHo
Time After Time Series
Everything In Its Time
The Promise
Wild Highland Rose
Cottage in the Mist
Devil May Care Series
Hell Fire
Hell’s Fury
To my father
Who taught me how to dream,
and to my mother,
who taught me how to make my dreams come true.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
—Robert Frost
Prologue
San Juan Mountains, Colorado
"I don't believe I've ever been this happy." Cara Reynolds hugged herself in the backseat of the car. "It's been an incredible day."
"Well, you're the only daughter we have." Her father's voice was teasing, filled with love. "Besides, you're only going to be sixteen once."
"Probably just as well. I'm not certain I could take this kind of excitement every day. First you give me the new foal, then dinner at the Bristol, and now this." She held up the pendant hanging around her neck. "It's a wonder I'm not spoiled rotten."
"Who says you aren't?" Her father laughed, and Cara thought again how incredibly lucky she was. Not everyone had the family she did. A mother and father who doted not only on her, but on each other. A grandfather who loved them all. She sighed with contentment. Life was practically perfect.
"Do you really like the necklace?" Her mother shot a smile over her shoulder.
Cara caressed the smooth silver, her fingers memorizing each line of carving. "It's wonderful. It even feels old."
"Almost a hundred years." Her father squinted suddenly as a blinding light appeared over the top of a hill. "Come on fellow, cut your damn brights."
"Jim. There's no need to use profanity." Her mother's voice was gentle but firm.
Cara watched, mesmerized as the light came closer and closer, its beam filling the car with clear white light, throwing everything into relief. Her vision intensified, her mother and father etched in her brain like a photograph.
There was an odd grinding noise, and she thought she heard her father curse again. Then, against the sound of metal on metal and shattering glass, the world spun totally out of control. She was thrown forward and then whipped backward again, her head slamming into something hard. Light exploded in her brain, then vanished, pain crescendoing and then dissipating, blackness rushing up to meet her, engulfing her…
The world was amazingly quiet. And cold. Something soft and wet was tickling her nose. And her head hurt. Not just run of the mill hurt, but threatening to explode hurt. She tried to remember where she was, but her brain could barely function over the power of the pain. With a deep breath, she forced her eyes open.
Snow.
She was lying in the snow.
Which made absolutely no sense at all.
Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled herself up on her elbows, trying to remember where she was. The ground was bathed in an eerie light. Flickering. Firelight. In a rush everything came back.
There'd been a wreck.
Her vision cleared and she focused on the burning wreckage. A pick-up was balanced precariously on two wheels, its frame resting against something solid. She fought against a wave of nausea, narrowing her eyes. Their car.
Her brain kicked in with a rush, overriding the pain to send a terrifying message.
Her parents. Oh God, where were her parents?
Biting back a sob, she screamed out their names. When her attempts to stand failed, she crawled forward, inch by inch, still calling for them, her eyes searching the wreckage, her heart slamming against her ribs, the blood pounding to her brain.
The truck shifted, slamming down on the sedan underneath. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could leave her body, both cars suddenly exploded, hot flames shooting into the air, the falling snow doing nothing to dampen the fury.
A second explosion rocked the night. And hope died. Completely. Irrevocably. Cara dropped to the snow, sobs wracking her body. The pain almost unbearable. This time when the blackness came, she didn't fight its mind-numbing embrace.
*****
Michael Macpherson pulled his sheepskin coat tighter around him. It was cold. Ball shattering cold. He bit back a laugh, hearing his father's voice in his head. Duncan Macpherson wasn't one to mince words.
And he also wasn't about to be out in this kind of weather looking for cattle. No sir, he preferred to freeze his balls off up in the mountains looking for that elusive mother lode. Or maybe, if he was really smart, he was holed up somewhere with a bottle of whiskey for company. Michael had to admit that, right at the moment, the idea held a certain appeal. Not that he would trade places with his father.
Duncan had his share of problems, but then he also had Rose. Michael's mother was the love of his life and, truth be told, Michael longed for someone like that in his life, too. Someone to wait up nights for him, fire stoked, supper warming. Someone to share things with, to build a life with.
He sighed. His mother always said there was one man for one woman, and that his was out there somewhere. Waiting for him. All he had to do was find her.
Not that he was in any hurry. After all he was only nineteen. For the time being, he was content to wait. There was plenty of time left. He squinted into the falling snow, and tightened his hold on the reins. The storm was worsening, the wind whipping the snow into a frenzied dance, the force of it bordering on a blizzard. Urging his horse forward, he searched the gloom for lost cattle. Pete should have been out here with him. He could have used the help. But the ranch hand was laid up with a bum knee. An accident in the corral. And Patrick…
Hell, who knew where the kid was these days? At the Irish Rose helping his mother and Uncle Owen, no doubt. Patrick had no interest in ranching. He'd made that more than clear. Michael reined his horse in, his eyes catching the shadowy mound of a cow under a tumble of rock.
Damn. It looked dead. He swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground, his long-legged stride taking him over to the fallen animal. It was covered in snow, and he bent down to brush it off, his heart heavy. He needed live cattle if he was going to make a go of his homestead, and the harsh Colorado winter, seemed determined to take them from him one by one.
His hand touched soft, cold skin and he froze, eyes widening in surprise. It wasn't a cow at all. It was a woman. He knelt beside her, searching for a pulse, his eyes locked on her pale face. There were streaks of blood on her cheeks and her hair was crusted with snow and ice.
An ice princess.
She was exquisite. But not a woman. A woman-child. And, unless he was badly mistaken, she certainly wasn't dead. He wrenched his gaze away from her and glanced up into the blinding fall of snow. One thing was certain, if he didn't get her to shelter fast, neither one of them would be alive much longer.
*****
Cara woke with a start. She was shivering uncontrollably and something solid and warm was holding her captive. She struggled against the bonds, not certain whether she was trying to escape or to snuggle closer to the heat. Her head felt as if it might split in two.
"Hush now, be still. I'm trying to get you warm."
The voice was soft, fluid, and very male, its resonance radiating through her. She relaxed, allowing herself to settle into his embrace. Which in and of itself was unusual. He was a stranger after all, and she hadn't the slightest idea how she'd gotten here.
All she knew for certain was that her head was pounding and that she was cold. He provided a refuge for one of her two ailments and for the moment that was enough. Her eyes flickered open and she saw firelight dancing on rock walls.
Firelight.
Memory slammed into her. The wreck. Her parents. She jerked away, her heart pounding, determined to go back—to find them. She tried to stand, but the world went topsy-turvy and she collapsed again, warm arms encircling her, keeping her from falling.
"I've got to find them." Her voice came out in a cracked whisper and she wasn't certain he'd be able to understand her.
"Find who?" Blue eyes moved into her line of vision. Blue eyes and black hair. A face just beginning to hint at the man he would become.
Cara searched his eyes, calmed by what she saw there. "My parents. There was a wreck. And everything ex…exploded." A vision of the two cars lighting up the night filled her brain, tears rolling down her face.
He frowned, one hand absently stroking her hair, the feeling soothing—right, somehow. "I didn't see anything like that."
"Well, I've got to go look. I've got to know for certain." Panic rose inside her, and she tried to push it away. It wouldn't do to lose control, but it was so hard to concentrate. To think.
"You can't." His voice held a note of finality. "There's a blizzard raging outside. You wouldn't get three feet in this weather."
"But they might need me."
"You can't help them now." His eyes were full of compassion, the emotion softening the harsh planes of his face. "And I can't believe they'd want you risking your life against a storm like this." He shifted, pulling her closer into his arms. "We'll look in the morning."
She fought against the blackness that beckoned just at the edge of her consciousness, but it was compelling her to close her eyes, to surrender. The pain in her head was so intense, and she was so tired. So very tired.
Her eyes fluttered closed. "What's your name?" The words came out on a whisper.
"Michael. Michael Macpherson."
Michael. She sighed, letting the darkness carry her away.
Michael was the name of an angel.
*****
Michael trimmed the wick on the lantern, trying to save fuel. The fire had burned downed to embers. The lantern was their only source of light. And heat. He reckoned it wasn't too much longer until dawn, and hopefully that meant they'd be able to make their way back to his ranch.
His horse snorted softly behind him, stamping with impatience, almost as if he'd read his mind. But then horses were like that. The woman by the fire moaned, and struggled against the confines of his greatcoat. Golden hair spilled out against the tanned hide of the sheepskin.
She was a beauty. Even with the gash on her head.
He'd tried to clean it up the best he could, and bandaged it, but it was obvious she needed a doctor. And that presented a problem. Even with the cessation of the storm, they'd be lucky to make the ranch. There wasn't much chance he could get her into Silverthread. There would be too damn much snow.
Hell.
She moaned again and opened her eyes, firelight reflecting in the green of her gaze. Her look of confusion softened as she recognized him. "Michael."
He wasn't certain his name had ever sounded that good. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and moved to sit beside her, bringing the meager light of the lantern with him. He reached out to brush the hair back from her face. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, I think." She managed a weak grin. "Still cold though."
He shivered in response.
"Oh God, I've got your blanket." One hand slid out of the cocoon, confirming the fact. "And your coat. You must be freezing." She tried to sit up, but instead she grimaced and dropped back onto the floor of the cave. "I'm sorry."
He smiled. Impressed by her fortitude. Sh
e wasn't one to complain. Most ladies he knew would be whining every which way. But not this one. "Lie still, I'll crawl in beside you. That way we'll both be warm."
She nodded, and he slid underneath the blanket and coat, and pulled her body back against his. Her warmth seeped into him.
"It's better like this." He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Has the storm stopped?"
"It's dying down. Should be gone by morning."
"And then we can look?" Her voice held a note of determination, and fear.
He understood the feeling. Once when he was about eleven his father had been buried in a mine. They'd worked for hours to get him out, each passing moment another step closer to his demise. But, in the end, they'd won. Duncan had survived. Still, Michael recognized her plight. "And then we'll look."
They were quiet for a moment, the only sounds the hissing of the dying fire and the soft movements of the horse. He could feel her breathing. Feel the rise and fall of her body against his. He supposed in the same way she could feel him. Somehow, it made the moment more intimate, as if they were joined—one sustaining the other.
"Cara."
The word filled the night air, jerking him from his reverie, the resonance of her voice sweet and low. "Cara?" He sounded like a parrot.
"Cara Reynolds. That's my name." Again he heard the smile.
It was a beautiful name. He liked the way it sounded. Sort of soft and strong all at the same time. Like her.