Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  Doc grabbed her elbow as she swayed. “Are you all right?”

  She shook off her weakness and put some starch in her spine. “I’m fine.”

  “You look a far cry from fine.”

  “It’s all this waiting,” she explained, holding out her hand. “It makes me nervous.”

  The sooner this was over, the better she’d feel. She hoped.

  Doc tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and patted it. “Then let’s get the waiting over with, ‘cause truth be told, if you don’t come down that aisle soon, Clint will be coming up it to fetch you.”

  The door creaked as Mara slipped through.

  “He’s that mad?” Jenna asked.

  Doc sent her a look that went from confused to understanding in one blink. “He’s that anxious.”

  She doubted that.

  Organ music swelled on a long building note. It was time. She took a breath and pasted a smile on her face. The shakes started as they always did when she was forced to be the center of attention. She knew Doc could feel her trembling by the sharp glance he cut her. She stared straight ahead as the organ started playing her wedding hymn. She would not shame Clint by acting the weakling on their wedding day.

  Doc started forward. The three steps to the door passed much too quickly. She had a chance for another breath as Doc pulled the door open. She took it and held it. She could do this. Just one step at a time. That’s all she needed to do. Put one foot in front of the other, follow Doc’s lead, and in no time this would be over with. She made it as far as the top of the aisle before disaster struck. Someone had laid down a beautiful, white shimmery cloth on the aisle. Her slipper on her good leg slid. The unexpected weight on her bad leg sent a knifing pain through her thigh. She pulled up short, jerking Doc back, almost falling, holding back her groan through sheer force of will. There was a murmur in the crowd as she stood there unmoving. It took all her concentration to control the pain. When it faded, she was faced with a church full of curious attendees.

  “Think she’s planning on leaving McKinnely at the altar?” she heard a man mumble.

  “Might just be worth getting all decked out to see that,” another whispered back.

  She glanced up. Ahead of her, there was nothing but a mass of people staring at her, judging her. Expecting the worst of her. At the end of the aisle stood Clint. His broad shoulders squared and straight. His expression impassive. She didn’t know what he thought, but as she stood there, the whispers around her piling up into rampant speculation, she could imagine. Inside, the tiny kernel of courage she’d been drawing from withered.

  Cougar stood beside Clint, his impatience clear on his face. As her gaze touched his golden one, he shook his head. His long black hair swung in punctuation to the jerk of his chin—a clear order to get moving. An order he expected to be obeyed.

  But she couldn’t. God help her, she couldn’t. She couldn’t even release the breath she’d been holding as everything in her rushed toward panic.

  Doc patted her hand. “Jenna?”

  She shook her head, feeling the tightness pulling at her arms, closing off her breath. Oh God, not now. Please not now. She couldn’t do this to Clint. To herself. She couldn’t mess up her one shot at keeping Brianna.

  The murmuring became a soft roar. Beside her, Doc was encouraging her to sit down, but she couldn’t do that either. She couldn’t sit and be married. She had to make it down the aisle. To Clint.

  There was a louder murmur and then a sudden deafening, expectant silence. She looked up. Clint was coming toward her, his long hair flaring around his shoulders, his long legs eating up the distance between them. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look anything. He just kept coming toward her. When he was close enough that she could see the slight lines fanning out from the corner of his eyes, she closed hers, accepting the reality—it was over.

  His “Ah, Sunshine” reached her first and then his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into the solid strength of his chest, taking her weight off her legs and making it his responsibility.

  “A little too much too soon?” he queried against her ear.

  She nodded and gulped in a painful effort to respond. She hadn’t wanted to fail him.

  “Shh.” His lips brushed her ear, laid bare by her upswept hair. “I want you just to relax, Jenna.”

  She tried to twist away. His lips brushed her temple. His left hand opened on the small of her back. “No one can see, Sunshine, so I want you to rest here against me and find your breath.”

  Easy for him to say. Her ribs heaved, but nothing happened.

  “Jenna, baby.” A down comforter wasn’t as soft as his deep voice at that moment. “I should be shot.”

  For what? she wondered with the one calm section of her brain. His fingers brushed her jaw “I should have known being on display would upset you.”

  He shifted, pulling her closer with his hand on her spine so that her skirts wrapped around his boots. His lips brushed her cheek. “Breathe, baby. For me. Just once.”

  She stiffened remembering the last time he’d said that. He pulled her a little closer, seeming to absorb her whole body into his as his laughter puffed against her ear.

  “Ah, you remember that, do you?’

  How could she forget?

  “I promise you this time, baby, no pain. You just take this one tiny breath, and the rest will be a cakewalk.”

  Air wheezed in and choked out of her lungs while he just stood there as if the whole church full of witnesses didn’t matter and crooned nonsense into her ear. She tried to look under his arm to see what kind of spectacle they were making, but he wouldn’t allow it.

  He tucked her head against his chest and said, “The only people who matter here are you and me, and I’m just fine with this.”

  “She okay?”

  That deep, slow drawl drew her chin up. Asa MacIntyre’s silver eyes met hers.

  “She’s fine, but she could use a minute, if you could arrange it,” Clint answered, his voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

  Asa winked at Jenna and on a “You got it” stood and sighed loud enough for everyone to hear. “Wish I had me a girl who wanted a hug from me bad enough to hold up her wedding to get it.”

  A slow trickle of laughter followed the pronouncement. Doc picked up the theme and ran with it. “Heck. I tried to see Dorothy before the ceremony and she threw a shoe at me.”

  “That might have been because we were late and I was getting dressed at the time!” Dorothy called to him.

  “You’re a randy one, aren’t you Doc?” a male voice Jenna didn’t recognize teased good-naturedly.

  “I’m not sure I want you treating my wife after hearing this!” another called.

  “Ah heck, Jerome,” the first voice countered, “No offense to Fran, but she’s got more years on her than Old Ben’s dog. If Doc was going to get up to something funny, he’d pick someone else.”

  “She’s a damned handsome woman to this day,” Jerome harrumphed.

  Jenna, leaning against Clint, listened to the joking and smiled. Jerome was sixty if he was a day and dearly loved his plump wife. Everyone knew it. Growing up, Jenna had hoped to have a man look at her the way Jerome looked at Fran—as if the sun rose and the moon set in her eyes—but she’d long since outgrown that notion.

  The jokes continued. A little of her tension eased.

  “There’s my girl,” Clint whispered. His thick black hair brushed her cheeks and bare shoulders as his lips glided across her neck. She shivered at the strange sensation. Against her ear, she felt Clint’s smile. “You let Asa do what he does best, and just concentrate on giving me that nice deep breath I asked for.”

  Surprisingly, breathing was easier now, even though she was still standing in the middle of the aisle and everyone still watched.

  Clint cupped her throat in his hand. “That’s it, Sunshine.”

  His fingers stroked from her ear to her shoulder, launching a quivery sensation inside her. “L
ook at me.”

  She did. She always did what he said when he used that tone. His eyes were deep, black, fathomless, and totally compelling. His fingers curled until he was rubbing her throat with the back of his hand. It was the lightest of caresses. She felt it to the tips of her toes.

  “Breathe for me.”

  She hesitated.

  “Now.” She did, expecting nothing, but shockingly, getting a breath of cool, fresh air. Her reward was the relaxing of his expression and a return to his embrace. She put her palms against his chest.

  “I’m okay now.”

  “Just to be on the safe side, we’ll rest here a bit.”

  “We’re in the middle of a wedding.”

  “Since we’re the main attraction, I expect they’ll wait.”

  His hands on her back didn’t allow her to move away. She was eternally grateful she’d chosen a heavy-duty corset. She might feel like a sausage, but all Clint would feel was a smooth silhouette.

  As if reading her mind, he tapped one of the ribs. “This can’t be helping your breathing.”

  The blush started at her toes and burned over her face. “I just get nervous.”

  A quick glance up showed he was frowning at that piece of information. She dropped her gaze to his throat. He had the most beautiful skin. The hint of red under the brown always made her want to nibble, just a little to see if he tasted as hot and spicy as the cinnamon he reminded her of. She dropped her forehead against his chest. Oh heaven! She was in church and she was having carnal thoughts. She was as bad as her father always said.

  “You can let me go now.” As always, her voice lacked the force she wanted so she wasn’t surprised when he merely held her.

  “In a minute.”

  “I won’t seize up again.”

  “I know.”

  She frowned, pressing lightly with her fingers. There was no give to the man. “How do you know?”

  “Because you know you’re safe with me.”

  “I do?” It came out louder than she anticipated, bringing everyone’s attention back to her.

  “You’re supposed to save that for the reverend,” someone hollered.

  The panic began again, deep inside where it always started. A finger slid under her chin, the rough skin scarping her softer flesh.

  “Look at me.”

  She did.

  “You’re not going to panic.”

  “I’m not?” It sure felt like it to her.

  “No. You’re going to stay calm, and walk with me up to the front of the church and say your vows. Then we’re going to have some of that wedding cake Priscilla’s daughter baked.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m not going to panic?” The last was said on a wheeze as she glanced around his arm to see everyone watching her again. Especially Cougar. His darkly handsome face hard with disapproval.

  Clint turned her face back to his. “You aren’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I have you.”

  And just like that, he turned, tucked her into his side as if she were tiny and delicate, and calmly started down the aisle. She had no choice but to go with him. Her skirt swishing around his legs, his arm taking most of her weight. When she stumbled, he turned her to face him, bringing her hand to his lips, kissing the palm, staring into her eyes as he backed her the rest of the way to her position.

  The sigh that rose from the young women in the crowd let her know the gesture looked wildly romantic. In reality, it had kept her from falling on her face.

  He’d done as he’d promised. He’d gotten her to the altar, safely, her pride intact. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Clint was known to be a man of his word. His hand at her elbow steadied her as she faced the reverend. The eyes on her back were like the touch of a stranger. Uncomfortable.

  “All set now?” Reverend Swanson asked. Clint cocked an eyebrow at her.

  She whispered, “Yes.”

  A floorboard creaked as Cougar leaned around his cousin. His deep gold gaze flickered over her before he leaned back and asked out of the side of his mouth, “You’re dead set on this?”

  The words weren’t meant for her to hear, but she did. She didn’t look at Cougar or Clint as he debated his answer. She’d seen the signs. God had sent her Clint as an answer to her prayers. If she just believed in that, everything would be all right.

  Still, when Clint’s “Yes” rumbled out in his deep voice, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was doing the right thing.

  * * * * *

  “It’s time to go, Jenna,” Clint said two hours later.

  Jenna clutched Brianna a little closer. Fed and changed, the little girl was almost asleep, and her muffled grunt said she didn’t appreciate the gesture.

  “We’ll take very good care of her,” Mara promised. The hunger in her voice made Jenna uneasy. Everyone knew that Mara wanted a baby as much as they knew that Cougar feared losing her to childbirth. She didn’t want to leave Brianna here. What if they didn’t give her back?

  Cougar took a step forward. His long hair slid over his massive shoulders as he reached out. Jenna barely kept from pulling back as he stroked Brianna’s tiny back.

  “I’ll keep her safe for you,” he promised, his golden eyes dark. Everyone knew a promise from a McKinnely could be taken to the bank. Still, Jenna couldn’t let her go.

  “It’s okay, Jenna,” Clint said.

  But it wasn’t. A dribble of drool dampened the shoulder of the blue traveling dress she’d changed into. “I think maybe we should reconsider—”

  “If you’re going to tell me again that we don’t need time alone,” Clint interrupted, a smile hovering around his mouth, “you’re wasting your breath.”

  “Every couple needs some get-acquainted time,” Dorothy, Doc’s wife, spoke up as she came closer, the basket Jenna had packed in her hand.

  “But we’re not…”

  Clint sighed and pried the baby out of her arms. “We’re married, Jenna.”

  Reverend Swanson stepped forward, licking frosting from his fingers. “And in one of my nicer ceremonies, too, if I do say so myself.”

  He ran his tongue around his thumb. The gesture was so unconsciously sensual that Jenna did a double take. Sometimes it was hard to remember that this tall, lean, muscular man was a man of God.

  “I wasn’t going to say we weren’t married.” She watched in agony as Clint passed Brianna over to Mara.

  “Doesn’t matter what excuse you were working on,” he said, “I want to be alone with you.”

  “But five days…”

  “Will be just enough to whet my appetite.”

  The men laughed. Jenna blushed, and Dorothy swatted Clint with a towel. “If your mother was here she’d wash your mouth out with soap.”

  Clint ducked a second swat. “Lucky for me then that she’s living the easy life back East with Dad.”

  Dorothy handed Jenna the basket. “You just ignore those buffoons, Jenna. Too many trips to the back door has addled their brains.”

  The basket weighed a ton. Jenna shifted her grip. Clint had been drinking? The feeling that her life was spinning out of control intensified.

  “My shop…”

  “Is in good hands with Lorie,” Clint countered, taking the thick, expensive wool cloak he’d insisted she needed off the hook by the door.

  “Lorie is very competent,” Mara said, looking totally natural rocking the tiny baby in her arms. The image of the perfect little family was completed when Cougar stepped beside his wife, and she immediately relaxed into the shelter of his side.

  “But will she remember to feed Harry? And that Jonas has to eat in the restaurant or someone will take his food away?”

  “I’m sure she will,” Clint countered, holding out her cloak. She ignored his hint.

  “Sometimes the other customers complain.”

  “I can handle complaints,” Lorie said, coming forward. Jenna looked at the tall compe
tent woman. She just bet she could. Lorie looked the type who could handle anything. She’d probably handle her shop better than she did without one single blonde hair on her head falling out of place. Her customers probably wouldn’t even miss her.

  “You have to remember to feed Harry. I’ve just started putting weight on him.”

  “I’ll remember. Every day at sundown a plate of food at the back door.”

  “With milk. Make sure you give him enough. I don’t want—”

  “Him to lose weight,” Lorie, Clint, Mara, Asa, Cougar, and Doc finished for her.

  Their amusement hit her like a blow. She ducked her head, her voice dropped to a whisper but she couldn’t let it go. “He’s just come so far…”

  They probably thought she was ridiculous for worrying about another discard, but Harry mattered to her and so did Jonas even if they weren’t particularly pretty right now.

  The heavy weight of the cloak settled on her shoulders, the fur trim on the hood brushing her cheeks. “Harry, Jonas, your shop, and little Brianna are in good hands, Jenna.”

  Clint’s hands lingered after the cloak was settled, but the stroking of his fingers didn’t alleviate the finality of his words. The life she’d so carefully built for herself the last six months was now firmly in the care of others, and she was once more a wife with nothing to call her own.

  She stepped out of Clint’s hold and said the only thing she could. “Thank you.”

  She put the basket on the floor, shrugged out of the heavy cloak, and put it back on the hook. She reached for her old one.

  “What are you doing?”

  She turned to Clint. “Getting ready to go.”

  “It’s cold outside.”

  “I know.”

  “You need a cloak.”

  “I’m getting one.”

  “What’s wrong with the one you just had on?”

  A bark of laughter came from the other side of the room, quickly followed by, “This ought to be good.”

  Jenna wished she had the courage to shoot Asa a glare for his interruption, but she just didn’t dare rile the ex-gunslinger. She pulled her perfectly serviceable cloak off the hook.

  “It’s new,” she told Clint.

  “I know. I bought it for you.”