Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  “Never mind. I’ve a good idea.”

  “He was a good man when he wasn’t drinking,” she said defensively.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He’d never seen the man sober. He brushed a curl off her temple. “You won’t get lost again.”

  “I won’t?”

  “No.” He wouldn’t allow it.

  “Oh.”

  He patted the buckskin’s rump as he stepped behind Jenna and caught her waist in his hands. “Spread your legs.”

  He had her airborne before her gasped “What?” had drifted away. Though she’d said that she didn’t catch on quickly, she was savvy enough to throw her leg over the saddle and take the horn in a death grip. Ornery shifted his feet and she shrieked. Clint vaulted up behind her.

  “Don’t go scaring him now or this lesson will be over before it starts,” he murmured as he hitched her higher up against him.

  She slapped one hand over her mouth, cutting off the outcry, and from the way her ribs swelled under his hand, her air.

  “Breathe, Sunshine,” he ordered as he flattened his hand over her midriff and pulled her back against him.

  She did. Just until he nudged Ornery toward the door. Then she was back to clutching the horn and freezing.

  “First lesson in riding a horse is to relax and go with the motion.”

  Her “Okay” was a nearly inaudible high-pitched squeak. He didn’t notice any relaxing.

  “Jenna, I won’t let you fall. Now, relax your back and let your weight come against me.”

  She did, a fraction of an inch at a time, clearly ready at the slightest inattention to spring back to her petrified state. Finally, her head came to rest under his chin. The fur trimming the hood tickled his nose.

  “That’s my girl.” He pulled her a little closer. The cloak blocked any sensation, but just the weight of her in his arms was enough to have his cock straining. “I’m going to slide my hand under your cloak now, to get a better grip,” he warned her as he unfastened the wooden frogs.

  “For what?” Her hands were back to death gripping the pommel.

  “So you won’t be so nervous.” And so he could enjoy the weight of her magnificent breasts on his forearm, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing that. He slid his hand inside the cloak just under her breasts. But he did. Son of a bitch, he did. Even though she had herself bound up tight, he could still feel the soft swells shudder with each step Ornery took as he urged the horse out of the barn. Damn, he couldn’t wait to get her under him. Those plump, fleshy mounds in his mouth. Were her nipples as plump and luscious as the rest of her? If he sucked on them long enough and carefully enough, would she come for him? Would she shriek his name when he brought her to climax? Or sigh it softly as her body shuddered under his? Whatever way she came, it’d be his name on her lips. He’d make sure of that.

  “Clint?”

  She was looking up at him, snowflakes sparkling in her blonde hair, apprehension on her face. He was gripping her too tightly. He dropped a kiss on her brow, smiled at her airy intake of breath, and relaxed his grip.

  “Right here, Sunshine.”

  “I can ride in the buggy.”

  “I like you where you are.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nothing more to say?” There was a pause in which he actually felt her gathering her courage. Damn, Hennessy had left her shortchanged on confidence.

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “I need my basket.”

  Clint looked toward the porch where they’d left it. It would be a challenge to lug it along. “We’ll get it later.”

  She bit her lip, but didn’t disagree. He nudged Ornery on. She looked back four times as they passed the house, but didn’t say a word which he should have taken as acceptance. On the fifth turn of her head, he pulled Ornery up short.

  “What’s in the basket, Jenna?”

  “Nothing important.” Her voice was a whisper of sound, bare of inflection as if she were staying as neutral as possible.

  “How not important?”

  “It’s just your wedding present.”

  Just? “You got me a wedding present?”

  Her voice dropped to almost nonexistent as she answered, “Yes.”

  Now that was a surprise. Brides didn’t normally give their husbands a present. Let alone brides who were marrying out of necessity.

  “Will it keep?”

  She ducked her head. “It’s not important.”

  The way she tried to sink inside herself told him this was very important to her. Important enough that she worried about his reaction. That meant it was personal. He wheeled Ornery around.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting my present.”

  “There’s no need. It’s nothing special.”

  “I think I’ll see that for myself.”

  He reached the porch. With a cluck of his tongue, he urged Ornery on. Jenna squealed and pressed back against his chest as the horse lurched up the steps. He hugged her tighter with one arm as he leaned over and grabbed up the basket. It was heavy, and not because of the threadbare cloak that sat on top.

  “What’s in it, Jenna?”

  “I know how much you like chocolate.”

  “Chocolate?” Clint asked, nudging the lid. “Jenna, you baked me something chocolate?”

  Her “Yes” was shy, sweet, and uncertain.

  “Ah baby, I’m going to love being married to you.”

  She clearly didn’t know what to do with that. She shifted in the saddle, bringing the fullness of her buttocks against the top of his aching shaft.

  “It’s just a little something.”

  “Sunshine, the littlest something from you can have a man in ecstasy.”

  Including the littlest movement of her ass on his cock. As she straightened, the soft fullness caressed his length. He pushed up with his right leg, prolonging the pressure. She gasped, but couldn’t do anything but let him enjoy her. He liked her sweet and submissive against him. He kissed the top of her head, and turned toward home.

  As soon as Ornery slowed to a walk, he touched his lips to Jenna’s ear. “Did I get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look today?”

  She stiffened slightly and then relaxed. “No.”

  “Now that’s a shame, because you are beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I’m very hungry for you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Which brings me to a question.” He brought his hand to her back under her cloak, trailing his fingers up the multitude of buttons covering her spine.

  “What?”

  “How averse are you to my unbuttoning this dress and pleasuring those beautiful breasts of yours while we ride?”

  She was completely averse to that idea, but before she could even voice her opinion, Jenna felt the give that said Clint had her dress unbuttoned to her chest. She clutched the basket to her and whispered her thanks for the concealment of her cloak.

  “Nothing to say?”

  She shook her head. What could she say? He was her husband.

  “Ah, I like that.”

  That was her dress sagging off her shoulders. She took comfort in the fact that not a lot of her flesh was exposed, thanks to her heavy corset and chemise. Then his hand slid across her corset. The calluses caught on the smooth material as it traversed her side to the fullness of her breast. Inwardly, she cringed as his big hand opened and stretched over her curves.

  She was so big. Had always been too big. Like a big fat cow that no amount of squishing and compressing could ever hide. Especially when a man held her in his hand. Like Jack had done. Like Clint was doing.

  She braced herself for the scathing comment that was sure to come. She’d heard them all since her breasts had surged to prominence during her twelfth year. Someday, she’d be immune.

  “Sunshine?” Clint’s lips brushed the side of her neck.

  “What?”

  “Slide your a
rms out of your dress.”

  “Here? Are you serious?”

  There was a flick of something hot and moist on her neck—his tongue? It sent shivers of goose bumps down her arms.

  “Dead serious.”

  “But we’re out in the open.”

  “The cloak covers you.”

  “Ornery might bolt.” Jack had been demanding in his needs, but never like this.

  “Nah.” Clint’s fingers slid back and forth on the side of her camisole—whisper-light, inching the fabric of her dress forward, freeing the path for his fingers.

  “He hates snow. He’ll just plod all the way to the barn door.”

  She was out of excuses. She unbuttoned her cuffs. Heat burned up her chest and over her cheeks in a wave of embarrassment as she slid her hands out slowly. Behind her, Clint chuckled.

  She didn’t want to know why, but some suicidal part of her just had to ask, “What?”

  The answer was a low, deep murmur of sound against her ear. “I’ve never felt a woman blush before.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  He nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. “I don’t want you to help it. Just commenting on the facts.” He pressed the reins into her hands as soon as her arms were clear. “Hold these.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m freeing up my hands.”

  Was he out of his mind? “I can’t drive a horse.”

  “No driving to be done. Just hold them steady.”

  She curled her fingers into the basket and repeated the obvious, “I can’t drive this horse.”

  “Sure you can.” Against her hand, she felt his fingers relax. Good heavens! He was going to get them both killed!

  “Grab hold now.”

  She did, clutching the basket with her forearms and grabbing the falling reins with her gloved fingers. Someone had to exercise some common sense. “You’re crazy!”

  She felt his smile slide against her hair. “Nah. Just hungry for my wife.”

  His mouth settled on her shoulder while his hand worked under her cloak, and then before she could draw a breath to protest, he had both of her breasts in his hands. The thin cotton of her camisole did nothing to diminish the impact of his touch. His hands were hard, sure, and firm. Not hurting. Not fumbling. Just holding her, as if weighing her assets. In an agony of suspense she awaited his verdict.

  “Sunshine, you are one pleasant handful for a man.”

  “You don’t think I’m too big?” If he was just being nice, she’d rather know up-front. His laugh puffed over her neck, raising more goose bumps.

  “You feel just right in my hands.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nothing more to say?” he asked, his tongue sliding over the path of bumps on her skin. Wet and hot. She should be repulsed. She wasn’t. Maybe it was because he wasn’t overwhelming her. With the exception of Ornery’s potential flight, she didn’t have a sense of impending doom that overtook her every time things spun out of control.

  “No.”

  The cool air blew over the flesh he’d moistened. New bumps arose, and she shivered. He sucked at the curve of her shoulder. “Hmm, you smell good. Like fresh air and roses.”

  “It’s the powder.”

  “The powder?” She felt the edge of his teeth on the cord of her neck. She held herself very still. He was very big behind her. Very intimidating.

  “Mara loaned it to me,” she whispered.

  “I like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You should get some.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  His mouth separated from her skin. His lips nibbled at her earlobe as his hands began a subtle massage on her breasts. She bit her lip, all her attention shifting to his hands.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s expensive.”

  “If you like it, get it.”

  He said that now, when he had his hands on her body and bedding on his mind, but she knew how attitudes changed when the urge passed. “I’ll think on it.”

  The wind blew, and soft fat flakes swirled in her face. She blinked and pulled back. Straight into the unyielding support of his chest. He seemed to tuck her in, absorb her weight. Shelter her. She wasn’t a small woman, but Clint made her feel that way for the simple reason that he was so big. And he handled her so carefully. Not like something he owned, but like something he valued. She couldn’t figure him out.

  “That’s right, Sunshine, cuddle back here and let me make us both feel good.”

  Clint felt Jenna’s small surrender in the way she rested against him, but there was a fine tension humming under her skin. She was doing what he asked, but she was wary. Clint slid his palms up Jenna’s magnificent breasts, tightening his grip as he tugged ever so slightly at their weight, enjoying their soft resiliency as he worked his way up to their equally soft peaks. With a curl of his pinkies, he pulled her camisole down.

  He wished the cloak wasn’t in his way so he could see their color. He imagined they were a soft pink, maybe with a hint of red on the tips. He explored their textures with his index fingers, taking advantage of Jenna’s uneasy shifting to rub the tender tips. They were flat. Unresponsive.

  He wasn’t deterred. He never figured she’d light up like a torch right away. For all the talk, he’d never imagined Jenna as loose. He’d call her a lot of things—shy, stubborn, opinionated, and oddly courageous—but round in the heels was not a term he’d lay on her. This ride was more of a “get acquainted” session for them, but she was such a sweet handful, it was a challenge to remember her bedroom experiences to date might not have left her enthusiastic.

  Ornery stumbled on a rock. Jenna yanked back on the reins. Ornery hopped a protest. Jenna dropped the reins and almost threw herself to the ground. For a few seconds, Clint had all he could do to hold Jenna, rescue his present, and keep Ornery from crow-hopping the joy out of this wedding night.

  “Son of a bitch.” He pulled Ornery to a halt, resettled Jenna in front of him, and handed her the basket. “I’ll give you one thing, Sunshine. You sure can ruin a moment.”

  “I told you I couldn’t drive a horse,” she whispered.

  He eyed her flushed cheeks, wide eyes and death grip on the basket.

  “So you did.” He squeezed his knees, putting Ornery back into motion. Jenna sat so stiffly in front of him that it was almost a dare. He never could resist a dare. He pressed the reins back against her hands. She shook her head vigorously, her hair glowing in the last bits of daylight.

  “Either you hold them, or we just let them go.” She turned in his arms, her expression one of horror and incredulity.

  “You can’t want to go through that again?”

  “You’ve got to learn sometime. Now is as good as any.” And he really wanted to see if he could make her nipples perk just a little in the time he had left.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” he asked as he reached under her cloak and hooked his fingers in her camisole.

  “Because I’m just not good at things. I’ll get us killed.”

  “Sunshine, I’d never give you something you couldn’t handle.”

  “But I almost got us killed.”

  “The worst that would have happened is I would have lost my present.”

  “We could have fallen off!”

  “I haven’t fallen off a horse since I was four, and I would never let you fall.”

  She gasped as his cool fingers cradled her nipples. He couldn’t tell whether from pleasure, shock, or cold.

  “You wouldn’t have a say.” A breathless, airy quality entered her voice.

  “Sunshine, I have a say in everything when it comes to you.” Her nipples contracted under his touch, and he had the answer to one of his questions. She had dainty, delicate nipples that peaked into his touch with deceptive eagerness. He withdrew his hands, but left her breasts bare. He knew the minute the fur lining of the cloak registered on her skin. Her lids flicked up, and her restless shi
fting stilled.

  He stroked her cloak over her breasts, dragging the material over the tips.

  “I bought this cloak thinking about how good it would look against your skin,” he whispered in her ear, stoking the soft fur over her breasts. “How good it would feel against your skin.

  He repeated the caress. “Does it feel good to you, Jenna? Do you like how all that silky fur feels against your bare breasts?”

  She sat very still in front of him and didn’t answer. He cupped her breasts through the cloak. As always, she didn’t struggle, but she didn’t encourage him either. She had to be uncomfortable with his touch, maybe even afraid. He was a big man with a bad reputation, a virtual stranger, but she held her ground. Held to her bargain. She had such courage, his Jenna. Not the flashy kind, but the “stick it out” kind. The kind that helped her endure. He gentled his touch, and pulled her back against him. He wouldn’t betray her trust, but he also wouldn’t let her hide.

  “Answer me, Jenna. Does it fell good when I rub this soft fur over your breasts?”

  She swallowed hard. Her shoulder blades flexed against his chest. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

  He kissed the top of her head and just held her against him, satisfied with that concession, enjoying the scent of woman and roses that drifted up from the warmth of her cloak, blending with the crisp evening air. She was his. In time she’d come to accept him. Trust him. Until then, he’d just work at convincing her he was worth the effort.

  Chapter Six

  It was almost dark by the time they arrived at the barn. Clint slid off Ornery, and Jenna immediately panicked at being left alone up on the big buckskin. He put one hand on her thigh and one on the horse’s shoulder, soothing both with his touch. When they were calmer, he held his hands up to her.

  “Slide on down here, Jenna.”

  Jenna shoved the basket at him instead of dropping into his arms. He took it and put it on the ground. The whole move took about two seconds, but by the time he was upright, Jenna had managed to get herself tangled, hanging halfway off the horse. It was easy to see why she didn’t complete the move. Her skirt was caught on the saddle horn, and she couldn’t swing her leg over to fall the rest of the way off.

  “Need a little help?” he asked, admiring the turn of her calf as it was exposed by her hiked up skirt.