Bound by a Promise

by Diana Palmer

  He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed the soft palm slowly, sensuously, in a way that made her knees go weak. “Am I?” he asked.

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly, letting his lips travel over her slender fingers, against her wrist, her forearm.

  “Mr….Cambridge,” she whispered unsteadily, drawn in a way she’d never been by any other man as the slow, dangerous caress worked into her blood.

  “Kate,” he murmured, “put this out.” He handed her the cigarette, clasping her free hand tightly, raising it to his cheek.

  With trembling fingers, she crushed it out in the ashtray and started to rise. He felt the movement and checked it easily by slipping a hard, determined arm around her waist to bring her falling down onto the bulk of his hard-muscled body.

  “No!” she whispered frantically.

  His big arms wrapped around her, holding her, cradling her. “Don’t fight me, don’t be afraid of me, Kate,” he whispered at her ear. “This is all I want right now. Let me hold you.”

  “Oh, please, you shouldn’t…!”

  “Why not?” His lips brushed the hair at her temple. “God, I’m lonely,” he said huskily. “I’m so damned lonely! Would you deny me the feel of a woman in my arms to make the night just a little more bearable?”

  She could feel the heavy, hard thunder of his heart against her through all the layers of clothing. “I…that isn’t…all you want,” she replied.

  He drew in a hard breath and his arms tightened. “No, damn it, that’s not all I want! I want you,” he growled at her ear. “You, Kate! Every soft inch of you, here, now…!”

  “No!”

  “Why not?” he persisted. “Let me show you how it could be, Kate….”

  He brought her face around and found her lips blindly with his, probing gently, teasing them with a pressure so light and unexpected that it took the hard tension out of her limbs and made her go soft against him. She’d been kissed before, but never like this, never in a way that made her feel giddy and boneless and hungry. The feel of his chiseled lips against hers was intoxicating. She parted her own to tempt them into hardness, to provoke that torturous soft brushing into something far more violent and satisfying.

  She felt him ease her yielding body across his until she was on her back and he was looming over her, his breath mingling with hers as he held the slow, tender kiss in the burning silence of the night.

  His hand spread against her cheek, his thumb brushed across her mouth roughly. “This can’t be all take and no give,” he said in a deep, gruff tone. “Damn you, kiss me!”

  He crushed his mouth down against hers and she went taut instinctively until that hurting, angry pressure lessened and became caressing, tantalizing, seductive….

  With a moan, she opened her mouth under his and slid her arms up and around his neck, yielding to him in a fog of dazed pleasure. His hands deftly untied her robe and she felt them on her waist, burning through the thin gown as he caressed the softness of her body and made it tremble.

  “God, you’re sweet,” he whispered against her eager mouth. “I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget!”

  Sanity came back with a rush at the words. She caught his hands and stilled them as they began to move upward on her body.

  “I…I can’t,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  She swallowed nervously, breathlessly, forcing the words out through swollen lips. “You know why.”

  He seemed to stiffen against her and for a long moment there was silence, filled only by his rough, harsh breathing. “It was true, then?” he asked gruffly. “You’ve never been with a man?”

  “No,” she replied miserably.

  He tightened his grip for just an instant. Then she felt him relax, felt his arms enfold her gently, with all the frightening ardor gone out of them.

  “Just relax,” he said quietly. “You won’t have to fight me off, honey.”

  She nestled her face against his shoulder, feeling the sting of hot tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Sorry about what?” he asked gently. “That you had to stop me? Kate, I’m only a man. The feel of you went a little to my head, that’s all. Don’t feel guilty about it. I didn’t hire you to keep my bed warm.”

  “I…I know, but if I’d said something at first…” she murmured.

  “You’re human enough to enjoy being held and kissed, little girl,” he said, tracing her cheek with an absent finger. “You’ve been alone, too, Kate. Don’t be too hard on either one of us.” He reached over to kiss, lightly, her closed eyelids. “I like the way you taste, little innocent, but I’m not quite cold-hearted enough to make a meal of you.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “You’re a nice man sometimes.”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed. “Kiss me one more time and go to bed. At the very least,” he added teasingly, “you’ve managed to take my mind off the headache.”

  She kissed his rough cheek and started to get up.

  He held her back. “Not like that,” he said quietly, bending. “Like this….”

  His mouth opened on hers, pressing her lips apart, exploring the soft contours of her mouth with a practiced expertise that brought a moan from her throat. He drew back with a wisp of a smile. “You’ve got a hell of a lot to learn about lovemaking,” he said gently.

  Even without his sight, he read her too well, and it was unnerving. She drew a sharp breath. “I’m very sleepy,” she murmured.

  “Coward.” He released her. “I’d give anything to see you right now,” he added with a tightening of his jaw.

  She got quickly to her feet. “Can I bring you anything?” she asked, ignoring the rough comment.

  “I’ve already had everything I need…for tonight,” he mused. “Unless you’d like to crawl back in here with me, in case the headache comes back?”

  “No, thanks,” she told him.

  “Afraid?”

  “I most certainly am.”

  He smiled. “You flatter me, little one. Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, breathless, dazed. Something intangible had changed between them tonight, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to adjust to it.

  He didn’t know that she was responsible for his blindness, and now, more than ever, she dreaded having him find out. But, too, he came from another world; a world of power and success and beauty that no ordinary mortal could fit into; certainly not a smalltime Texas rancher’s daughter. She reminded herself firmly that, with eyes, he’d never have given her a second look except, perhaps, to order her off his property, as he’d done when he came across her sitting on the log by the lake. Cold shudders wracked her body. This kind of thinking would get her nowhere. She was a secretary. She’d have to remember that from now on and not let her emotions get between her and the debt she was repaying.

  For an instant she remembered the woman he’d lost because of the blindness, and thought how much he was going to owe her for that accident if he ever found out. Her eyes closed momentarily. Death would be kinder than his retribution—there wouldn’t be any mercy in him for Kate if he learned who his secretary really was.

  Five

  If Kate had been worried about facing him the next morning, she shouldn’t have been. He was all business, as usual, and there were no references at all to what had happened between them in the soft darkness. He was a little more brusque than usual as he dictated, but nothing he said betrayed that his interest in his secretary was anything but professional.

  As the days passed, she noticed a new restlessness in him. In the middle of dictation, he’d suddenly seem to forget where he was and drift off into a scowling study. Finally, she dredged up enough courage to ask him what was the matter.

  “What makes you think anything is?” he growled at her from behind his massive desk, his sightless eyes narrow, threatening even in their darkness,
and she shivered, remembering the power of them before he lost his sight.

  “I…I don’t know. You seem restless,” she said finally.

  He ran a big hand through the silvered hair at his temples with a rough sigh. “I am—restless, bored, sick of routine.” He leaned back in his swivel chair, and it creaked in protest under his weight. “Got your birth certificate with you?”

  “My…Well, yes, I had to send for it because you told me I’d need a passport….”

  “You won’t need a passport where we’re going; just your birth certificate. We’re going to St. Martin this afternoon. We’ll leave here after lunch.”

  She caught her breath. “St. Martin?” she asked numbly.

  “It’s an island in the Lesser Antilles,” he explained. “Half of it’s French, the other half, Sint Maarten, is Dutch. I own a villa there.”

  “Where is St. Martin?”

  “In the Caribbean,” he said with a half smile. “The bluest waters and the whitest beaches you’ve ever seen. It’ll be an experience for you. For anyone,” he added bitterly, “with eyes.”

  He withdrew into himself, letting the bitterness darken his eyes more than blindness had. Kate left him alone to pack, wondering all the while if the memories he had of the Caribbean island had anything to do with the woman who’d left him.

  Kate had never liked airplanes, but there was something special about the small Learstar with its jet engines and its luxurious interior. It made an adventure out of air travel, and its compactness was somehow reassuring when it took to the air under the charter pilot’s expert handling.

  Her eyes darted to Garet. He hadn’t said a word since they boarded the plane. He simply sat there, next to the window, his face dark and brooding, his chiseled mouth compressed, his unseeing eyes staring blankly out the window under a black scowl.

  Kate hadn’t tried to speak to him, remembering the black temper she’d had the misfortune to run into once already. She kept her silence, but her heart went out to the big, dark man. He looked so alone—so terribly alone. Something inside her ached to reach out and comfort him. It was odd, that compulsion. She’d never cared so much about anyone in her life, except her father. Not even, she admitted finally, Jesse Drewe. It was a new experience, to care like that….

  She jerked her eyes away from him, as if she was afraid he might turn and sense her staring with that radarlike sense that compensated him for his lack of vision. She couldn’t start caring about him. It was too dangerous! In her own way, she was trying to help repay him for the blindness she’d caused, by acting as his helpmate for the duration of the condition. But sympathy was a far cry from the way she was beginning to feel, and she had to dampen down her new vulnerability. He wasn’t safe to get attached to, and he could hurt her.

  Time went by in a blue haze. Before she realized it, they were over the Caribbean. Yama pointed out St. Martin to her, with its white beaches like tiny white ribbons from the height; its hotels and smoothly rounded green peaks and coral-colored roofs on dainty houses dotting the island.

  “Mr. Cambridge owns villa on French side,” Yama explained with a grin. “That because he never learn to speak Dutch. Too lazy. French accent is worst I ever hear, but it get him out of jail, maybe.”

  “Listen to the linguistics expert,” Cambridge chuckled from his seat as the small jet received clearance from the airfield and nosed down for a landing.

  “I speak good English,” Yama protested.

  “So did Tarzan,” Cambridge muttered.

  “You insult me, and wait to see what I put in front of you for dinner tonight,” Yama threatened.

  “Oh, God, why don’t I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?” Cambridge groaned. “Kate, you make sure I get the same thing you have to eat tonight, or you’re fired.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said smartly, but with a conspiratorial wink at Yama that made the small man’s face light up like a beacon.

  The villa was delightful. Perched high on a green hill overlooking the white beach and its luxury hotel, it stood out from the rest with its graceful Spanish design and white, curving walls. The stone floors were cool and smooth and Kate wondered how it would be to walk on them barefoot. In fact, she kicked off her shoes just inside the front door and gave a sigh at the cold delight of the floor under her hot, tired feet.

  “What was that all about?” Cambridge asked, turning to scowl in her general direction.

  “I love your floors,” she said self-consciously. “They feel good.”

  One corner of his mouth went up. “Barefoot already, country girl? There’s an arbor of bougainvillea at the back door and we’re fairly well surrounded by banana trees and hibiscus. I imagine you’ll like that.”

  “I’ll like the beach, too, although I’m not much of a swimmer. Are we allowed to use the beach at the hotel?” she asked curiously.

  “Since I own the hotel,” he replied carelessly, “I suppose we are.”

  She flushed. “You didn’t mention….”

  “Was there any reason to?” He scowled. “Kate, money doesn’t mean a hell of a lot to me. I’ve always had it, so I tend to take it for granted. It’s no big deal.”

  “I understand. But you’ll have to understand that I’ve been without it all my life,” she returned proudly. “I’m not used to luxury, and it’s not in me to take such things for granted.”

  He pondered that for a minute, taking time to light a cigarette with confident fingers. “Sorry you came?” he asked finally.

  “Oh, no,” she replied quickly. “I’m very grateful….”

  “Stop being so damned subservient,” he shot at her. “I don’t want gratitude from you, not now, not ever!”

  She flinched at the whip in his voice, sensing that whatever was eating at him had nothing to do with her.

  She started to apologize again, but quickly thought better of it. He wasn’t in any mood for apologies. Something was eating at him like acid. It didn’t show in that proud, arrogant stance, but it was in every line of his face, in the dark green eyes that glowered toward her.

  “I’d like to unpack,” she murmured.

  “Well, hell, go do it!” he growled, turning on his heel. He turned toward the doorway and slowly, gingerly, felt for the door facing, the back of a chair, until he reached the long blue brocade of the couch and eased himself down. It was too bad, she thought, that he’d had to leave Hunter in the kennel. No way was he going to bend his pride enough to use a cane.

  “Send Yama in here with an ashtray,” he said stiffly.

  “Yes.” She turned and left him there, feeling vaguely shaky inside from the attack. If he was going to be like this for the duration of the trip, she was already ready to go home.

  But by the time she explored the garden and the peaceful stretch of land around the villa, with the blue Caribbean stretching out to the horizon beyond the sparkling white beach, she wasn’t so enthusiastic about leaving. Islanders waved as they passed along the road beside the villa, and Kate waved back, feeling a part of the green paradise. It gave her a sense of peace, this slow, easygoing pace, as though she’d been running all her life and now, finally, there was all the time in the world to just live—no time clocks, no deadlines, no pressure—just peace and sand and sea.

  Cambridge was already at the table when Yama called Kate in to supper.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded irritably. “Hiding from me?”

  She shrugged as she sat down across from him at the hand-crafted table. ‘It did seem like a good idea at the time,” she admitted quietly.

  He drew in a deep, short breath. “Enjoy what’s left of today,” he said tightly. “Tomorrow we start work in earnest. I want to get this damned book finished.”

  “It shouldn’t take much longer,” she said conversationally as she sipped her coffee, savoring the rich taste of it.

  He nodded. He lifted a forkful of Yama’s filet of sole to his mouth and tasted it. “Fried octopus?” he asked with raised eyebrows.


  Kate smiled in spite of herself. “Filet of sole,” she corrected.

  He drew in a deep, slow breath. “Have Yama take you down to the beach after dinner. You haven’t seen beauty until you’ve watched the moon rise above the Caribbean. It’s a hell of a sight.”

  “Mr. Cambridge….”

  “Why the hell can’t you call me Garet?” he growled, throwing down his linen napkin. “Am I too old to merit a first name basis with you, little girl?”

  She stared into her plate. “I don’t think of you on a first name basis,” she murmured. “You’re the boss.”

  He sighed, and she could feel the barely controlled anger in him. “My God, you make me feel my age.”

  She didn’t answer him, picking at her food with as little appetite as she could ever remember having. He was angry, and it looked very much as if he wanted a whipping post.

  “Kate?” he growled.

  “Yes, sir?” she asked.

  He lifted his coffee cup in a big, steady hand. “I asked her to marry me in this villa,” he said after a minute. “We were watching the moon over the endless sea, and I slid the ring onto her finger. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes, the light in her face…I had eyes, and she wanted me,” he said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have come back here, but I needed to exorcise the ghost, and I couldn’t do it on the lake. Bear with me. Can you do that, Kate? Just…bear with me until I can come to grips with it?”

  “I’m sorry it happened like that for you,” she said in a weak voice.

  “So am I.” He leaned back in his chair, looking darkly satanic in the subdued light. “She was everything I ever wanted in a woman. Beautiful, talented, passionate…her hair was like platinum—long and silky and thick, and she had the bluest eyes…God, I loved her! A month away from the altar, and this had to happen.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “It’s not clearing up. If anything, I’m losing what little vision I managed to retain. The darkness is gaining ground, Kate, and how the hell am I going to make it through life without my eyes?” he asked finally, and the pain was in his voice, in the hard lines of his face.