Promises Keep (The Promise Series) (14 page)

Cougar felt that slow creep of heat up his neck as Doc turned to leave the room. Damn! The man could reduce him to the age of knee pants and hard candy with just a few chosen words.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Doc warned as he left the room.

Cougar closed the door and turned around. Mara was leaning against the headboard, her arms wrapped around her middle, her mouth set in lines of resignation. From the way she stared sightlessly at the far wall, he knew it wasn’t the cabbage rose print paper that had her attention. Bottom line, she couldn’t have been further away from him than if a canyon yawned between. Suddenly, his dismissal of Doc seemed the height of stupidity. He’d never been long on words and now he’d set himself up to talk a woman round to reason?

He dragged his shirt on, not bothering with the buttons as he stared at Mara, debating his best approach. As he stared, the sleeve of the gown did a slow slide off her shoulder. Every inch of flesh it exposed heightened the image of fragility.

She looked so damned defenseless in the oversized thing that he had the sudden urge to sweep her up and carry her high into the mountains where no other man could find her. Especially that sweet-talking, no-holier-than-he-had-to-be Reverend.

Beneath the quilt, he pulled on his buckskin pants. He tossed the bulky lump of quilt onto the foot of the bed when he was done. Not by a blink of an eyelid did Mara let on that she’d noticed the movement or even that he was still in the room. He ran his hands through his hair. His finger snagged on a snarl. He tugged it out and took two steps to the bed. One of his five minutes was already gone and he hadn’t accomplished anything more than establishing he didn’t know a darned thing about women. After debating the merits of standing or sitting, he opted for the side of the bed as his perch.

“You ready to talk yet?” he asked and immediately winced. It wasn’t the best of opening gambits. He braced himself for her retort, the perverse part of him actually anticipating it. He knew from the last two months that Mara had a wicked sense of humor and a sharp tongue. He’d grown fond of seeing her in action.

The one thing he hadn’t expected was for her not to react at all. Instead of coming at him, she just sat as she was, pretending he didn’t exist. She looked so alone. Almost lost.

The lace window curtains fluttered as a breeze wandered through. A strand of hair blew across her cheek. He brushed it away. It seemed natural from there to let his hand slide down, to follow the bend of her shoulder until it slid over the soft cotton of her nightdress and down over her back. He might have imagined she leaned toward him. Then again, he might not have because when he tested his theory by tugging, she put up no resistance.

He drew her across the mattress until she rested against his chest. The silky swathe of her hair intertwined with the curling hair on his chest. It tickled. He moved the strands aside, before rubbing his hands up and down her arms, the calluses on his palms dragging on the goose bumps she couldn’t hide.

“Are you going to talk to me, Angel?”

There was a long silence. She took a deep breath. He waited. It shuddered back out. She took another deep breath. Again he waited. This time, he wasn’t disappointed. She didn’t look at him, but she at least found her voice.

“You aren’t going away, are you?” she whispered.

“No.”

She seemed to take that hard, the little starch left in her backbone leaking out.

“The others won’t go away either, will they?”

“What others?”

“The others out there.”

He assumed she didn’t mean just the Reverend by the all inclusive gesture she made.

“You want the truth or a lie dressed up pretty?”

She sat up, pushing slightly away from him. “Start with the lie.”

His bark of laughter took him by surprise. “You serious?”

Her sigh pushed his hand on her back against the headboard.

“No. I don’t need to hear a lie.”

“You ready to accept you need to marry me?”

“No.”

“No?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to marry anyone.”

“You can’t go on as you are.”

“I know.”

“In that case,” he pressed, “you need to marry. Once you have the protection of my name, no man would dare even look at you crosswise.”

It must be nice to possess that much self-confidence, Mara thought. To be so convinced the world held you in such awe and respect that they wouldn’t dare say you nay. Her confidence had taken quite a beating lately. There had been a time when she’d thought herself invulnerable, but that illusion had been ruthlessly ripped from her. She sighed. “I need to think on this.”

“What’s there to think about?”

“Not much,” Mara acknowledged as Cougar’s hand slid whisper soft down her spine. “There’s no going back is there?”

That was hard to accept, that she had no choice but to go forward. That what she had been was gone. That this was all that was left, and on this she had to base her choices. “Even if I could go back home, it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

Cougar’s sigh ruffled the hair on the top of her head.

“No.”

She reached up to smooth the hairs flat, bumped her fingers on the prickly beard on his chin, and quickly dropped her hand back to her lap. “It isn’t fair.”

“Life seldom is.”

That was the truth. She thought of her alternatives and knew they were few. She didn’t kid herself. In the time it took to spit, the story of where she’d spent the night would be added to her reputation. Every male around would consider her fair game from here on out. While she could hold off a few, the ones with scruples, there were enough men like the one yesterday who would succeed. She shuddered at the thought.

Mara dropped her gaze to the quilt. The stitches binding the squares were so tiny and intricate. Strong despite their size. Put into the quilt one at a time, with thought and precision. The way she wanted to rebuild her life.

She took a breath to steady her nerves before asking, “You really want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

The matter-of-factness of his reply when she’d been expecting vehemence startled her into looking up. His gaze was steady. Confident. Sincere.

“What kind of marriage do you think this will be?”

“The best I can make it.”

It wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t think he required her cooperation. “Would you be willing to forego…” How did one address these things? He took the matter out of her hands.

“You wanting to know if I’ll stay out of your bed?”

She couldn’t look at him. “Yes.”

“No.”

That was blunt. She risked a quick glance at his face and immediately dropped her gaze back to the quilt. His expression had been hard. Resolute. Not open for negotiations but she had to try. “Maybe just until we get to know one another?”

“No.”

“Well, why not? Surely you see the sense in getting to know one another.”

The slight shift of his head sent his thick black hair sliding over his shoulder. “We’ll either start as we mean to go on or we won’t start at all.”

Which left her between a rock and a hard place. He was the devil she knew, but he was a hard, dangerous, uncompromising man. To the point that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to hold her own with him. But he was an honest man, not given to games. She’d always know where she stood with him. That counted for a lot. She just wasn’t sure it was enough.

“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.