Promises Keep (The Promise Series) (18 page)

She felt his lips purse and then spread in a smile before he moved a fraction away. “Go ahead.”

“Eight.”

The tension left her body with the word. Two more to go. Certainly nothing to get worked up about. Especially since the only thing she had to worry about was resisting the urge to yawn when he dragged it on too long.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

She looked at him. There was nothing on his face to suggest he was up to anything. She stared him straight in the eye as she asked, “Is it necessary?”

He flicked her nose with his. “Yes.”

What harm could it do? “Fine.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders. The hard, broad curve of muscle forced her palms flat. She squeezed experimentally. There was no give. He was an incredibly strong man. Fear flared for a moment. She squashed it.

She’d picked this path for herself. Before God she’d made vows. He was her husband. She had no right to deny him anything. It said so in the Bible and in the law of the land. She closed her eyes, gave him her trust and tilted up her face.

Something warm and wet touched the corner of her mouth.
His tongue?
The resulting sensation jerked her back and curled her fingers into the flesh beneath them. Before she could decide whether she liked the streak of feeling or not, Cougar was asking, “How many?”

“Nine.”

“One more to go.” His drawl slid along her awareness. She kept her eyes closed and held her breath. She had no idea what he would do next, but if she had a choice between the boring kiss and the streaky kiss, she opted for the latter.

She felt him lean toward her. Her hands naturally slid down his back. His chest brushed hers as his breath touched her face. Her breath threatened to explode from her lungs, and still he held them so. She drew her fingers up his back in silent encouragement. Every fiber of her being strained to detect a sign of what he planned. Beyond a quiet “ah”, he gave no indication.

Finally, when her nerves were stretched so tight, she was ready to scream, she felt that same moist attention to the other corner of her mouth. Only this time, it was more acute. She pulled Cougar closer, not wanting him to draw away before she understood the nature of the feeling.

He didn’t. Instead, he did something more, something that drew out the pleasurable sensation. Something that made goose bumps chase down her arms and chest. Her “oh” of surprise mingled with his muffled exclamation as she jerked him closer in a reflexive response.

The tips of her breasts brushed his chest. The same sensation curling down from her mouth radiated outwards from their tips and a whole new set of goose bumps paraded across her skin.

Cougar pulled away. “How many?” he asked, his voice husky and deep.

“Ten.”

The bed shifted as he got to his feet.

“Damn, that’s a pretty sight.”

Mara opened her eyes. She looked where he was looking, and saw the tents her nipples made against the white cotton of her nightgown.

“Oh God!” Why had she been cursed with such big nipples? She grabbed the sheet and pulled it over her head.

“It’s all right, Mara.” Through the sheet, she saw his shadowy form, standing by the bed. “I’m your husband.”

“I have news for you, McKinnely. That does not make everything all right with me.”

“A man could hope.”

“And hell could freeze over,” she rebutted. Because the sheet didn’t seem thick enough to disguise them, she put her hands over the peaks of her breasts.

A narrow shadow stretched over her head. The sheet was snatched off her head and she was suddenly sitting exposed in the soft lamplight. It happened so fast, she could only blink at first, staring at Cougar whose gaze dropped to where her hands covered her breasts. His smile edged with something darker. He dragged the sheet down her body, exposing her nightgown and a good deal of thigh. Mara had to scramble to cover her knees and calves with her nightgown.

She moved too fast and her ribs protested. She had to stop with her left calf and foot still exposed. She leaned back against the headboard, holding her side, panting slightly.

Cougar’s hand replaced hers just below her knee. His skin was dark against her white flesh, his hand massive compared to her small frame.

“Looks like Dorothy and Doc are staying in town for the night,” he said, his calm drawl giving no indication that he saw the panic that raced through her with the statement.

It was their wedding night. They were alone. And her husband was standing by her bed with his hand on her leg. Mara took a deeper breath as the pain in her ribs eased. It helped ease the tension in her body.

Cougar smoothed her nightgown down over her ankles, restoring her modesty.

“I’ve got to go out and get the stock settled. Why don’t you get some rest while I’m out?”

“I’m not tired.”

He paused at the bedroom door. His left brow kicked up, and his lips twitched with a smile.

“You’re going to be.”

Chapter Nine

Cougar slipped quietly back into the bedroom. He was a married man. This was his wedding night, and his bride was passed out cold in the hard chair set up beside the bed, her head resting on the quilt. He stepped up beside her. Her hair glowed in the light from the oil lamp. Thick and wavy, it spread around her like a living thing. He touched his hand to the spot where her hair parted and he could see the three stitches Doc had neatly placed. Around the stitches, blood still matted in her hair.

He grazed the back of her cheek with the back of his hand. The soft, almost invisible hairs there tickled his knuckles. Her skin appeared the softest cream. He still wasn’t sure why she’d married him, but she had and now she was his to protect and to care for. And right now, that included a bath.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he whispered.

She blinked at him owlishly, caught between sleep and wakefulness. He slid one hand under her hips. The other behind her shoulders.

“I fell asleep?” she asked as he eased her forward.

“Yes.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Good.” He lifted her into his arms, surprised again by how light she was.

“Wherever it is we’re going, I can walk there.”

“It’s our wedding night.”

She put a hand over her mouth, stifling a yawn. “So?”

“Every bride gets carried over the threshold.”

She looked around the McKinnely living room. “I don’t think this qualifies.”

“I’m improvising,” he answered, stepping around a footstool.

He could tell from the tension in her muscles that she was coming fully awake. He let her legs slide down his thighs as he reached the water closet door. He bent his legs so hers could touch the floor. He kept one hand on her shoulder as he opened the door.

Steam wafted out. Along with it came the scent of the rose-scented bath salts he’d put in the water. Mara froze under his hand, her eyes glued to the claw-foot tub Doc had special ordered for Dorothy. It was deep and big. And it was as full as Cougar could get it without drenching the floor. Looking at Mara and the depth of the tub, he might have overdone it.

“You prepared a bath for me?”

There was shock in the question. Amazement. And a longing that went way beyond deep. He’d thought she’d enjoy a bath for the simple reason that she was an intensely feminine woman and all women liked baths, but now he wondered how long it had been since she’d had a real bath. The boarding house charged two bits for the luxury, and he knew Mara hadn’t had a cent to spare.

“Yes.”

She turned to face him. Her eyes were huge, as if she were seeing him for the first time and couldn’t reconcile what she saw with what she knew.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Or at least it would be.

She was still staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“My bath is getting cold.”

She wanted him to leave. He hadn’t intended to do that. The whole time he had been in the barn, he’d been fantasizing about getting his hands on her hot little body, but now, looking at her, the anticipation in her eyes, knowing this was something she’d longed for, he knew he would wait a little longer.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

She was shutting the door in his face before he could get the last word out.

“I won’t.”

* * * * *

He gave her a half hour while he cooled his heels in the parlor. Every splash of water, every soft, pleasured sigh had his cock aching, and impatience creeping over his good intentions. When the gentle splashes and soft murmurs dissolved to silence, and did not resume for ten minutes, he quietly opened the door.

Mara was lying against the back of the tub, eyes closed. Her skin was flushed a soft pink from the heat of the water that lapped at her shoulders. Her knees peeked up through the water at the middle. She had the prettiest knees.

He removed his shirt and stepped up behind her. He slid his hands over the slick flesh of her shoulders. Their rounded tops cupped neatly in his rougher palms. She jumped and her head whipped around. He held her in place with his hands as he knelt behind her.

“Enjoying your bath?” His chin brushed her head as he slid his hands down her arms and then back up. Her skin was soft and slick.

The flush flooded her chest and then spread up to her cheeks. He had to admire her gumption when she held her ground and retorted, “I was.”

“Good.” He reached over her shoulder and took the cloth and soap from the metal shelf. Keeping her bracketed in his arms, he worked a thick lather into the cloth.

“Scoot up.”

“I already cleaned myself.”

“And now it’s my turn.”

He put the soap back on the shelf and waited. She took three deep breaths. The last she held and then slowly released it as she inched her body upwards. She stopped with the tips of her breasts still covered.

“A little more.” He really wanted to see those breasts.

“That’s all there is.”

It took him a second to realize she meant she was sitting as straight as she could. The chuckle surged out of the wave of lust beating at his control. “I keep forgetting you’re just a little bit of a thing.”

“Not everyone can be a giant.”

“I can work around it.”

She didn’t seem comforted by the thought. She folded her arms across her chest under the water. “Lucky me.”

He smiled and started rubbing the cloth across her shoulder, following it with his free hand down the curve of her arm until he got to her bent elbow. With insistent pressure, he worked her arm free and stretched it out above the water. Her arm felt so fragile in his hand, but beneath the supple skin he could feel the muscles were stiff with tension. She was scared stiff but trying not to show it. He slipped his fingers between hers, clenching and unclenching his hand, working at the tension in hers, easing the muscles, trying to relax her.

“You remember I told you I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“I meant it.” He placed her hand on the side of the tub.

“I know.”

He paused with his hand on her opposite shoulder. “You do?”

“Everyone says you are a man of your word.”

He ran his hands and the cloth over her left arm, raising it out of the water, sliding his fingers through hers, massaging and then placing her hand on the opposite side of the tub. Her hands clenched the side of the tub as a lifeline, betraying her tension. He leaned forward, sighing internally as the soft skin of her shoulders snuggled into the hard muscles of his chest. Her tremor was almost imperceptible. He slid his work-roughened hands over the backs of hers, sliding his fingers back and forth over hers, letting her get used to the feel of him. The scent of her skin and the soap rose with the steam from the water. The rim of the tub pressed into his chest as he ran his lips over the curve of her ear.

“You married me based on other people’s say-so?”

“Yes,” she stammered.

He slid his fingers up the underside of her arms. Her flesh was delicate and smooth beneath his. Damp and silky. Feminine and dainty. He retraced his path, drawing his fingers along the sensitive flesh until he reached the point where her arms met her chest. In the wake of his fingers, a trail of goose bumps popped up. “Risky.”

He tickled the crease between her breast and her arm, and smiled as she jerked against him. He easily absorbed her start, his heavier frame providing her with a cushion against harm. Her nipples beaded tight and the goose bumps doubled in numbers.

Through the water, he could just make out her nipples as they thrust out. Using the backs of his nails, he trailed a path down her ribs until he got to her waist. She jerked as his chest hair rasped against her smooth skin, and tried to sink under the water.

“Steady,” he soothed, opening his hands and catching her by the hips to pull her back up.