Promises Keep (The Promise Series) (42 page)

“I’m sorry.” Reaching out, he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I forgot what little legs you have.”

“They’re not little,” Mara argued. “And that etiquette book says you are not supposed to acknowledge the existence of a woman’s limbs.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

Mara shook her head, and reached up just in time to keep her hat from listing to the left. “Nope. We’re supposed to ignore them.”

Continuing down the street, Cougar pulled Mara against his side. “Angel, as tight as your legs were wrapped around my neck last night, there’s no way on God’s green Earth I’d ever be able to ignore them.”

Mara promptly swatted him with her reticule. The little purse bounced harmlessly off his upper arm. “Where are we going?”

“See that house on the corner?” Cougar asked, pointing with his free hand. “The one painted that interesting shade of blue?”

“As bright as it is, and as close as we are, it would be hard not to notice it.”

“Well, that is Millicent Foster’s Boarding House and Eating Establishment.”

“Do you know her?”

“Oh yeah.” He could already smell the food. His stomach growled.

“How?” she asked as they came abreast of the building.

“Millicent Foster makes the best chicken and dumplings you ever want to sink your teeth into, and if she were thirty years younger, she would be serious competition for my heart.”

“You are completely ruled by your appetite,” she grumbled good-naturedly as he held the door open for her.

“I went without enough in the past to not take a good thing for granted.”

“And this Millicent is a good thing?”

He stepped in behind her. “A very good thing.”

The minute Mara stepped into the big dining room, the heavenly aromas of chicken and dumplings, pumpkin pie, and hot coffee surrounded her in a warm hug of welcome. One glance around and she knew instantly why Cougar so obviously enjoyed coming here. The interior of Millicent Foster’s Boarding House and Eating Establishment was as unique as the exterior. Every one of the ten tables was covered with a different cloth. Every pattern was busy and bright, clashing quite happily with the one beside it. The curtains covering the two front windows made no effort to blend with anything else. Everything was just a happy mishmash of oddities. A glance at Cougar showed him to be relaxed, with a happy smile on his face. She was prepared to like Millicent for the simple reason that she’d created a haven in which Cougar felt accepted. She just hoped Millicent would accept her.

“Cougar! Sweetheart! Come on in.”

Mara spun around to confront the owner of that husky voice, only to have her jaw drop to her toes as her gaze encompassed the whole of the woman before her. She was at least six feet tall and nearly as broad. Her hair was an impossible shade of red that rivaled her purple blouse for poor taste. Barely a wrinkle creased the plump face. On her shoulder, she balanced an over-laden tray of dirty dishes.

Cougar’s hand settled into the middle of her spine. She felt its heavy weight with a sense of relief.

“Millicent, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Mara McKinnely.”

“How do you do,” Millicent said in a voice so seductive, grown men would follow it to their graves.

Mara blinked at the contrast between that voice and the woman before taking the hand the woman held out to her. While her hand was in Millicent’s strong grasp, her gaze remained locked on the tray the woman unconcernedly balanced on her shoulder.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” she breathed on a rush of alarm as the huge tray dipped.

Millicent laughed, and her laugh was as seductive as her speech. “Don’t worry about this tray, hon. I haven’t lost one yet, and I’ve been passing out food for twenty years.”

“From what Cougar tells me about your cooking, it would be a crime for any of your food to end up on the floor.” Mara held her smile and her manners. Though Cougar said that he didn’t care what anyone thought of her, this woman was important to him, and so far, not an ounce of approval had shown in the shrewd eyes locked with hers.

“Hey, Millicent! Are you going to gab all day while my food gets cold?”

“Hold your horses, you young upstart, or you’ll not get a crumb at my table!” Millicent ordered without even glancing in the man’s direction. With the slightest shift of her body, Mara determined the upstart was a bear of a man with small, beady eyes, red hair and muscles that just bulged.

“Is there truth to the rumor that she’s the missing woman from Cecile’s?”

As husky as it was, Millicent’s voice carried well. In the split second when Mara’s day shattered, every head in the full restaurant turned to stare at her. Conversation dwindled until all that remained was a hungry silence.

A silence Mara recognized. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She would not be ashamed.

“Goddammit, Millicent,” Cougar growled. “Lower your damned voice.”

The look Millicent sent Mara held an apology. “Sorry, hon.”

Cougar’s arm slipped around Mara’s waist. He tugged. She didn’t go. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t going to walk around cowering.

The sudden silence began to fill with the murmur of voices. The rapid flick and retreat of glances in their direction let her know that she and Cougar were the topic of discussion. Lord, she hated this.

“Let’s go,” Cougar told her, eyeing the room himself, gauging the level of gossip while trying to pull her into the protection of his side.

She stepped away from his hand. “No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re hungry. I’m hungry, and this is my day.”

“We can celebrate at home.”

“You have your heart set on Millicent’s chicken and dumplings.”

She said that as if that settled it.

“I can have them another time.”

She cut him a look that dared him to utter something as stupid again. “There’s no reason we can’t have them now.”

Nothing but the fact that the whole room was speculating on their relationship, and the way they’d met, Cougar thought.

He looked at her, the occupants of the room, and lastly the set of her chin. She had her dander up sure and certain, Cougar knew. He’d seen it in motion too many times to mistake the signs. They weren’t getting out of here short of eating lunch, or a stick of dynamite under her butt. He took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Ah hell. You’re bent on proving a point, aren’t you?”

She removed her hat with quick, efficient motions. “I apologize for my husband’s profanity,” she said crisply to the woman passing by.

The woman didn’t acknowledge the apology or Mara. Despite the fact that the snub had to hurt, Mara kept her chin high and her expression bland. Cougar wanted to shoot them all for treating her this way.

“Damn, hon, I’m sorry,” Millicent said, a frown settling on her face as a couple left their half-eaten meals, shot Mara a contemptuous glance and squeezed past them. The look she cast the man had him returning to the table to drop additional coins before he followed his outraged wife out the door.

“It’s all right, Millicent,” Mara said, moving to the just-emptied table. “People have a right to their opinions.”

Millicent shifted the tray on her shoulder and said in a voice loud enough to carry, “They’d best not be having opinions in my place.”

The silence in the wake of that pronouncement was once again complete.

Cougar had to move quickly to get around Millicent in time to hold Mara’s chair for her. As he leaned forward to push the chair in, he whispered, “You don’t have anything to prove.”

She didn’t answer, but her shoulders stayed ramrod straight and her mouth stayed pressed tight.

He sighed. It was going to be a long lunch.

He turned to take his seat. A gasp from Mara grabbed his attention just as he was sitting. He whipped around in time to see Red Palmer straighten in his seat, his hand jerking out from under the table by Mara’s thighs. Mara’s face was as white as a sheet. She looked the way she had when he’d been courting her. Shell-shocked and desperate. Beneath her fingers, the ridiculous little hat she’d been so proud of crumpled.

Cougar slowly straightened, satisfaction battling rage. At last, something he could do something about.

“You okay?”

Mara nodded, but only a fool would believe it. She was crying those tears again. The ones he couldn’t see. The ones that tore his heart out just the same. All because some asshole thought he could get to him through her. Well, he had, and now there’d be hell to pay.

He retraced the two steps it took him to get between Mara and Red. He smiled at the two men sitting with Red. “You boys might want to move along.”

“Shit, Red, what in hell’d you do?” the skinny wrangler groaned, grabbing a biscuit off the table and leaping to his feet.

The clatter of his chair tipping over brought the other wrangler’s head up from his plate. Horror replaced ecstasy as he spotted Cougar. “You pissed off Gut ’em McKinnely?” he gasped, food flying from his mouth with his words. “Goddamn!”

“He sure ’nough did,” Cougar answered, stretching his smile to encompass all three men. “And now we have to discuss it.”

The older wrangler took one look at his smile and pushed away from the table. “Hell, you’re on your own, Red.”

“Nice company you keep,” Cougar drawled, removing his hat. As if the black Stetson hitting the table were a sign, people started diving for the corners. Plates rattled on tables, chairs overturned, until finally, the only one who remained firmly planted was his wife. Cougar sighed and stepped aside, letting an elderly couple pass.

While he waited, Red stood. Cougar sized him up. Big, mean and stupid. Damned stupid, if he thought he could touch his wife and live.

“Mara,” Cougar drawled, “go to the door.”

Her lips were set in that uncooperative line he was becoming accustomed to, so he wasn’t surprised to hear, “I’m fine right here.”

He cocked a brow at Millicent.

“I’ve got her,” she said, setting her tray on a table and taking hold of Mara’s arm. Before Mara could gather the spit to argue, she was dragged to stand at the door.

From the glare she shot him, she’d have a lot to say about that later.

Later could wait. Right now, he had other things to deal with.

“Same deal as before Millicent,” he called.

“Add another hundred.”

“Done.”

“You planning on chatting with the women folk McKinnely, or did you want to talk to me?” Red asked, hitching up his pants.

Damn, the man was dumb. “Wasn’t planning on talking much,” Cougar admitted, unbuckling his gun belt. “Just inquiring on how much of you I’m allowed to spread across this floor.”

“As if you got call to be spreading anything.”

“You need manners on how to treat a lady.”

“Everyone’s pretty much guessed that lady’s a whore.”

Cougar would have popped him for that, but Red’s back was toward the door and he wasn’t going to risk him being near Mara when the bleeding started. And he was going to bleed. A lot.

“That’s going to cost you,” he informed the other man, who was rolling up his sleeves, anticipation on his face.

Red spat on the floor. “All I see is a lot of talk, McKinnely. All any of us have ever seen is a lot of talk out of you. Especially,” Red dropped into a fighting crouch, ham-sized fists doubled in front of his chest as he started circling, “when it comes to that split tail you’re trying to force on respectable folk.”

Cougar turned with the man, letting the words fuel the anger sliding through him, letting them settle into the familiar, cold clarity of focus that came with it.

“Makes me wonder how much truth there is to that puffed up reputation of yours,” Red goaded.

“No surprise there. Seems every asshole I meet wonders the same thing,” Cougar murmured. Damned, he hadn’t wanted Mara to see this. He turned in place, keeping Red in front of him, waiting until, finally, Red was between him and the big side window. Cougar shifted his weight to his left foot, and averted his eyes, providing Red the opportunity to make his move. As soon as the big man charged, Cougar turned sideways and drove his foot straight into the other man’s chest, using his momentum to throw Red backwards, through the big glass window. Cougar dove after him, pulling his Bowie knife clear as he leapt through the window. He hit the other man hard, driving him through the railing and into the mud of the street. Muck sprayed high as he landed on top of Red, his knees driving into the beefy man’s shoulders, feeling tendons give under the pressure. Red howled in pain.

Cougar braced himself with one hand on the other man’s throat. He squeezed, unmoved by the other man’s choking gasps. He’d hurt and insulted his wife. The fact that Red had done it on purpose to get a rise out of him didn’t lessen the price tag one bit. Cougar held Red’s gaze and brought the knife up. “Stick your tongue out.”

Red choked some more and shook his head. Cougar tightened his grip and waited. The cold, hard ball of anger in his gut ensured he could wait forever. He had the patience of a saint when it came to retribution. It was what had made him so good at his job. It was what had earned him the name Gut ’em. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the crowd spilling from the restaurant. He checked for Red’s cohorts. They stood back, arms folded. He pressed harder on Red’s throat. No one interfered.