Promises Keep (The Promise Series) (7 page)

There was something about that arrogant defiance that just made him smile and want to wrap her in cotton wool to keep her safe. Unfortunately, accepting his protection seemed something she was loath to do. For two months he’d been trying, and he was no closer today than he’d been at the beginning. At first, he’d thought it a blessing that Mara didn’t remember him from the Pleasure Emporium. Doc said large doses of laudanum had that effect on people, breaking their memories into senseless bits and pieces. He’d figured he could use the memory loss to his advantage, but his relief had died a quick death when it became apparent that Mara’s sole focus was getting enough money together to start over. Somewhere else.

He shook his head. As if he’d let that happen. She might not recognize it yet, since she’d been ducking his attempts at conversation with a quickly muttered “excuse me”, and an equally quick departure, but she was staying put. And not just because of his promise, though that was reason enough. No. She was staying because she intrigued him.

She wasn’t his normal type. She had no breasts, no hips and no confidence. She had no social status and wouldn’t bring anything to his life but scandal. Worse yet, she was terrified of sex, and he was a man of healthy appetites, but none of that seemed to matter when he looked at her. She flashed those eyes, set that chin, overcame another challenge, and he’d be intrigued all over again. So she was staying, and he had to consider how far he wanted to take his promise because something had to be done. Mara could not continue as she was, a woman alone with no man’s claim to protect her.

An unattached woman of questionable background was too much temptation for some men to resist, and though he’d done his best to let everyone know she was under his protection, Mara’s continual snubs were putting her in serious jeopardy.

He stepped to the side to let Cyrus Johnson get past. As the big plow horse Cyrus rode plodded out from the livery, he nodded to the farmer.

“Howdy, Cyrus.”

Cyrus’ response was a nod. Cougar didn’t take offense. Cyrus was as tight with his words as with his money, but he was a likable sort for all that. Lousy at cards though, which was a shame because the man had a penchant for playing that landed him in hot water with his wife. A body could always tell when Cyrus landed on the wrong side of his wife’s tongue. He’d turn up the next day in town, buy a pound of penny candy, and leave as quickly as he’d come. It happened so regularly, men had taken to betting on the dates the same way they’d bet on births. It’d been a month since Cyrus’ last candy purchase. From the set of the older man’s shoulders, it appeared that money would be changing hands tomorrow.

Cougar chuckled and resumed his search of the opposite side of the street. This time of day, Mara would be heading for the restaurant where she washed dishes. The woman worked from sunup to sundown, and he wasn’t sure she didn’t work the hours in between.

Another wagon lumbered past. While he waited for it to get out of the way, he noted he was beginning to sweat. He moved his arms away from his body. Things were going to be tough enough without him adding aromas of his own to the mix.

The wagon cleared his sight. In the same split second he spotted Mara, he saw the cowboy confronting her. The wrangler had his hand around Mara’s arm. Cougar saw her tug to get free. He saw the man yank her back. He saw the frantic glance she cast at the nearby group of men. He saw two of the four men look the other way. Another pretended indifference while the last stepped closer to view the show.

Cougar settled his black Stetson more firmly on his head. For too long, he’d been forced by society’s rules to stand aside while the citizens of this town directly or indirectly tormented a woman with more guts than sense. While no one could be sure that Mara had come from The Pleasure Emporium, enough rumor had followed her from Cattle Crossing to Cheyenne to make the less scrupulous think they could take advantage. He’d been biding his time, waiting for Mara Kincaid to acknowledge his interest, to make it known to everyone that she accepted his protection, but enough was enough.

He stepped between riders and wagons. He sighed as muck squished over the tops of his brand new “courting” boots. If he was a superstitious man, he’d take it as a bad omen, but he wasn’t superstitious. He was just damned tired of waiting. Mara was his. He wanted her in his bed. In his life. He wanted that stubborn, opinionated little spitfire like hell on fire and he’d stopped questioning why after the first month. It wasn’t the circumstances surrounding their meeting, and it wasn’t the fact that she’d made him come when no one else had. It was the woman herself that called to him. Just looking at her gave him pleasure, and watching her move could set his back teeth to aching and his cock straining in his pants.

The cowboy grabbed Mara’s arm again with fingers so dirty and tanned, they were almost invisible against the brown material of her dress. The contrast between the size of that hand and the thinness of the arm it encircled enraged Cougar. He could imagine how frightened she was. The frantic glance she cast his way spurred him on. There was an acceptance in that look that made his blood heat. She would not lump him in with the rest of the worthless scum who didn’t know how a woman should be treated.

The cowboy jerked her up short, slamming Mara against the storefront. Her angry shout coincided with her shoulder hitting the building. The cowboy really shouldn’t have done that, Cougar decided. That was going to cost him. Big time. He could have let the rest go, putting the loss of judgment down to too long on the trail and too long at the bottle, but no one manhandled his woman. No one.

Cougar had about ten more steps to go before he came into the cowboy’s view. He hoped that Mara would restrain herself long enough for him to come to her rescue. It was a pretty slim hope. When push came to shove, she had a habit of striking first and being cautious later.

He watched Mara’s chin come up almost fatalistically. He started to run, but it was too late two steps into the decision, because along with her chin came the parcel in her hand. There was the sound of breaking glass as it smashed into the cowboy’s face and then all hell broke loose.

The cowboy’s retaliation was quick and sure. While still reeling from the impact, he struck Mara in the side with his fist. She smashed back against the storefront, her head cracking the glass pane in the window. For a moment, she held still, her expression frozen before she drifted slowly, like a discarded feather, to the ground.

With a roar, Cougar leapt on the wrangler, seeing nothing but red as the image of that huge fist connecting with that tiny body repeated itself in his head. With every repetition, he pummeled his victim harder, searching for all the vulnerable places where he knew the effect of his two hundred pound frame would be felt the most.

It took four men to pull him off the useless skunk. When he looked down, there was a spot on the man’s cheek that was clean. The sight of it insulted him.

“Take it easy, McKinnely,” one of the men growled when Cougar’s elbow connected with his stomach. “For all her airs, she’s just a whore.”

With great satisfaction, Cougar felt his knuckles split as they connected with the man’s teeth.

“Anyone else got an opinion?” he asked as he turned, silently challenging any of the rest to open their mouths and say something equally as stupid. As one, they threw up their hands and backed off. That suited him just fine.

He stepped over to where Mara lolled against the building. Her eyes were closed, and he got a sick feeling in his gut. Spirit aside, she was a tiny thing. A mere nothing against a man’s fist. Lightly tapping her cheeks, he was gratified to note her breathing was regular, if a little wispy. Holding her cheeks between his big palms, he eased his face close to hers. Each word was precisely enunciated.

“Miss Kincaid? Can you hear me? I’ve got to get you to Doc.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “No.”

The response was weak, but her chin shot up and defiance entered her gaze. Cougar didn’t know whether she was denying going with him or hearing him. In the end, he figured it didn’t matter. From the wetness on his fingertips, he figured the back of her head had been cut by the glass.

He gentled his voice, trying to suppress the anger edging his drawl while his thumbs smoothed across the skin drawn too tightly over her high cheekbones. “I’m sorry I didn’t get across the street fast enough to prevent this.”

Was it his imagination or was that a “bullshit” he saw her lips shape? His mouth quirked up at the thought. “You’re going to have to trust me, Miss. At least until we get out of here.”

There was no marked change in her face, so close to his. Cougar shook his head. The woman was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, the rags she wore tossed well above her ankles. She was barely able to breathe, yet she still clung to her dignity like a child clutching a blanket.

“I’m going to have to carry you,” he explained in the face of another violent shake of her head that had her moaning. “There’s no way you can get there yourself.”

He settled back on his heels as he slid his hands around her body. “Though I suppose I could bring Doc to you, but he’d have to unbutton your dress to check your ribs, and that would draw a crowd. On a hot day like today, the last place I want to be is corralled on the street with a bunch of sweaty, leering wranglers.”

This time there was no mistaking the words her lips were twisting around, even if he hadn’t managed to catch the breathy, “Go to Hell.”

He laughed as he very gently lifted her up. Her chin went up two degrees higher. He looked down and his laughter lingered. Delicate was not a word a body used to describe a chin like that. Pugnacious, yes, but delicate, never. In the last two months, he’d developed a real liking for pugnacious.

“I can walk,” she gasped.

Her face was waxen. The limbs draped across his arms trembled and she couldn’t get a decent breath to swear at him, yet she intended to walk clear across town to Doc’s office? “Yeah. Right.”

That chin crept up another notch. “If you will just put me down, I will prove it to you.”

“You can prove anything you like when we get to Doc’s.”

“If you don’t put me down, Mr. McKinnely, I’m going to hurt you.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, the hand trapped between their bodies was groping for his privates. A surge of tenderness snuck up on his blind side.

“Well, I’m not going to hurt you,” he countered quietly as he stepped back down into the muddy street. In this position, she wouldn’t be able to reach her target. In this position, she was pretty much defenseless. Her hand retreated as she realized it, too.

Cougar watched resignation creep over her face. She expected him to carry her off to some dark corner and have his way with her. The terror of that was there in her eyes right along with her determination to prevent it. Her lips quivered once before tightening resolutely. She would fight him with whatever she had. Damn, she was something.

“Take heart, Angel,” he murmured, his gaze trapping her cinnamon-brown eyes. “Everything’s going to be all right from here on out. You’ve got my word on it.”

With a slow movement, she shook her head. There was no way she’d given up the fight.

He ignored the negative. “That’s right. You trust me from here to Doc’s office, and I’ll prove to you that not every man in this town is so eager to get under your skirts that they can’t remember how a decent woman is supposed to be treated.”

She avoided his gaze. “I’m not decent.”

“Well,” he admitted, “I’ll allow that you’re not showing your best, but it’s nothing a good bath and a mirror wouldn’t fix.”

The repercussions of his light humor had her gaze slamming back into his. Her mouth opened and closed. Once. Twice. On the third attempt, she just huffed and glared at him. From deep within, her eyes lit with anger. The sight held his attention.

Her features were even, her nose small, her mouth full and wide. In short, she was pretty enough, but it was her eyes that drove him crazy. Brown, lit with a touch of fire, they screamed every thought she suppressed, and belied the delicacy of her face and body. The woman was all grit and determination. She’d make a hell of a wife. A hell of a mother. And a hell of a lover if she brought that fire to his bed.

He met the anger in her gaze with calm. She didn’t understand it yet but it was a misplaced emotion. He wasn’t an easy man or necessarily a civilized one, but he was a man a woman could put her trust in. He couldn’t keep her safe from a distance. He couldn’t keep her safe following polite rules. The only way he could keep her safe was to make his claim public. Which he intended to do as soon as possible.

“If you weren’t such an impulsive little thing, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all,” he pointed out. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as she uttered an “Excuse me?” that would have done a schoolmarm proud.

“Well, if you’d waited long enough for me to get my boots unstuck from the mud,” he continued, “I’d have taken care of that yahoo for you.”

An unladylike, very sarcastic snort was her response. “I suppose you’d have been right in line behind the rest of this town’s inhabitants?”

He stopped in front of the door to Doc’s office. He glanced down into her belligerent face. “Now that’s where you’d be wrong.”

He shifted her weight in his arms so he could reach the door latch. “I’d be heading up the line and putting as much distance between them and me as possible.”