Promises Keep (The Promise Series) (8 page)

He deposited her in the chair just inside the door. He wasn’t too surprised to see her chin still reaching for the sky or her fists clenched in her lap. The town hadn’t been too open to her arrival on their doorstep. He’d done everything he could to ease her acceptance, but too many people suspected where she’d come from for it to go smoothly.

“Mr. McKinnely, I have a fair idea why you have gone to all this trouble, and,” her eyes met his bravely, “I’m afraid you have been wasting your time. I am not going to fall into your lap like a ripe plum just because you happen to display a shred of human decency.”

Cougar shrugged. “My luck has never been that good.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve always had to fight for what I want,” he elaborated on his way to the far wall where Doc had scribbled a message on a slate board. Doc had offices in three towns. A message system was the only way to keep track of him.

She didn’t like the sound of that, Mara decided. She pulled herself upright, ignoring the pain in her head and her ribs. “I’ll thank you not to want me.”

He didn’t even spare her a glance over his shoulder as he calmly stated, “That’d be like telling me not to breathe.”

She swallowed back a gasp. It wasn’t what he said but more the way he said it that started her stomach churning. This wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a determined male, but this was the first time she’d had to deal with one that made her feel…unsure. Maybe it was the sheer size of him that intimidated her.

He was tall, but also big-boned. The breadth of his shoulders made her heart trip in dismay. If he ever decided he wanted her, there was no way she could escape. Not like when that skinny Orville had presumed too much. A right to the chin combined with a knee to the groin had convinced him he’d been mistaken.

Her fingers tangled in the material of her skirt as McKinnely turned to face her. The determination in his deep gold eyes nearly made her rip open the side seam she’d repaired last night. Word was that once McKinnely decided he wanted something, not even the devil could dissuade him. She’d heard somewhere that he’d spent time as a marshal. She bet he’d been a good one. There was a ruthlessness about him that scared her silly. She absolutely could not have him wanting her.

He took two steps in her direction, and she leapt to her feet. The sudden move made her ribs scream like she wanted to. She put the chair between them, and then laughed out loud at her lunacy. An entire army troop wouldn’t stop this man if he wanted her, let alone the flimsy ladder-back chair she’d chosen as protection.

The feel of a callused palm sliding across the back of her hand choked off the hysterical laughter more effectively than if that hand had slid across her mouth. Paralyzed, she closed her eyes and garnered her courage.
I am a Kincaid. I will survive this.

The hand continued its slow glide. Equally callused fingers encircled her wrist and tugged. The floorboards creaked as he took the step necessary to bring him alongside. Despite her best intentions, a gasp escaped as McKinnely surely, inexorably brought her against his belly. His hand cupped the back of her head. She braced herself for the pain that would tear through her scalp when he curled his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back for the descent of his mouth.

Instead, his hand pressed her cheek against his chest. He smelled of soap, tobacco and something else. Something uniquely male. Something uniquely him. Something pleasant. Enticing. Beneath her ear, she heard his heart’s steady rhythm. She heard his breath escape in a long sigh and felt her hair part where that breath blew across her head.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Miss Kincaid.”

Thrown off balance, she could only ask, “Why?”

The fingers on the back of her head threaded through the shambles of her bun and massaged small circles on her scalp. “Because it’s not my way.”

Two hairpins hit the floor with little pings of protest. Mara closed her eyes against the urge to melt into the first kindness she’d experienced in a long, long time. “It’s been my experience that men and women define hurt differently.”

“I wouldn’t base the opinions of a lifetime on the last few months if I were you.”

It was probably a trick caused by the way his chest muffled his voice, but somehow his tone sounded kinder and gentler than she’d remembered from their previous encounters. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t allow it and that fueled her anger more than a slap ever could. “Well, you’re not me, and until you’ve been drugged, torn apart by a man’s lust, and then ostracized because of it, you’ve no right to think anything.”

Was that her imagination, or did the man just wince?

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

So was she, but that didn’t change anything. “Let me go, Mr. McKinnely.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes. You can. All you have to do is drop your hands to your sides and keep them there.”

His response to her snapping was a laugh that rumbled up from deep within. “If I do that,” he pointed out in a reasonable voice, “you’ll fall.”

He was right. For all her belligerence, her body was resting against his as if he was the sole support in a world gone awry. Her face flooded with heat. She pushed herself away. Mara ducked her head in the hopes that her hair would hide her embarrassment.

It was a vain hope.

Cougar chuckled and steadied her with a hand to her shoulder. “Doc’s back at his place,” he said. “We’re going to have to get you out there.”

She slowly straightened and flicked at his hand with her fingers. “You may go anywhere you like,” she snapped. “I’m staying here.”

“You are going with me.” He slid his hands around her body, lifting her up.

The ease with which he sidestepped her wishes struck a raw nerve. The gentleness with which he accomplished it was even more galling. She didn’t understand him, nor did she want to. She just wanted him to go away. Wrapping her fingers in the chest hair peeking between the dangling buttons on his shirt, she twisted viciously, wanting to hurt him the way he was hurting her with his casual arrogance. “Let me down, you, you—”

“Bastard?” he supplied with a lift of his brow. “Son of a bitch?”

“Yes.” She twisted harder. She knew it had to hurt, yet he gave no sign. Unless the broadening of his smile could be considered one. Leaning forward, she bit him in the hard muscle of his chest. Let him ignore her now.

He swore and stopped moving. Mara bit down harder, bracing her body for the blow to come.

A thumb and finger surrounded her face and then applied force to her jaw. There came a point when she had to admit his greater strength and unlock her teeth. The body beneath hers was tense, the muscles corded. She could feel him staring at her as he tilted her face up. Finally, she couldn’t stand the tension any longer and she opened her eyes. To her surprise, his hand wasn’t raised to strike.

She searched his dark face for anger and found none. There was only a strange sorrow and something else. Something so disgusting, she wanted to kill him.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare pity me!”

He took the bandana from around his neck with his right hand and dabbed at the blood on her mouth.

“Why not?” he asked, transferring the bandana to his chest where he scrubbed with a lot less gentleness. “Nothing much more pathetic than attacking someone who’s trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” she growled.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, seeing as how I was raised that a man doesn’t desert a lady in distress.”

“I am not a lady, and I am not in distress.”

“Uh-huh.”

She was tempted to point out that the only distress she was in was caused by him, but her brief stint with lunacy was apparently over. Angering him while he had her in his arms was no longer desirable. The man was a keg of dynamite. She could tell that from the energy pulsing beneath his skin. She just couldn’t figure out what would set him off. An unknown enemy was a dangerous one. She forced the anger out of her tone.

“Mr. McKinnely, I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’m truly all right now. If you’ll put me down, I’ll be on my way.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, the look he shot her was reproachful.

“I’ll put you down as soon as Doc says it’s all right. That was a hell of a shot you took.” His eyes ran the length of her body. “And there’s not much of you to go around.”

Not much to go around? Where on Earth did he plan on…spreading her? She lifted her chin, put on her most off-putting expression, and stated with cool implacability, “I assure you, Mr. McKinnely, I am perfectly fine. Bruised at the most.”

A muscle along the side of his jaw snapped tight. “That’s something we’ll let Doc decide.”

“Where do you get this ‘we’ from? I should know how I feel.”

He ignored that. He shot a glare out the window as he hitched her up in his arms. “It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“At last we agree on something. Now, if you could just see your way to being reasonable.” She pushed tentatively at his chest. Nothing happened.

“I’m always reasonable,” he said as he shifted her weight in his arms.

That was debatable. Mara took a calming breath. She could see that he was taking special care not to jostle her more than necessary. Still, it hurt. The minute she gasped, she had his full attention and an apology. She wanted neither.

“Mr. McKinnely, I can see that you are a true gentleman. I’m grateful you stepped in and put an end to that cowboy’s insult.”

“Sweet-talking me isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re right fond of that expression, aren’t you?” He grabbed a black shawl that was hanging on a peg and draped it over her, before continuing, “I’m not putting you down until Doc says it’s okay. And leave that on.”

Mara kept on pushing at the shawl. “It’s hot enough to fry an egg out there.”

“You might be in shock.”

“For the last time, Mr. McKinnely, I am perfectly fine.”

He snagged the edge of the shawl with his fingers, stopping its tumble. “I’m not taking any chances.”

“Nobody is asking you to.”

“I made you a promise, Miss Kincaid. I intend to keep it.”

All this hassle was because of some promise she didn’t remember? Lord help her! “What promise?”

He paused in reaching for the door. This close, Mara could see the wrinkles fanning out from his eyes above the sharp plane of his cheekbones. His Indian ancestry was evident in the darkness of his skin and the blue-black sheen of his long hair as it fell on either side of his face in a thick curtain, framing his rugged features. She followed the flow of his hair from his wide forehead to the sharp edge of his cheekbones, down the flat planes of his cheeks to his full, purely masculine lips. And there she paused, her attention caught by the way his mouth lifted slightly at the corners as if in anticipation of a smile. It just seemed so at odds with what she’d heard about him. What her fear said about him. What she knew about him. This was a very, very dangerous man.

She looked at his mouth again and then back at his eyes. At the lines that she knew in her gut were caused by laughter rather than long hours spent in the sun. And adjusted her assessment. Cougar McKinnely was a very dangerous man, but apparently, he was also a dangerous man who liked to laugh.

He dipped his head until his nose tapped hers, bringing her attention back to here and now. She forced herself not to look away from the intensity of his gaze as he uttered with the utmost sincerity, something impossible to believe.

“I promised you everything is going to be all right from here on out.”

Chapter Five

Everything was going to be all right. The intriguing, totally ludicrous thought lingered in Mara’s mind. She pondered it silently as Cougar took her to the livery stable and rented a buckboard. She pondered it while he refused to listen to every argument she had as to why she didn’t need to be taken to Doc’s place. She pondered it in the face of the proprietary hovering Cougar seemed determined to maintain. She pondered it not only because it was enticing, but also because pondering that theory helped her to ignore the panic that surged through her with every turn of the buckboard’s wheels.

The residents of Cheyenne might not have been the most gracious, but in their midst, she’d been able to maintain an illusion of safety. Here, on the road out of town, there was nothing but woods, fields and crickets.

The buckboard hit another one of those large bumps that made up the road. Despite the musty corn shuck mattress Cougar had retrieved from Lord knows where, the jarring hurt and a low moan escaped. Cougar turned in his seat.

“Sorry about that.”

Her “I’m fine,” went ignored as he pulled on the reins. The buckboard came to a halt. In the time it took her to blink in slow resignation, he was down off the seat and coming around the wagon bed.

“Just this once, couldn’t you take my word for it that I’m fine?”

He vaulted up onto the wagon. “Nope.”

She frowned as he rested his hand on her forehead. “Why not?”

His hands slipped down to where she was clutching the gray blanket he’d tossed over her. “Because you lie.”