Promises Prevail Page 5

  He made it so hard to remember that she was learning to be strong for a reason. “Just because you say so?”

  His cheek brushed hers as he nodded, his voice as compelling as always, coaxing her to relax. To give in. To him.

  “Yes. Because I say so.” His fingers pressed deeper, working the same magic on the muscle that his voice did on her nerves. Soothing and coaxing, yet somehow commanding. Her leg relaxed and the excruciating agony faded to a throbbing ache.

  “Ah.” The whisper of satisfaction drifted past her ear as the knot let loose. “There you go.”

  He stroked her thigh through her pantaloons, from the top of the scar to the bottom. “And after a night’s rest, you’ll be as good as new.”

  “Why does it matter so much to you?”

  “I’m your husband, father to your daughter.”

  “Just saying it doesn’t make it so.”

  Clint didn’t let his gaze waver from hers, but a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

  “Unless I have the muscle to back it up,” he finished with the part she’d left off. “And Sunshine, I have plenty of muscle.”

  Her big blue eyes widened at that, staring at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Clint didn’t care. He’d been in lust with the voluptuous little optimist since the day he’d seen her standing in front of the mercantile, head bowed, earnestly listening to a set of instructions rapped out by her husband. She’d looked so soft, so inviting, so radiant with some sort of inner glow, that he’d fallen ass-over-band-box, and he was tired of fighting it. Tired of fighting the fate that kept throwing her in his path. Tired of resisting the shy, curious, unconsciously hungry yearning in her eyes when she looked at him. He’d been a selfish bastard since the day he was born. He was pretty much set in his ways at thirty. No sense trying to change things at this point in the game.

  And he wanted Jenna like hell on fire. He knew her husband had been a bastard. Knew more than he would ever tell her on that subject. It was his experience that women tended to marry the same kind of man the second time around. Maybe settling for the devil they knew. He could see Jenna doing that. She didn’t have her feet under her yet. She was scared, hungry, and vulnerable in ways that she didn’t even recognize.

  Jenna deserved better than a repeat of her first marriage. She deserved security. Dignity. Respect. He could give her those things.

  He worked at the lingering tightness under the scar tissue, the softer than soft, unburned flesh on the outside skimming his fingertips, reminding him again of the lushness he coveted. Craved. He cut a glance out of the corner of his eye at her troubled face, keeping his expression blank as he let the reality of his claim sink in. He might be a selfish bastard, but there were three things he knew how to do well—kill, make love, and keep what was his. He’d just claimed this woman and that spiky-haired urchin as his own, before Doc. They belonged to him now. His family. He pictured coming home to Jenna. Waking with her in his bed. He inhaled the rose scent of her shampoo, and felt a small measure of peace settle amidst the turmoil inside. This was right.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about,” he told her as she shifted back.

  He saw her mouth open, and just as quickly saw the caution that had been beaten into her drive the protest away. Her gaze dropped and her husky voice emerged in a whisper. “You don’t have to marry me.”

  “No, I don’t.” But the more he thought on it, the more he wanted it. He moved his fingers down to her knee, being especially gentle there. Stroking and soothing the tired muscles, trying to ease the tension in the rest of her body as she leaned back. He knew she was afraid of his size. So far he couldn’t tell if it was just him or all big men, but one way or another, he’d be getting rid of that fear.

  “I can take care of Brianna on my own.” Her fingers were laced tighter than a cinch in her lap. Her spine was rod straight, but her chin tucked. Hiding her face.

  “No. You can’t.” He cut off her protest with a shake of his head, “You might get by for a few years, but what about when she gets bigger and men start thinking she’s fair game because of her skin color? How will you protect her then?”

  She didn’t have a ready answer. An occasional glimpse of blue told him she was peeking at him from beneath her lashes.

  “What does it matter to you?” she finally asked.

  “I suspect for the same reason it matters to you. She’s little and helpless and needs someone to stand for her.” He shrugged and gave her the truth. “And I’ve a hankering for a family of my own.”

  “I don’t want her hurt,” she said, revealing what he suspected was her greatest fear.

  “Neither do I.”

  “She’ll be hurt when you leave.”

  He circled that for a moment. “Why would I leave?”

  “You’ll get bored. Find something better.”

  He suspected the phrase she really wanted to use was “someone better”. Her knuckles gleamed white under her skin. She really didn’t think much of herself. He put both thumbs on either side of her knee and started sliding them up her thigh. “Then I guess it’ll be up to you to make me want to stay.”

  As he expected, his hands moving up her thigh provided a bit of distraction.

  “What are you doing?” It was practically a squeak.

  “Relaxing your muscles.”

  “I don’t have any muscles there.”

  Yes, she did. Wonderfully enticing ones, but he’d have to save those for another day. He reversed the direction of his hands, stopping when he cradled the rough scar tissue in his palms, just resting his hands on her soft flesh, letting the heat soothe, the contact fluster. He wanted her very aware of him.

  “Jenna?”

  She cut him a quick glance.

  “Look at me.” She did, but he could see what it cost her.

  “I want a family. Someone to come home to. I’m not looking for a grand love. I just want someone I can respect. Someone I can talk to. Someone who thinks about things the way I do. Someone to build a home with.”

  “And you think that’s me?” She couldn’t sound more disbelieving if he’d told her the sky was pink with brown polka dots.

  “Yes.” He patted her thigh and stood. “I want to marry you, Jenna. I want Brianna as my daughter. You just have to make up your mind to say yes.”

  Her hands twisted in her lap. “I don’t know.”

  The confusion on her face told him she wasn’t leading him on. She’d honestly never thought he’d consider her.

  “I haven’t made it a secret I’m looking for a wife.”

  Her eyes narrowed in an involuntary flinch. He studied her more closely. “Surely you had to know I’d get around to asking you out?”

  “Of course not!”

  “You think I’d pick a wife without at least having dinner with the most beautiful woman in the territory?”

  “You never asked me.” Her teeth were worrying her lips, and her glance kept flickering over his face as if searching for clues to his thoughts.

  “I’m asking you now.” He refused to let her look away. “Are you going to marry me?”

  She shoved her skirt down over her thighs. He was beginning to get the idea that it wasn’t him but the act of making a decision that was bothering her. He waited a good two minutes while she fussed with her clothes and the bed linens before she blurted out, “I’ve been married before.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not a…virgin.”

  “I don’t remember that being a requirement.”

  “I’m not very good in social situations.”

  “I don’t throw a lot of parties.”

  “I’m fat.”

  At that, he tipped her chin up. “Look at me.”

  She did, but with reluctance and a great deal of embarrassment.

  “I’m going to speak plainly here because both of us have been around enough to know what matters. I’m a normal man with normal hungers. Probably not much different than your previous husban
d in that respect.”

  That information didn’t appear to soothe her. He slid his fingers around to the side of her cheek. His skin was very dark against hers. “The truth is Jenna Hennesey, soon to be McKinnely, I’ve been hankering to have you in my bed since the first time I saw you.”

  The blush fled her cheeks only to return in a brilliant flare of scarlet. “You have?”

  He wouldn’t have heard that tiny squeak if he hadn’t been listening so closely. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” A long pause and then, “You like fat women?”

  “I’ve always liked you, but you were married and off-limits. Now you’re not.”

  It really was as simple as that, but apparently not to Jenna because her expression went from disbelief to alarm in two blinks of her long, dark lashes. He sighed and tested the softness of her skin with the pad of his thumb.

  “Maybe you’d better tell me what’s got you so worried.”

  “I wasn’t planning on getting married again.”

  “I also imagine you weren’t planning on being a mother, but things change.”

  “Yes. They do.”

  “And you need to make a decision.”

  “Now?”

  “I can give you until I get back with your tea.”

  Indignation flashed across her expressive face to be quickly cloaked. “That’s not much time.”

  “I’m not a patient man.”

  Nor a stupid one. He had the advantage and he had every intention of pressing it.

  “Oh.”

  In the soft syllable, he heard the acceptance she had yet to reach. He touched the curl at her temple. The silken blonde strand caught on his calluses. He tipped his hand and let it slide off. She was his now. The knowledge slid into the emptiness within, stirring it, causing waves of…something to spread out. He fought back the feeling, burying everything except the satisfaction of possession.

  That was one feeling he didn’t mind experiencing. And while he might not have love to give Jenna, he’d treat her better than any man she’d ever met. Better, certainly, than that drunken ass she’d married. He’d respect her, please her, and do his best to make her happy. And no bastard would ever put a mark on her again.

  “I’m going to get your tea.”

  He let his hand drift down her cheek. The warmth of her skin was astonishing. Her lashes fluttered against the back of his knuckles. He looked closer. She was holding herself unnaturally still. No doubt wondering what he was up to. No doubt expecting the worst. No doubt preparing to bolt.

  “Don’t even think about getting out of that bed before I get back.” Her jump told him not only had she thought it, but in her mind was halfway down the stairs. “I mean it Jenna. I’ll paddle your butt if I catch you out of bed.”

  One scared look and she settled down. She’d stay until he got back. He left to fetch her tea from the room across the hall. This room was as baren as the other, showing none of the feminine gewgaws he was accustomed to seeing in a woman’s home. Bare of all the little knickknacks and feminine things that made a woman smile and marked a place as hers. A woman like Jenna should be surrounded by all the delicate pretty things that made her feel special and wanted. He’d have to see that she got them.

  The cup was on the wood crate beside the bed. As he picked it up, he looked at the lined drawer Jenna used as a crib. He ran his hand over the blanket set into the drawer for cushioning. It was damp and smelled faintly of urine. He’d have to do something about that, too. Brianna was bound to have more needs than he could think of right now. From the look of that hair and the strength of her lungs, it sounded like Brianna was going to be a demanding little thing. He pictured the chaos Jenna and Brianna were going to wreak on his quiet, orderly house, and smiled. He was, amazingly, looking forward to it.

  Chapter Four

  Saying something apparently made it so. Jenna stood in the little alcove of the small church six days later and clutched her bouquet in her hands. In about three minutes, she would be wed to Clint McKinnely. She didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or whether to collapse in terror. She was thinking about doing both. She could never, ever win a fight with Clint. Not verbally, and certainly not physically. The man was a walking giant, and he had more muscles than the town blacksmith.

  Her first husband had been muscular too, but slow to react and slow to move, giving her time if he turned ugly. Clint, however, moved with the grace and confidence of a predator. If she ran, he’d catch her. Her chest tightened with panic at the thought. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose.

  She had to have faith. Believe in the rightness of this. Believe God hadn’t deserted her or Bri. She’d told God she’d do anything at all if He’d just show her a way she could keep little Bri. And then Clint was there, offering marriage and security. If that wasn’t an answer to a prayer she didn’t know what was. As much as she didn’t want to invoke Clint’s wrath, she sincerely did not want to annoy the Almighty. So she’d just be a good wife, figure out what Clint needed, and give it to him. And all would be well.

  There was a soft knock at the door.

  Oh heavens! This was it. “Yes?”

  Cougar’s tiny wife peeked around the door, her brown eyes shimmering with excitement. It was easy to see why Cougar loved her. She just sparkled with life. “Are you all set?”

  As much as she’d ever be. “Yes.”

  She wished her voice sounded stronger, but she didn’t want to walk down the aisle in front of the whole town. She didn’t want to feel their pitying stares as she limped along, hear the whispers and speculation as to why Clint would marry someone like her. She’d tried to talk Clint into a quick, private ceremony but he’d just looked at her with those deep, black eyes and said that he was proud of his family and wasn’t getting married in any way that said differently.

  How could she argue with that? He wouldn’t understand how horrible this was. How she hated being on display. A man like him had probably never had an uncertain moment in his life.

  Mara stepped around the door and shut it behind her. Her smile faded. “Are you okay?”

  Jenna tucked the bouquet tighter against her body to hide her trembling hands. “Just a little nervous.”

  “Nervous good or bad?” Mara asked as she came over, stepping around the long train of the gown, straightening the right side.

  Jenna opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. She really didn’t know what to say. She settled for, “I don’t know.”

  Mara stepped behind her and then came around front again. “Heavens that man has an eye.”

  “Who has an eye?”

  Mara glanced up. “Clint.” She twitched a fold of the train into place. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

  Jenna touched the white satin skirt of her dress. “Clint picked out my dress?”

  No wonder he had refused to let her take it back when she’d said it was too fine.

  “Not only did he pick it out, he had to ride eighteen hours straight to get the material here in time for Pearl and her girls to make it up since the freighters wouldn’t be able to get it here until next week.”

  Jenna hid her hands in her bouquet. She hadn’t known. “I told him white wasn’t appropriate for a second marriage.”

  Mara laughed. “Bet he didn’t care.”

  Jenna shook her head. “No.”

  “You’ll find these McKinnely men don’t pay much heed to convention.”

  Jenna gripped the bouquet harder, the stems biting into her palms. “He said he’d never seen a woman more deserving to wear white.”

  Mara smiled. “That’s another McKinnely trait. They see what they want.”

  She felt like such a fraud. “I’m not innocent.”

  Mara stopped fussing with the dress. “Jenna, I imagine Clint knows exactly who you are, and from the way he’s fidgeting at the altar, he’s anxious to have you as his.”

  His. In a month of Sundays, she’d never get used to being Clint McKinnely’s. She jus
t couldn’t wrap her mind around that anymore than she could conceive of Clint fidgeting.

  “I wasn’t planning on getting married again,” Jenna confessed.

  Mara bent to straighten the other side of the train, her cinnamon eyes flashing with wry amusement. “Well, you’re one step ahead of me on my wedding day. I wasn’t planning on getting married at all.”

  Jenna had heard rumors. “Is it true that Cougar compromised you?” Jenna wished the words back into her mouth as soon as they left. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  That was why she never spoke up. She always said the wrong thing.

  Mara laughed and shook her head as she straightened. “Pretty much. These McKinnely men can be very devious in getting their way.”

  “They are persistent.”

  “That, too.” Mara stepped back and put her hands on her slender hips. “I think you’re ready.”

  Jenna’s knees started to knock and she took another breath. She was never going to be ready.

  A sharp rap on the door saved her from having to say anything, which was good, because panic had her too short of breath for words. Another knock at the door and Mara was in motion. Jenna couldn’t see who was behind the door or hear the conversation, but she didn’t need schooling to know people were beginning to wonder where the bride was. Her stomach knotted, knowing the delay would give the townsfolk even more reason to whisper.

  Mara turned back to her. “Ready?”

  Jenna fought back a wave of nausea, took a slow breath, and nodded. Mara opened the door. Doc strode in, his hair, for once, smoothed flat, a smile on his kind face.

  “Well now, it’s easy to see why Clint calls you Sunshine. You look like a bit of heavenly light in that dress.”

  She’d been unsure about the style, but Mara and Elizabeth had been adamant about the cut of the bodice, which showed the tops of her breasts. They had ignored her protests until she’d had no choice but to go along. Now that the dress was fitted, she had to admit that it did make the most of her few assets, but just thinking about all those male guests seeing her in it caused another surge of nausea.