Promises Prevail Read online

“It’s snowing outside.”

  “I know.”

  She buttoned the top two buttons of her cloak, the others having long since disappeared. “It’ll get wet.”

  “It’s supposed to get wet.”

  She reached in her pocket to pull out her knitted gloves. “I’m not having my brand-new cloak get wet and muddy.”

  Clint took the gloves out of her hand and tossed them on the table. “I’m not having my brand-new wife get cold.”

  “This cloak is fine.”

  “That cloak is only fit for fire starter.”

  “I made this cloak myself.” Maybe it wasn’t fancy but she’d scrimped and saved and taken beatings to get the money for the material. It had seen her through four winters just fine.

  “Now you’ve done it.”

  “Shut up Asa,” Clint growled.

  Jenna added her own glare from under her lashes as the big gunslinger leaned with indolent grace against the doorjamb.

  “Just trying to point out that you can’t win arguing with a woman about her clothes,” Asa mentioned, faking injury when his wife slapped his midsection. As if Elizabeth’s fist could make a dent in his big frame.

  Clint held out his hand. “I’m not insulting your clothes, Jenna. I just want you warm.”

  She ignored the order in his outstretched hand and tucked the thin material closer around her. “I’m warm.”

  She thought she detected a softening in his dark eyes, but then the wind howled and shook the building’s windows. Clint’s jaw set. “Not as warm as you’re going to be if you don’t hand me that cloak.”

  “Oh that will make for a right companionable wedding night,” Asa laughed.

  Elizabeth’s “You’re not helping” carried clearly. Just as clearly as Asa’s “Wasn’t aware I was trying to help”.

  A muffled snort came from Cougar. Jenna had a strong suspicion that he was laughing but then he slapped his chest and coughed. He could have just swallowed wrong.

  She knew she was going to have to back down. She’d been foolish enough to make the confrontation public and no man gave ground when faced with an audience. She used to be smarter than this, but six months of peace and that moment in the church had apparently dulled her wits.

  She unbuttoned the cloak. Clint’s approving nod grated on her nerves as she handed it to him. She expected him to throw it on the floor. Instead, he folded it and set it on top of the basket.

  “Thank you.” He held the luxurious cloak out again.

  “For what?”

  “Sparing me worry.”

  She stared at him. He would worry? “You’re welcome.”

  Jenna tried not to step back as he snuggled the hood under her chin. The whole cloak was lined with soft fur. It was the most luxurious thing she’d ever seen, and it felt as good as she’d always imagined decadence would.

  He tugged at the cloak around her hips. She stumbled forward. He placed a pair of shearling mittens in her hands. “These should keep your hands warm.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to resent him for forcing his way, but at the same time, she couldn’t ever remember a time when someone had worried about her, let alone made sure she was comfortable. It made her feel strange. Beholden. She didn’t like it.

  She yanked the mittens on. She was warm, draped in luxury, and surrounded by kind people who wished her well. It was nothing like her first wedding. Nothing like what she was used to. She just wanted to find a corner and hide. Instead, she pasted a smile on her lips.

  “I want to thank you all for coming and wishing us well.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Cougar said, as if he hadn’t been cautioning Clint against her just hours before.

  Clint shrugged into his coat, looking bigger than ever beneath the bulky shearling. He reached for his hat while his free hand settled on her back. She was taking a step toward the door before she realized he hadn’t intended to push her along. He was just doing as every other male in the place. Touching his woman.

  Oh heavens. She looked up, way up to his deep black eyes as he followed her toward the door. She was his woman now. If there was anything guaranteed to make a woman feel inadequate, it was knowing that.

  “Hold on now.” Reverend Swanson put his empty plate on the small end table. “You weren’t planning on leaving without giving us a chance to kiss the bride, were you?”

  “Of course, she wasn’t,” Asa said, pushing off the door frame. It took only three strides of his long legs to cross the room. There was some good-natured teasing and jostling and then there was a line of men between her and the door.

  Oh heavens, she hated this part of weddings.

  She looked up. Clint was scowling at the men. It did nothing to ease her nerves. He was frowning so hard that she halfway expected him to tell the men to back off, but then his hand in the small of her back urged her forward as he said in a tight voice, “Let’s get this over with so we can get to our own celebrating.”

  The men hooted, the ladies laughed, and she blushed and lost her voice. Clint urged her forward another step, right into the reverend’s grasp. Before she could react he had her hands, sweeping her away from Clint’s comforting presence and into his arms. Her small shriek floated on the air as his chaste kiss landed on her forehead along with his congratulations.

  “Watch her leg!” Clint warned as the reverend gave her a little toss to the next man.

  “I’ve got her.” There was no mistaking that deep drawl so similar to her husband’s, or the strength in the arms that caught her and lightly set her on her feet, holding her for that fraction of a second it took her to get her balance. Then the light was blocked as Cougar bent and his long hair fell around her. There was a soft scent of sage and then his lips touched her left cheek. She held herself perfectly still, afraid to move.

  He leaned further in. Her breath caught in her throat. His lips hovered near her ear. “You hold your head up, Jenna McKinnely.”

  There was a break of light and then darkness again as he kissed her other cheek. He stepped back. “Welcome to our family.”

  She had a brief glimpse of his handsome, serious face before she was whisked into another man’s arms as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. She only had time to absorb steel gray eyes lit with humor before firm lips glanced off hers. She flinched back and then screamed as a hard arm locked around her waist and yanked her against a harder torso, and a growl rumbled through the room.

  “Go kiss your own wife, MacIntyre!”

  Asa looked totally unperturbed. Actually, he looked ready to burst into laughter. Jenna didn’t understand it, but a quick glance around the room showed everyone in the same state. Probably because Clint had her dangling with her feet six inches off the ground.

  “Please put me down,” she whispered.

  He hesitated but eventually did as she bid. He didn’t release her though, just kept his hand scandalously splayed across her midsection, keeping her back pressed against his front.

  His erection was solid against her spine, definable even through their clothing and it all made sense. She held back her shudder. She was well-acquainted with the uncertainty of male jealousy. Her effort to see his expression was thwarted by the cloak’s hood. With no indicator to work from, not knowing if he was angry with the men, but blamed her for tempting them, she settled for folding her hands in front of her and waiting.

  “Are you ready to go, Jenna?”

  She took a steadying breath. “Yes.”

  Mara stood a little to her left. It was all Jenna could do not to rip Brianna out of her arms and run. As if he felt her inner battle, Clint’s hand pressed a little harder before he tucked her into his side.

  “Then let’s go.”

  He angled his hat down on his head and ushered Jenna through the door. “You all know where to reach us if you need us.” He turned and reached for the basket, “And if you value your life, I wouldn’t suggest needing us.”

  A bark of male laughter punctuated his
closing of the door.

  Chapter Five

  Clint closed the door on the remnants of Asa’s laughter. He straightened his hat on his head and looked at his wife. Jenna stood waiting on him in the twilight, rubbing her arms, her breath rising in the wind in nervous frosty puffs. She was his now. His wife. And he could take care of her the way he’d always wanted to.

  “Cold?” he asked, stepping toward her.

  She stopped rubbing her arms immediately. “I’m fine.”

  He adjusted the hood around her face and tipped her chin up. His finger slid between the soft fur and her softer cheek. He wished she’d smile. She hadn’t smiled since he’d proposed.

  “You let me know if you’re cold.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  She should be. He’d bought the most expensive cloak he could find, choosing the one that would complement her lush beauty, but instead of being pleased, she’d seemed upset. Still seemed upset.

  He slid his hand behind her head. The thick fur lining the hood wasn’t nearly as fine as the curve of her cheek, the silk of her hair. He pulled her into his body, putting his back to the wind, taking the brunt with his bigger body, sighing when she eyed him warily. Did she think he was going to turn into a monster now that the ceremony was over?

  “It’s not going to be so bad being married to me, Jenna.”

  He wasn’t upset by her start of surprise. Instead, he used that moment of confusion, propping his thumb under her chin, holding her ready for the descent of his mouth. He was very careful with her, fitting his lips gently to hers, trying not to scare her, but he needed to taste her, to remove the image of Asa’s mouth on hers. It didn’t matter that Asa had kissed her just to rile him. The fact that Asa’s lips had touched hers was driving him crazy.

  Her breath puffed into his mouth in a soft expulsion of shock. He took it as his own, savoring the intimacy after such a long time of anticipation, moving closer, following her as she stepped back, almost groaning in frustration as the layers of their clothing kept him from the lushness of her body.

  Her lips parted under his. He accepted the invitation, slipping his tongue past the soft seam of moist flesh into the heat beyond. She tasted so good. So damned good. Like tea and chocolate nestled on a warm, moist bed of pure womanly essence. She went limp beneath him, relaxing against the wall, letting him do as he pleased, her acquiescence adding a sharper spike to his already soaring passion. She was his. She was willing.

  A rap on the window pulled him out of her spell. Dorothy was frowning at him through the window, the tolerant smile on her face the kind he was used to seeing growing up whenever he’d let his impatience get ahead of his good sense. Like now. He was kissing his wife on the front step of Doc’s house with an audience not more than ten inches away. He eased his body from hers, stroking the moisture from the corner of her pink lips with his thumb.

  “Guess I’d better be saving that for more privacy.”

  Jenna swallowed hard twice then nodded.

  He grabbed her hand, feeling almost happy as he pulled her out of the shelter of the overhang to the edge of the steps and into the swirling flakes of snow. He caught her around the waist and swung her off the stairs. Her little gasp tickled his humor as much as her frantic grasp at his shoulders. It’d be a cold day in hell before he’d drop her.

  Snowflakes clung to her hood, and settled on her nose before melting into her skin. He wanted to lick them off her lashes, her cheeks. He wanted to lick her from head to toe. He kissed her hard, and let her hand slide from his as he headed to the barn, eager to get home.

  “Clint.” Jenna calling his name in that breathless little voice pulled him up short halfway to the barn. He turned. Jenna was about twenty feet behind him. Even from here he could see the flush on her cheeks and the rapid puffs of air as she panted.

  “I can’t keep up,” she called as she limped heavily in his wake, the slippery snow making it more difficult for her to walk.

  Damn. He’d forgotten. “Sorry.”

  He turned and met her halfway, scooping her up in his arms, getting another of those amusing shrieks. “Hold on, Sunshine.”

  He tossed her just a little, just enough to have her arms clinging to his neck and her face buried in his throat. He kept moving to the barn, savoring the warmth of her breath sliding over his skin. After waiting a year for Jenna, he was suddenly fresh out of his legendary patience.

  He had to put her down at the barn. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she stepped away, fussing with her cloak and her hair. He smiled as he pulled the door open. She was cute when she was flustered.

  He sighed when he saw the buggy just inside the barn door. It was adorned in more tin cans, paper and hope than any wedding send-off he’d ever seen. A quick glance at Jenna showed that she was a bit stunned.

  “Seems like everyone had a part in wishing us well.”

  “Apparently.” She touched an empty whiskey bottle dangling off the wheel. “Looks like they put in a lot of work.” Her lip was between her teeth.

  “Can you drive a buggy?”

  She cast him one of those uncertain glances as if he was asking more than a simple question before she squared her shoulders. “I can learn.”

  “Not necessary.” He just needed to come up with another plan. He would never get his high-strung buckskin to stay close to this monstrosity, but it would take too long to clean it off. They were losing daylight fast. “Can you ride?”

  She looked at him and then at his horse still waiting in the barn.

  “No.” There was wistfulness in her gaze.

  “Ever want to learn?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked down at the ground.

  There was no inflection in her husky voice and without being able to see her expression he had no way to judge whether she was happy with that or not. The bottle rocked against the wheel as she took her hand away.

  “Why doesn’t it matter anymore?” He stepped forward and steadied the bottle.

  “What?”

  “Why doesn’t it matter anymore whether you want to learn to ride?”

  “Oh.” Her hand smoothed her thigh through the cloak. “My leg is too weak.”

  Clint shoved a can out of the way and leaned against the buckboard. “Did I ever tell you about the time I rode Ornery with a broken leg?”

  There was a slight shifting of the hood. With a flick of his fingers, he pushed it back. Jenna flashed him a startled glance as the hood slid down her back, her eyes a deep blue in the gloom.

  “I can’t tell if you’re ‘yesing’ me or ‘noing’ me.”

  “Oh.” There was a pause and then, “I said no.”

  “Well, I did, and seeing as I could manage that, I expect you could manage to ride, if you wanted to.”

  Another of those wistful glances toward Ornery. “It would probably take me a long time to learn.”

  “I haven’t noticed we’re running short on it.”

  She hunched her shoulders and looked down. “I don’t learn things quickly.”

  “I’m known for my patience.” Except tonight. Tonight he wanted to be home as fast as possible.

  “I’m not very graceful.” If her head dropped any lower her chin would be resting on the ground.

  “Jenna, look at me.”

  She did, and even in the descending twilight, he could see the hunger in her mixing with the uncertainty. She wanted to ride so badly that she could taste it, so why was she throwing up so many barriers?

  “I’m teaching you to ride.”

  Delight flashed across her face before she smothered it with caution. He uncrossed his arms. He pushed off the carriage. “Starting tonight.”

  Alarm replaced caution, and her eyes flew wide.

  “Tonight?” she echoed as he took the reins of the horse.

  “Yup.” He led the docile horse standing prepared in its harness beside the buggy into an empty stall, tossing it some oats and patting its neck before shutting the stall
door and motioning Jenna over. “Come with me.”

  He could feel her gaze boring a hole in his back, and hear her slightly uneven gait as she felt her way across the barn. There was a thump and a muffled curse. He turned to find her rubbing her forehead, glaring at the pole clearly before her. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” She reached forward with her hand as if confirming where the pole was.

  “Sunshine, are you having trouble seeing?”

  “It’s just so dark in here.”

  Not to him. “Just stay where you are.” He settled the roan in front of a bale of hay, traded his head harness for a halter, and swung back toward her. “Here. Take my hand.”

  Jenna’s fingers clenched over his, with just a hint of desperation. He made a mental note of her lack of night vision.

  “This way.” She followed the tug of his hand. “There’s a bucket to your right.”

  “You can see in here?” she asked as she gave the bucket a wide berth.

  He pulled her in before she collided with a stack of hay. “Yup.”

  “I guess it’s just me then.”

  “Just you what?”

  “Just me who can’t see at night. I always thought Jack was just gifted that way, but I guess I’m the one who’s different.”

  “It’s not a big thing.”

  “It can make things difficult in the winter. I get lost sometimes.” Her fingers tightened on his as they stepped into a shadow.

  He stopped dead. He caught her before she could crash into him. He tipped her chin up, wanting to see her face. “Lost?”

  “Sometimes things get confusing, especially when it snows.”

  “And you got lost?” He could feel her skin heating beneath his fingers. She was blushing.

  “Just a couple times.”

  His stomach clenched at the thought. Wyoming winters were nothing to sneeze at. “Were you hurt?”

  “Just a little frostbite.”

  “Where was your husband?”

  She didn’t answer. Probably because it was a damned fool question. Anyone who knew Jack Hennesey knew he could be found at the bottom of any bottle, shouting about the evil of lust and the strength of temptation while he wallowed in both.