Promises: Promises Prevail Part 17

The exclamation had just slipped out.

She licked her dry lips. "That was horribly expensive wasn't it?""I have no idea." He squatted and picked up the large chunks. The powerful muscles in his thighs stretched his pants. "But it doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters." The next time he got mad at her, it would matter. He looked up, as he reached for a piece under the table.

"It's just a plate, Jenna." He placed the pieces on the table.

"I'll try not to be so clumsy again."

He studied her. "You can drop as many plates as you like."

"I..." She didn't know what to say to that. To him.

He straightened and shrugged. "h.e.l.l, if you don't like what's here you can pitch the whole lot and start over."

He turned. She turned with him, keeping him in her line of sight as he stepped past her, clutching the table behind her for strength. His clean scent drifted back to her.

It only took him one step to reach the hutch. It was a fluid movement containing none of her imperfections.

The man was all masculine grace and strength. He turned back to her. With his hair tied back in a leather thong, his cheekbones were in sharp relief, lending a powerful, feral look to his appearance.He was so much bigger than her first husband. So much less predictable. She had no idea what to do with him. No idea what to expect. As he came back to her with the delicate china in his lean hand, she caught her breath and held it. She didn't release it until he pa.s.sed. When he didn't make a biting comment, or backhand her, she began to relax. Maybe he really wasn't mad.

"Sit down, Jenna." The chair he pulled back was kitty-corner to his. She didn't want to sit that close to him.

"I should just finish sweeping up these pieces."

"Breakfast will be cold by then."

She shrugged. "It won't hurt me to miss a meal."

"I wouldn't like it."

"Like what?"

"You missing meals."

"Oh."

Wis.h.i.+ng he weren't watching her so intently, she took the necessary steps to get to the chair. She was rather proud of how she managed to minimize her limp by taking small steps. He was still watching her. His dark eyes as inscrutable as ever. She had to turn her back to him to sit. She caught her breath, every sense, every nerve ending excruciatingly aware of him as he stood behind her. She sat. For a second nothing happened. Shedidn't breathe. He didn't move. Then his fingertips brushed her shoulders and his lips brushed her hair.

"It's going to be all right, Jenna."

So he kept telling her. "Thank you."

He moved around her and divided the food on his plate in half. "Is this enough?"

"I couldn't possibly eat that much!"

"Are you sure?"

"Half of that will be fine." Putting away that much food would mean even her corsets wouldn't be able to squeeze her into her dresses.

"You're going to need to keep your strength up."

"For what?" She wished the words back as soon as they left her mouth. Clint's expression mellowed into a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"We're on our honeymoon, Suns.h.i.+ne. I have a lot of plans." He took his seat and motioned with his fork.

"Eat."

It was an order. She ate, keeping her head down, methodically bringing food to her mouth, her cheeks burning with embarra.s.sment. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the amus.e.m.e.nt on Clint's face. His laughter was evident in the slight lift of his lips and the barest of narrowing of his eyes. Why did she always act the fool in front of him?Like last night. She'd started off hiding behind the door like a naive virgin, then she'd lost the cream, which had led to the other misunderstanding. She didn't want Clint to see her as someone who needed to be pitied. She wanted him to see her as a woman he could respect. Like Asa looked at Elizabeth. Like Cougar looked at Mara.

She pushed a piece of potato across the plate. But she wasn't anything like Mara or Elizabeth. Her only skills were cooking and, apparently, disappointing husbands.

She bet Cougar and Asa didn't go to sleep unsatisfied rather than bedding their wives. She gave the potato another shove. It popped off the plate, landing on the tablecloth. When she picked it up, there would be a greasy stain left on the blue checked cloth. If she couldn't get it out, it would be just one more example of how she messed up everything she touched.

"Jenna."

She didn't look up. Clint repeated her name in that low, deep drawl that slid right under her defenses and seduced her away from good sense. He tapped her plate with his fork. She looked up to find him staring at her, his black eyes so deep and dark she was in danger of falling in. Into what, she didn't know, but if she fell, there'd be no going back and she wasn't ready to travel down a path of no return. It was bad enough she'd agreed to marry the man. She stabbed the spilled potato with her fork.Clint plucked the piece of potato off the tines and dropped it back onto her plate. "Are you finished eating?"

"Yes."

He frowned and touched her cheek. "You sure?"

"Yes." Maybe if she were thinner Clint would be more inclined to exercise his rights. Not that she particularly wanted him to, but if she couldn't keep him in her bed she wouldn't have a prayer of a peaceful marriage. Her stomach chose that minute to rumble.

He shook his head, took the fork from her hand, scooped a piece of egg and held it to her lips. "Eat."

She did immediately, hearing the order in his voice, wanting to refuse but not daring. She expected him to hand her the fork, but he didn't. He just kept presenting forkful after forkful for her to chew and swallow. Which she did, long after the point where she was full. And still he didn't stop. He had to be testing her. Seeing if she knew how a proper wife behaved. Seeing how well she obeyed. She breathed through her nose to control the nausea as she chewed a piece of the nearly raw meat. Her stomach lurched as he cut off another piece. Blood-red juice dripped off the tines as he held the meat up to her lips.

"Open up, Suns.h.i.+ne."

She did, her jaws slowly separating as her gorgeShe did, her jaws slowly separating as her gorge rose. She pushed it back through sheer force of will. She got the b.l.o.o.d.y mess in her mouth. She even managed two whole chews before her stomach rebelled.

She jumped up. Her chair clattered to the floor. She didn't glance at Clint though she heard him following her. She couldn't deal with him now. Couldn't worry about his retaliation for failing to obey. She barely made it to through the door in time. She hit the porch rail and the contents of her stomach vaulted over the side. Her stays cut into her middle with every violent heave, compressing her ribs, gouging into her hips, robbing her of the breath she needed between bouts.

"Jesus G.o.d, Jenna." One of Clint's hands pulled her back against him. The other caught her forehead. She clawed at him while she struggled to find a position that didn't hurt. She twisted to get free, tangled her feet in her skirt and ended up vomiting on them both. He swore and let her go. She threw her hands up, protecting her face as she stumbled in the direction of the steps.

Her only hope was to run.

He had her in two steps. The scream tore from her throat. He would hurt her so bad she'd never survive his revenge. Never. He was too big. Too cold. Too relentless.

She spun around, ignoring the stays bruising her torso, and sank her teeth into his arm. He swore and angled her down. She went to her knees under the pressure,knowing what was coming. Better he kill her quickly than she live long enough for him to punish her at his leisure. He swore again. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she saw sunlight flash off metal. She braced herself for the pain, a part of her glad that at last it would be over, while another desperately wished for a chance at the life she'd always wanted. For the chance to raise her daughter. She ignored the inner struggle. It never mattered what she wanted. She closed her eyes and waited.

There was a thunk as the knife sank deep. She waited for the explosion of pain to sear through her. For the light to come for her. For the angels. For the devil. For something to make this end. To just end.

Hard fingers pried her jaw open. Hot liquid dripped down her chin as she opened her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his knife quivering in the porch rail as Clint went to his knees in front of her. She didn't know what to make of his expression as he stared at her.

The hand on her right wrist kept her anch.o.r.ed on her knees. With her bad leg she didn't have the leverage to get up. His right hand he brought to her face. Blood welled from his wrist and spilled on her chest as he cupped her cheek in his hand, his fingers on the back of her neck preventing her from pulling away.

"What in h.e.l.l did they do to you, Suns.h.i.+ne?" Sorrow, strength, pity, and calm colored the depths of his lowdrawl.

She didn't have an answer for him. Didn't know what he wanted to hear, so she knelt there mute, her leg aching almost as much as her spirit, and waited.

Chapter Nine.

She didn't answer his question, and Clint wasn't surprised. Whatever had been done to her had been done over time. Had to have been to have created such knee-jerk reactions, and no doubt, it wasn't something she was proud of.

Under his fingers he could feel the tremors running through her. She'd been coldly accepting when she thought he was going to kill her, but now that she was faced with living, she was terrified. He took the sleeve of his uninjured arm and wiped as much as he could of his blood off of her mouth. She knelt there and let him. Not fighting. Not begging. Just accepting. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, it made him want to go out and kill someone.

"Come here, baby. Let me warm you." He pulled her into his chest, needing to offer her comfort even if she wouldn't take it. He needed to hold her. "I'm sorry, Jenna."

He should have known she couldn't eat that much, but every time he lifted the fork to her mouth, she'd taken the food. Chewed it. Eaten like he'd ordered. Like she'd been trained to do. Continued eating, he wasbeginning to suspect, because he hadn't told her to stop.

He smoothed her hair away from her pale face.

"Looks like I'm going to have to be changing my ways around you, Suns.h.i.+ne. Otherwise we're never going to get this marriage off the ground."

"I didn't ask you to change." The voice came, small and cautious, from against his chest.

No, she hadn't. But having his wife vomit on him, bite him to the bone, and then wait for him to kill her just wasn't how he planned on spending his days. He left her statement unchallenged.

"Does a bath sound as good to you as it does to me?"

He took her hitch in breathing as a "Yes". "Then let's go get one."

He stood up, taking her with him, not missing her wince as her right foot took her weight. Without missing a beat, he swung her up in his arms. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. She smelled of fear, sweat, and vomit, but her arms were soft around his neck and her breath moist in the hollow of his throat. He hefted her a little higher. She was such an intriguing mixture of strength and terror, sprinkled with the oddest moments of trust. Like now. She needed a protector more than anyone he'd ever seen. More so than even little Brianna.

She needed someone to make her feel safe,cherished. Someone to bring the light back into her life.

He yanked his knife out of the rail where he'd driven it to keep it out of her hands. Unfortunately for her, she was stuck with him.

"If you put me down, I'll get the water started," she whispered.

"How about I hold you and we see if the plumbing works?"

"Plumbing?"

"Yup. Doc and Cougar convinced me I needed one of those new bathing rooms if I was intending to take a wife." He headed toward the back door. "I've had the reservoir heating since I got up."

"Reservoir?"

"A big tank of hot water."

She seemed to stop breathing. "Are you talking about one of those fancy bathtubs where you just turn a k.n.o.b and all the hot water you want comes pouring out?

The kind they have in the catalogue at the mercantile?"

He smiled at the disbelief in her voice. "Yes."

"And I can use it?" This time the disbelief didn't make him smile.

"I bought it for my wife." His tone was harder than it should be, but d.a.m.n, it p.i.s.sed him off when she acted like she was nothing."But I'm..."

He glanced down at her and finished her sentence with the only truth that mattered. "The only wife I'll ever have."

He kicked the door fully open with his foot and stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. The house smelled of food, wood smoke, and hope. Hard to believe it had been the scene of such chaos moments before. He debated sitting in the kitchen, but the chair was too small for what he had in mind.

The parlor, though. The parlor had a nice big settee that would do just fine. And it was next to the bath addition. He ignored Jenna's stiffening as he stepped over Danny's sprawled form in the doorway to the hall.

He hadn't managed to keep the dog out of the house, but he was slowly training him to stay in the hallways. As he went down the hall, he heard the click of Danny's nails on the wood floor behind him.

When he got to the parlor, he used his pinkie to slide the pocket door closed. Danny flopped to the floor with a disgruntled sigh. The door rattled as his ma.s.sive body settled against it. Jenna stiffened in his arms with a wary breath. He very carefully set her on the settee, rubbing his forearm where the steel of the stays had bitten into it.

She stayed where he placed her, watching him from wide blue eyes, every muscle tensed in case he turned ornery.He touched the lace collar of the simple brown dress. He was going to turn something, but ornery didn't quite fit it.

"Unb.u.t.ton your dress." Her fingers went immediately to the long line of cloth-covered b.u.t.tons.

There was no hesitation to show resentment, though he knew she had to be feeling something. He ran his fingers down the side of her face, and up along the line of her jaw until her chin balanced on his fingertips. "I need to see you, Suns.h.i.+ne."

Her gaze flicked up, as usual too fast to read, but there was a tremble in her fingers as she worked the third b.u.t.ton loose. She was afraid. At the very least, nervous.

He went over to the little parlor stove and added some more wood. The room was warm, but not warm enough to lounge naked. And he wanted her naked, before and after their bath. Especially after.

By the time he turned back to her, she had all of the b.u.t.tons undone down to her stomach, revealing the cotton-covered stays beneath, and the full swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She was watching him from under her lashes, her fingers pausing as he knelt beside her. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands replaced hers.

"It's all right, Jenna."

"I know," she whispered.

"Then how come you're not breathing?" He smiledas the last two b.u.t.tons gave up the fight.

"I am. It's just a little difficult, sitting like this with the stays."

"Then let's get them off."

"I could just change positions." The suggestion was offered cautiously. No doubt she wanted out of her dirty clothes, quickly and efficiently, with him out of the room, but it wasn't going to happen that way. She was his wife.

She needed to understand that even though he was calling the shots, he was here to care for her. The only way he knew to do that was to show her.

"I like off better. Lift up." He spread the dress off her shoulders, and tapped the inside of her rounded white arm. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s s.h.i.+mmied with the motion, their full white curves suffused with rose, bulging over the top of her cotton camisole.

He supported her head with his hand, sliding a ta.s.seled pillow underneath. Her big blue eyes were fastened on him with a mixture of confusion and trepidation, but she didn't argue and didn't resist. There was something very seductive about knowing that she would let him do whatever he wanted without protest.

He could see where it could tempt a lover to go too far, to push her too hard. She gave a man free license to unleash all his baser instincts with that air of acceptance, and tempted him to do so with every breath she took. Heuntied her camisole and spread the material wide. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose white and full, s.h.i.+vering slightly with her breath.