Promises Linger (Promise Series)

by Sarah McCarty

  “What?”

  “Stop trying to help. Stop trying to get out of bed. Stop trying to make yourself sick again!” The last sentence came out as an angry yell.

  Asa relaxed against the pillow. He eyed her as if she were some strange new species of animal. A potentially dangerous one. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you shout before.”

  She gnashed her teeth and didn’t answer.

  “Gotta admit, you don’t sound much like a lady when you do.”

  She permitted herself the luxury of glaring at him.

  “That’s quite a screech you got there.”

  He sounded amused. She contemplated dumping the soup over his head.

  “I kind of like it when you let go,” he went on.

  “Excuse me?” Pure shock halted the inclination. She slowly lowered the tray.

  “Ever since my fever broke, you’ve been marching around here all controlled, doing what’s necessary, nothing more.”

  She moved her hands to the soup bowl. “And your problem is?”

  “I haven’t even gotten one good morning kiss.”

  She tightened her grip. In the midst of her argument with herself that she’d only have to wash the bed linens if she chucked the tray at his arrogant head, she paused as what he said sank in. He was out of sorts because she hadn’t kissed him?

  “Clint told me how you cauterized my wound yourself. I’m sorry I carried on as I did. Don’t rightly remember it, but I understand it wasn’t pretty.”

  She slowly digested his words. She wondered if he knew she’d fainted like a baby afterwards. “Cauterizing a wound isn’t pleasant,” she agreed.

  Red tinted his cheekbones. His gaze locked to something on the hearth. “I wouldn’t have carried on had I been conscious at the time. A man can’t help the way his mind betrays him when he’s out of his head with fever.”

  She released her grip on the bowl. He was embarrassed because he’d cried out when she’d put a red hot knife to his flesh?

  “Don’t imagine the scar’s none too pretty,” he added, still staring at the fire.

  “Are you aware,” she asked, “how close you came to dying?”

  At least she’d pulled his attention from the fire. His silver eyes skated around the vicinity of hers. “Understand it was close for a bit.”

  “It was more than close.”

  “That must have been scary for you.”

  It had been more than scary. It had been soul-revealing. Terrifying. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d let that sneak out. She’d avoided dealing with that revelation for a week. She’d been avoiding this for a week.

  The hoarse whisper yanked Asa’s gaze to hers. In their green depths, he saw only a reflection of what she’d endured.

  “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” he said. “Besides, even if you did lose me to the undertaker, McKinnely would step in and get those cattle to the railroad. Ranch’d be in the black and you’d be sitting pretty.”

  The bowl of soup came at him so fast, he didn’t have time to duck. It half-hit the pillow and his face.

  “How dare you?”

  He wiped his eyes and plucked a piece of chicken out of the corner of one.

  Elizabeth stood next to the bed, her chest rising and falling under the force of emotion. “How dare you suggest I wanted you dead!” She threw up her arms. “You come waltzing in here, ruin our deal, play on my honor, and then you lie there suggesting I’m so shallow, one little cry of pain and a new scar is going to drive me away?”

  She grabbed the bread. “Not too long ago, you were accusing me of selling you short.” The bread came hurtling at his head. “Let me tell you, Mr. High and Mighty MacIntyre. You may be as handsome as the devil, but you’re a poor example of a husband.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes. You are! You’re worse than Brent.” The napkin came hurling his way. It landed in a gentle plop on his chest. “You’re worse than my father!”

  He felt a small kernel of hope blossom. “How so?”

  “At least they never bothered to try to make me love them.” She took one step toward him, then another. “They were content with my cooperation, but not you. You had to have it all.”

  “Yup,” he agreed unrepentantly. He watched her carefully. One more step and he’d have her.

  Her slap, when it landed on his arm, was gentle. Full of emotion, but guaranteed not to hurt. “You kept pushing for more and now make fun of me when you get it,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t make fun of you, darlin’.”

  “Yes, you did. You said I hadn’t kissed you.”

  He caught her wrist and tugged. “You haven’t.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, stiff-backed and ready to fight now that she’d exposed herself. He touched her hands, then raised his hand to her cheek. “I thought maybe you thought I wasn’t useful to you anymore.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve been lying here, trying to figure out why you haven’t been very wifely for the last few days.”

  “I’ve been taking care of you!”

  “Yeah, I know, and it’s been no different than if McKinnely had done the caring.”

  “I beg to differ. McKinnely would have punched you.”

  His chuckle sent pain though his ribs. “You threw soup.”

  “And now I have to clean it up.” She made to get up.

  He anchored her with his grip on her wrist. “Later. I want to explain.”

  Her green eyes stared at him. Her lips pursed tight. Her whole demeanor said he’d better make it a good one. “It occurred to me that you married me thinking you were getting a strong man. What happened here a few days ago might have changed your opinion on what you’d married up with.”

  “That’s nonsense!”

  She looked so outraged, he had to smile. “Just goes to show how addled a man can get when he’s forced to live on gruel.”

  “I have not served you gruel.”

  “It’s been a long way from steak.”

  “Your stomach’s too weak for steak.”

  “My stomach’s too weak for gruel.”

  She sighed and looked at the mess on the bed. “Well, looks like you’re back to gruel.”

  “Uh-huh.” And they made snowballs in hell. He let his fingers flirt with the collar of her shirtwaist. “So you were fretting on losing me, huh?”

  “I was concerned.” Her gaze moved to something outside the window.

  He smiled, amazed she could sit there so prim and proper while he unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress. The pulse in her throat came into view. It was tapping fast and hard. “Truth be told, darlin’, were our positions switched, I’d have been nervous about losing you, too.”

  He watched as she swallowed hard, her gaze still fixed on the view outside the window. “You would?”

  “Uh-huh.” He pressed his finger on her pulse and smiled when it took off racing. “I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

  “Oh.”

  “You honestly find those clouds so attention-getting?”

  “No.” Honest as always, yet he noticed she didn’t drag her gaze away.

  “‘Cause, if you could see your way to dragging your attention back here, I’ve got a mind to do some sparking.”

  That had her jerking her whole body his way. “Are you out of your mind?”

  If he hadn’t known how concerned she’d been, her outrage would have put canyon-deep holes in his pride. “Nope.”

  He got another button free before she caught onto his game. She grabbed his hand, stopping him from getting to the flesh he wanted to pay some attention to.

  “You can’t. I mean, we can’t…” She sputtered to a halt, no doubt searching for a polite term for what he wanted. She finally gave up and settled for logic. “You’re hurt.”

  He rubbed his knuckles up and down the prim row of buttons she was guarding so diligently. “I’ll allow we’ll h
ave to curb your wild side a bit.”

  “I do not have a wild side!”

  “Sure enough, you do, darlin’,” he countered. “And I count myself a lucky man for it.”

  She stared at him, obviously looking for a reasonable argument that would dissuade him from what she saw as idiocy. He couldn’t help a smile. After having her care for him for the last week, her hands continually touching his body, her sweet scent always around, her near admission of love. Hell! Short of a bullet in the brain, he wasn’t about to be dissuaded.

  “The bed is a mess,” she huffed, not yet recognizing the futility of arguing with him.

  “Can’t argue that.”

  He shoved the covers down. She sprang off the bed as if he’d lit a match to her posterior. “What are you doing? Get back in that bed!”

  Lord, she was cute when she hovered. “You know, darlin’, I always thought nagging women were like crows, nothing but an irritation.”

  Her hands landed on her hips in a battle stance. “I do not nag.”

  “I have to argue there, but I’ve decided I like it.”

  “I couldn’t care less.” The lace of her collar fluttered against her throat with the deep breaths she was taking. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

  He eased his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m heading to your room.”

  “Any particular reason?” She reached up and began re-doing the buttons he’d undone.

  “Yup.” He took a steadying breath as he pushed his torso upright. “Seeing as you won’t lie with me in a puddle of soup, I thought I’d switch beds.”

  “I am not lying down with you, period, so you might as well get back in that bed.”

  Pain laced his side. He took a few breaths to control it. He wanted to wrap his arm around his ribs, but he knew, if he showed such weakness, she’d use it against him. “You can’t have any argument against a clean bed.”

  She got the last button done up proper. As soon as the button landed in the hole, her spine snapped tight as if welcoming reinforcements. “You’re a hard-headed man, Mr. MacIntyre, but I can see you need to attempt this foolishness in order to see the sense in staying put.”

  He eyed her under his brow. “That a challenge?”

  “Merely a call to common sense.”

  “Uh-huh.” He braced his hands on the bed. “And, if I take up this challenge, what do I win?”

  “Your health.”

  “And if you win?”

  “You stay in bed and give up this outrageous behavior until you’re better.”

  Did him a world of good to know she didn’t want him giving up the behavior altogether. “Not much incentive for me to stay put.”

  Her sigh was long suffering. “I suppose you have a better wager?”

  “Heck, yeah.”

  Her hands were back on her hips. “I suppose you’re not going to lie down until you have your say?”

  “Nope.”

  She made a quick motion with her hand. “Let’s hear it.”

  “If I make it to the other room, you curl up beside me for a little sparking.”

  “You’re too ill for sparking.”

  “Lucky for you, I see it differently.”

  “So I see.” She stared at him a minute, her expression unreadable. “All right. You make it to the other room, and I’ll do what you want.”

  “The term I used was sparking, but I can settle for what I want.”

  She shook her head as if at the end of her rope, but he noticed her eyes crinkled at the corners while she did it. The woman wasn’t as set against the idea as she let on. Before he could push to his feet, she held out her hand and halted him. “If I win, you do as I say for the duration of your recovery. Until I say you’re recovered.”

  He held out his hand. “Deal.”

  She shook it. “Deal.”

  She stepped back. He took long, slow breaths in preparation for the ordeal of standing up. On the fourth, he pushed himself to his feet. He made it in the direction of up, but his ribs forced him to stay humped over like an old man. Before he could stop it, a groan snaked from between his lips.

  Elizabeth stood as still as a statue, watching his shuffling progression to the door. Opening the damned slab of wood was almost his undoing. The only thing that kept him moving through the mind-numbing pain was his refusal to act like a baby in front of his wife. She already had a low enough opinion of his strength. He had to brace himself on the door latch of the next bedroom. It gave unexpectedly under his hand. The jerk knocked him off-balance. Black agony swept over him. He stumbled and would have fallen, except for the shoulder inserted under his arm.

  “You’re the most stubborn man.”

  “Just determined,” he groaned.

  “Why?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at the bun bouncing along beneath his chin as they shuffled to the bed. “Sad fact is, I got this never-ending hunger for my wife, and stubborn woman that she is, she won’t appease it unless I prove myself to her.”

  The little quiver that shook her bun, he put down to outrage. She didn’t respond to him, however, until she levered him onto the clean bed.

  Her face was cherry-red when she did. “I don’t know why you persist in this ridiculous teasing. There’s no way you can…uhm, hold yourself, I mean…” She pushed her hair off her face in exasperation, then blurted out. “You know what I mean!”

  He pulled her down beside him and went to work on the buttons of her dress.

  “This is one of those times when a woman has to take charge.” He could see from her frown that she didn’t take his meaning. The angle of their position made it impossible for him to undo more than five buttons. “Like you did in the meadow.”

  “Oh.”

  “Though you might want to take off your dress first.”

  She paused, seeming unable to take a breath.

  “Please,” he added.

  She sighed, told him he was a scandalous man, and went to the door and locked it before coming back. Halfway to the bed, she stopped, reached up and released her hair from its bun. It spilled in auburn glory past her waist.

  He knew he was grinning like an idiot. “Lord, you’re something, darlin’.”

  Her smile was shyness tinged with confidence. It took a long time for her fingers to get those buttons undone. By the time she let the dress slide down her arms to pool at her feet, he was panting like a winded race, horse and the shyness had left her smile to be replaced with sheer witchery. She stood before him in her lacy camisole, pantaloons, and delicate white stockings.

  “You liked that,” she said, a wealth of satisfaction in her voice as she approached the bed. As she stepped into a beam of sunlight, he could clearly make out the curve of her waist, the soft pink of her nipples and the tempting triangle of her pussy.

  He managed an eloquent, “Yeah.”

  She leaned over, careful not to jostle his side. He reached up and curled his hand around her neck, urging her into his kiss. Her mouth felt good over his. She tasted hot and spicy. Womanly. “I missed you, Elizabeth.”

  He felt a fool for such an emotional admission. He hadn’t meant to say it, but it had just sort of popped out. Instead of withdrawing or laughing, she sealed her mouth tighter to his. The ardor in her kiss increased tenfold. He took full advantage, sliding his hand to her breast, smiling when she gasped and pressed harder into his hand. Her nipple was already hard. He rubbed it with his thumb. It pulled up tighter. Harder. Begging for more. Her gasp whispered past his ear. Her eyelids drifted shut.

  “You like that,” he whispered into her mouth, no less satisfied than she’d been.

  She nodded, squashing her nose into his cheek.

  “Ease up here, and I’ll make you feel even better.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. The bed dipped as she braced first one knee and then the other beside his hip. Her hands straddled his torso. She smelled of sunshine and vanilla. Of woman and rising need. He could never get enough of her. He stroke
d her breasts with his fingers, smiling as the calluses caught on the delicate material of her camisole. Her gaze met his. With taunting slowness, she lowered her head, letting him feel the whisper of her breath, the heat of her body, the promise in her emerald eyes. Her hair fell around him, a silky curtain as she slowly, delicately, traced his smile with the tip of her tongue, sending a frisson of sensation licking through his body. When she raised her head, his smile rested on her full lips, but there was a provocative quality there now. A sultry cast that had his heart pumping and his cock pounding with anticipation.

  Keeping her eyes locked with his, she eased her breast toward his mouth. It hovered just out of reach. He couldn’t lift his head to capture her pouting nipple. He waited for her to realize she had to lower herself more. If possible, her smile grew broader as she daintily prodded his lips with the swollen tip. He opened his mouth and accepted the sweet offering against the cushioning softness of his tongue. She tasted all the sweeter for the anticipation. He plumped her breast with his fingers, bringing her harder against his mouth, laving her through the cotton of her camisole, using the damp material to increase the friction of his caress.

  Her soft moans were sweet music to his ears. When she threw her head back and groaned, he pulled the cotton underthing away. She was hot against his tongue. The slightest hint of salt tanged her flesh. He swept the crest of her breast, catching more of her essence before drawing her deeply into his mouth. He suckled strongly, discovering what she liked. Her cries of delight and then protest when he pulled back, had him hotter than the Fourth of July.

  “Just switching sides,” he explained.

  She adjusted her position to make it easier on him.

  Her moans were pretty constant by the time she said, “I want you.”

  He kissed the hard nipple hovering above his face. “Not yet.”

  She pulled back. Her hands at the button fly of his long johns made mincemeat of his determination. As each button popped its hole, his cock received a dancing caress.

  “Now.” She clearly wasn’t in a mood to be denied.

  He slid his hand from her breast to the slit in her pantaloons. The material was wet with her juices. His fingers slid smoothly through her thick cream. He parted her folds, stroking her as he swirled a path to her vagina. As his finger breached the tight portal, she freed his cock. The cool air of the room was both a balm and torment on his heated flesh. The tips of her fingers glided up and down his length in a gentle demand that tore another moan from his throat. He gritted his teeth against the fiery demand that he take charge. Instead, he braced himself to endure. There was a lot to say for letting a woman take charge. He slid a finger into her pussy, groaning when her muscles clenched hard on him. He wanted in her now.