Promises Reveal

by Sarah McCarty

  Clint bent his head to brush his lips over Jenna’s smooth cheek. “Just one dance, sunshine. You’ve been on that leg enough for one day.”

  “I’m good enough for two.”

  “One.” It was said in a tone that brooked no denial.

  Jenna patted his hand. “We’ll see.”

  This time Clint’s lips brushed her hair, the fine strands shining against his dark skin. “One.”

  Evie bet there’d be two. Jenna truly was Clint’s sunshine, bringing him back from that dark place he’d fallen into. Clint caught her staring at him. He smiled. She blinked. Clint smiling really did take some getting used to.

  “Dance with your husband, Evie. You can trust him to take care of you.”

  Was there an underlying message in Clint’s order? Or was that wishful thinking on her part?

  “He thinks I tricked him into marriage. I’d be a fool to trust him.”

  Brad came up beside her. “But you will dance.”

  “It’s scandalous.”

  “You like scandal.”

  She jumped. How did he know?

  His grip shifted to her elbow as he steered her into the cleared space. The temperature in the room seemed to shoot up ten degrees but it was a good heat, an inviting heat. “It’s not exactly a secret. And if anyone had any doubts, that art show killed them off.”

  “Mother was sending me back East.”

  “For wearing pants.”

  “I was trying to learn to ride.”

  He steered her to the center of the floor, his hand a warm weight at her waist, his thigh brushing hers. He turned her into his embrace. Their bodies fit nicely together. “You were testing your limits.”

  Evie could feel everyone watching. She kept her smile in place. “What do you know about anything?”

  His hand shifted up to rest just above the small of her back, tucking her against him. This close she couldn’t miss his scent—spicy, masculine, and very intriguing.

  “Your family can’t give you what you want.”

  His drawl, rich with innuendo, flowed above the opening strains of a waltz. Pitched just right, it smoothed along her senses, weakened her anger. A red flag went up. He wouldn’t. She looked up, met his eyes, and knew he absolutely would. The Reverend Brad Swanson would seduce his wife on the dance floor in front of the whole town. The thrill from before came back twofold. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the mayor’s wife, Shirley, frown. Evie fluttered her lashes and relaxed into Brad’s embrace.

  “And you can?”

  Without missing a beat, he smiled and took the first gliding step, the subtle tension in his arm guiding her effortlessly into his rhythm. “Absolutely.” He spun her in a wide turn. “You’re not hard to figure out.”

  She blinked. “I’m not?”

  A woman liked to feel she had some mystery.

  “No, but you are intriguing.”

  “How?”

  Other couples joined them. Doc led Dorothy onto the floor. As he took her in his arms, she smoothed his cowlick down. They were so comfortable with each other. Evie couldn’t imagine being like that with Brad, but she’d like to be. The thought came out of nowhere.

  Another spin, this one faster than the last, brought her gaze back up to her husband’s.

  “You’re looking for someone you can’t outthink or run over. Someone who can handle that wild side of yours.”

  That statement shot a thrill of excitement straight to her core. She lifted her chin. “And you think you’re that man?”

  His lips spread in a slow smile. With an easy grace he spun them into another turn, whirling them so fast she lost her balance. Her momentary panic was for nothing. Brad caught her effortlessly with the hand at her back. She waited, but he didn’t pull her up, just held her gaze with the same easy sensuality with which he held her suspended there, helpless, back arched, legs entwined. It was a perfectly shocking, perfectly scandalous thing to do and she loved every second. When he pulled her up with a flex of his arm she went willingly, as hopelessly fascinated with this side of him as with all the others. Bringing her hand to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to the back, that knowing smile still curving his mouth.

  “You can count on it.”

  Three

  “IT’S TIME TO go, Evie.”

  Evie looked at the watch pinned to the waist of her skirt. The hand ticked toward six o’clock. As much as she wanted to grab it and keep it from progressing, she knew it wouldn’t do any good. No amount of wishing moved time forward or backward. It just progressed inevitably. In another hour, it would be dark. She took a breath of the humid air and stared at the far-off mountains rising above the plains, desperation building with that forbidden sense of excitement that had enfolded her since she and Brad had danced. “So it is.”

  The rather forced smile on her mother’s face faltered. No doubt she’d hoped Evie had resigned herself to her fate by now.

  “The Reverend’s a good man.”

  The stab of resentment that shot through Evie was an all-too-familiar sensation. “Whether he is or isn’t is immaterial. I’m married to him. He can be whatever he wants to be and I believe my role is to smile and put a pleasant face on whatever the truth works out to be.”

  “That’s a very cynical attitude.”

  “Then I guess that makes me a cynic.”

  Pearl fussed with the cuff of Evie’s dress, her hand hovering an instant over Evie’s before dropping back. “I want you to be happy.”

  “No. You want me to be happy in a life of which you approve.”

  One that stifled her so badly that she buried her face in her pillow at night and screamed with the frustration of it.

  “You can’t do the things you want to do, Evie. The things you want to be, they’re just dreams. It’s time to grow up and realize that.”

  Evie blew out a breath, her corset biting into her waist on the last of the exhale. She focused on the sting, needing something to keep her balanced. Otherwise, she’d go screaming from the wedding, embarrassing herself, her family, and the Reverend. The corset was as confining as the rules of society that fenced her in. She couldn’t breathe—now, before, and probably never again.

  She folded her arms across her chest, trying not to pin too much hope on that one moment of excitement on the dance floor. “Well, you can’t get more respectable than a preacher’s wife, so you don’t need to worry anymore. You’ve saved me from a life of ill repute. Your job is done.”

  The truth burned like acid across her confidence and the small flicker of hope left by that scandalous dance.

  “Then why don’t I feel relaxed?”

  Because it’s not my choice. Because you know I’ll only suffer this so long before I’ll explode. Because you know when I do, you’ll have to send me away and our relationship will be so much ash in the aftermath. “I have no idea.”

  “It’s not going to be that bad, Evie.”

  It would just be the same hell she’d been running from for the last twenty years, etched forever into her future. Evie pushed away from the side of the building. Splinters of wood clutched at the material of her dress, pulling her up short. “Shoot.”

  “What?”

  “Even my darn dress is determined to keep me here.”

  Pearl clucked her tongue. “I told you this material is very fine.”

  The only thing that kept Evie from yanking herself free was the love and hope her mother had sewn into this dress. It wasn’t Pearl’s fault that Evie wanted more from life than what society dictated she could have. The flaw was in her, not her mother.

  She held still as Pearl worked the delicate lace collar free.

  “There.”

  “Thank you.”

  Over her mother’s shoulder and through the doorway, Evie could see the wedding guests smiling and talking in small groups. People who’d gathered to wish her well. People willing to disregard the disgrace that had brought her to this point and allow her a fresh start, sending all their good wi
shes with her. This was her wedding day and this was her mother, and as much as Pearl didn’t understand Evie, she still wanted the best for her. That love was evident in the quantity of food and richness of the decorations. Pearl had always provided the best for Evie. Because she loved her.

  Evie sighed. No doubt, when looking back on this day there would be a lot of things that she’d remember and regret, but one memory she didn’t want was for this to be just another day she had argued with her mother.

  Pearl was right. It was time to grow up. The life she’d hoped to lead, her dreams of going to Paris and pursuing a career as a professional artist were dead. She’d killed them when she’d agreed to marry. That wasn’t anybody’s fault but hers. As depressing as it was to know that when push came to shove, she’d chosen convention over freedom, it had still been her choice.

  She caught her mother’s hand as she would have stepped back.

  “I don’t want to fight.”

  “I don’t either. It’s your wedding day, baby. I want it to be a happy time.”

  Happiness was beyond her reach, but a smile wasn’t. Fake or not, it seemed to relax Pearl. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

  Pearl unwrapped the cape from her arms and held it out.

  Evie admired the way the satin caught the light in an iridescent shimmer, but she didn’t reach for it. “It’s still hot enough to cook an egg.”

  “You don’t want to get your dress filthy before you arrive.”

  Arrive where? Brad hadn’t mentioned where they were spending their wedding night. And up until now, she hadn’t cared enough to ask, but it suddenly seemed a huge lack. “I don’t necessarily want to arrive perspiring either.”

  Pearl’s lips twitched. “I don’t suppose you do.”

  That smile grated on Evie’s nerves. “What?”

  Pearl draped the cape over her arm. “We need to talk about what’s going to happen tonight. I would have addressed it last night, but you were tired.”

  Good grief, she was not going to stand outside her reception and discuss relations between a man and a woman with her mother. “I know what goes on between a man and a woman.”

  That was a lie, but her mother was no better at telling when she was lying now than she had been when she was a child. Pearl only saw Evie the way she wanted her to be.

  The lightest of blushes touched Pearl’s cheekbones. “You do?”

  Evie could feel heat rising in her own cheeks. “Most of my friends are married.”

  “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Another lie that went undetected. “And you just finished telling me that the Reverend is a good man. I would think the best a woman can hope for is to end up in her marriage bed with a good man.”

  “Experienced doesn’t hurt.”

  Evie blinked. The resentment bubbled over the lid she’d put on it. “I’m not sure how to take that, Ma. Which is more important, a man who knows what he’s doing between the sheets or a man of principle?”

  “Evie, that’s crude.”

  “I was thinking it was to the point.”

  Pearl took a deep breath. Evie braced herself. She hadn’t inherited her sass and impatience from thin air. To her surprise, Pearl reached out. Her fingers slipped over Evie’s and squeezed they way they always had in the past when Evie was afraid but determined to proceed anyway.

  “Just tell your husband about your fears, and I’m sure he’ll take care of them.”

  Evie glanced over to where Brad chatted with Doc and Dorothy. He was smiling, but there was a tension in his shoulders, slight, but there. He looked up and caught her studying him. She was used to summing up people’s moods pretty quickly. It helped her get what she wanted, stay out of trouble. She couldn’t read her husband. She couldn’t imagine telling him anything, least of all her fears. “I think the Reverend wants to leave.”

  It was ludicrous to be calling her husband by that title, but she couldn’t bring herself to use anything less formal. She wasn’t ready to admit this was forever. Pearl caught her hands before she could turn away.

  “You let him be good to you. Follow his lead.”

  “What if I don’t like where he’s taking me?”

  The press of Pearl’s lips was a warning. “Telling a man no in bed is a delicate thing.”

  It was the most intimate discussion they’d ever had and it had to be now, when there was so much turmoil between them. “Then I guess I’d better focus on saying yes. After all, that’s my job now, isn’t it? Saying yes to my husband?”

  Darn, she sounded bitter when she really wasn’t. She was just afraid to hope.

  Pearl blew out a breath. “You might try giving convention a chance. The rules can’t be all wrong. They work for millions of people.”

  But they might just be wrong for her. No one understood that though. Sometimes, not even herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be like everyone else. She just . . . wasn’t. “I’ll be fine, Ma. I’ll learn to adjust.”

  Or die trying.

  “Just try to fit in, Evie. That’s all you need to do.”

  Evie rolled her eyes as her mother’s arms came around her waist and hugged her. A preacher’s wife. Could she have locked herself more tightly in propriety if she’d tried?

  THE SEND-OFF WAS raucous and full of good cheer, and no different from the end of any other wedding, except everyone knew this wasn’t a love match, so such happiness was completely out of place. After one last wave, one last forced smile, Evie subsided back into the shelter of the buggy’s top.

  “Thank goodness that’s over.”

  Brad turned slightly. “I thought it was a rather pleasant wedding.”

  “It wasn’t real.”

  His brow rose. “Feels real enough to me.”

  Evie sighed. “Please. This is not a love match.”

  His expression didn’t change. “Doesn’t make it any less of a match though, and doesn’t make people’s well wishes any less sincere.”

  She supposed it didn’t. Reaching up, she unpinned her hat, and stretched her arms out in front of her. “I wonder if a real bride receives so much advice.”

  His lips quirked and his gaze touched her mouth, swept over her throat, and lingered in the vicinity of her chest. “I guess you’ll have to tell me what kind of advice you received before I can give you an answer.”

  It was a look meant to seduce a woman, designed to throw her off balance. Brad was going to have to do better than that. Between putting on her cape and walking out the door, Evie had decided she wasn’t going to be that easy to seduce.

  “Just the usual malarkey. Men are wonderful and all-knowing and I should believe everything they say implicitly.”

  “Well, now, that was a fair bit of advice.”

  A fair bit of horsefeathers. She placed her hat in her lap, not rising to his bait. “Why do you like to make me angry?”

  “Why do you like to break convention?”

  The buggy hit a bump. The cans tied behind jangled. She grabbed the side. “If you’re implying ‘because it’s fun,’ this is going to be a very long marriage.”

  He steered the buggy around a corner. “Until death do us part.”

  He didn’t say it with the sense of doom that she felt. The heat burned through her cape. She unbuttoned the frogs at the throat. “God help us.”

  By the time she got to the third button, they’d passed the Reverend’s residence.

  “Where are we going?”

  The twitch of his lips should have warned her. “Someplace where you can strip in private.”

  Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature burned her cheeks. She forced her fingers to keep doing what they were doing, as if she wasn’t blushing like a young miss. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “I try to be accommodating.”

  Not that she’d noticed. And she’d noticed him a lot. From the day he’d wandered into town with the McKinnelys after their last hunt, he’d fa
scinated her. And not just because he was a fine-looking man with a powerful build, though that alone would have been sufficient to draw any woman’s attention. But because he was a man who commanded everyone around him, and no one seemed to notice. She would love to have that ability.

  She glanced up from beneath the shield of her lashes. He did have a nice set of shoulders. Broad enough that he made her feel crowded. Broad enough that parishioners felt secure. And after the disaster of their last preacher, a man who’d hated himself, God, and everyone he came in contact with, the Reverend Brad was a breath of fresh air. Enough so that people overlooked his idiosyncrasies for the embrace of his accepting nature.

  But just because he smiled and nodded didn’t mean he was going along. His accommodation was often just an illusion as he went around behind the scenes making things happen according to his preferences. There was a relentless energy about the man. Most of it under the surface, only noticeable if one knew to look for it.

  The last frog released.

  “Good.” She shrugged the cape off her shoulders. The buggy continued out toward the edge of town. “And while I’m stripping, we can talk about a timely dissolution of this marriage.”

  Brad flicked the reins, looking straight ahead. “What makes you think I want it dissolved?”

  Another glance showed the humor was gone from his expression. “The way it came about.”

  “I agree that wasn’t the most positive, but Evie, when I make a promise, I’m not in the habit of backing down on it.”