“Why not?” Doc asked, opening his bag.
“My father doesn’t like anyone to love me.”
It was the second time she’d said that. Hearing it twice didn’t make it any more comfortable. “I’m sure that’s not true,” Evie interjected.
Brenna watched Doc with growing apprehension. Evie could feel it spread through her small body. Over Doc’s flyaway hair, she looked helplessly to Jenna. Jenna knew children, knew how to deal with them. Evie didn’t. Doc approached the bed.
“Now, let’s see what we have here.”
Brenna shrieked and tried to climb Evie’s shoulder. Jenna laid her hand on Doc’s arm. As if he needed any more incentive to stop.
“Brenna,” she coaxed. “Look at me.”
With obvious fear, the little girl did so. “Gray sent me to make sure you were safe, and to make sure no one hurt you. He said you’d know you could trust me.”
Because Gray trusted her. Evie watched, feeling as if an important something she’d missed out on her entire life was finally taking shape, making sense.
Her lower lip trembled. “Why didn’t he come himself?”
“He got in trouble for fighting.”
Brenna’s little fists bunched on Evie’s shoulder. “Did his daddy hurt him bad?”
Jenna handed Bri to Doc before sitting down on the side of the bed, creating a haven for Brenna between them. “Oh no, pumpkin. There’s nothing in this world that could make Clint hurt Gray. He loves him as much as he loves me.”
Clearly Brenna didn’t believe that, exposing the why in a harsh truth. “My Daddy hurts my momma.”
Jenna’s eyes filled with tears. She reached, as if to touch the little girl, and then pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t do that.”
Brenna’s chin quivered. “We had to run away.”
And for her bravery, Brenna’s mother had landed locked in a saloon with Bull as her client. Evie’s soul burned at the unfairness.
I won’t stand by and watch our weakest members suffer.
She’d been sheltered from the reality that made Brad so passionate about women, but she understood now.
“That was very brave of your momma to take you away.”
Brenna slipped away from Evie. Hugging her knees, she rocked back and forth. “Yes, it was.”
With a slow, careful motion, Jenna smoothed Brenna’s hair back off her pale face. “Where’s your mother now?”
“In a room.”
“Do you know where this room is?” Doc asked, nudging Jenna aside.
Brenna’s eyes went wide as he leaned over and probed the back of her head.
She nodded.
“Good. Then I want you to whisper it to Jenna real quiet-like, while I check out the lump you have here.”
She licked her lips and winced when he hit a sensitive spot.
“Sorry.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” he asked.
“Why do I have to whisper it?”
“Because as soon as we’re done here, Jenna is going to whisper it to Clint, Cougar, Asa, Reverend Brad, and Jackson.”
“Oh.”
“They’re big men with mean tempers and they don’t like people who hurt women and children.”
“Will they help my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Even if she’s a bad woman?”
Evie gasped. She hadn’t thought the little girl knew. Doc tipped Brenna’s face up, his gaze skimming the bruise before meeting her gaze. “There’s no such thing.”
“That’s not what people say.”
“People say a lot of stupid things. It doesn’t make them true.”
Clearly Brenna didn’t know what to believe, as clearly as she didn’t know who to cling to. Her father was a bastard, her mother imprisoned, and all she had were strangers around her. Her face crumpled. “I want Gray.”
“Why?” Jenna asked, her voice incredibly soft.
She shook her head, dislodging the tears filling her eyes. “He promised he’d be here.”
For a moment, Evie thought Brenna would bolt.
Jenna didn’t give her the opportunity. With a sob that mirrored the pain the little girl held inside, she gathered Brenna in her arms, cradling her against her chest. Her cheek dropped to the little girl’s bright hair, tears ran down her face, and she promised, “Then we’ll get him just as soon as Doc is done.”
Brenna didn’t fight, just accepted Jenna’s hug with a tense expectancy. “Why?”
“McKinnelys don’t break their word.”
Soft as a sigh, Brenna offered up her last defense. “He claimed me.”
Just as softly, Jenna whispered back, “Thank God.”
And for Evie—watching Jenna hold Brenna as though she would never let her go, accepting the child’s boundaries and offering her love anyway—that elusive truth that always evaded her and left her feeling like an outsider always looking in shone just as brightly as the light reflecting off Jenna’s blonde hair. It didn’t matter what the world said, it only mattered what those close to you thought, and she’d always been surrounded by people who’d accepted her for who she was. She just hadn’t allowed herself to see it. The way she hadn’t allowed herself to see the truth in her marriage. Because she was afraid if she gave her trust along with her love, it would go away, the way her father’s love had, for reasons she couldn’t understand. And all she’d be left holding in the aftermath would be that horrible debilitating ache of failure.
“Evie, you okay?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes and managed a smile for Doc. “Yes. I think I am.”
Nineteen
HE CAME TO her in the dark, hungry and wanting, back from his hunt for Bull, his plan to save Brenda. The dip of the mattress preceded the urgency of his embrace. Still groggy from sleep, Evie snuggled into Brad’s chest. “What happened?”
“Bull’s dead.”
She could only think of one thing that would have him holding her this tightly, as if he wanted to pull her into his skin. “You killed him?”
His fingers went to work on the buttons of her nightgown. “No, somebody else beat me to it.” The first button opened without a qualm, but the second put up a fight. “Why do you wear these things?”
“To keep me decent.”
“Who wants you decent?”
Smiling, she pushed his hair off his face. “Certainly not you.”
The grin that greeted her quip was strained. Something was wrong. There was only one thing she could think of. And it made her uneasy. “What about Brenda?”
“She’s safe.”
“Out of the Pleasure Emporium?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The less you know, the better.”
“For your information, ignorance is not bliss.”
The rest of the buttons gave up the battle without a fight. Cool air breezed over her abdomen.
“Save convincing me of that for tomorrow.”
“Count on it.” The breeze was followed by the gentleness of his touch. “So what are you going to do now?”
He rolled them both over until he was looming above her, a dark shadow in the darker night. “I don’t know what the rest of the world is going to do, but I’m going to make love to my wife.”
The lighthearted statement betrayed a thread of strain. Flattening her palms over his chest, Evie felt the beat of Brad’s heart, the warmth of his skin, the tension that shouldn’t be there. Was it because he regretted being married now that Brenda was back in his life? She swallowed hard and the tears that always seemed so close to the surface the last few days perked again. She wanted to be more to him than one more undeserved punishment in his life. “If you want her, we can probably still end the marriage.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished them back. She didn’t care how he felt. She didn’t want to lose him.
“That’s generous of you.”
She sniffed. “Well, take me up on
it quick because I’m changing my mind as we speak.
He chuckled. Actually chuckled while she was lying there so exposed she didn’t know how much longer she could bear it. Balling her hand up in a fist, she swung. As always, he was faster, stronger. He caught the blow, wrapped his much bigger hand around it, and pushed back until his hand pressed hers over her heart, following it down until his forehead touched hers and their breaths blended one into the other. “I already have all I could I want.”
She wanted to believe that, she just couldn’t. “You loved her.”
“As a boy and as a sister.”
She bit her lip and pressed on, driven by the devil that couldn’t stand the nag of doubt. “And me?”
“I’ll never let you go unless you want to leave.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love, but for Brad, she got the feeling it was very close. For sure her heart didn’t hear a difference. “So I don’t have to worry about her?”
“You don’t have to worry about anyone.”
Except him. She worried about him. Worried about his reckless streak, worried about the qualification he put on his declaration. She’d had a glimpse into his childhood. A man growing up like that would bear as many scars on the inside as he wore on the outside. Maybe need more reassurance than others.
“I won’t leave you.”
“I don’t need promises, sweetheart.”
He needed promises more than any man she’d ever met. Deserved them more. She couldn’t find the words to say what she wanted and the moment passed, fading under the distraction of his kiss. She loved his kiss.
“Now, come here. We’re running out of time.”
“It’s still dark out. How much time do you need?”
“A hell of a lot more than I’ve got.”
His thigh insinuated its way between hers, the coarse hair catching on her sensitive skin. Little sparks of delight danced over her flesh. There was a roughness to his moves, an earthy sensuality to his touch on the inside of her thigh as he made a place for himself that spoke of purpose. Whatever was bothering him, he wanted to forget it. With her. She slid her hands up over his shoulders, glorying in the strength she found there. She could give him that. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good.”
His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back, arching her neck to the press of his lips. This wasn’t the considerate caress he normally gave her. This wasn’t the controlled lover she was used to receiving. This was a man indulging his wild side, a husband expressing his need for his wife. She arched her neck into his kiss, taking the hard press of his lips with a feeling of exultation, the nip of his teeth with a wild excitement, meeting his growl of satisfaction with a whimper of desire as everything elemental inside her responded to his primitive call. Hooking her ankles over the backs of his calves she dragged them up, taking her nightgown up with the same smooth motion, exposing herself, making herself vulnerable to him. Brad accepted the gift with a sigh and a shift that pressed his cock into her soft flesh.
“Oh, yes.” She arched up, encouraging more of the same. Nothing was ever as good as the feel of Brad against her—hard, male, potent. She dug her fingers into the back of his neck, her leg around his hips, pulling him to her so she could whisper in his ear, “Have I ever mentioned I like you wild?”
“No, but I’ve noticed a tendency in that direction.”
“Want to encourage it?”
This time his laugh was genuine and she relished it as much as she relished her ability to give it to him.
“Absolutely.”
It was her turn to say “good.” Reaching down, she gathered up the hem of her gown, dragging it over her head with a smile she wasn’t sure he could see. She tossed it aside. “Because I don’t feel like holding back either.”
For a brief instant his chest pressed against her breasts, the rough mat of hair abrading her nipples deliciously as he absorbed her new brazenness. Then he exhaled and she felt his smile against her cheek. “Let’s light the lamp then, and do it right.”
Right. Yes, she wanted to do this right.
His chest slid across hers as he reached for the bed stand. There was wood whispering against wood, the rasp of a sulfur, and then a flare of wavering light that cast his expression in dancing shadow. If she had any sense, the passion carving his features in stone would scare her. Instead a wild burst of excitement flooded through her.
“Lift up the mantle.”
Reaching over with her left hand, she did, holding his gaze the whole time, not flinching away when his eyes darkened further and narrowed in purely primitive male response. This was Brad, her husband, the man who accepted her as she was. The one man with whom she could be herself. More than ever, she wanted to see just who she could be within the freedom of his care.
The oil lamp flickered, the flame starting out hesitant before growing bolder, a visual echo of her own determination. She’d waited her whole life for this moment with this man, for him to come to her with no barriers between them, no expectations, no rules, nothing but elemental desire. The moment was here now. She wasn’t going to waste it, didn’t want to forget a moment of it. She memorized his face, the way it looked right now, knowing even as she did that she wouldn’t re-create it. Some things were too private to be shared, too private to risk exposing to others.
Brad blew out the match, kneeling above her like a pagan god, muscles thrown into sharp relief, his shoulders looking impossibly broad, the smile on his face wicked. This was the man she’d known lurked beneath the facade. The man she’d always wanted to see.
“I love you.” The words just slipped out. Brad froze above her. For an awful moment she thought she’d been too honest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
His hand covered her mouth. The hunger in his gaze burned hotter, the edge to the emotion surrounding them grew sharper. “Don’t take it back.”
She’d been going to say that she shouldn’t have just blurted that out. Kissing his palm, she pushed his hand away, holding his gaze, feeling as though she were dangling off the tip of a very skinny branch. “I don’t want to take it back.”
She just wanted him to say it back.
“Not many would say I’m lovable.”
She would have thought it a strange response—a strange thing to say—if she hadn’t had that glimpse into his childhood, but now that she understood, it just made her want to hold him tighter.
“Then I’m unique,” she breathed as his big hand closed around her breast.
“Very unique.”
Because she needed something to hold on to, she asked, “Good unique?”
His smile was positively wicked as he thumbed her nipples, keeping her pinned with his hips when she would have arched up, teasing her with another pass, and then another, pinching the engorged tips into bright red little berries that begged for more. This was everything she needed, everything she wanted. Her heart melted as he answered in his low drawl, “The best.”
It still wasn’t enough. “The only one for you?”
Again that curious stillness, and then he leaned down, his lips brushing her nose, her lips, kissing her eyes closed. “The only one I’ll have for the rest of my life.”
She opened her eyes, finding him looking back, his gaze as solemn as his voice. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was brutally honest and it came from the heart. And for now, it was enough.
She placed her palms on his knees and slid them up his heavily muscled thighs, stretching her thumbs inward until they touched the sides of his penis, pressing in with her nails the tiniest bit, holding him hostage.
His head cocked to the side. “Not even a little bit scared?”
Of him? Never. She gave him her most seductive smile. “No, but I’m feeling a whole lot wild.”
The right side of his mouth hitched up. “Lucky me.”
“Yes, I think you are.”
It was just
a slight adjustment to capture his cock between her palms, the slightest pressure to bring a catch to his breath.
“Feeling confident?”
“Yes, but I could use some instruction.”
“In what?”
The time for hiding had long since passed. “I want to please you tonight. Will you let me?”
His right eyebrow cocked up. Her pussy clenched in want. The man was too sexy for words when he looked at her like that. “Do I have a choice?”
Squeezing gently she admitted, “You could easily overpower me.”
“Do you want me to?”
A tingle went down her spine, imagining the possibilities. “Not tonight.” Tonight she needed to show him how she felt, what he meant to her.
“Then we’ll save that for another time.”
She squeezed his cock again, enjoying the way it jumped at her touch, swelled, hardened. A drop of pre-come beaded the tip.
“Now stroke it slowly, evenly.”
As she did, he watched every movement, every nuance of her expression. Every flicker of hunger as she drew his shaft down toward her mouth. And she watched back, his passion feeding hers.
“Do you want my cock, Evie?”
She nodded, fascinated, as gravity pulled that bead into a droplet. She caught it on her thumb, bringing it to her mouth, holding his gaze as she curled her tongue around her finger, savoring his essence. “I want it all.”
He skimmed his cock up her body, his balls sliding in a satin caress up her stomach. From this angle his cock looked huge, the veins engorged, the flesh tinted with his hunger. The hunger she inspired. The hunger he promised to hold only for her. He hitched up a little farther, his knees bumping her arms, his balls snuggling into the valley between her breasts. A warm, soft, potent weight. It was natural to kiss the base of his cock, natural that he moaned as she tasted him, once, twice, three times.
His palms slammed flat against the wall above her head, the echo driving her smile as he knelt there, letting her pleasure him with her mouth for a few minutes, in a limited way, before he reached down and circled his cock with his fist, filling her vision with an impression of strength on strength. He backed up just a little, just enough that the fat crown brushed her lips. She opened her mouth, curling her tongue around the tip, taking in his essence, encouraging him with rapid darts of her tongue to give her more.
Promises Reveal Page 31
