Promises Keep (The Promise Series)

by Sarah McCarty

  She sat half-propped against the wall. Those expressive eyes were open, but he doubted she saw him. Damn, how badly was she hurt? What drugs had they given her to force her cooperation? And what in hell was he going to do with her?

  A pounding on the door and a clamoring of excited voices told him that she couldn’t stay here. She deserved better than what would happen if that door gave. That being the case, she would just have to accept his aid, because there was no way in hell he was going to trust her welfare to any of the inhabitants of this godforsaken town.

  An angry male voice demanded admittance. Knowing there wasn’t any time to lose, Cougar scooped up the woman and carried her to the window. In two seconds, he had the stained sheets off the bed. In another two, they were knotted, anchored, and flowing out the window where they swayed gently in the rising breeze.

  Mara lolled where he had left her. Lightly slapping her cheeks, he was gratified to see a little color flush the waxen pallor. Holding her face between his palms, he eased his face close to hers. Each word was precisely enunciated.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. Do you understand?”

  “No.”

  The response was weak. Her chin shot up and defiance entered her vacant gaze. Cougar didn’t know whether she was denying going with him or denying understanding. In the end, he figured it didn’t matter.

  He lowered his voice, trying hard to impart his regret while his fingers lightly caressed the fragile skin drawn too tightly over her high cheekbones. “I didn’t know about Cecile’s game until it was too late. I know you don’t have any reason to believe that, but it’s true.” Was it his imagination or did her lips move? “You are going to have to trust me, Angel. At least until we get out of here.”

  There was no marked change in the mutinous face so close to his. Cougar felt his frustration mount. How could he get through to her? With the tail of the too-long shirt, he gently wiped most of the blood and grime from her face.

  “The sheets won’t hold both our weights,” he explained. “I’m going first, then you. That way, I can catch you if you fall.”

  She didn’t believe him. He watched as resignation crept over her face. She expected him to leave her to those ravenous wolves beating down the door. Her mouth quivered once before tightening resolutely. Cougar touched their straight line approvingly before leaning forward to place an infinitely gentle kiss on her forehead.

  Her hand came up, as if to capture the sensation with her fingertips.

  “That’s right. Trust me. Just a little more and you’ll be safe. Wait for my signal.”

  Pausing only to pull on his pants, he left.

  Mara watched, strangely detached, as the man squeezed his big frame out the window. Was he two men? One brutal, one gentle? Was it a trick? She heard the whistle just as the door began to crack. What did it matter now? Far better to have only one enemy to vanquish than one hundred. She dragged her tortured body to the window, fighting back the crippling fear. She would survive. Over and over she repeated the litany in her mind until it became the talisman that gave her the strength to throw her leg over the windowsill and her body into the darkness below.

  Cougar was just in time to halt her plummeting fall. She was no bigger than a minute, he marveled as he caught her close. Such a little thing to harbor such a huge spirit. And he’d hurt her. Lord, that was hard to stomach.

  The descent must have drained the last of her reserves, for his little warrior slumped meekly against his chest. And meekness just wasn’t something he associated with this woman. Arranging her legs across his in the saddle, he nudged Flame Dancer into a full gallop, leaving the seedy town and all its disreputable populous far behind.

  When he felt it was safe, he stopped. He wrapped his poncho around the woman’s limbs, grimacing at the blood seeping through his buckskins. He had to get her to Doc and fast. No telling how much harm had been done. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to atone, but what could he say to an innocent girl he’d raped? How could he make it right? How could he earn forgiveness for the unforgivable?

  He swallowed hard, knowing he couldn’t undo what had been done. He rubbed his chin reflexively against the sun-streaked silk tucked into the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m so very, very sorry.”

  What a pointless thing to say. As if an apology could remove the shame and taint. As if anything could make what he’d done palatable. He wondered if she’d ever get past tonight. God, he hoped she wasn’t gently reared. He’d been a Marshal too long, and first rescued and then buried too many women who felt rape made them less than human. They’d chosen death instead of life to spare their families shame. It still struck him as an obscene waste.

  He pictured his Angel holding off Aleric and killing Cecile. His grip tightened. If he had to, he’d watch her day and night until he was sure she didn’t have suicidal tendencies. The thought of all that fire being senselessly extinguished was unbearable.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he vowed. “Somehow, someday, I’ll make it up to you.”

  The only response he got was a faint moan from the woman in his arms. He chose to interpret it as acceptance.

  Chapter Four

  Two months later, Cheyenne

  He’d never had to work so hard to keep a promise.

  Cougar stepped out of the shadowed livery and into the street. A wagon loaded with squealing pigs rolled by, slipping in the mud left over from a steady rain. He held his breath until it passed, not only because of the stench, but because if those back wheels lodged, he’d be obliged to help out. If he did that, all the trouble he’d taken with his appearance this morning would be for nothing.

  The wagon lurched free. Cougar started breathing again and immediately wished he had gills so he could breathe without his nose getting involved. The hot humid air was loaded with the scents of animals, manure and garbage. The first two he could live with, seeing as how they were natural like, but the last—

  He shook his head. Pure and simple, toss garbage into an alley, drown it in moisture, and then bake it in the sun and the resulting stench would have a skunk begging for mercy.

  He angled the brim of his hat to better shade his vision as he waited for a flatbed tied high with lumber to pass so he could search the other side of the street. It wouldn’t be hard to locate his quarry since his eyes were trained to pick out a tiny woman inevitably dressed in brown, who walked like the world was hers for the taking.

  That never ceased to amuse him. The only dress he had ever seen Mara Kincaid wear was too big, obviously a cast-off. The damned thing had been mended so often, it was in danger of disintegrating with the next light breeze, but she carried herself as if she were a queen in silks, casually making her way to her throne.

  There was something about that arrogant defiance that just made him smile and want to wrap her in cotton wool to keep her safe. Unfortunately, accepting his protection seemed something she was loath to do. For two months he’d been trying, and he was no closer today than he’d been at the beginning. At first, he’d thought it a blessing that Mara didn’t remember him from the Pleasure Emporium. Doc said large doses of laudanum had that effect on people, breaking their memories into senseless bits and pieces. He’d figured he could use the memory loss to his advantage, but his relief had died a quick death when it became apparent that Mara’s sole focus was getting enough money together to start over. Somewhere else.

  He shook his head. As if he’d let that happen. She might not recognize it yet, since she’d been ducking his attempts at conversation with a quickly muttered “excuse me”, and an equally quick departure, but she was staying put. And not just because of his promise, though that was reason enough. No. She was staying because she intrigued him.

  She wasn’t his normal type. She had no breasts, no hips and no confidence. She had no social status and wouldn’t bring anything to his life but scandal. Worse yet, she was terrified of sex, and he was a man of healthy appetites, but none of that seeme
d to matter when he looked at her. She flashed those eyes, set that chin, overcame another challenge, and he’d be intrigued all over again. So she was staying, and he had to consider how far he wanted to take his promise because something had to be done. Mara could not continue as she was, a woman alone with no man’s claim to protect her.

  An unattached woman of questionable background was too much temptation for some men to resist, and though he’d done his best to let everyone know she was under his protection, Mara’s continual snubs were putting her in serious jeopardy.

  He stepped to the side to let Cyrus Johnson get past. As the big plow horse Cyrus rode plodded out from the livery, he nodded to the farmer.

  “Howdy, Cyrus.”

  Cyrus’ response was a nod. Cougar didn’t take offense. Cyrus was as tight with his words as with his money, but he was a likable sort for all that. Lousy at cards though, which was a shame because the man had a penchant for playing that landed him in hot water with his wife. A body could always tell when Cyrus landed on the wrong side of his wife’s tongue. He’d turn up the next day in town, buy a pound of penny candy, and leave as quickly as he’d come. It happened so regularly, men had taken to betting on the dates the same way they’d bet on births. It’d been a month since Cyrus’ last candy purchase. From the set of the older man’s shoulders, it appeared that money would be changing hands tomorrow.

  Cougar chuckled and resumed his search of the opposite side of the street. This time of day, Mara would be heading for the restaurant where she washed dishes. The woman worked from sunup to sundown, and he wasn’t sure she didn’t work the hours in between.

  Another wagon lumbered past. While he waited for it to get out of the way, he noted he was beginning to sweat. He moved his arms away from his body. Things were going to be tough enough without him adding aromas of his own to the mix.

  The wagon cleared his sight. In the same split second he spotted Mara, he saw the cowboy confronting her. The wrangler had his hand around Mara’s arm. Cougar saw her tug to get free. He saw the man yank her back. He saw the frantic glance she cast at the nearby group of men. He saw two of the four men look the other way. Another pretended indifference while the last stepped closer to view the show.

  Cougar settled his black Stetson more firmly on his head. For too long, he’d been forced by society’s rules to stand aside while the citizens of this town directly or indirectly tormented a woman with more guts than sense. While no one could be sure that Mara had come from The Pleasure Emporium, enough rumor had followed her from Cattle Crossing to Cheyenne to make the less scrupulous think they could take advantage. He’d been biding his time, waiting for Mara Kincaid to acknowledge his interest, to make it known to everyone that she accepted his protection, but enough was enough.

  He stepped between riders and wagons. He sighed as muck squished over the tops of his brand new “courting” boots. If he was a superstitious man, he’d take it as a bad omen, but he wasn’t superstitious. He was just damned tired of waiting. Mara was his. He wanted her in his bed. In his life. He wanted that stubborn, opinionated little spitfire like hell on fire and he’d stopped questioning why after the first month. It wasn’t the circumstances surrounding their meeting, and it wasn’t the fact that she’d made him come when no one else had. It was the woman herself that called to him. Just looking at her gave him pleasure, and watching her move could set his back teeth to aching and his cock straining in his pants.

  The cowboy grabbed Mara’s arm again with fingers so dirty and tanned, they were almost invisible against the brown material of her dress. The contrast between the size of that hand and the thinness of the arm it encircled enraged Cougar. He could imagine how frightened she was. The frantic glance she cast his way spurred him on. There was an acceptance in that look that made his blood heat. She would not lump him in with the rest of the worthless scum who didn’t know how a woman should be treated.

  The cowboy jerked her up short, slamming Mara against the storefront. Her angry shout coincided with her shoulder hitting the building. The cowboy really shouldn’t have done that, Cougar decided. That was going to cost him. Big time. He could have let the rest go, putting the loss of judgment down to too long on the trail and too long at the bottle, but no one manhandled his woman. No one.

  Cougar had about ten more steps to go before he came into the cowboy’s view. He hoped that Mara would restrain herself long enough for him to come to her rescue. It was a pretty slim hope. When push came to shove, she had a habit of striking first and being cautious later.

  He watched Mara’s chin come up almost fatalistically. He started to run, but it was too late two steps into the decision, because along with her chin came the parcel in her hand. There was the sound of breaking glass as it smashed into the cowboy’s face and then all hell broke loose.

  The cowboy’s retaliation was quick and sure. While still reeling from the impact, he struck Mara in the side with his fist. She smashed back against the storefront, her head cracking the glass pane in the window. For a moment, she held still, her expression frozen before she drifted slowly, like a discarded feather, to the ground.

  With a roar, Cougar leapt on the wrangler, seeing nothing but red as the image of that huge fist connecting with that tiny body repeated itself in his head. With every repetition, he pummeled his victim harder, searching for all the vulnerable places where he knew the effect of his two hundred pound frame would be felt the most.

  It took four men to pull him off the useless skunk. When he looked down, there was a spot on the man’s cheek that was clean. The sight of it insulted him.

  “Take it easy, McKinnely,” one of the men growled when Cougar’s elbow connected with his stomach. “For all her airs, she’s just a whore.”

  With great satisfaction, Cougar felt his knuckles split as they connected with the man’s teeth.

  “Anyone else got an opinion?” he asked as he turned, silently challenging any of the rest to open their mouths and say something equally as stupid. As one, they threw up their hands and backed off. That suited him just fine.

  He stepped over to where Mara lolled against the building. Her eyes were closed, and he got a sick feeling in his gut. Spirit aside, she was a tiny thing. A mere nothing against a man’s fist. Lightly tapping her cheeks, he was gratified to note her breathing was regular, if a little wispy. Holding her cheeks between his big palms, he eased his face close to hers. Each word was precisely enunciated.

  “Miss Kincaid? Can you hear me? I’ve got to get you to Doc.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “No.”

  The response was weak, but her chin shot up and defiance entered her gaze. Cougar didn’t know whether she was denying going with him or hearing him. In the end, he figured it didn’t matter. From the wetness on his fingertips, he figured the back of her head had been cut by the glass.

  He gentled his voice, trying to suppress the anger edging his drawl while his thumbs smoothed across the skin drawn too tightly over her high cheekbones. “I’m sorry I didn’t get across the street fast enough to prevent this.”

  Was it his imagination or was that a “bullshit” he saw her lips shape? His mouth quirked up at the thought. “You’re going to have to trust me, Miss. At least until we get out of here.”

  There was no marked change in her face, so close to his. Cougar shook his head. The woman was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, the rags she wore tossed well above her ankles. She was barely able to breathe, yet she still clung to her dignity like a child clutching a blanket.

  “I’m going to have to carry you,” he explained in the face of another violent shake of her head that had her moaning. “There’s no way you can get there yourself.”

  He settled back on his heels as he slid his hands around her body. “Though I suppose I could bring Doc to you, but he’d have to unbutton your dress to check your ribs, and that would draw a crowd. On a hot day like today, the last place I want to be is corralled on the street with a bunch of sweaty, leering wra
nglers.”

  This time there was no mistaking the words her lips were twisting around, even if he hadn’t managed to catch the breathy, “Go to Hell.”

  He laughed as he very gently lifted her up. Her chin went up two degrees higher. He looked down and his laughter lingered. Delicate was not a word a body used to describe a chin like that. Pugnacious, yes, but delicate, never. In the last two months, he’d developed a real liking for pugnacious.

  “I can walk,” she gasped.

  Her face was waxen. The limbs draped across his arms trembled and she couldn’t get a decent breath to swear at him, yet she intended to walk clear across town to Doc’s office? “Yeah. Right.”

  That chin crept up another notch. “If you will just put me down, I will prove it to you.”

  “You can prove anything you like when we get to Doc’s.”

  “If you don’t put me down, Mr. McKinnely, I’m going to hurt you.”

  If he wasn’t mistaken, the hand trapped between their bodies was groping for his privates. A surge of tenderness snuck up on his blind side.

  “Well, I’m not going to hurt you,” he countered quietly as he stepped back down into the muddy street. In this position, she wouldn’t be able to reach her target. In this position, she was pretty much defenseless. Her hand retreated as she realized it, too.

  Cougar watched resignation creep over her face. She expected him to carry her off to some dark corner and have his way with her. The terror of that was there in her eyes right along with her determination to prevent it. Her lips quivered once before tightening resolutely. She would fight him with whatever she had. Damn, she was something.

  “Take heart, Angel,” he murmured, his gaze trapping her cinnamon-brown eyes. “Everything’s going to be all right from here on out. You’ve got my word on it.”