Promises Linger (Promise Series) (9 page)

She hovered on the brink of indecision. The second slap sent her plopping down onto the mattress. The corn husks rasped in tune with her labored breathing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Asa’s concerned frown and upraised hand.

“Water,” she managed between chokes.

“Of course.” He was out of the room as quickly as he’d entered. In the seconds before he returned, she managed to yank up her camisole and wrap the coverlet around her torso. She took the glass he offered. The cool water eased her throat. She wished it could do the same for her nerves. “Thank you.”

She would have held onto the glass for whatever protection it offered, but he took it from her. “You’re welcome.”

His gaze fell to the coverlet hiding her bosom from view. She couldn’t read his expression, but not for one minute did she want him to think she was afraid. “I was cold.”

The way his lips quirked made mincemeat of her ruse. “Then why don’t you slide under the covers, darlin’?”

Because she was stalling, and they both knew it. “I wouldn’t want to start another coughing fit.”

“No,” he agreed, setting the glass on the bed stand. “We wouldn’t want that.”

The quirk of his lips was definitely a grin. She didn’t care. He could laugh at her all he wanted as long as he was willing to indulge her.

“Well,” she began, only to decide she didn’t know where to go with the conversation. She shifted her weight on the mattress. The corn husks whispered a protest. Asa took it as an invitation. Their protest was twice as loud when he sat beside her. Her breath caught when he slid an arm around her waist and she forced it out as he tugged her against his side. She would not be a coward about this. She’d made a deal and she’d live up to her end. She held perfectly still for his next move.

“I don’t suppose you’d feel any better if I told you that what’s going to happen between us is perfectly natural? That our bodies are made to fit together?” he asked.

“No.”

The side of his chest pushed against her shoulder as he sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

His hand pressed against her head. She resisted, but he kept at it until her cheek found the hollow of his shoulder. She didn’t know why the man thought that holding her close was going to soothe her, but he did.

“I’m not comfortable,” she said.

“Then relax.”

Since it was either that or have her neck snap, she did. A quick peek showed his gaze fastened on the flame of the oil lamp. His hand began stroking her hair. Gentle, light touches that started awkward but soon changed to comfortable. The silence stretched as tight as her nerves.

“I don’t have any choice in this,” he said, an apology coached in the bald statement. “You could wake up tomorrow and change your mind.”

“Yes.” And the ranch would go to the bank next month. She wouldn’t have her home. She would have failed in her duty, and she would have failed herself. Lord, she was weak enough to think, as a solution, it wasn’t so bad.

Beneath her ear, Asa’s chest rose and fell with his even breathing. His fingers slid from her hair and explored the tops of her bare shoulders. She controlled the urge to cringe.

The rhythm of his breathing broke as he sighed, “Damn, I’m a selfish bastard.”

“Why?”

“Because I could chance that you won’t change your mind and give you time.”

She looked into his face. His grim expression squashed her small hope. “But you won’t,” she concluded out loud before asking, “Why?”

He had to know she was looking at him, but he didn’t take his gaze from the steady flame of the lamp. “Three reasons. First off, if I do get killed holding onto this ranch, you’d be back where you started with your ranch up for grabs to whoever lands you at the altar.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with consummating our vows.”

His free hand cupped her belly through the bunched up quilt. “If you had a baby, the child would inherit when he grew up, not your next husband.”

“If there was anything left to inherit,” she pointed out.

The pressure of his fingers increased. For absolutely no reason, she found it protective. “There’s always risks, but it’s the best odds you’ve got.”

As he was the best bet she had against losing it all. The similarity in their thinking was comforting. “You said there were three reasons?”

No mistake, the hand on her stomach was protective. And possessive. “The thought of a little one of my own has been nagging at me.”

“You want a son.” That she could understand. Her father had spent his whole life on two pursuits; building the ranch and getting a son.

“I’ll admit you dropping a delicate little girl first time off scares the beejezus out of me, but I expect I’d manage.”

She just bet it scared him. Men were obsessed with sons. “I’ll have you know, Mr. MacIntyre, women do not do anything as indelicate as ‘drop’ babies.”

“Well, you tell me the correct word and I’ll use it.”

“It’s not something that’s discussed.”

That got his attention away from the lamp. “If we’re not to discuss it, how am I to know when you get in the family way? Or if you need something when you do get that way?”

It was obvious he found the situation amusing while her cheeks were burning from the direction of the conversation. “I’m sure something will occur to me if the time ever comes,” she said through gritted teeth. “You mentioned a third reason?”

The corn husks rustled as he shifted to face her. His hands contracted in the quilt. “The only thing I’ve been thinking about since you laid out that fancy gambler is the way a man gets a woman pregnant.” The quilt started to loosen as he pulled. “And how much I wanted to do that with you.”

She closed her eyes. The time had come.

The tugging stopped. The loose hair on her forehead parted on his slow exhale. “That,” he admitted in a low voice, “and how much a bastard I feel for forcing this issue.”

She opened her eyes. Her gaze collided with his. He was going to stop. Instead of the relief she expected to feel, there was only an onslaught of terror. She couldn’t lose her home! Just as she couldn’t lose her last chance, because it suddenly occurred to her that, come morning, she wasn’t the only one who could walk away. While she loved this place with an intensity that went back to her grandfather, Mr. MacIntyre’s ties were only cemented in the nebulous hope of future profit.

She wet her lips and schooled her expression to calm. “You aren’t forcing anything.”

He shook his head and touched his index finger to her knuckles. “Darlin’, were you willing, you wouldn’t be popping the stitches in that quilt.”

She looked down. Her knuckles showed white through her skin. “I’m just nervous,” she explained. She counted to ten, and one by one, willed her fingers to relax. “I’m perfectly willing.”

He tugged on the quilt. She reflexively tightened her grip.

“I can see that.” His lips quirked again.

She straightened her spine and released the quilt. “I’m perfectly ready to uphold my end of the bargain, Mr. MacIntyre. I just don’t see why you insist on disrobing.”

His left eyebrow quirked up. “Because it’s more fun that way?”

She tossed her head. The quilt started to slip. “I fail to see where extreme mortification would be fun.” By widening her elbows, she was able to stop the quilt’s decent. “Until we get to know one another, do you think we could perform our duties modestly clothed?”

His expression went from amusement to shock and then back to amusement in the time it took her to take a hopeful breath.

“I see no reason why we need to abandon decorum,” she growled, piqued.

“Decorum?” he asked, his right eyebrow lifting to join the left.

She cautiously waved one hand between them. “Decorum. You know, a polite respect for each other’s sensibilities?”

“No. I didn’t know.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Elizabeth had a sneaky suspicion he was hiding a grin. She set her chin a bit higher. She fully intended to hang onto her dignity and, the sooner he accepted it, the better.

He removed his hand from his mouth and rubbed it on his thigh. “Let me get this straight. You want me to perform my ‘duty’ fully clothed, holding onto my modesty and yours, and remembering my manners all at the same time?”

“You needn’t make it sound so implausible.”

“Darlin’, when a man sets to pleasuring a woman, he’s got enough to chew without adding more to his plate.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s clear enough.”

She ignored his interjection. “But I’m sure we can get through this with our dignity intact if we concentrate on the necessities.”

“I’m thinking our ideas of what’s necessary are about as far apart as a body can get.”

“I don’t think so. We both want this ranch. Like you, I’d like children.” She hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. She needed to keep the upper hand and she hadn’t a prayer if she came off as namby-pamby. She cleared her throat and continued. “At Miss Penelope’s Academy for Young Women, the subject of marital duty was discussed.”

“This Miss Penelope’s Academy is a school?”

“Yes.”

“And this is where you got the notion that a man and woman bring their manners to their wedding bed?”

“You needn’t scoff, Mr. MacIntyre. The Academy is very respected. All the best families send their daughters there with complete confidence that, when they graduate, they’ll take their place in society as the wives of respected men. Why are you laughing?”

“Was this Miss Penelope a dried-up prune of a woman?”

“I always thought of her as properly reserved.” She recalled Miss Penelope’s impeccable dress, upswept hair, and modulated voice. “Dignified.”

The corn husks rustled louder as Asa shifted closer. “I hate to upset your apple cart, darlin’, but, if I aim to pleasure you, that dignity you’re so fond of is going straight out the window.”

His hand gliding around her waist dislodged the quilt. No matter how she widened her elbows, she couldn’t halt its descent. His fingers brushed the side of her breast. His calluses dragged across her flesh. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her as he nudged the edge of her camisole off her nipple. She closed her eyes.

“Mr. MacIntyre…”

“Damn, you’re as pretty as a wildflower.”

“Mr. MacIntyre.”

Amusement colored the rough tones of his drawl. “Seeing as I’m looking at your charms, don’t you think you could call me by my first name?”

“Asa!” His name ended on a high note as his finger traced a circle on her bosom.

“Right here, darlin’”

“Surely this isn’t necessary!”

“If by ‘this’, you mean my touching you, nothing could be more necessary.”

She caught his wandering hand by the wrist. When she opened her eyes, his face was inches from hers. For all the amusement in his voice, his expression was intense. Intimidating, but she clutched her conviction like a lifeline. “I don’t believe you.”

His resistance to her tugging halted. “You calling me a liar?”

She’d never be so idiotic as to call a man a liar to his face. “I believe you’re laboring under a misconception.”

“Want to lay it out a little clearer?”

“I don’t feel it’s necessary for you to touch me so intimately in order to perform your duty.”

“You don’t?”

The incredulity in his voice sparked her anger. “You tell me. Is it necessary for you to touch me so intimately in order to…complete the act?”

“Not for me—”

She cut him off. “Then I’d appreciate getting it over with.”

“It won’t be nice for you if I just ‘get it over with’.”

“It’s not supposed to be nice,” she muttered. Her bravado giving out, she redirected her gaze to the oil lamp. “It’s a duty, like any other chore, and I intend to get through it the same way I get through the wash.”

“Shi—I mean, shoot. I don’t think I want to hear this, but just how do you plan on getting through it?”

“At Miss Penelope’s, they suggested occupying our minds during monotonous chores by designing a new dress or planning a party.”

“And this Miss Penelope is an expert on the duty between a husband and wife?”

She heard the doubt in his voice. How dare he scoff at her education! The man had probably never attended school a day in his life. She gritted her teeth. “Miss Penelope would never lie. She’s a very responsible woman, dedicated to the education of the young women at her school.”

“And you’re dead set on sticking to her teachings?”

She met his gaze and that slightly raised eyebrow defiantly. “Nothing to date has made me question my education.”

“And you’re willing?”

“Perfectly.”

He motioned to the bed. “Then drop your death grip on that quilt, darlin’, and let’s get to it.”

Get to it? He wanted to get to it? Just like that? “Now?”

His eyebrow went up a notch, but he didn’t laugh at her stupid question. “Seems like as good time as any. And you were the one who wanted to just ‘get it over with’.”