Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (12 page)

“I can’t keep up,” she called as she limped heavily in his wake, the slippery snow making it more difficult for her to walk.

Damn. He’d forgotten.

“Sorry.”

He turned and met her halfway, scooping her up in his arms, getting another of those amusing shrieks.

“Hold on, Sunshine.”

He tossed her just a little, just enough to have her arms clinging to his neck and her face buried in his throat. He kept moving to the barn, savoring the warmth of her breath sliding over his skin. After waiting a year for Jenna, he was suddenly fresh out of his legendary patience.

He had to put her down at the barn. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she stepped away, fussing with her cloak and her hair. He smiled as he pulled the door open. She was cute when she was flustered.

He sighed when he saw the buggy just inside the barn door. It was adorned in more tin cans, paper and hope than any wedding send-off he’d ever seen. A quick glance at Jenna showed that she was a bit stunned.

“Seems like everyone had a part in wishing us well.”

“Apparently.” She touched an empty whiskey bottle dangling off the wheel. “Looks like they put in a lot of work.”

Her lip was between her teeth.

“Can you drive a buggy?”

She cast him one of those uncertain glances as if he was asking more than a simple question before she squared her shoulders.

“I can learn.”

“Not necessary.” He just needed to come up with another plan. He would never get his high-strung buckskin to stay close to this monstrosity, but it would take too long to clean it off. They were losing daylight fast.

“Can you ride?”

She looked at him and then at his horse still waiting in the barn.

“No.” There was wistfulness in her gaze.

“Ever want to learn?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked down at the ground.

There was no inflection in her husky voice and without being able to see her expression he had no way to judge whether she was happy with that or not. The bottle rocked against the wheel as she took her hand away.

“Why doesn’t it matter anymore?” He stepped forward and steadied the bottle.

“What?”

“Why doesn’t it matter anymore whether you want to learn to ride?”

“Oh.” Her hand smoothed her thigh through the cloak. “My leg is too weak.”

Clint shoved a can out of the way and leaned against the buckboard.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I rode Ornery with a broken leg?”

There was a slight shifting of the hood. With a flick of his fingers, he pushed it back.

She flashed him a startled glance as it slid down her back, her eyes a deep blue in the gloom.

“I can’t tell if you’re ‘yesing’ me or ‘noing’ me.”

“Oh.” There was a pause and then, “I said no.”

“Well, I did, and seeing as I could manage that, I expect you could manage to ride, if you wanted to.”

Another of those wistful glances toward Ornery.

“It would probably take me a long time to learn.”

“I haven’t noticed we’re running short on it.”

She hunched her shoulders and looked down.

“I don’t learn things quickly.”

“I’m known for my patience.”

Except tonight. Tonight he wanted to be home as fast as possible.

“I’m not very graceful.” If her head dropped any lower her chin would be resting on the ground.

“Jenna, look at me.”

She did, and even in the descending twilight, he could see the hunger in her mixing with the uncertainty. She wanted to ride so badly that she could taste it, so why was she throwing up so many barriers?

“I’m teaching you to ride.”

Delight flashed across her face before she smothered it with caution. He uncrossed his arms. He pushed off the carriage.

“Starting tonight.”

Alarm replaced caution, and her eyes flew wide.

“Tonight?” she echoed as he took the reins of the horse.

“Yup.” He led the docile horse standing prepared in its harness beside the buggy into an empty stall, tossing it some oats and patting its neck before shutting the stall door and motioning Jenna over. “Come with me.”

He could feel her gaze boring a hole in his back, and hear her slightly uneven gait as she felt her way across the barn. There was a thump and a muffled curse. He turned to find her rubbing her forehead, glaring at the pole clearly before her. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She reached forward with her hand as if confirming where the pole was.

“Sunshine, are you having trouble seeing?”

“It’s just so dark in here.”

Not to him. “Just stay where you are.” He settled the roan in front of a bale of hay, traded his head harness for a halter and swung back toward her. “Here. Take my hand.”

Jenna’s fingers clenched over his, with just a hint of desperation. He made a mental note of her lack of night vision

“This way.”

She followed the tug of his hand.

“There’s a bucket to your right.”

“You can see in here?” she asked as she gave the bucket a wide berth.

He pulled her in before she collided with a stack of hay.

“Yup.”

“I guess it’s just me then.”

“Just you what?”

“Just me that can’t see at night. I always thought Jack was just gifted that way, but I guess I’m the one who’s different.”

“It’s not a big thing.”

Her fingers tightened on his as they stepped into a shadow.

“It can make things difficult in the winter. I get lost sometimes.”

He stopped dead. He caught her before she could crash into him. He tipped her chin up, wanting to see her face.

“Lost?”

“Sometimes things get confusing, especially when it snows.”

“And you got lost?” He could feel her skin heating beneath his fingers. She was blushing.

“Just a couple times.”

His stomach clenched at the thought. Wyoming winters were nothing to sneeze at.

“Were you hurt?”

“Just a little frost bite.”

“Where was your husband?”

She didn’t answer. Probably because it was a damned fool question. Anyone who knew Jack Hennesey knew he could be found at the bottom of any bottle, shouting about the evil of lust and the strength of temptation while he wallowed in both.

“Never mind. I’ve a good idea.”

“He was a good man when he wasn’t drinking,” she said defensively.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He’d never seen the man sober. He brushed a curl off her temple. “You won’t get lost again.”

“I won’t?”

“No.” He wouldn’t allow it.

“Oh.”

He patted the buckskin’s rump as he stepped behind Jenna and caught her waist in his hands.

“Spread your legs.”

He had her airborne before her gasped, “What?” drifted away. Though she’d said that she didn’t catch on quickly, she was savvy enough to throw her leg over the saddle and take the horn in a death grip. Ornery shifted his feet and she shrieked. Clint vaulted up behind her.

“Don’t go scaring him now or this lesson will be over before it starts,” he murmured as he hitched her higher up against him.

She slapped one hand over her mouth, cutting off the outcry, and from the way her ribs swelled under his hand, her air.

“Breathe, Sunshine,” he ordered as he flattened his hand over her midriff and pulled her back against him.

She did. Just until he nudged Ornery toward the door. Then she was back to clutching the horn and freezing.

“First lesson in riding a horse is to relax and go with the motion.”

Her “Okay” was a nearly inaudible high-pitched squeak. He didn’t notice any relaxing.

“Jenna, I won’t let you fall. Now, relax your back and let your weight come against me.”

She did, a fraction of an inch at a time, clearly ready at the slightest inattention to spring back to her petrified state. Finally, her head came to rest under his chin. The fur trimming the hood tickled his nose.

“That’s my girl.”

He pulled her a little closer. The cloak blocked any sensation, but just the weight of her in his arms was enough to have his cock straining.

“I’m going to slide my hand under your cloak now, to get a better grip,” he warned her as he unfastened the wooden frogs.

“For what?”

Her hands were back to death gripping the pommel.

“So you won’t be so nervous.” And so he could enjoy the weight of her magnificent breasts on his forearm, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing that. He slid his hand inside the cloak just under her breasts. But he did. Oh Lord, he did. Even though she had herself bound up tight, he could still feel the soft swells shudder with each step Ornery took as he urged the horse out of the barn. Son of a bitch, he couldn’t wait to get her under him. Those plump, fleshy mounds in his mouth. Were her nipples as plump and luscious as the rest of her? If he sucked on them long enough and carefully enough, would she come for him? Would she shriek his name when he brought her to climax? Or sigh it softly as her body shuddered under his. Whatever way she came, it’d be his name on her lips. He’d make sure of that.

“Clint?”

She was looking up at him, snowflakes sparkling in her blonde hair, apprehension on her face. He was gripping her too tightly. He dropped a kiss on her brow, smiling at her airy intake of breath and relaxed his grip.

“Right here, Sunshine.”

“I can ride in the buggy.”

“I like you where you are.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing more to say?” There was a pause in which he actually felt her gathering her courage. Damn, her husband had done a number on her.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I need my basket.”

Clint looked to the porch where they’d left it. It would be a challenge to lug it along.

“We’ll get it later.” She bit her lip, but didn’t disagree. He nudged Ornery on. She looked back four times as they passed the house, but didn’t say a word which he should have taken as acceptance. On the fifth turn of her head, he pulled Ornery up short.

“What’s in the basket, Jenna?”

“Nothing important.” Her voice was a whisper of sound, bare of inflection as if she were staying as neutral as possible.