Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (17 page)

The door cracked and he had a perfect view of the left side of her face.

“You going to let me in?”

“I’m not quite ready.”

As nervous as she looked, he figured he could be staring down his ninetieth birthday and still be standing outside the door.

“Sunshine, if you’re trying to make yourself beautiful, I’ve never seen you less than gorgeous.”

“Even that night?”

He knew what night she was talking about in that whisper. He’d never forget it or the panic he’d felt running into that inferno and knowing he was probably too late.

“Yes. Even that night.”

The one eye he could see blinked once, twice, but the door didn’t open. He shifted the wine bottle into his hand with his knee.

“Can you tell me what the problem is?”

Her mouth worked. He had a glimpse of white before her teeth sank out of sight into her lower lip.

“I want to turn out the lamp.”

It took him a second to remember he’d sent her upstairs with a comment about leaving the light on so he could see her lying on that big bed with that wonderful mane of hair spread about her.

“Why?”

“Mara and Elizabeth bought me a nightgown as a wedding present.”

That sounded promising. “I’m not following.”

“It’s too short.”

Now there was a fact to perk up a man’s cock.

“How short?” His drawl was a little more intense than normal. More of her lower lip slipped out of sight.

“Short enough to be showing things better left covered.”

“Somehow, I’m not seeing that as a problem.”

“You will.”

That agonized whisper pulled his sense of humor up short. He kept his tone as gentle as possible, considering he was more used to using his voice to intimidate than cajole.

“Jenna, open the door.”

“Can I turn out the light first?”

“No.” He wasn’t starting this marriage off creating barriers between them.

With a deep breath, she did, staying behind the wood panel as the gap widened. Clint stepped through the opening. The wine glasses clinked together as his elbow bumped the door.

Danny whined and scrambled to his feet. Clint put his shoulder to the door and pressed it closed, locking Danny out and revealing Jenna in all her splendor. And she was glorious, that thick, wavy mane of long hair tumbled past her shoulders, framing her softly rounded face and providing the perfect back drop for the rosy pink glow of flesh so enticingly left exposed by the bodice that barely clung to her shoulders. He couldn’t take his eyes off those shoulders and that filmy white fabric gracing them. Just one push with his finger and it would slide down those soft arms and waft away from those incredible breasts. He might have to nudge it again if it got hung up on the plump tips, but then it would float down to the wide flare of her hips, catching again before it slid down her thighs.

His gaze dropped to her thighs, which she was doing her best to keep tucked behind the flounced hem of the gown. Her scarred thighs.

“They must have taken my robe out of my valise.”

If she could have disappeared through the door she would have. The flush on her cheeks begged the brush of his fingers. The agony of insecurity in her blue eyes offended him. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

Because his hands were full, he bent. She ducked her head. His kiss landed on the part in her hair. The faint scent of roses teased his nostrils.

“Ah Sunshine, did you think you had me beat in the scar department?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, just clung to that doorknob like it was her lifeline.

“It’s different for a man.”

“Guarantee you, collecting them hurts the same.”

She glanced up as if surprised that he could know pain. Damned if he could figure her out. “You’re beautiful, Jenna.”

He put the wine and cake on the dresser. Behind the door Danny moaned. Jenna reached for the knob.

“Don’t you dare.”

She jumped.

He softened his tone. “We’ll never get him out of here if he gets in.”

“What harm—”

He tucked the long fall of her hair behind her shoulder. “I’m not looking for an audience tonight.”

The flush rose from her chest and flooded her cheeks as she caught his meaning.

“But surely after the barn?”

She looked so damned adorable, so innocent, though he knew she wasn’t. “Got to admit that warmed me right up.”

Impossibly, the blush deepened. “But Jack…”

He didn’t want to hear about her first husband. Especially not on his wedding night. He slid his hand around the nape of her neck.

“Do me a favor and don’t mention him.” She flinched from the anger in his tone. He bit back an “ever” and added a softer, “Not tonight at least.”

“I’m sorry.”

The little bit of confidence she’d displayed since the barn disappeared as if it had never existed. She seemed to shrink in on herself, hunching her shoulders, and as much as the move provided him with a clear view of her breasts and accented the rich valley between, he hated the meekness she drew around herself like a shield.

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t mention him.”

“I won’t.”

He sighed. So much for his legendary finesse. He pulled her away from the door. She lurched against him. She caught his forearm in her hands. Her palms were damp. She was nervous. He wrapped his arm around her waist and took her weight against his chest.

“You feel good in my arms.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m an ass.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were married and I have no right to begrudge you that.”

She took a little shuddering breath. “I’m just trying to do what you want.”

He took a handful of her hair and tipped her head back. “How about you just relax and let me fill you in on my preferences?”

She blinked, but didn’t argue. He couldn’t read what was going on behind her eyes. Damn, her father and first husband had done a job on her.

“That was an apology, Sunshine.”

“Oh.”

Her breasts pressed into his stomach. Her breath seared him through his shirt. How could she ever doubt that she pleased him? He stepped back from her, immediately missing her soft breasts and hot breath.

“Come here.”

He didn’t give her much choice but to follow. With his hand on the nape of her neck she was forced to tag along, a wary shadow. When he got to the bed, her eyes widened. The pulse in her throat picked up speed. He laid money it was nerves and not desire that set her heart to pounding.

He turned her and gave her a little push. She sat on the bed. He noticed she didn’t bend her right knee.

“Is your leg bothering you?” He ran his hand over her thigh. There wasn’t any tension in the muscle.

“No.”

Desire replaced worry. He had her in his home, in his bed, and her thigh under his hand. There was only one thing that could make tonight better.

“Would you like some cake?”

“Cake?”

“Yes.” That decadently rich chocolate cake his wife had baked him. As a present. For her husband. It put the earrings he had purchased for her to shame.

“Uhm…no.”

“Mind if I have some?” He wanted it all, his wife and her gift.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Go right ahead.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was relief in her voice. Why she would be shy now when she wasn’t in the barn eluded him, but she clearly was. He brushed his fingers over the remnants of heat in her cheek.

“Smile for me, Sunshine.”

She did, a tentative twitch of the lips, but it was enough to spark those dimples. He moved his finger over one. All the while she stared at him.

She had the biggest eyes, the softest skin, and the most vulnerable personality. He’d have to be very careful to gentle his ways around her. She was wounded and needed protection. He could give her that.

He just wouldn’t be able to leave her alone. She was a walking fantasy with all those full womanly curves and he wasn’t the type to rise above his baser moments. But he could give her a minute to collect herself and something to ease her through whatever was giving her a case of the jitters.

It only took a minute to pour the wine into the glasses and grab his plate. She was still sitting where he’d left her, a temptress in a froth of white staring at him with wide apprehensive eyes. She had, however, pulled the quilt up as high as she could to cover as much as possible without actually lying down.

“Is that spirits?”

He hoped she wasn’t going to be one of those teetotalers.

“Nope. Just some wine.”

“Ugh!” Her nose wrinkled.

“You don’t like wine?”

She eyed the expensive bottle on the dresser as if it were poison.

“My father made it every year from leftover apples.”

Clint had had a bit of that type of wine himself. He held out the glass.

“I think you might find this more to your liking.”

She took the glass. He sat beside her, his hip catching hers as she slid toward him with the dip of the mattress. This close, his view down her bodice was unimpeded. He took a bite of his cake, and she took a sip of her wine.

“This is good.” She couldn’t have sounded more surprised.

“Did you think I’d skimp on my wedding night?”

She ducked his gaze. “I didn’t think…”

He tipped the glass back up to her mouth with his finger before licking a smear of frosting off his thumb. “I wasn’t criticizing.”

“Oh.”

She took another sip, striving to look calm, but he could tell from the betraying flush on her cheeks, and the nervous looks she flashed him that she was flustered.

He took another bite of cake, savoring the flavor as he savored the reality of his wife. She was such an outwardly unassuming little thing. So sweetly shy. So completely passive, and yet surprisingly bold when she needed to be.

She shifted under his gaze and took a bigger sip. He kept staring at her, knowing it made her nervous, deliberately keeping her off balance so she’d fall back on sipping the wine to cover her nerves. He watched her drink, calmly eating his cake, savoring the buttery chocolate flavor as he watched the alcohol take effect. He’d figured it wouldn’t take much to relax her, and he was right. By the time the glass was empty she was leaning unselfconsciously against him, staring at the wall.