Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (7 page)

The men continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“A good dose of sugar will cover the taste.”

Jenna grabbed her thigh and took deep breaths as the muscles beneath her fingers writhed and contracted.
Oh, heavens! This hurt.

“I am not taking that medicine.”

The only response she got was both men’s appraising glances settling on the grimace she couldn’t hide.

Doc frowned. “Take care of her right.”

“Never had any intention of doing anything else.” Clint stepped toward the bed and his big hand cupped Jenna’s shoulder, steadying her against his hard hip as she gasped at another surge of agony. “You take care of my daughter.”

Jenna knew from the pressure of his fingers that he hadn’t missed her start at his proclamation. Clint’s expression wavered through the tears she couldn’t suppress. Doc stared at Clint a minute, then he smiled and kissed Brianna’s spiky hair. “Never had any intention of doing anything else.”

Brianna kicked out her tiny feet and sucked in a wavering breath before letting loose with a wail. Clint touched her cheek with his lean callused finger. Brianna immediately turned and latched onto the tip, sucking for all she was worth.

Doc pulled her away, making a face. “Here now, you don’t want any of that. Not when we’ve got cake and milk downstairs.”

Clint’s finger dropped to Brianna’s chest where it rested dark and huge. He ran it over her ribs. His full lips settled into a hard line. “Better get her fed before she brings the house down.”

“She’s just hungry,” Jenna interjected quickly. “She’s usually very good.”

“I know.”

Clint moved his free hand across Jenna’s shoulder until his fingers stretched to stroke the nape of her neck. The gesture was strangely soothing. He was still touching Brianna, and for the one heartbeat before he dropped his finger from Brianna’s chest, he connected them both.

Brianna wailed louder. Jenna apologized again. “She’s very sweet normally, but she’s hungry.”

Clint met her gaze, his as usual, dark and unreadable, “I know.”

“And we’re going to do something about it right now.” Doc rubbed Brianna’s tiny head, causing the wild black tufts of hair to crackle and wave as he turned. Brianna worked up another decibel. Doc appeared totally unfazed, just stroking her head and murmuring, “I agree little one. We have been kept way too long from our dinner.”

He was out the door, Danny beside him, before the last word was finished, Brianna’s wail floating in his wake. Her little cry was full of nuance, the ones yanking at Jenna’s heart were the tones of desolation and confusion. She knew just how her little girl felt and she never wanted to hear that in her voice again. Jenna attempted to stand. She made it an inch before Clint stopped her with his grip on her neck. She struggled against his hand, moaning with the pain but not letting it stop her.

“She needs me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let me go!” Not caring if he slapped her for it, only needing to get to Brianna she swung at his groin. He sidestepped the blow, catching her forearm on his thigh. She glanced up. He was frowning.

“You need to learn to fight.”

She could still hear Brianna’s cry. She yanked at her arm. It didn’t seem that he even felt her struggles.

“Let me go to her.”

“First I take care of you.”

She didn’t need taking care of. She dug in her heels and pushed back. Pain seared her leg. She cried out. He let her go. She doubled her over, grabbing her thigh.

“She needs me,” she sobbed against her calf.

Clint unclenched her hands and removed her nails from her thighs. His fingers under her chin brought her gaze to his.

“Yes, she does.” His hand replaced hers on her thigh, covering much more area, its warmth seeping past her pain. “But not right now.”

Jenna could barely hear Brianna anymore. She tried to jerk her chin free.

“Yes, now.”

Clint kept her chin right where he wanted it. She didn’t have any choice but to meet his gaze.

“You aren’t any use to her like this.”

She hated him for pointing that out. “I’ll be fine.”

“Tomorrow you will be.”

“I’m not a cripple.”

All her vehemence got was a rise of his brow.

“No you’re not, but you are in a lot of pain, and I’m not going to let that continue.” His fingers began a gentle massage. “Breathe, Jenna.”

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath. She let it out on a shudder, and he worked the spasming muscles, seeming to read their intent with his hands and forestalling further rebellion. Controlling them the way he controlled everything around him.

“When I get you settled through this, I’m going to get you that tea, dose it with laudanum, and you are going to rest until your leg recovers.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“And who will take care of Brianna?”

“I will.”

“You can’t take care of a baby!”

His dark gaze dropped to her breasts with an intensity that shook her.

“If you were feeding her yourself, that would be true, but as you’re not, I figure I’ve got it covered.”

“You can’t want to do this.” What man wanted to take care of a fretful, crying newborn?

“It needs to be done.” Which told her nothing about how he felt.

The cramping was easing. She stretched her leg just a little, experimenting.

“Better?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers, expressionless as usual, not revealing anything to her while she felt he knew everything about her.

“A little.” It still ached, but the knifing pains had stopped.

“Good. I’ll get the tea in a minute.”

“I’m not taking that stuff.”

“You are.” He worked down by her knee at the base of the scar, and a driving pain ripped through her. She fell against him, needing his strength just for this moment, hoping that he would give it to her as he had once before. He did, turning so that she rested more comfortably against him.

“Breathe, Sunshine,” he whispered in her ear. “Just breathe and let me make this better.”

“You’re making it worse,” she gasped, her head resting weakly on his shoulder. She took a breath and inhaled the scent of pine and the outdoors. She recognized it immediately. It was etched into her brain from that awful night six months ago when he’d held her in his arms and driven her demons away. As he was doing now.

“Just for a minute.” The sympathy in his voice undermined her control. Tears burned behind her eyelids. She was so weak and he made it so easy to lean on him. To let him take over. As if he knew, his voice grew softer, his drawl slower. “Just for a minute more it’s going to hurt, Sunshine, and then you’ll be a whole lot more comfortable.”

He made it so hard to remember that she was learning to be strong for a reason.

“Just because you say so?”

His cheek brushed hers as he nodded, his voice as compelling as always, coaxing her to relax. To give in. To him.

“Because I say so.”

His fingers pressed deeper, working the same magic on the muscle that his voice did on her nerves. Soothing and coaxing, yet somehow commanding. Her leg relaxed and the excruciating agony faded to a throbbing ache.

“Ah.” The whisper of satisfaction drifted past her ear as the knot let loose. “There you go.”

He stroked her thigh through her pantaloons, from the top of the scar to the bottom. “And after a night’s rest, you’ll be as good as new.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“I’m your husband, father to your daughter.”

“Just saying it doesn’t make it so.”

Clint didn’t let his gaze waver from hers, but a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“Unless I have the muscle to back it up,” he finished with the part she’d left off. “And Sunshine, I have plenty of muscle.”

Her big blue eyes widened at that, staring at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Clint didn’t care. He’d been in lust with the voluptuous little optimist since the day he’d seen her standing in front of the mercantile, head bowed, earnestly listening to a set of instructions rapped out by her husband. She’d looked so soft, so inviting, so radiant with some sort of inner glow, that he’d fallen ass over band box, and he was tired of fighting it. Tired of fighting the fate that kept throwing her in his path. Tired of resisting the shy, curious, unconsciously hungry yearning in her eyes when she looked at him. He’d been a selfish bastard since the day he was born. He was pretty much set in his ways at thirty. No sense trying to change things at this point in the game.

And he wanted Jenna like hell on fire. He knew her husband had been a bastard. Knew more than he would ever tell her on that subject. It was his experience that women tended to marry the same kind of man the second time around. Maybe settling for the devil they knew. He could see Jenna doing that. She didn’t have her feet under her yet. She was scared, hungry, and vulnerable in ways that she didn’t even recognize.

Jenna deserved better than a repeat of her first marriage. She deserved security. Dignity. Respect. He could give her those things.

He worked at the lingering tightness under the scar tissue, the softer than soft, unburned flesh on the outside skimming his fingertips, reminding him again of the lushness he coveted. Craved. He cut a glance out of the corner of his eye at her troubled face, keeping his expression blank as he let the reality of his claim sink in. He might be a selfish bastard, but there were three things he knew how to do well—kill, make love, and keep what was his. He’d just claimed this woman and that spiky-haired urchin as his own, before Doc. They belonged to him now. His family. He pictured coming home to Jenna. Waking with her in his bed. He inhaled the rose scent of her shampoo, and felt a small measure of peace settle amidst the turmoil inside. This was right.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” he told her as he she shifted back.

He saw her mouth open, and just as quickly saw the caution that had been beaten into her drive the protest away. Her gaze dropped and her husky voice emerged in a whisper.

“You don’t have to marry me.”

“No, I don’t.” But the more he thought on it, the more he wanted it. He moved his fingers down to her knee, being especially gentle there. Stroking and soothing the tired muscles, trying to ease the tension in the rest of her body as she leaned back. He knew she was afraid of his size. So far he couldn’t tell if it was just him or all big men, but one way or another, he’d be getting rid of that fear.

Her fingers laced tighter than a cinch in her lap. Her spine was rod straight, but her chin tucked. Hiding her face.

“I can take care of Brianna on my own.”

“No. You can’t.” He cut off her protest with a shake of his head, “You might get by for a few years, but what about when she gets bigger and men start thinking she’s fair game because of her skin color? How will you protect her then?”

She didn’t have a ready answer. An occasional glimpse of blue told him she was peeking at him from beneath her lashes.

“What does it matter to you?” she finally asked.

“I suspect for the same reason it matters to you. She’s little and helpless and needs someone to stand for her.” He shrugged and gave her the truth. “And I’ve a hankering for a family of my own.”