Promises Keep (The Promise Series) by Sarah McCarty Page A

control her voice, he knew he scared her.
    She closed her eyes and counted to ten. His hands left her shoulders. She opened her eyes. He was still standing beside the bed, looking totally out of place against the blue flowered wallpaper that covered the top half of the walls. And he was still looking at her with that mixture of cool control and banked possession, as he always did.
    “I didn’t drag you halfway across the territory only to have you do yourself damage in my mother’s home,” he informed her.
    “Then let me go home.”
    “No.” One word, but it brooked no argument. She gave it to him anyway, matching him glare for glare, pitting her will against his.
    “Yes.”
    “You can’t leave, Mara,” Dorothy interjected, looking anxiously between them. “You’re hurt.”
    Cougar reached for Mara. Her flinch was involuntary. So was her gasp, but all he did was take the sleeve of her borrowed nightgown and slip it back up over her shoulder from where it had fallen. She caught it before it could fall again. A quick glance showed Cougar wasn’t even looking at her. He was staring across the bed at his mother.
    “Whatever you’re trying to do, this is not the time.”
    “Hrmph.” Dorothy snapped her apron straight, and shoved a hairpin back into her graying red hair. “When do you think the right time might be? When I’m standing by your grave, crying my eyes out over the waste?”
    “No one’s going to kill me.”
    He seemed very sure of that.
    “How do you know? One of these days, you might have to threaten the wrong man in an effort to keep her safe, and then what?”
    And then she would be alone without even her secret illusion that there was someone, somewhere she could count on.
    “This isn’t any of your business,” he told his mother. It was a softly worded order, but an order nonetheless. Dorothy didn’t seem to notice.
    “It most certainly is.”
    While pretending to smooth the quilt, Mara watched Cougar out of the corner of her eye. He folded his arms across his chest, his muscles straining his shirt as he said, “No. It isn’t.”
    Mara didn’t know where Dorothy got the courage to argue with him, but her arms crossed over her ample bosom and her mouth opened, obviously prepared to do just that.
    He silenced her with another shake of his head and a frown. Dorothy huffed in disgust and turned away. “I’ll get Mara something to eat,” she said as she pulled the door open.
    “Thank you.”
    Dorothy closed the door behind her, and that left just him and her in this small frilly room together. Mara took a breath for strength. She’d never been good at arguing. Up until Cecile’s, she’d always been more inclined to follow orders than give them. She released the breath in a slow steady exhale. A lot of things had changed since then.
    “Do you need anything?” he asked.
    “No.” At least none of her inner shakiness showed in her voice.
    “When Dorothy gets back with dinner, you eat all she brings.”
    Who in heaven’s name does he think he is? The retort that sprang to her lips died as her eyes met his. He was looking at her with a combination of amusement and expectation, his right brow arched in an invitation or a challenge. She wasn’t sure which. As a result, her “I’ll eat what I want” was more a whisper than a statement.
    “As long as what you want is everything, I can live with that.”
    Well, she couldn’t live with the mouse she turned into whenever he was around. She had a backbone for goodness sake. She put it to use, lifting her chin and straightening her spine. “What you can and cannot live with is not one of my concerns.”
    His answer was a flat “It will be.”
    What was she supposed to say to that? By the time she thought of something, the silence had gone on too long for it to have any impact. How did people argue like this daily? Her stomach churned. She pressed her hand against it, while she focused on a list of potential retorts to his potential