The Promise (12 page)

"They who?" His look was at once protective and
questioning—angry and concerned. She marveled at his strength. She
was sitting here falling apart and he was the one who had traveled
through time.

"My grandfather, and my doctors." She frowned,
remembering. "My grandfather was there when I left the tunnel. I
insisted that they look, but you were gone—the mine was empty." She
fought against a sob. "When I woke up in the hospital, they told me
that you were a figment of my imagination."

"And you believed them?" His voice was harsh, and she
winced at the pain she heard there.

"No. Not at first. As soon as I was well enough I
went back there, back to the tunnel. And I waited for you. I came
every day, Michael. I was determined to find you. To prove to my
grandfather that you were real. But you never came."

"But I did. I searched that damn mountain for you.
Had my family out looking, too. They were certain you'd died or
gone back to where you came from. But I was so sure you were out
there, somewhere. That you needed me. Then, when it became apparent
that my family was right, I stopped searching, but I kept coming
back to the tunnel, Cara. On the off chance that you'd be there.
That you'd come back."

"But I didn't." Her voice cracked, and the anguish
she felt was mirrored in the blue of his eyes.

"You couldn't."

"I wanted to believe in you, Michael. I wanted to so
badly. But my grandfather thought I was using you as a crutch. A
way to deal with the loss of my parents. He even sent me to a
psychiatrist."

He raised a brow in question.

"For my head. To make me see the truth of it. And so,
little by little, I began to accept the fact that I'd made you
up."

His hand tightened around hers. "But you didn't."

She smiled at him through her tears. "No. I
didn't."

Without a word, he pulled her tightly against his
chest. She let the warmth of him surround and comfort her. She
breathed deeply, letting his scent, so familiar, so foreign, fill
her, soothe her.

He was a stranger. He was Michael.

And if they were right, he was lost in her time.

*****

Michael closed his eyes, reveling in the feel
of her heartbeat, the soft silkiness of her hair. How many nights
had he dreamed about golden hair and green eyes? And now she was
here, in his arms. He tipped up her chin, looking deep into her
eyes. Her face was wet with tears, her expression a mixture of awe
and fear. With a gentle finger, he brushed away the moisture on her
cheek, feeling her tremble in response. Carefully, as though he
might break her, he pressed his lips against hers.

She opened her mouth and what had started as a
comforting touch, ignited into passion born of longing and joy. He
circled her lips with his tongue, tasting the salt of her tears.
All he wanted to do was hold her—never let her go. To prove to
himself that he was alive, no matter the century.

He sighed, pushing away his need. No matter how badly
he wanted her, this wasn't the time. He nestled his chin on top of
her head. "Cara, we need to talk." He felt her nod, and gently
released her. They sat facing each other, still holding hands, as
if to be certain neither of them would disappear.

*****

"This all sounds crazy." Cara ran a hand
through her hair, her mind in tumultuous turmoil. On the one hand,
she wanted to throw herself into his arms, surrender body and soul.
On the other hand, she could hear her grandfather's voice warning
her that things were not always as they seemed. It was almost more
than she could bear.

"I know it does." He looked almost as confused as she
felt. "But the reality is that a few days ago, I was riding line on
Clune, trying to build a life for my family, a real home. And
today, I discover that somehow I've leapt forward a hundred years
and that the people I love are all long dead."

"Family?" Cara felt something tighten around her
chest, impeding her breathing. "Are you…I mean do you have a…" She
stopped, uncertain how to put her question into words.

Michael smiled. "Do I have a wife?"

She nodded mutely, waiting.

"No, Cara, I don't. I was speaking of my father and
brother."

She exhaled in relief, surprised to find that she'd
been holding her breath. "What about your mother?"

Cara watched as a parade of emotions washed across
his face, anger, hurt, and then finally a cold mask that
effectively shut her out. "She's gone."

"Gone?"

"She abandoned us." There was a finality to his voice
that made her swallow her curiosity. Whatever his mother had done,
it was still painful for Michael to talk about.

"Okay, so you were riding line," she said, moving
them back to the topic at hand.

"Right. I'd been at it all day, checking stock and
making sure our fences weren't down. I'd finished with the high
pastures, so just after sunset, I decided to head back. By the time
I got to the main road it was dark. The moon hadn't risen yet, so
it was hard to make out anything. I could see lights from Clune in
the distance, but it was still a good ways off."

He paused, frowning at the memory. "The shot came
from somewhere off to my left. I couldn't see a thing and I figured
it was best to get the hell out of there."

"Why didn't you ride home?"

"There was nothing between me and the ranch but bare
ground. I needed cover and I knew if I could make the trees I had a
chance."

"So you hoped you'd lose your assailant?" She'd never
actually used the word assailant in conversation before. It made
her feel queasy to think that someone had actually been trying to
kill him.

"Right, or least keep him well behind me.
Unfortunately, I hadn't gambled on how badly I was hurt. It was
slow going and I could hear him behind me. I knew it wouldn't be
long before he caught up with me. So, finally, I jumped off
Roscoe."

"Roscoe?"

"My horse." He shrugged. "I figured the man trailing
me would follow Roscoe back down the mountain. Or see that his
saddle was empty and assume I was dead."

Cara shivered again.

"I knew I was close to the old tunnel, and if I could
just make it there, I was pretty certain, he wouldn't be able to
find me even if he came back. So I waited until I heard him go
after Roscoe, and then managed to crawl inside. You pretty much
know the rest."

She nodded, her teeth worrying the soft inside of her
lower lip. "And you don't have any idea who's trying to kill
you?"

"None at all. Could have been a road agent. I can't
think of any enemies. Truth of it is, there's no way to
know—especially now." He grimaced, and again she realized just how
difficult this must be for him.

"Your family must be worried sick."

"I'm not certain my father will be sober enough to
know I'm missing." Sharp-edged bitterness colored his voice.

"But your brother?"

"He'll think I'm dead."

"Maybe not. Maybe…" she trailed off, wishing she knew
what to say.

He shook his head. "It's rough out there, and I was
supposed to be back by nightfall. Patrick knows I'd never break my
word—unless I had no choice."

"Well, maybe there's some way to get you back." She
was surprised how much the thought upset her. She'd just found him.
The idea of letting him vanish from her life again, was not
appealing, but she had to think of his needs first.

"How?" The single word sounded so hopeless it brought
tears to her eyes. "Cara, we don't even know for certain how I got
here."

She swallowed her emotions. This was not the time.
She had to be strong, to think clearly. "Well, we can be fairly
sure it has to do with the mine tunnel where you found me."

"True, but it has to be something more than that.
We've both been in it numerous times and not a damn thing has
happened." There was an edge to his voice, a note of
desperation.

She reached for his hand. "We've just got to think it
through. The two times something did happen we were together."

"True."

Cara recognized the emotions she saw swirling in the
blue depths of his eyes and she was fairly certain her own
reflected his turmoil. She took a deep breath. "Okay, so we know
there is some relationship between you and me and the tunnel. Is
there anything else?"

"There has to be, but damned if I know what. Maybe
it's just coincidence. Maybe those were the only times we were
actually in the tunnel at the same time."

Cara shook her head, stroking the smooth silver of
her pendant. "No, it has to be more than that because when you
found me, I was outside the mine. Remember?"

"You're right." He frowned. "Maybe it's just
proximity."

"Maybe." A thought occurred to her. "Or maybe it has
to do with need."

He shot her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

She concentrated on putting her thoughts into words.
"When you found me, I had just survived the car wreck that killed
my parents. I was disoriented and lost in my grief. I had no coat
and no idea I was in the middle of a blizzard. Without you, I
wouldn't have survived on that mountain."

He cocked his head to one side, understanding
spreading across his face. "And I would definitely have died if you
hadn't found me in the tunnel."

"Got it in one." She smiled at him as if he were a
prize pupil.

"So you're thinking that it's adversity that brings
us together?"

She blew out a breath. "I don't know what I'm saying,
really. I just know that when I needed you, you were there. And
then, after all this time, despite the fact that I no longer—" She
stopped, embarrassed at the direction her thoughts had taken
her.

"After you no longer believed I existed."

She nodded miserably.

"Cara, it's all right. I'm not sure that I'd have
reacted any differently given the circumstances."

She shot him a tremulous smile, grateful for his
support. "Anyway, after all this time, the bottom line is when you
needed me I was there. All I'm saying is that there's definitely a
powerful connection between us."

"I can't say that I disagree with that." His slow
smile made her bones dissolve like a spoonful of sugar in hot tea.
She barely knew him, but his power over her hadn't lessened in the
nine years since their first encounter.

If anything, it was stronger, pulling at her like a
magnet. She wanted to crawl inside him, to find shelter in his
steely strength. She wanted… well she couldn't put a polite name to
that
. She felt the heat of a blush staining her cheeks.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What about me what?"

The smile broadened, telling her he had correctly
determined the train of her thoughts. "Surely after all this time
there's someone in your life. Nick?" He sobered, his face
tightening at the thought of her recent guest.

"No, not Nick."

"Well there must be somebody."

"No. Nothing serious anyway. It costs too much to
give your heart, Michael. That's a lesson I've learned very well.
Promises are made to be broken. First with my parents, then with
you…" She trailed off, embarrassed.

"I'm real, Cara." The fire in his eyes sent a shiver
of desire coursing through her.

"I had no way of knowing that. And it just all hurt
so badly. But gradually, in time, I began to heal, and I threw
myself into my art. Painting was everything for me. Emotional
involvement at a risk-free level." She shrugged, turning away from
him. "Only there's no such thing."

"What happened?" Michael's voice was gentle.

"I got an offer to work in New York with a painter
named Adrian DeBeck. Grandfather wanted me to stay in Colorado.
Attend university. I was young and stupid and certain that I knew
what was best for me. He just wanted me to be nearby. We
quarreled." She paused, groping for words. Michael stroked her
palm, the gesture at once soothing and stimulating.

She looked up to meet his eyes and was amazed at the
compassion there. "I walked away without looking back. And a year
later he was dead." She tried to stop the tears, but they seemed to
have a will of their own. "He gave me everything and I walked away
without even saying thank you. Three months after that, I found out
that Adrian had been selling my paintings as his own. That
he'd…that he'd been using me for months. So, in the end,
Grandfather was right."

The sympathy in his eyes was hard to bear. "If we
could only see the future, we'd all handle things differently."

She nodded, wiping angrily at her tears. "I'm okay. I
don't know why I told you all of that. It's just that there isn't
anyone in my life. It hurts too much when you lose them."

"Not everyone leaves, Cara." His gaze met hers, his
eyes intense.

She looked away, glancing at the clock, trying to
ignore the tangled emotions building inside her. "It's late. We've
been talking for hours. I shouldn't have let you go this long
without a rest and something to eat." She eyed him guiltily,
knowing she was babbling.

"And we need to change your bandage. Maybe you could
start with a shower." That always made her feel better when she was
sick. Not that he was sick exactly. In fact, at the moment, he
looked remarkably healthy. Oh, Lord. She stood up, fidgeting with
the edge of her shirt.

He stood, too, catching her restless fingers between
his palms as he pulled her closer. She wanted him so badly she
could actually feel it burning in her gut, but she was also aware
that her batting average with men was zero. What if she let him
down? Or worse, what if he only wanted her for now. She wasn't sure
she could give herself to this man without knowing it was
forever.

Her brain reiterated all these thoughts as her body
melded to his. His heat seared through her and she thought she
might not survive the sheer joy of touching him. She tipped back
her head and met the question in his blue-black gaze.