Read The Promise Online

Authors: Dee Davis

Tags: #romance, #romantic suspense, #paranormal, #historical, #colorado, #time travel, #dee davis

The Promise (45 page)

He frantically pulled the bed coverings aside. In the
center of the mattress he saw a small brownish stain. Blood—it must
be her blood. She
had
been a maiden. He felt a rush of
triumph and an overwhelming sense of tenderness. But the feelings
faded as he thought about the bolted door. There was no other way
to leave the chamber, and real people didn't disappear into thin
air.

With a frustrated gesture, he pushed his hair out of
his face. She had to be real. He couldn't begin to believe
otherwise. He didn't know where she had gone, but that no longer
mattered. He would find her. He had to. In one night, with one act,
she had irrevocably become his world. He sat on the bed, running
his hands over the mattress, searching for an indentation, traces
of her warmth, something that proved she was real.

His hand stopped, closing around something small and
cold. He held it up, turning it in the strengthening light. It was
a stone of some kind, hanging on a small golden circle. The smoky
amber crystal glimmered in a shaft of sunlight. He examined it
closely. The workmanship was fine. He flicked the fine gold loop
with his finger and was surprised when it opened. He smiled with
recognition. An earring. Her earring.

She was real.

 

*****

 

The sunlight danced upon the counterpane as
it filtered in through the bedroom window. Katherine woke groggily,
turning to shut off the incessant buzzing of her travel alarm. She
lay for a moment in sleepy silence. She felt stiff and a little
sore and for a moment wondered why. Then, with a rush, memory
flooded back. The other room. The stranger. No, she thought, hardly
a stranger. She had never known anyone more intimately. She was and
always would be a part of him. She had given him something she
would never, could never, give again.

She marveled at the realization that she wasn't
sorry. She should have been, but she wasn't. Even now, safely
ensconced in her own room, she had to admit there was a rightness
about it that couldn't be denied. It struck her that she was
ashamed of her hasty exit from his room. She owed him and herself
more than that. She got out of bed, marched resolutely to the
connecting door, and before she had time to chicken out, pushed it
open and walked into his room. She stopped, confused. It wasn't his
room at all. It wasn't even a bedroom. It was a bathroom, and a
small one at that. With a frown, she walked back into her bedroom,
forcing herself to take a good look at it.

The window was deep, but the glass was plain and it
was definitely not set in an arch. Against the adjacent wall, in
the corner, there was a battered wingback chair and a rusty
radiator. The plastered wall behind them showed no signs of ever
having held a fireplace. The bed was tiny, about the same size as
an American twin bed. Katherine sank to the floor, her hands
absently closing into the nap of the carpet.

Carpet.

Her head whirled. She looked frantically for another
door. There were only two. One she recognized immediately as the
door to the hallway, as it sported the expected sheet of paper
enumerating check-in and checkout times, along with various other
hotel policies. The other, the one she had just opened, was small
and unadorned. And it was flush to the wall, not set in an
archway.

A dream. It had all been a dream. The most wonderful
moment of her life was an illusion. Pain seared through her. No.
Impossible.
It had been so real. She felt bereft, as if
someone she loved deeply had died.

She curled on the floor, tears streaming down her
cheeks. No, no, no. She huddled there for what seemed an eternity,
until there were no more tears. A dream, all a dream. Her heart
still cried no, but her mind, searching for a logical conclusion
had already accepted it. There was no other explanation.

Katherine sucked in a ragged breath and wiped angrily
at her tears. She was behaving like a fool. There was no sense in
crying over a fantasy. She stood up, automatically beginning to
braid her heavy hair. She frowned, instinctively recognizing that
something felt wrong. She raised both hands to her ears, checking
for her earrings. One was missing. With a sigh, she headed to the
bed to look for it. As she moved to pull back the covers, her
nightgown slid off her shoulder, the silky blue fabric dropping
almost to her elbow.

With a mumbled curse, she reached for the
recalcitrant gown, then stopped short, sinking down onto the bed,
staring down at herself. She sucked in a breath and held it.
Stunned, her eyes traced the line of her shoulder to the curve of
her bare breast. There, on the soft peak, was a small reddish mark,
a mark that surely had been left by a lover.

 

Check out these books by Dee
Davis:

Time Travel:

 

Time After Time Series:

Everything in its Time

Wild Highland Rose

The Promise

 

Romantic Suspense:

 

Last Chance Series:

Endgame

Enigma

Exposure

Escape

 

Liar’s Game Series:

Eye of the Storm

Chain Reaction

Still of the Night

 

A-Tac Series:

Dark Deceptions

Dangerous Desires

Desperate Deeds

Daring

Deep Disclosure

Deadly Dance

Double Danger

Dire Distraction

 

The Random House Books:

After Twilight

Just Breath

Dark of the Night

Midnight Rain

Dancing in the Dark

 

Paranormal:

 

Devil May Care Series:

Hell Fire

Hell Fury

 

Women’s Fiction:

 

The Matchmaker Chronicles:

A Match Made on Madison

Set Up in SoHo

About Dee Davis

 

Award winning author
Dee Davis
worked
in association management before turning her hand to writing. Her
highly acclaimed first novel,
Everything In Its Time
, was
published in July 2000. Since then, among others, she’s won the
Booksellers Best, Golden Leaf, Texas Gold and Prism awards, and
been nominated for the National Readers Choice Award, the Holt and
two RT Reviewers Choice Awards. To date, she is the author of
twenty-two books and five novellas. When not sitting at the
computer, Dee spends time exploring Connecticut with her husband
and daughter.

 

Visit Dee at
http://www.deedavis.com
or
catch up with her on Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/deedavisbooks
or follow her on Twitter at
http://twitter.com/deesdavis

 

Photo: Marti Corn

 

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Yuletide Cowboy by Debra Clopton
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