Read Online The Promise by Fayrene Preston - Free Book Online Page A

had realized, and it wasn’t over yet. She leaned her head against Conall’s shoulder and felt his arms bring her closer against him. The clean, spicy scent of him invaded her senses. His strength comforted and assured her. The music drifted through her mind and began to clear away the disturbing events of the evening.
    She closed her eyes and remembered again the moment she had met his parents. It could have been awful, but he had chosen not to let her be humiliated and hurt. Most likely, he had only been trying to avoid a scene, but whatever his reason, she was grateful. And now she was in his arms, pressed against his body, and for the moment at least she saw no reason to leave.

    Four
    Sharon’s breath caught in her throat as the car she was riding in rounded a curve in the long drive and suddenly she saw SwanSea.
    Autumn winds were gusting, bending the tree limbs halfway to the ground, and sending brilliantly colored leaves scurrying while waves pounded into the shore. Dark brooding clouds hung low. And amid it all, the great house of SwanSea—immense and magnificent—stood on a bluff overlooking the ocean. It seemed at one moment a living force, at another a work of art.
    Conall had insisted they use his private plane to fly to Maine. But when Sharon had arrived at the airport, the pilot had handed her a message from Conall saying that a business emergency prevented him from joining her until later in the evening. Her first impulse had been to wait for him, but the pilot informed her that he had specific instructions to fly her to SwanSea and then return for Conall. The plane had flown into a small airport south of SwanSea’s closest town. A car and driver had been waiting for her.
    And now she was there. She had read about the house, had even seen pictures of it, but nothing had prepared her for it.
    As soon as the car rolled to a stop, a tall, dignified, silver-haired gentleman came out of one of the two carved black-walnut-front doors and descended the steps. Waving aside a waiting attendant, he opened the car door for her.
    “Miss Graham?” he said in a clipped British accent, helping her out. “I’m Winston Lawrence, manager of SwanSea. Welcome. We are so pleased you are going to be with us for a while. ”
    “Well, thank you.” She was somewhat taken aback by the personal greeting, since her usual greeting whenever she traveled was a polite request, accompanied occasionally by a smile, to sign the register.
    “I hope your trip was pleasant,” he said, managing to supervise the unloading of her luggage while giving her his complete attention.
    The wind whipped at her, pulling free the pins that had secured her hair at the back of her head. She brushed a heavy haze of hair from her face and inhaled the tangy scent of the sea. “The trip was fine. A bit bumpy because of the weather, but very short.”
    “Yes, Mr. Deverell’s plane certainly makes quick work of the distance between here and Boston, doesn’t it? They notify us when it takes off from Logan, and then again when it lands here, so we’ll have a timetable with which to work.”
    “I see.” She didn’t really, but she supposed it had something to do with the perks of being a Deverell. “Have you been informed of Mr. Deverell’s delay?”
    He gave a brisk nod. “Our latest word is that he will arrive sometime this evening. Now, if you’ll just come this way, we’ll have you settled in no time.” He glanced over his shoulder at a young man dressed in a bellman’s uniform. “Peter will bring your bags.”
    Instead of following right away, she hung back and gazed up at the house. It loomed before her with an aura of strength and indomitability. And she had the sudden, distinct impression she should proceed cautiously.
    She was being absurd, she told herself in the next moment, and attempted to shake away the feeling. By the time she entered the grand entry hall, she had met with only limited success.
    But everywhere she looked there