Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

only worked together two years, they were tight. They shared a near-

maniacal need to win at everything, which had been obvious the first

time they’d played cards on an overnight flight to some now-forgotten

destination. She came by her competitiveness growing up in a family of

super-achievers, he by being the first American-born child in a family

of immigrants. Pete had to be disappointed he didn’t get the job, but he

didn’t let on. So she’d be disappointed and pissed off for him. “Who

knows what strings got pulled? It’s a political appointment—probably

someone somewhere knows someone who owed somebody a favor.”

“Happens all the time on the Beltway,” Gary said.

“Yeah, I know.” She rarely paid attention to politics—who had

time? And if this appointment hadn’t affected her so personally and her

job so intimately, she wouldn’t have cared.

“Younger than I thought she’d be,” Gary commented casually.

“Kind of…interesting.”

Evyn didn’t react to his not-so-subtle probing. Hell. She

couldn’t argue. The captain was younger—and way hotter—than

O’Shaughnessy. She still couldn’t take in that O’Shaughnessy was

dead. He’d only been in his early fifties and a good-looking fifty, still

fit and trim. Ran five miles every day. Didn’t smoke, hardly drank.

Who would have expected him to drop dead in the gym? She’d figured

his replacement would be closer to his age, not almost two decades

younger, like Captain Wesley Masters. The navy doctor was a lot

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Oath Of hOnOr

more than interesting too. She was five feet ten inches or so of sinewy

grace, capped off by golden brown hair shot through with sunlight

and wheat and cut a bit rough-and-tumble around her face and throat.

The effect was a little casual and a lot sexy. And her eyes, even on a

gray, overcast day, were heather green. Spring-kissed. Gorgeous. Evyn

grimaced. She’d rather have to dislike someone who wasn’t so damn

good looking, but she’d manage.

“You know,” Gary said, “it’s probably not her fault she got tapped

for the post.”

“Never said it was,” Evyn said sharply. Of course Gary would

pick up on the slightest sign of attraction—the guy was a sponge when

it came to reading people. Never missed anything. She had to stay

on her toes all the time or he’d be watching the X-rated fantasies she

occasionally played in her head to pass the time standing post.

“Just saying,” he went on, “since we have to work together and

all. Might be smart to play nice.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I can work with her just fine.

As long as no one expects us all to be one big happy family.”

“Kind of works better when we are, considering…”

Evyn folded her arms across her chest and made another visual

sweep of the area. “Then they should have given Pete the job. After all,

he earned it.”

v

The Secret Service agent who escorted Wes to the building was

silent as they strode up the meandering flagstone walkway between

snow-filled sunken pools. The manor house rose suddenly from the

late-morning mist, a sweeping three-story stone edifice sitting high

above cascading dunes that fell away to the ocean’s edge. A white-

pillared wraparound veranda, which she imagined was the perfect place

for summer entertaining, was empty now except for security posted

at regular intervals along its perimeter. The muted rumble of voices

carried through the carved wooden front doors as the agent opened

them for her.

“Thank you,” Wes said, stepping inside.

A white-jacketed valet appeared instantly at her side. “May I take

your coat, Captain?”

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RADCLY f FE

She shrugged out of it, said, “Yes, thank you,” and handed it

over.She continued down a wide hallway, following the murmur of

conversation into a great room with soaring ceilings and one entire

wall of glass that afforded a view of the island and ocean. The sliding

glass doors to the veranda were closed now, but in the summer the sea

breezes would fill the space. She glanced around, taking stock of the

guests. She was surprised to see—or rather, not see—many dignitaries

in attendance. Some of the quietly milling crowd was in uniform, but

many wore civilian clothes. She didn’t know much about the president’s

daughter, other than what most of the world knew—Blair Powell had

been by her father’s side on the campaign trail and, since his election,

often stood in for him at political events where an official presence

was required but the president himself was not needed. Blair was the

unofficial first lady of the nation, and the nation loved her.

She was also a lesbian, and today was her wedding day.

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Oath Of hOnOr

chapter twO

Blair stepped into the hall with her father just as Cam and Cam’s

mother came out of the room opposite. Cam looked even

more handsome than ever—which was saying a lot. Blair’s stomach

tightened as their eyes met. She’d seen Cam just the night before when

they’d had a late-night supper with Tanner and Adrienne at Whitley

Manor. She and Cam had slept apart the night before the wedding,

agreeing the tradition added to the specialness of the occasion. Twelve

hours or twelve days made no difference—every time they met after

being apart, she was struck with the force of their connection. The air

around her came alive and her heart beat faster. Cam’s gaze held hers

for an instant, as firmly and certainly as a caress, before moving to her

father.“Sir.” Cam nodded to the president.

Blair’s father said, “Morning, Cameron,” and moved a few feet

away to greet Cam’s mother.

“Hello, darling,” Blair said softly, sliding her hand down Cam’s

arm to clasp her fingers. They were warm and strong, fitting hers

perfectly. Like Cam.

“Hi, baby,” Cam murmured, stepping close.

“Any second thoughts?” Blair asked playfully, but some tiny part

of her was still amazed Cam wanted her, body and soul, forever. Her

head might have little niggling insecurities. But her heart never did.

Cam always made her feel completely and totally loved.

“Not a one.” Cam answered with absolute conviction and gave

her a look that said she wanted to kiss her. For a fleeting second, Blair

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RADCLY f FE

wondered if it wasn’t too late to elope. When Cam got that smoky look

in her eyes, all Blair wanted was Cam inside her. She supposed there

was no way off the island without being noticed, though, and tried

not to sigh in frustration. Cam’s eyes sparkled with amusement and a

promise. Blair smiled. Cam knew her too well.

“Okay—it was just a passing thought,” Blair said. “I really am

looking forward to this.”

“You look beautiful.” Cam lifted her hand to kiss her fingers.

“So do you.” Blair was surprised to hear her voice shaking. The

wedding was important for a lot of reasons, not all of them personal.

She loved Cam and wanted to say so to the whole world. She wanted

to wear Cam’s ring and put hers on Cam’s hand. But more was at stake

today than just their private celebration. Even today, she was not just

any woman. All her life she’d been her father’s daughter, and she

wouldn’t change that no matter how hard the public scrutiny had been

at times or how often she’d chafed under the restrictions. He was the

president of the United States and his daughter was about to marry

another woman—with his blessing. Their wedding was historic. Blair

squeezed Cam’s hand, putting everything but Cam from her mind. “Just

to be clear, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I’m yours, forever. Count on it.”

“I do.”

“I do too,” Cam said.

“I’ll see you downstairs, then, and we can say it again for the

whole world to hear.” Blair released Cam’s hand and rejoined her

father. “Ready, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” her father said.

Blair glanced back at Cam and raised her brow. “Commander?”

“Anything you say, Ms. Powell,” Cam called after her.

Her steps as light as her heart, Blair laughed.

v

“Wes!”

Wes spun around, caught sight of Emory Constantine hurrying

toward her, and opened her arms. “Hi, Em.”

“Hi yourself!” Emory’s arms went around her neck and warm lips

brushed her cheek. Emory hugged her hard.

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Oath Of hOnOr

“It’s great to see you,” Wes said gruffly, her throat tightening.

Why was it so hard to keep in touch with the most important people

in her life? She hadn’t seen Emory for months, about as long as it had

been since she’d been home. She missed Emory like family. Emory

was family. Wes had acquaintances at work, colleagues she liked and

respected, people she talked with every day. But no one she shared

with. Emory, and her mother and her sisters, were the ones she trusted.

“You look beautiful.”

Wes stepped back, keeping Emory’s hands in hers. Emory’s

shimmering blue dress brought out the highlights in her dark eyes and

glossy shoulder-length black hair. She was, as always, utterly stunning

while radiating complete confidence and self-assurance. Some people

probably thought her ease, even when surrounded by some of the

most influential people in the world, came from being lauded on the

covers of Time and People for her lab’s stem-cell breakthroughs, but

Emory had been certain about everything as long as Wes had known

her. Emory never lost sight of what she wanted, where she was headed,

what she would accomplish. Wes loved her single-mindedness and total

confidence. Emory had always said the same thing about her, but Wes

suspected she only looked self-assured on the outside as a result of her

height and her athletic build and the lessons she’d learned early in life—

never show fear, never show weakness, and never, ever be ashamed of

who she was. Poverty had a way of creating dignity; at least it had in

her house. But she knew it was camouflage. Even all these years later,

she still wondered where she fit in the world and was always aware of

what she had to do to secure her place. Her work was her lifeline—her

security and her satisfaction.

Emory brushed her hand over the fruit salad above Wes’s heart, her

fingertips making the ribbons and medals sway against the immaculate

blue material a shade darker than Emory’s dress. “Look who’s talking.

You’re downright dashing in this uniform, Captain. I fear I might

swoon.”

Wes laughed, and a sandy-haired, sharp-eyed woman in a dark

suit and coffee-colored shirt coughed discreetly at Emory’s elbow, her

body language possessive without being proprietary. “I’m standing

right here, babe.”

Emory’s face lit up with an expression Wes had never seen there

before. Pure joy. Emory grabbed the lanky newcomer around the waist