Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

“That was pretty fast,” Gary said. “Getting her on board. O’Shaughnessy hasn’t even been dead two days.”

“It’s not like they could leave the spot open,” Evyn said darkly. Except why the hell the powers that be had gone outside to bring in a complete novice was beyond her. They already had a field-tested, experienced battle surgeon who could have stepped into O’Shaughnessy’s shoes without a ripple in routine. Instead, they dropped an unknown into their lap. Hell, they hadn’t even been briefed she was going to show up today.

“Is Pete pissed he got passed over?” Gary asked.

“You know Pete. He’s a team player. But that job should’ve been his.” Evyn could be mad for Pete if he wasn’t going to be mad for himself. After all, that’s what friends were for, and even though they’d 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 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.”

*

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?”

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.

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 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.”