Promise of Love Read online

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  Eternal Press/Damnation Books LLC

  www.eternalpress.ca

  Copyright ©2011 by C. M. King

  First published in 2011, 2011

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Promise of Love

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  About the Author:

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  Promise of Love

  By

  C.M. King

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  Eternal Press

  A division of Damnation Books, LLC.

  P.O. Box 3931

  Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

  www.eternalpress.biz

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  Promise of Love

  by C.M. King

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  Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-570-0

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-571-7

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  Cover art by: Amanda Kelsey

  Edited by: Ellen Tevault

  Copyedited by: Michelle Ganter

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  Copyright 2011 C.M. King

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  Printed in the United States of America

  Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights

  1st North American, Australian and UK Print Rights

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  To those first readers who inspired me to write more.

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  Acknowledgement:

  My husband who puts up with the madness of living with a writer.

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  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

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  By the time Ensign Rieko Hayashi arrived at the mess hall of the Resolution, and finally grabbed something to eat, every table in the room seemed crowded with people. This is what she got for being late leaving the astronomy lab. She was so entranced in the study of the local nebula, she'd forgotten all about lunch, and forgotten about the rush on the place if one arrived just minutes late.

  She surveyed the lunchtime crowd for a place to sit. Her eyes fell on Lieutenant Stuart MacEwan at a small table in the corner. He intently studied a handle-held computer while absentmindedly eating food. Likely he wasn't even aware of what was on his plate. He had a look of isolation to him. It didn't really surprise Rieko that people would rather squeeze into tables that couldn't hold them instead of asking to join the ship's Chief Weapons Officer.

  "Do you mind if I join you?” Rieko asked as she stood before his table.

  "Of course not, Rieko.” Stuart glanced up at her from his work.

  She sat in the chair across from him. The small table barely held both of their trays. She didn't feel like filling her brain with any more work right now. She'd be back working again soon enough. Of course, the British Weapons Officer wasn't exactly one to make small talk and take her mind off work.

  The Resolution was one of the newest exploration ships in Earth Space Fleet. It had just begun its longest mission to date, a two-year path to go beyond the far reaches of human occupied colonies. What concerned Rieko most was the chance to be one of the first to scientifically study space phenomena, and to be able to represent her family's native Japan in doing so. The close environment of the ship had so far been a little hard to get used to.

  With nothing else to do, her dark eyes studied the man before her. His eyes were a stormy grayish-blue, his shortly-cut brown hair was in perfect order, as always, and his face was clean-shaven. He was a very handsome man, if a bit cold and distant personality-wise, but maybe that just drew her to him more.

  Rieko struggled with a subject to talk about. They really didn't have that much in common. Her true passion in life was stars, and she doubted he knew much about them, even though they currently traveled in a spaceship. His passion seemed to be weapons and blowing things up, two things Rieko really didn't like.

  "Is the lasagna any good?” Rieko asked him about his food. They were after all in the mess eating lunch.

  "It's fine,” Stuart responded.

  Rieko knew the man really didn't care what he ate. She wasn't even sure if he cared if he did eat. What else could she think about to talk to him about? She felt his eyes on her and raised hers to look at him. Those blue-gray eyes of his drank her in.

  "Do you want something, Stuart?” she gently asked.

  "N...no,” he managed, and quickly lowered his eyes back to his food.

  Something to talk about, she wondered. They must have something in common. She looked back up to find his eyes back on her again, questioning this time.

  "You sure you don't want something?” she asked again.

  This time he didn't answer, just held her with those stormy eyes of his. He certainly had something to say, maybe to ask her. Don't pressure him, she thought. Worry, and then doubt, flickered across his eyes followed again by just questions.

  "Just say it, Stuart,” she told him, making sure her voice wasn't harsh.

  He swallowed visibly. Determination crept into his eyes and face. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime,” he asked, “in someplace private."

  Dinner? All of that nervousness was to ask her on a date? “Was that all?” She knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as his gaze collapsed in hurt.

  "I would love to, Stuart.” She rushed to accept his invitation with a bright smile. Her face shone genuinely. The mysterious Weapons’ Officer intrigued her. Odd, because Rieko was a rather talkative and open person, completely different than Stuart.

  A smile grew on his face. “My place at 1900 tomorrow?” he asked.

  "Could we make it 1930?” A 7:30 p.m. time would give her a little more time to get prepared after coming off her usual day shift work in the astronomy lab. If she was going to be trying to date on this ship, she was going to do it right.

  Stuart lowered his attention to his food, a broad smile still on his face. Then he raised his head again and asked, “What would you like to eat?"

  Had the food been an afterthought to making the date?

  She thought for a second. She always had a hard time deciding what she wanted to eat at any given moment, and she was still eating lunch. “Maybe chef's wonderful Chicken Marsala,” she finally said, hoping she'd still like the choice tomorrow.

  "That can be arranged.” Stuart smiled at her.

>   Oh, he had such a great smile when he actually used it, she thought.

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  Chapter Two

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  Stuart ran his hand over his shirt; buttoned to the top, collar straight, cuffs fastened, pressed and ironed, properly tucked in, he ticked off in his head. His pants were also pressed and ironed, his belt centered. The informal dress shoes he wore were shined and un-scuffed. He raised his hand to check his hair, and then ran it over his jowls and chin. He'd shaven after his shift to make sure no hint of an evening shadow might show. Maybe he should have gotten a tie out to wear, too late to put one on now.

  He surveyed the small table he'd set for dinner. He'd borrowed the plates and utensils from the Resolution's chef, when he'd gone in after his shift to pick up the food. The silverware had been properly placed. The napkins sat folded where the plates would later be placed. Two glasses and a pitcher of seltzer water with a small tray of lemons, a drink he knew Rieko often had in the mess. He should have gotten wine, but with the way his stomach flip flopped, he doubted he could have held it down.

  Flowers, peach-colored tulips, daffodils, and crocuses from the greenhouse, were set in the center of the table, low enough to see over. The colors blended nicely and filled the air with a slightly fragrant scent. Candles would have been too romantic for the situation and he would have had to ask the captain's permission to get them from the greenhouse. Two hot plates full of food sat on a corner of his ordered desk.

  Stuart gave a sigh. Everything seemed in place. He wanted to do this, he could do this, maybe he needed to do this, he told himself. If he could just let one person in, just one. If he could just get through tonight, the rest should be better. The first step always terrified him, but he could do this, he would do this.

  He glanced around his quarters. The bed was neatly made. Everything sat in its proper place and position. It all suddenly looked as sparse as his life felt. Likely Rieko's room brimmed with paraphernalia and life. Nothing he could do about it now.

  He briskly paced the small space of his quarters, his palms sticky with sweat, his stomach churning and every nerve in his body alive. The door lightly chimed. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. You can do this Stuart, he told himself. You can do this?

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  Rieko was about to ring for a second time when the door opened. “Come in,” Stuart spoke as he stepped away from the door and extended a hand into his quarters, inviting her in. Rieko entered the small room and shut the door behind her. Stuart was giving her that halfway crooked smile of his, blue eyes sparkling.

  "I like your shirt,” Rieko said. His bright blue shirt was as prim and proper as everything about Stuart always was. “The color makes your eyes a brilliant blue,” she added, staring into his lovely blue eyes. She'd thought his eyes looked more grayish yesterday at lunch, but maybe that was due to the darker blue of the uniforms.

  "Thank you.” Stuart glanced at the color of his shirt. He swallowed harshly.

  Rieko thought he looked nervous, very nervous. Then those glorious blue eyes of his swept over her. She'd barely had enough time to change properly. The soft pink dress she wore came to below her knees with spaghetti straps at the shoulders. It was a simple dress, not showing too much, not clinging too tightly. In the flurry of dressing it was what she and Ensign Leeza Carpenter, her best friend on the ship, had finally settled on. She wore her long, black hair down, framing her face and falling over her bare shoulders and back.

  "You look lovely,” Stuart finally said. Rieko smiled back at him. “I like your hair down."

  "Thank you,” Rieko replied.

  Stuart gestured toward the small table he had set for them, and pulled out a chair for her. Someone had at one time or another taught Stuart to be quite a gentleman. Rieko sat down in the offered chair, and let him scoot the chair with her in it back into place. She saw a centerpiece of fresh flowers, silverware set on the table, and a neatly folded cream-colored napkin for both where the plate would go.

  Rieko placed the napkin in her lap and noticed Stuart presenting her with a plate of Chicken Marsala, potatoes, and a vegetable medley. She looked up and smiled at him. It was a good choice after all. He gave her a tight smile in reply as he served himself and sat across from her.

  Rieko noticed the flowers were just the right height to enjoy yet still have a clean view of Stuart. Surely he had planned it that way. Stuart was a man of details.

  "Something to drink?” He picked up her glass, offering to fill it with the liquid in the pitcher he held.

  "What is it?” she asked.

  "Seltzer water,” he answered. Rieko smiled and nodded her head to accept. “I have lemon as well,” he told her as he filled her glass. Rieko wondered how he knew without asking she was fond of seltzer water with lemon. He had clearly been paying a great deal more attention to her than she had thought. He poured himself a glass, and then picked up a fork.

  With the larger issues taken care of, the air between them grew nervous and awkward. She needed to think of something to say to lighten things up. Rieko glanced around the room searching for something to mention. Everything had a proper place, and was tucked into it. Every book on the shelves stood straight. The computer on the desk lay perfectly centered. The corners of the sheets on the bed were tucked under. There was military order, but this was a little beyond.

  "It is a little sparse,” Stuart spoke, interrupting her thoughts and survey of his small room. “Your quarters are probably much more,” he paused for the word, “personalized."

  There's nothing really stark to the room, Rieko thought, efficient maybe. How could this man of such confidence sometimes have such a low self-esteem?

  "There are more pictures I suppose,” she finally said. Rieko thought about all the pictures filling her quarters. There wasn't one picture of anyone in his room, not even his parents.

  Stuart just gave her a slight grimace, his blue eyes filled with worry. Okay, now you've done it, Rieko. Find something good to say about his room.

  Frantically searching for something to talk about, her eyes fell on a framed piece of paper. Age had turned the paper crisp and yellow. Printed text filled it, with a messy signature to the lower right side. She wondered what that was.

  Stuart followed her eyes. “A speech Sir Winston Churchill gave to the House of Commons during World War II.” Stuart MacEwan had a framed version of some old speech. Winston Churchill was one of those names she should know from history classes. She, at least, remembered he was English.

  "We shall defend our island whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender...” Stuart quoted for her. She had to admit the words were stirring.

  "That's his signature?” Rieko asked. Stuart nodded in reply.

  Rieko looked to the shelf above the desk. Beside the neat books was a green helmet, like soldiers would have worn with a dent in the side and a case with an old gun.

  Stuart turned behind him to see the shelf. “The helmet is from World War II, although I think it belonged to a yank,” he told her. “The gun is circa World War I.” His voice held the same enthusiasm as when he spoke about blowing things up.

  "You like history?” Rieko asked him. Now that was something she didn't know.

  "Some parts of it.” He seemed a little less nervous.

  As they continued to eat, Rieko noticed a small version of the British Union Jack on a wall and a painting of an ancient sailing ship riding the waves of a stormy sea. No, Stuart's quarters weren't full of tidbits like hers, but what it did hold likely told more about him.

  Rieko took another bite of the Chicken Marsala as they sat again in silence. “Chef really does do a great job with Chicken Marsala,” she said to fill the void in conversation.

  Stuart nodded his head. “He does."

  She needed to stop
talking about food with the man. “I never was very good at history,” Rieko admitted. He liked history, so maybe changing the subject to it would get him talking. “All those dates to remember."

  "Never did have any problems with dates.” The gaze of his blue eyes met hers. Maybe that shouldn't surprise her; he was the kind of guy to do well with numbers. “Science I never got,” he admitted his scholastic weakness.

  "You're in a spaceship. You must know something about, at least, astronomy,” Rieko said.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I know about weapons, which is what I do on the Resolution."

  "I could teach you more about the stars, if you want,” she offered. It would be a lovely excuse for spending time with Stuart. Besides it would be payback for all his hard work teaching her to use pulse pistols.

  Stuart shook his head in reply. “I'm sure my energy would be of better use elsewhere,” he spoke. Rieko wondered how much of his free time he spent working. Did the man know he could do other things than his duty? Did the man even have any hobbies?

  Trying to think of another subject to talk about, Rieko's eyes fell to clutter on the nightstand. That wasn't like Stuart. Looking closer she noted it was a model ship in the process of construction. The clutter was actually organized into parts ready to be assembled.

  "What is the model of?” Rieko asked. She turned back to see Stuart halt mid bite with his fork halfway raised, a piece of chicken speared to it.

  "The HMS Resolution.” He glanced at the model, fork still suspended in the air.

  "You like models?” She noted, however, that there were none completed in the room.

  "Yes,” he answered, and then continued the progress of his fork. After he had chewed and swallowed, he continued, “I find it relaxing.” Model building relaxing? Rieko couldn't see how the stress of putting together all those pieces correctly could be relaxing, but then that may be precisely the thing Stuart would find relaxing.

  The rest of the dinner conversation turned to the activities on the ship, the one thing they did share in common. They were such different people. They tried to keep the subject general, neither wanting to bore the other with talk about their expertise. Being truly passionate about what they did here on the Resolution, maybe that was something they shared in common. Was Stuart spending off-duty time checking weapons really any different than Rieko studying star charts in her spare time?