Radclyffe - Oath of Honor
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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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
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and pulled her close. “Wes, this is Dana. She’s my”—Emory glanced at
Dana, an eyebrow raised—“fiancée?”
Dana laughed, a deep throaty chuckle. “Proposal accepted.” She
held out her hand to Wes. “Dana Barnett. I’m with Emory.”
“Yes,” Wes said. “I believe I’ve heard your name mentioned a
time or two…hundred.”
Dana grinned. “Same.”
“Wes,” Emory said, “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you
had interviews and all that.”
“Circumstances are a little pressured,” Wes said obliquely. Emory
was her best friend, but her new job demanded discretion of the highest
order. “Things are moving a bit faster than normal.”
Emory’s expression grew somber. “I was so sorry to hear about
Leonard. What a tragedy.”
“It was.” Wes hadn’t known Leonard O’Shaughnessy personally,
but even though she dealt with death on a daily basis, sometimes the
seeming unfairness of life defied rationalization. A sudden twist of fate
could send so many lives, including her own, careening down paths
never anticipated. She shook off the cloud of sadness. “My orders were
to report promptly, so—”
Emory laughed. “Do they have any idea who they appointed? Dr.
Punctuality herself.”
“Probably not,” Wes said, hoping someone somewhere had
actually looked at her file, or this might be a very short posting.
“Well, it’s wonderful to see you, and now that you’ll be—” Emory
broke off as a hushed “Oh!” escaped the crowd.
Wes followed her gaze. At the far end of the room, the wedding
party descended the stairs. Oddly, no cameras flashed.
She’d been to a lot of weddings, including some extraordinarily
elaborate ones. She would’ve expected the wedding of the daughter
of the president of the United States to be a State affair. But then she
thought about Blair Powell—despite her well-known public persona,
there was very little about her private life in the public domain. Blair
rarely gave interviews and avoided media glitz and paparazzi. Her
romantic relationship with Cameron Roberts had created quite a bit of
controversy in the national media news, but Blair had had very little to
say other than to acknowledge the truth of the rumors. She might be
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Oath Of hOnOr
the public face of the presidential family, but her personal life was a
mystery.
The gathering today was small, considering the importance of the
event, and Wes bet everyone there, with the exception of security, was
a personal friend of the first family or Cameron Roberts’s family. There
were few foreign dignitaries, no Hollywood stars, no political pundits.
Only ordinary people gathered to celebrate the special day of someone
they loved.
For a moment, Wes felt like an intruder. She was used to
boundaries—clear, solid ones. She was about to witness an extremely
personal moment in the lives of strangers, without even the excuse of
professional involvement to excuse her presence. Then she recognized
a face at the far side of the room from the briefing documents she’d
been given earlier. Dr. Peter Chang, the acting head of the White House
Medical Unit. A bulky black leather bag sat by his right leg—a bag
that carried a defibrillator, emergency resuscitation equipment, surgical
instruments, and drugs. This gathering might appear to be an ordinary
wedding, but it wasn’t. Nothing about any event with the president in
attendance was ordinary.
Chang was present along with a flight nurse and a physician’s
assistant to ensure the safety and welfare of the president of the United
States—the duty Wes would be assuming within a matter of days. As
the chief of the White House Medical Unit—her new posting—her
charge was to ensure the health and welfare of every employee, visitor,
and dignitary within the White House and grounds. But above all, her
number one responsibility was to the president of the United States. In
a crisis situation, he was her only patient, earning her the title of First
Doctor of the United States. She’d have to get used to witnessing private
moments as well as world-changing ones, since she would never be far
from his side again. Where he went, she went.
Right now, President Andrew Powell looked like every other
proud father she’d ever witnessed. He wore a dark blue suit, snowy
white shirt, and red tie. His face still held a hint of summer tan, and his
thick blond hair made him appear younger than his fifty years. Blair,
her arm linked with her father’s as they descended the staircase, had
the same midnight blue eyes, although her hair was a deeper gold.
Her full-length cream-colored dress, with its square-cut bodice and
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figure-hugging design, accentuated her svelte, athletic body. Her arms
were sleek and muscular, her carriage confident and graceful. She was
beautiful. Cameron Roberts was just behind her, holding the hand of
a beautiful woman who looked very much like her. Marcea Casells,
Roberts’s mother. Roberts—tall, thick black hair brushed back from her
face, intense charcoal eyes—was dressed formally in a gray morning
coat, silver-gray pleated tuxedo shirt, and dark trousers with a satin
stripe down the side. Her gaze followed Blair as if no one else was in
the room.
At the bottom of the staircase, Blair and her father turned toward
an area ringed with arrangements of wildflowers and white roses in
front of the glass doors opening out onto the veranda. An army chaplain
awaited them. The president moved a few steps away from his daughter,
allowing Cameron Roberts to take her place by Blair’s side. The guests
filled the seats set up in one half of the room.
Wes made her way around the perimeter toward Peter Chang. She
wasn’t officially the head of the medical unit yet. Until her final security
clearance, she was in limbo. She hadn’t felt quite so displaced since the
day her mother met her at the bus stop after school one late June day
when she was eight and said they were moving in with her grandmother.
They couldn’t afford to live in the house she’d grown up in any longer.
Wes pushed the uneasy feeling aside. She wasn’t eight anymore, and
she had learned since then that destiny was hers to determine.
Chang nodded to her when she stepped up beside him. He’d
obviously been briefed too, but there was no time for conversation. The
chaplain’s deep voice filled the room.
Dearly beloved…
The president’s daughter and Cameron Roberts faced each other,
hands lightly clasped, eyes locked.
I, Blair Allison Powell, take you, Cameron Reed Roberts, to be my
friend, my lover, the mother of my children, and my wife. I will be yours
in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times
of health, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and
in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care for
and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and to stay with you,
for all eternity.
A willowy blonde stepped to Blair’s side, and Blair lifted a
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Oath Of hOnOr
gleaming gold band from her palm. She lifted Cam’s left hand and slid
the ring securely on her third finger. With this ring, I thee wed.
Cameron Roberts’s gaze never wavered from Blair’s face, her
voice ringing strong and clear. I, Cameron Reed Roberts, take you, Blair
Allison Powell, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children,
and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in
times of sickness and in times of health, in times of joy and in times of
sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish
and respect you, to care for and protect you, to comfort and encourage
you, and to stay with you, for all eternity.
Roberts accepted the matching ring from a young dark-haired
