"Ian! You've probably uprooted half the field!" she protested when at last he turned her over onto her back and let her lie there, panting, while he leaned on an elbow above her. But then, as she took a good look at herself and him, she had to laugh again. If there had ever been two filthier people in the world, she had never seen them.
"You're beautiful when you laugh." He'd been grinning, too, but the grin died as he looked down at her and his eyes turned serious.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Not."
"Now who's being childish?" he countered. "If I say you're beautiful, you're beautiful. I'm counted something of a judge, you know."
Susannah wasn't sure she liked that. "I'll just bet you are," she said dryly.
He sensed her withdrawal and picked up her hand to press it to his mouth. "I'm thirty-one years old. I've had women. I won't deny it. But there has never been anyone in my life like you."
"How many times have you said that, I wonder?"
Ian had the grace to look slightly abashed. "All right. A few. But this time I mean it."
Susannah eyed him. The amusement left her face, and her expression suddenly bordered on grim. "You want something from me, I know. What is it, your freedom? Do you think you can romance me into tearing up the Articles of Indenture?"
He was holding her hand now, rubbing his thumb lightly over a small, swelling blister at the base of her forefinger. "Would you believe me if I told you the only thing I want from you is—you?"
For a moment, as his words sank in, Susannah's heart seemed to stop beating. Covered with dirt as he was, he was still so dazzlingly handsome that it hurt her to look at him. He had lost the ribbon that bound his hair, and the thick black locks hung loose around his face. His mouth, that perfectly carved, always sensual mouth, was twisted into a whimsical little smile. His eyes beneath the thick black slashes of his brows were as gray as the storm that threatened. As he met her gaze, there was no smile in them at all.
She could almost believe him.
Susannah snorted at her own idiocy.
"Believe it or not, I'm not that big a fool," she said crisply, and, before he could prevent it, she rolled to her feet.
Then, without ever once looking around, she walked to the end of the field where Old Cobb was contentedly pawing up the just planted tubers and chomping them down. Pretending to be headed for another target entirely, she waited until his attention was distracted and then grabbed his harness. He threw up his head and brayed his displeasure, but she had him fast. Patting his nose consolingly, Susannah began to lead him toward the barn. If he chose, Ian could bring the plow. If not, she would send Ben back for it. But until she had had a chance to sort through everything that had happened and how she felt about it, she would not put herself within Ian's reach again.
As she had told him, she was not that big a fool.
22
Despite her exhaustion, Susannah did not sleep well that night. She came in, endured Em's and Sarah Jane's exclamations over her dishevelment and Mandy's ominous silence. Clearly Em had recounted the scene in the field for her sisters' delectation, and Sarah Jane had chimed in with what she had observed in the kitchen that morning. As a result, her sisters were agog. Always they had taken Susannah's presence in their lives as a given, regarding her as so much older than themselves as to be in almost a different generation. Certainly they took it for granted that she had no interest in men. Now their view of her was threatened, and suddenly their relationship was turned topsy-turvy. Mandy oozed jealousy, while Em regarded her oldest sister with sudden awe and Sarai i Jane adopted a motherly manner toward her that made Susannah feel like an errant child.
She was too tired even to eat supper. For the first time in any of their memories, Susannah went straight up to bathe and then fall into bed, leaving the other three to serve the meal and clean up. Sarah Jane and Em, alarmed at this unprecedented abdication, carried up the tin bath and the steaming kettles of water to fill it on their own initiative. Mandy, for all her pouting, brought Susannah a plate of toast. After reassuring them for what must have been the dozenth time that there was nothing wrong with her that sleep wouldn't cure, they finally left her alone, though Sarah Jane and Mandy looked worried and Em almost frightened. Susannah knew that she was dismaying them, but she was just too tired to worry about anyone else's upsets save her own. Just for this one night, she had to take care of herself. Susannah sank into the tub with a long sigh, meaning to indulge in the luxury of a good soak, which she scarcely ever found the time to enjoy. But in the end she was too tired to do more than wash quickly, soap and rinse her hair, and get out. She fell into bed with her hair still damp, only to awaken more than once. Part of her problem, she suspected, was that she was accustomed to sleeping with her window open. Tonight she had closed it and wedged it shut with a stick.
When the cock crowed the following morning, sheer force of will had her up and about as usual. She was still tired, more from emotional upheaval than from anything else, she suspected, but she refused to give in to it. Sarah Jane trailed down to the kitchen after her, clearly concerned lest Susannah be sickening with something. Susannah assumed the mantle of her old self with determination, and it wasn't long before Sarah Jane was responding to her just as she always did. Her sister made no mention of Ian, and for that Susannah was thankful. During the long, restless night she had come to an inescapable conclusion: she had to put Ian, and the brief explosion of flaming passion they had shared, firmly from her mind. Their bound man must once again become merely Connelly to her, because there was simply no other choice. At this point, what had happened between them was an aberration, one isolated incidence of surrender to the weakness to which the flesh was prey. Such a fall from grace as she had taken could be forgiven, by herself and by God—if it happened once. But even if she wished to, which she emphatically did not, she could not sustain an existence as Ian's paramour. The role of illicit lover was not for her. Such a deliberate choosing of a path rife with secrecy and sin went against every bit of moral fiber that remained to her. Besides, it was only a matter of time before they were caught together, and then the scandal would taint not only herself but her sisters and would probably kill her father. Even if they were not caught, there would, sooner or later, be consequences of the most unmistakable kind. At the thought of conceiving an illegitimate child, Susannah felt physically ill, and it was then that her decision was irrevocably made. The cost of loving Ian was simply too high.
The only way that she could even consider continuing their relationship was if she married him. But, as Sarah Jane had pointed out, to marry a bound man would create its own scandal. Though, were she truly in love with Ian and were he truly in love with her, she would be willing to weather the storm of that. But he was not in love with her, she knew it as well as she knew that the cock would crow the next morning. Should marriage be broached between them, Susannah would be forced to question his motives. Seven years was a long time for a man to be legally enslaved. It was quite possible that he would be willing to marry her in exchange for his freedom. But Susannah would not marry a man, not even Ian, who chose her for such a reason. She had too much pride and too much fear of the hurt that she must inevitably suffer. For it would be fatally easy to let herself love him, and to love Ian Connelly when he did not love her back would be, for Susannah, hell on earth.
That one glorious lesson in carnal love would have to last her the rest of her life. She only hoped that there was not already a child growing inside her that must forever bear the burden of her shame.
Surely God would not be so harsh.
But to be safe, she made Him a bargain: if He would let her not be with child, then she would end her relationship with Ian once and for all. All that remained was to tell Ian of what she had decided.
But it did not help her resolve to feel Ian's eyes on her during breakfast, even while he discussed with her father various equitable means of distributing church funds among the needy and s
he replenished bowls and mugs and chatted with her sisters. It did not help to find Mandy watching Ian like a cat at a mousehole or to see Em glance from herself to Ian and then at Sarah Jane more than once. It did not help to know that she had not yet found the courage to address Ian to his face as Connelly, though she had managed to greet him with composure when he entered the kitchen and pass food and drink his way.
It would take time and effort to brick over this fissure he had opened up in her heart. But brick it over she would, simply because there was no other choice. If even contemplating giving up the joy and laughter and, yes, the physical passion that her relationship with Ian had brought into her life hurt, then hurting was the price she had to pay for her sin. Take what you want, an old saying went. Take what you want, and pay for it.
The first step, the one she dreaded most, was telling Ian—no, Connelly!—what she had decided. His reaction was not likely to be pretty, but she meant to stand firm. She had fallen from the path, but she meant to go forth and sin no more, as the Bible exhorted a different sinner.
But persuading him of her resolve was likely to be one of the two hardest things she had ever done in her life. The other was giving him up.
Hiram Greer arrived unexpectedly in his buggy just as they were getting up from the table. As one who considered himself a close family friend, he entered through the back door with only a courtesy knock. As stocky and red- faced as ever, he was clad in an obviously new frock coat in a deep shade of maroon that was an unfortunate match to his complexion. He swept his hat from his grizzled head as he entered and greeted the ladies with a polite bow. The Reverend Redmon was afforded a handshake and a clap on the arm. Even Ben came in for a nod, but Ian he completely ignored. Mandy, who usually was only as nice to Greer as she had to be, positively beamed at him as he announced that he had come to steal her from them for the morning, if she was agreeable. He had to go into town, he said, and thought she might like to accompany him and do some shopping. Mandy clapped her hands in what appeared to be genuine delight as he said this, though all three of her sisters looked at her with astonishment. It was unheard of for Mandy to agree to spend fifteen minutes that she didn't have to in Greer's company.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Greer. I'd truly enjoy that—if it's all right with Pa, of course." Mandy turned a dimpling smile on her father, who looked taken aback.
"I have no objection, though 'tis Susannah you must ask," the Reverend Redmon said hastily. "She knows more about these things than I do."
As Mandy had been accustomed for most of her life to turning to Susannah for permission to do everything from wading in the creek to putting up her hair, Susannah could not help but feel that this sudden appeal to their father was directly attributable to her sister's jealousy over their bound man. Susannah suspected that it was Mandy's way of demonstrating that she no longer considered her eldest sister as her mentor, but rather as a rival for a man she wished to attract. Her acceptance of Greer's invitation was likely intended to impress Ian with how attractive other men found her. Susannah loved Mandy dearly, but she had no illusions about her character. Where men were concerned, she expected to reign supreme. If any man gave any indication of preferring another to her lovely self, then Mandy declared war. Even if that other was the sister who had stood in place of a mother to her for the last twelve years.
And to think she had bought a bound man in the hope of making her life easier!
"You may go if Sarah Jane or Em goes with you," Susannah said, though Mandy had not asked her. "There are some things you may pick up for me in town as well. It is very kind of you to invite Mandy, Mr. Greer. It will save Ben from having to make the trip."
Susannah, with Sarah Jane's help, began clearing the table as she spoke, but she did not miss Mandy's glance of dislike.
" Tis Miss Mandy who is kind to consent to accompany me."
"I'll just go get my bonnet," Mandy said. "Em, Sarah Jane, which one of you wants to come with me?"
"I will!" Em said at once. Susannah had to smile. She guessed that Emily feared that, if she didn't go, she might be conscripted to finish planting sweet potatoes. The threatened storm still had not struck, though the heat was even more oppressive than it had been the day before. Perhaps there would be time to finish plowing the field before the rain hit.
Sarah Jane did not object, and so Em ran upstairs with Mandy to fetch a bonnet. Susannah stopped clearing the table to write out a list of the supplies she needed from town. Greer stepped over to her father's side and put a hand on his shoulder. The Reverend Redmon, who'd clearly been preoccupied with otherworldly thoughts, turned vague hazel eyes on his visitor, as if he couldn't quite, for just a moment, place him.
"You've had no trouble out of him?" Greer asked in a confidential tone, jerking his head to indicate Ian, who had shouldered a heavy carton of books that the Reverend Redmon meant to take up to the church. As Greer spoke, Ian was in the act of carrying the box out the door. The Reverend Redmon turned his silvery-white head to look after the bound man with a puzzled frown.
"Who? Connelly?" the Reverend Redmon asked, sounding surprised. "Why, no. In fact, he's been a considerable help to me. I consider that Susannah did a fine day's work when she brought him home to us. He's a very well-educated man."
Greer's mouth tightened, and his hand fell away from the reverend's shoulder. "He's a very violent man. I'm surprised you're willing to trust him around your daughters. There's no telling what he might be capable of."
Ian, coming back through the door, obviously heard that. His stride checked for the barest instant, and his eyes, focusing on Greer, hardened. For a moment, as his lip curled, Susannah was vividly reminded of the ferocious-looking creature she'd first seen on the block. How much had changed in the short time since some twisted combination of pity and temper had compelled her to buy him! Then Susannah realized something that had eluded her: the last fortnight, for all the pain it was going to bring her, had been worth the cost. Had she not gone to the auction that day, her life would have been immeasurably poorer.
Clearly Greer did not recognize, or did not properly appreciate, the threat implicit in Ian's expression. There was going to be trouble, Susannah saw, unless she acted quickly to head it off. Glancing around for inspiration, she seized on the first chore that struck her mind.
"If you would slop the hogs for me before you go, I would appreciate it," she said to Ian in a low voice, hoping both to distract him from Greer's insults and to remove him from the other man's vicinity. With an unreadable glance at her face, Ian accepted the malodorous bucket she pressed on him and turned toward the door.
"That's fitting work for him, all right, slopping the hogs!" Greer chortled. Susannah, pushed beyond bearing, rounded on him before either Ian, who turned menacingly, or her father, who looked surprised, could say a word.
"Slopping hogs is good honest work, and no decent man or woman should be ashamed of doing it! I am surprised at you, Mr. Greer, for making sport of something that I and my sisters do every day!"
Greer looked taken aback. As he had hopes of one day wedding Mandy, he took pains to win over the approbation of Mandy's family, especially Susannah and her father. He wet his lips, and an unbecoming flush rose to mottle his cheekbones. "Miss Susannah, I assure you I did not mean . . ."
"We're ready!" Mandy popped her head through the door and beckoned to Greer, cutting short the awkward moment.
"Don't forget my supplies," Susannah said, brushing past Greer as if he were invisible and handing her list to Mandy.
Greer, following her over to the doorway, made one more attempt to right himself in her eyes. "Miss Susannah, I never meant to give you offense, and if I did so unintentionally I apologize."
"That's quite all right, Mr. Greer. I understand that you cannot help it," Susannah said coolly, and showed him her back as she returned to the table and her work. Her spine was ramrod stiff, and he looked at it with a helpless expression for a moment before Mandy dragged him from the room.
"No, he is not," Susannah said, her nose in the air.
"Susannah."
Ian, bucket still in hand, turned toward her. His voice was barely above a whisper. Sarah Jane had moved into the hall to see her sisters off, so for a moment the two of them were alone. His familiarity would have to come to an end, but this was neither the time nor the place to go into the explanation she envisioned, so she contented herself with raising her eyebrows at him.
"Are you sure you weren't born a duchess and somehow got misplaced?"
"What?" The question made no sense to her. She frowned, puzzling at it, and as she puzzled at it he grinned and turned to follow her father outside.
Susannah, staring after him, felt the impact of that grin like a dagger to her heart.
23
Summer lightning was snaking through the dark clouds that sat on the horizon as Susannah hurried toward the west field. With the breakfast things cleared away, she had hoped to harness Old Cobb and, with Ben's help, finish putting in the sweet potato crop. But Old Cobb had been missing from his stall, and when she checked she had discovered that his harness and the plow were gone from the barn as well. Had Ben decided to undertake the plowing on his own? It was not like the boy to display so much initiative.
Now, topping the small rise that separated the west field from the barn, Susannah stopped in surprise as the mystery was resolved. The west field, with considerably more than three-quarters of its rich, black dirt freshly turned over, lay before her. There was no mistaking the identity of the tall, black-haired man who strode along behind Old Cobb, face taut with concentration and muscles straining as he gouged the plow deep into the small section of heat-dried earth that remained. Ian was plowing, unbelievable as it seemed. Ben came behind him, planting tubers in the newly dug rows.
Nobody's Angel Page 18
