Nobody's Angel

by Karen Robards

  "Have you—been intimate with him? 'Tis for your own well-being that I need to know."

  "Susannah!" Mandy's shock at the suggestion was not feigned. Susannah knew her sister well enough to know that. She felt a peculiar easing of the hard knot that her insides had become, and a great sense of relief for Mandy's sake as well. Her fingers found the last hook, joined it to the corresponding eye. With the dress fastened, Mandy had no further excuse not to turn toward her sister.

  "Whatever made you think such a thing?" Mandy asked. Though she might be innocent of the direst charge, Mandy was guilty of something. What it was, Susannah did not know, but the signs of an uneasy conscience did not evaporate; Mandy twitched a fold of her skirt into place and did not look at Susannah as she spoke.

  Susannah regarded her, unsmiling. She had raised Mandy from a child of five and knew the slightest nuance of every response of which she was capable. The mother-love she had always felt for Mandy was still there, but so was a new realization of her little sister as a woman grown —and a rival. Mandy was lovely; Susannah knew she was not. Mandy was charming, in an engaging, innocent way that knocked men over like bowling pins. Mandy was al- luring, so alluring that she could have her choice of nearly every available man in the county.

  But she could not have the man Susannah wanted.

  Jealousy was a sin, and sick, gnawing jealousy toward one's own sister was a greater sin. But Susannah couldn't help the way she felt. Despairing, she realized that Ian Connelly, the bounder, the villainous cur, had somehow managed to insinuate himself into her heart and would not be cast out. Like the victim of a demonic possession, she was locked in a fierce battle to regain control of her heart and soul.

  The worst part of it was that the man who inspired all this tribulation wasn't in love with either her or Mandy. He had used and manipulated them both for his own obscure ends, whatever they might be.

  Like herself, Mandy was being made a fool of by their bound man. But unlike herself, Mandy at least had the excuse of being only seventeen years old.

  "I saw you kissing him, on the rise." Even putting it into words was difficult. Susannah had to struggle to banish the too-vivid picture from her mind. Remaining detached was the only shield from pain she had left, and she clung doggedly to it. "You know as well as I do that what you did goes far beyond the bounds of what is permissible with any man, and especially with him. We made an agreement, you and I. You were to behave yourself with Connelly, and I would let you go to the Haskinses' party. You've broken the agreement."

  "Are you saying you won't let me go?" Mandy's eyes widened, and her voice grew suddenly shrill.

  Susannah nodded unhappily. "I hate to deny you the treat, but playing such games with Connelly is dangerous, and . . ."

  Defiance blazed in Mandy's eyes. "I will go to that party, and you can't stop me! You're only my sister, Susannah, not my mother, so you may as well stop acting like what you're not! I will go! And if you think to tell Pa about Connelly and have him stop me, you'd best think again. Because if you tell on me, then I'll tell on you, and I'll wager you've more to hide of your relationship with our bound man than I do!"

  "Mandy!" Susannah was shocked. Mandy's sherry-brown eyes blazed brightly at her, then brimmed with tears.

  "I mean what I say," she insisted. Snatching up the green silk gown, she ran past Susannah toward the door. "And you needn't think I need you to finish my dress, either, because I don't! I'll do it myself!"

  Susannah was left with her mouth open and her hand partially raised to stop her as Mandy clattered down the stairs.

  27

  "Miss Redmon! Miss Redmon!"

  "Shut your mouth, you little bastard, or by God I'll shut it for you!"

  "Mr. Likens! No! Think what you are doing! Susannah! Susannah, come quick!"

  Susannah was halfway down the stairs when the commotion began. The last cry was Sarah Jane's, and it sounded urgent.

  Grabbing her skirt up out of the way, Susannah bolted down the stairs and out the back door as if her petticoat were on fire.

  The scene that met her eyes froze her for no more than an instant. Jeremy Likens had obviously been running to her for assistance. His father had come after him, had caught him just past the henhouse, and was now, with a fist in Jeremy's straw-colored hair, dragging him screaming back up the hill. Sarah Jane, with Mandy and Em behind her, was fluttering about the foot of the path where it started up the hill, yelling at Likens to let the boy go but obviously too fearful of the man to intervene physically.

  At last Susannah had a target for the wrath that had been building inside her for days.

  "The devil take you, Jed Likens!" she said furiously. Mindful of what had happened the last time, when she had thought to hold Likens at bay with the fowling piece, she snatched up another weapon instead—the stout broom that leaned in a corner of the back porch. Then she charged up the hill.

  "Susannah, be careful!" Sarah Jane cried as Susannah rushed past her.

  "I'll go get Ian!" Mandy said, and ran to do so.

  "Hurry, Susannah! He's hurting Jeremy!" Em screamed, and she and Sarah Jane fell in behind her. Angry as she was, Susannah barely noticed that she had reinforcements.

  "Miss Redmon! Miss Redmon! Help me!" Jeremy was sobbing. His father shook the boy by the hair like a dog with a rat in its teeth.

  "Shut up! Shut up!" Likens dragged the flailing boy on, lifting his feet practically clear of the ground.

  "Jed Likens, you let him go!" Susannah was closing fast.

  "Damn you, church woman, you stay out of this!" Likens glared ferociously at Susannah over his shoulder and shook Jeremy again.

  "Let him go! At once, do you hear?"

  "He's my boy! I'll do what I please with him! You just keep your old cat nose out of it!"

  "Miss Redmon, he done killed Ma this time!"

  "Shut your mouth, boy! Shut your mouth, I say!"

  "Let him go, Mr. Likens!"

  "I'll be damned if I do!"

  "I've no doubt you'll be damned anyway, Jed Likens," Susannah said grimly, coming up behind them at last.

  Gritting her teeth, she reversed the broom so that the soft straw pointed toward her and brought the handle, solid oak with a three-inch circumference, down hard on Jed Likens's back.

  "I'm gonna kill you for that, you goody two-shoes bitch!" he screamed, releasing Jeremy and whirling. Susannah whacked him again. Sarah Jane and Em screamed.

  "Run, Jeremy!" Jeremy did run—toward his father as Jed Likens sprang at Susannah. Susannah beat him furiously about the shoulders with the broom until Likens managed to grab the staff and wrest it from her hand. Sarah Jane and Em screamed again, Likens smiled an evil smile, and Jeremy leaped on his father's back as Likens swung the handle at Susannah's head.

  Susannah ducked, throwing up an arm. The stout stick caught her arm just below the elbow. Susannah saw stars. She cried out at the pain of it and, stumbling, fell down.

  "Stop it, Pa! Stop it!"

  Likens reached around, caught Jeremy by the shirt collar, and threw him viciously to the ground. He lifted the handle high again to deliver the coup de grace to Susannah.

  "Susannah!" Sarah Jane and Em screamed in unison and leaped forward to grab Likens by the arms. He knocked both of them aside. Sarah Jane fell on her backside, and Em fell forward onto her knees. Susannah was already struggling to rise. . . .

  "I'll learn you to interfere with what don't concern you!" Likens snarled, and swung the stick in a furious, swooshing arc at Susannah s head.

  Susannah threw up an arm, ducked, and screamed. So did Sarah Jane and Em.

  But the blow never fell.

  "You've made a mistake, Likens. A bad mistake," a gravelly voice said, and Susannah looked up to find Ian standing between Likens and herself, one hand holding the staff, which he had caught in mid-swing. Susannah sagged, bracing both hands against the ground to keep herself from collapsing. Never in her life had she been so glad to see anyone as she was to see Ian.
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  "This ain't none of your concern, neither," Likens blustered. But his face had turned ashen, and his eyes darted shiftily to the side as if plotting his escape.

  "Did he hurt you, Susannah?" Ian asked without ever glancing down at her.

  "He hit her with the broom. I thought he was going to kill her," Sarah Jane said in a shaken voice before Susannah could reply.

  "It takes a brave man to beat up women and children." There was a note to Ian's voice that Susannah had never heard before. "Very brave. Now let's see how brave you are with me."

  What followed was one of the most sickening, yet rewarding, sights that Susannah had ever witnessed. Ian beat Jed Likens to a pulp before sending Ben, who had come running breathlessly up in time to get in on the tail end of the action, galloping into town to bring back the authorities.

  "Now you're going to jail," Ian told the barely conscious Likens, who lay on his side, groaning.

  "The constable won't never put Pa in jail," Jeremy said miserably. He shed no tears for his father but stood looking down at him rather as one might a temporarily helpless poisonous snake.

  "He will this time," Ian said positively, and moved to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He hit Miss Redmon this time. Maybe he can get away with hitting your mother, but he can't get away with this."

  "I better go check on Annabeth. She may be badly hurt," Susannah said, beginning to recover. She had gotten to her feet during the almost entirely one-sided battle and had watched with revulsion and some awe as Ian hammered his fists into Jed Likens's body with a force that was both lethal and methodical. Ordinarily she would have cried out against the violence of it, but if ever a man deserved to be beaten senseless, Jed Likens did. He had meted out such punishment to his wife and children more times than Susannah could count.

  "You're hurt yourself," Ian said roughly, his eyes meeting hers across the dozen or so feet that separated them. "Someone else can go this time."

  "But . . ." Susannah began to protest automatically, although her arm ached like a sore tooth.

  Sarah Jane, whose arm was around Susannah's waist, supporting her, nodded.

  "You're right," she said to Ian. "I'll go. Em, you can come with me. Mandy, you stay here with Susannah. She looks pale."

  Ian smiled approvingly at Sarah Jane. To Susannah's fascination, Sarah Jane smiled rather shyly back. It seemed that even Sarah Jane was not proof against that roguish charm.

  "Come on, Em, and you too, Jeremy," Sarah Jane said. Starting up the hill, with Em and Jeremy trailing behind, she paused and turned to glance at Ian.

  "I think you probably saved Susannah's life," she said softly. "Thank you, Ian."

  It was a landmark concession. Ian's eyes narrowed at Sarah Jane, as if assessing the subtle offer of friendship. He nodded once before moving to Susannah's side.

  "Believe me, it was my pleasure. You're welcome, Sarah Jane."

  Susannah gaped from Sarah Jane, who was smiling warmly at their bound man, to Ian himself, the devil who had succeeded in storming the last of the Redmons' four citadels. Because Mandy, of course, was his for the asking. (For all her preoccupation, Susannah had not missed hearing Mandy shout that she was going to fetch "Ian.") Em had been dazzled by him from the first and perfectly ready to regard him not only as an equal but as a totally superior being. As for herself, well, there was no point in delving into exactly how she felt about the man. Suffice it to say that ever since he had entered her life he had managed to fill it to overflowing.

  Sarah Jane and Em went up the hill, with Jeremy now running ahead. Likens had subsided into total insensibility and lay sprawled on the path. Mandy stood by Susannah, gently pushing up her sister's sleeve so that she might view the injured arm. Ian joined them.

  "Let me see," he ordered quietly, and Mandy stepped back. He reached out to grasp Susannah's wrist. As his long, hard fingers circled her arm, Susannah looked up, almost involuntarily, to meet his eyes. They blazed down at her for a moment, stealing her breath. Then, with something that felt very much like tenderness, he slid his hand up her forearm, turning her arm so that he might see the darkening bruise. The movement of her arm hurt so much that Susannah cried out.

  "I should have killed him," Ian said through his teeth after a moment, glancing at Likens with loathing. Looking down again at Susannah, who had turned white, he cursed under his breath.

  Before she realized what he meant to do, he stooped, caught her around the knees and the shoulders, and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her high against his chest, he started off down the hill.

  "I can walk!" Susannah protested, scandalized at the spectacle they must make. She squirmed a little in his grasp, very conscious of Mandy trailing silently behind.

  "Hush," Ian said firmly. "Just for once, will you please?"

  Susannah was left with nothing to say. He carried her onto the back porch, through the kitchen, along the hall, and up the stairs. To Susannah's embarrassment, he strode right into her bedchamber and deposited her, quite gently, on her bed.

  "She needs cold compresses on that bruise," Ian said to Mandy as her sister entered the room. "I've got to go back and make sure Likens doesn't move until he can be hauled off to gaol. You stay with Susannah."

  He started for the door, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder.

  "And Mandy," he said softly, "if you have to sit on her, make sure she bloody well stays put for at least long enough to get her arm taken care of."

  28

  The music was beautiful. The haunting alto of a violin was joined by the sweet notes of an in- dulcimor to fill the long, narrow ballroom with intoxicating sound. Susannah, who loved music, could barely keep from tapping her toes to the beat. She sat with the dowagers, of course, and didn't mind a bit even when old Mrs. Greer, who like herself was a guest, sat down beside her and bent her ear with a long list of her ailments. Indeed, the upkeep of such a conversation was undemanding, requiring only an occasional smile or nod, leaving her free to indulge herself by listening to the music and watching the spectacle unfolding before her.

  More than fifty people were in the room, and the tall windows had been opened to allow circulation of whatever air might be stirring on so sultry a night. Sheer silk curtains of palest cream fluttered with the occasional breeze. The walls were hung with yellow brocade, and the domed ceiling boasted no fewer than half a dozen well-lit chandeliers. Two marble fireplaces had been set into each of the long walls, and they were filled now with masses of pink and white camellias. More camellias decked the tops of the windows and bloomed in the corners. The wooden floor had been given a high polish, so that it gleamed with reflected light. Upon its surface pranced her neighbors, clad in their finest.

  Only the Greers, Hiram and his mother, and a married couple, the Lewises, were members of her father's congregation. The rest, wealthy planters and their families for the most part, belonged to St. Helena's Episcopal Church in town. Susannah might have felt a little strange if it hadn't been for her enjoyment of the music. It was not often that she found herself in such opulent surroundings or gave much thought to her attire. She was wearing her best Sunday black poplin with the white fichu around her shoulders and the silver pin at her breast, and her hair, uncovered, was styled just as she always wore it, in a thick bun at her nape. Watching the dancers, Susannah was increasingly conscious of her own sartorial deficiencies. The men wore either cadogan wigs or their own natural hair, powdered and pulled back into a tail. Their long- tailed coats were elegant, as were their clocked stockings and waistcoats of embroidered satin or brocade. But the ladies put the men to shame. Resplendent in flowered silks and striped satins and gleaming brocades, with their hair, powdered or not, artfully arranged in intricate puffs and rolls or pulled back from the face and allowed to fall to one side in thick sausage curls, even the plainest woman looked magnificent. Even old Mrs. Greer, who was in black like herself but whose gown was made of gleaming satin and topped by a lace mantilla, was in her best looks. Susannah felt like a
dowd, not for the first time in her life. But tonight, for some reason, the feeling galled her. Maybe she should make herself a few new dresses, in brighter hues. . . .

  But that was foolishness, of course. What she needed were serviceable clothes, not pretty ones. She was not a frivolous young girl like Mandy, after all, and she would very likely make herself ridiculous if she should try to rig herself out in the latest fashions at this stage in her life. She was mutton, not lamb, and it would serve her best to remember it.

  Her eyes sought Mandy, who was standing at the opposite end of the room. Todd Haskins, on one side, plied her with lemonade, while on her other side another young man, Charles Ripley, Susannah thought his name was, offered her a nibble from a plate of cakes. Even the beautiful green silk dress that Mandy was so proud of was not quite so elegant as the creations worn by most of the other women, which had certainly come from dressmakers in Charles Town or even Richmond. But Mandy was certainly the loveliest girl present. Susannah beamed with pride as, after scanning the crowd, she was confirmed in her judgment of that.

  The musicians were playing a minuet. Watching the pirouetting, posturing couples, Susannah could only marvel. The dance was graceful, stately, beautiful. Had it been possible, she would have loved to participate. Her body almost swayed at the thought. But it was not possible, of course, and even had it been she had only to consider how foolish she would look twirling about in such a fashion. Like a dowdy, near-middle-aged crow in a sky full of bright young butterflies, she thought, and almost snorted at the mere idea of making such a cake of herself.

  Of course she had expressly forbidden Mandy to dance, and Mandy, who was a good girl at heart, showed no disposition to disobey. Lovely or not, it was not proper for a Baptist minister's daughter to engage in such behavior. Mandy knew and accepted that as well as Susannah did.