"What do you think I'm doing here, Miss Susannah Redmon?" he asked in a tone that managed to convey that he was keeping a tight rein on his temper. His gaze shifted to Em.
"Would you mind if I talk to your sister alone?"
Em, eyes widening, glanced at Susannah, who nodded.
"It's all right," she said. But her eyes barely left Ian. Em almost ran into the house.
"You've led me a pretty dance," he said furiously when they were alone. "And why, pray tell? I was prepared to marry you, God damn it! I told you so!"
"I don't want someone who's 'prepared' to marry me." Susannah felt her own temper begin to heat. "And I'll thank you not to use profanity here."
"You're enough to drive a man to profanity," he said through his teeth. "What do you mean, you don't want someone who's prepared to marry you? That is the most asinine thing I've ever heard in my life!"
"Then I must be asinine, because that's how I feel."
For a minute she thought he was going to step forward and shake her. But he controlled himself after a single hasty step and settled for a glare.
"Do you have any idea how I felt when I got back to the hotel, special license in my pocket I might add, and found you gone, lock, stock, and luggage? All you left for me was a two-word note: Be happy. You didn't even have the common courtesy to tell me you were going!"
"I thought you'd try to stop me." Susannah's heart was pounding now, and she was beginning to feel a sharp gladness sing through her veins. He was as mad as fire, but he had come.
"You're damned right I would have tried to stop you. Hell, I would have stopped you! I would have tied you to my wrist, if I'd had to, to keep you with me until we were safely wed."
"That's why I didn't tell you!"
He made a furious sound under his breath and reached her in one quick stride. His hands closed over her upper arms and he again looked on the verge of giving her a good shaking.
"I'm going to have to ask you to unhand my daughter, sir." The voice was her father's, and, looking over Ian's shoulder, Susannah was surprised to see him standing just a little way away, fragile-looking in his black preacher's suit with his white hair ruffled by the faint breeze, a frown in his gentle eyes as he surveyed the pair of them. Beyond him stood Sarah Jane and Mandy and Em in a cluster, staring.
"Hello, Reverend." Ian nodded without releasing Susannah. "I'm trying to persuade her to marry me, sir."
There was a moment of profound silence.
"Susannah, you finally got an offer!" Em squealed, only to be shushed by Sarah Jane and Mandy, who both looked appalled at their younger sister's gaucherie.
"Why?" Susannah shot at Ian, disregarding Em's comment completely. "Because you have to?"
"Now, that's interesting, daughter," the Reverend Redmon said, taking a step closer as his frown cleared. "You didn't mention he wanted to marry you."
"No, not because I damned well have to!" Ian shot back, ignoring the background comments as completely as Susannah did. "I didn't have to come all the way after you from England, did I? I'm even prepared to live here, if you want to. If this damned hellishly hot country is what it takes to make you happy, then we'll buy a place."
"I have to admit I didn't care for the thought of you taking her back to England with you," her father observed thoughtfully.
"What about you?" Susannah asked Ian slowly. "Won't you want to live in England? After all, you're a marquis."
"Well, don't say it like it's a deadly affliction. I can't help it, you know, any more than you can help having curly hair. I guess I can be a marquis as well here as I can there. Better, if I have you with me. We can travel to England every once in a while."
"Are you saying that you truly want to marry me?" Susannah was still cautious, although she was starting to smile.
"It surely looks that way to me, daughter," the Reverend Redmon said.
"Of course he does, Susannah!" Mandy sounded disgusted. "Why else would he come all the way across the ocean after you?"
"Yes, Susannah, I truly want to marry you. I love you, damn it. Now what do you say?" There was a red tinge to his cheekbones, as if the idea of having an audience to such private talk was beginning to embarrass him. His arms were still crossed over his chest, and he looked positively belligerent.
"Say yes, Susannah! Say yes!" the girls squealed in chorus.
"Yes," Susannah whispered, then practically flew into his arms, dirt and all. They opened to receive her, and he kissed her with a heat that brought admiring applause from the three female members of his audience when he released her—at least until their father glanced around at them, when they stopped abruptly.
"Welcome to the family, son," the Reverend Redmon said, and held out his hand to Ian. Keeping one arm around Susannah, who was beaming and clinging to his side, Ian shook it warmly.
"Thank you, sir. I'll take good care of her."
"If I didn't think so, I wouldn't let you marry her." Her father's voice was gruff, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he leaned down to give Susannah a kiss on the cheek. "She has a tendency to want to rule the roost, you know."
"I know." Ian glanced down at the top of Susannah's head. "But I think I can keep her in line."
She pinched his side admonishingly. He jumped and clapped a hand to the threatened part.
"Susannah, you know that blue dress you brought home with you? Do you suppose I could wear it to your wedding?" Mandy asked on a wheedling note.
"I suppose."
"And maybe to the church social next week?" Mandy's voice was hopeful.
"Maybe."
"And will you alter it just a little? Nothing that you can't take back out, of course."
"Mandy, dear, you may have the dress with my blessing if you want it. That blue color is better on you than me, anyway."
"Susannah, you're an angel!" Mandy clapped her hands with glee.
"No, dear, I'm not," Susannah said, accepting congratulatory kisses from Mandy and Sarah Jane and Em in turn. "Believe me, I'm nobody's angel."
"Oh, yes, you are," Ian said softly, catching her hand and raising it to his lips. Susannah lifted her eyes to his, and all the love she felt for him blazed at him from their hazel depths. Ian pressed a kiss to her palm, then laid her hand against his bristly cheek. "Yes, you are—you're mine."
Published by
Dell Publishing
a division of
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
666 Fifth Avenue
New York, New York 10103
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
Copyright © 1992 by Karen Robards
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Delacorte Press, New York, New York.
The trademark Dell® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
ISBN: 0-440-20828-9
Reprinted by arrangement with Delacorte Press
Printed in the United States of America
Published simultaneously in Canada
December 1992
CLS 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
v1.0
Table of Contents
Inside 1
Inside 2
Title Page
Praise for Karen Robards
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
/>
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
Copyright
Nobody's Angel Page 33
