Nobody's Angel

by Karen Robards

  Susannah swallowed. All the diplomatic phrases she'd spent the last few hours thinking up went right out of her mind.

  "I don't want you to touch me again," she said baldly.

  "What?" The single word was incredulous. He started toward her. Holding up a hand to ward him off, Susannah took a single, nervous step backward. She would have taken more, but to her dismay her back came up against the cabin's front wall and she was left with nowhere to go.

  "Please. Hear me out." To her relief he stopped walking, folded his arms over his chest, and stared at her as if waiting for her to continue.

  "What—happened between us—was as much my fault as yours, and I admit that. But it shouldn't have happened, and it can't happen again. I don't know what kind of women you're used to, but I can't—I can't . . ." Her voice trailed off at his darkening expression.

  "Can't what?" he asked with awful politeness.

  "Can't—oh, you know what!" Susannah threw the words at him. She would have turned her back to hide her blush, but she was afraid he would come up behind her and take her in his arms again, and that, she couldn't endure. What she was doing was hard enough without having to fight the effect his touch had on her at the same time.

  "Can't make love with me? Why not, Susannah? I thought you did it very well, myself. For a beginner."

  He was going to be difficult. She could tell by the mocking undertone to his voice and the almost savage glint in his eyes. Well, she had expected it. What she had to do now was say what she had come to say and get out. Whether he liked it or not was immaterial.

  "I'm prepared to tear up the Articles of Indenture, and if necessary to make it official I am sure I can get Pa to agree. He only wanted to rehabilitate you anyway, and I'm sure he feels we've done that. You can have your freedom and go back to England, or wherever it is you want to go, as long as it's away from here." Her decision to give him his freedom had been made some time within the last few minutes, without her even realizing that it had been done. But as soon as the idea popped into her mind, she knew it made horrible, perfect sense. If she didn't let him go, she would never be free of him. As long as he remained where she could see him, where she could hear his voice, where she could touch him if she so much as stretched out a hand, she would be in danger of tumbling into his arms at any moment. The attraction he held for her was too frighteningly powerful. If she was to keep her pact with herself and God, Ian had to be put beyond her reach. It tore her heart out to send him away, but the alternatives, all the alternatives, were infinitely worse.

  "You're telling me you want me to leave?" If his eyes had been angry before, it was nothing to what they were now.

  "I'm telling you that I'm prepared to give you your freedom," she said steadily. "That's what you've been angling for, isn't it? Well, you've got it, so your campaign was successful and you can congratulate yourself. You don't even have to concern yourself with paying back the money I spent to acquire your Indenture, if that is indeed troubling you. 'Tis a large sum to lose, I own, but under the circumstances I feel it's well worth it."

  "Oh, you do, do you?" His voice was silky, which Susannah had discovered meant trouble. His expression had grown increasingly ominous as he had listened to her, and it now resembled the thundercloud that at that moment sent lightning zigzagging down toward the fields. "So you think I seduced you in order to cajole my freedom out of you, do you? Well, here's what I think: you used me for stud service, and now you're willing to pay me off to be rid of me so no one will find out about your guilty little secret. That's the truth with no bark on it, isn't it?"

  Susannah flushed furiously. But before she could rebut his extremely insulting charges, he was speaking again, in a low, rumbling voice more frightening than any shout. As he spoke, he began to move slowly, almost menacingly, toward her. His gray eyes pinned her like a butterfly to the wall.

  "Well, let me tell you something, Miss Susannah: I could have had my freedom any damned time I wanted from the moment I arrived. Do you really think a piece of paper saying you own me could keep me if I wanted to go? I stayed because I chose to, because it amused me to discover just how hot the minister's prim daughter was under her ugly skirts. And you know what? I'm not done being amused, and I'm not going."

  He was almost upon her now. Susannah, aghast at his words, flayed by the fury she saw in his eyes, and growing increasingly angry herself, retained just enough reasoning ability to know what she should do: run. If he laid hands on her in such a temper, she feared to think what might be the result. In a physical fight with him, she stood not a chance in the world. And what did she really know of him after all? Every instinct she possessed shouted that he would not strike a woman, but the alternative—that he might try to subdue her with the potent sexual power he knew he held over her—was almost more frightening.

  To melt in his arms after her proud speechifying and the horrible, hideous things he had replied would shame her more than anything else she had yet done.

  He grabbed for her even as Susannah turned, scrabbling to open the door. The door flew back on its hinges, but too late; he caught her arm. Whirling her around, he grabbed her waist with both hands, bringing her up hard against his nakedness and leering down into her whitening face.

  "Don't worry, sweetheart. If you don't want me, I doubt I'll lack for company for long." He bared his teeth at her in a taunting travesty of a grin. "Comparing sisters is always so interesting, don't you think? Though of course you wouldn't know."

  The foulness of that took Susannah's breath away.

  "If you touch one of my sisters . . ."

  "Yes? What will you do? Gnash your teeth?"

  "I'll shoot you, you disgusting swine!"

  He snorted. The expression on his face was so angry that he could have been first cousin to the Devil himself. "You couldn't even shoot Jed Likens, so I doubt you'll shoot me. Anyway, I'm prepared to take my chances."

  "Let me go!"

  "With pleasure, Miss Susannah. I've learned all I wanted to know about you in any case. Underneath your church-going exterior you're as hot as any whore I've ever had—and as fickle." He released her without warning, and Susannah almost fell as she stumbled back over the threshold. The rain pounded down on her unprotected head as she caught herself and straightened to face him, her eyes spitting fury in their turn. For an instant, he stood in the aperture, the light from the fire outlining his naked body with a red glow, making him seem even taller and more breath-stoppingly muscular than she knew him to be. His gray eyes blazed with rage, and his mouth was tight with it.

  Then, "I'll see you at supper," he said quite gently, and closed the door in her face.

  Susannah spent nearly an hour in the barn with her animals before she considered herself composed enough to go back inside and face her sisters. She probably would have lingered longer had not Ben entered through the front door on some errand or other. Before he could discover her lurking disconsolately in the shadows, Susannah slipped out the back and circled around the pigpen again as she headed for the house. Miss Isolda and her piglets were snug, out of the rain with the others this time, and there was no inquiring snuffle to lighten the utter misery of her spirits.

  Fortunately, the long-awaited invitation to the Haskinses' party had been delivered in her absence, and Mandy and Em were up in their room excitedly poring over fashion plates as they discussed what Mandy would wear. Thus, only Sarah Jane was in the kitchen to witness Susannah's return to the house.

  Sarah Jane took one long look at her sister and rushed to enfold Susannah in her arms.

  "What did he do to you?" she demanded fiercely. "And don't say nothing, because it's there in your face!"

  Since their mother had died, no one had ever thought to mother Susannah, and it was surprisingly comforting to be able to rest her head, for just a moment, on Sarah Jane's slight bosom. But to give in to the fury and hurt that twisted her insides into knots was just plain weakness, and weak Susannah was not.

  So after one
brief, luxuriant moment she stiffened her spine, lifted her chin, and stepped away from Sarah Jane, who let her go but stood arms akimbo as she regarded her elder sister with a frown.

  "If he's hurt you, I swear I'll skin him!" Sarah Jane said. That their bound man was the person to whom Sarah Jane referred was understood between them.

  To hear such words from meek Sarah Jane and to see her looking so ready to do battle on her older sister's behalf surprised a quavering grin out of Susannah.

  "I'll wager Mr. Bridgewater has no notion you can be so ferocious," Susannah said, and drew a quick, cleansing breath that was almost, but not quite, as unsteady as a sob.

  Sarah Jane's teeth snapped together at the soft sound, but when she spoke her voice was coaxing. "What happened, honey? Can you tell me?"

  Susannah shook her head. "Nothing." Then, at the exasperation on Sarah Jane's face as she used the forbidden word, Susannah added quickly, "Nothing, really. C-Con- nelly and I just—quarrelled."

  "Connelly?" From the tilt of Sarah Jane's head, it was clear she had picked up on the telling change in the way Susannah had referred to their bound man.

  "Yes, Connelly. From now on," Susannah said, as if making a vow.

  "Ah." It was a sound of understanding. Recovering her self-control by the second, Susannah smiled wryly at her sister.

  "Yes, ah."

  "You're doing the right thing."

  "I know. But it's hard."

  "Oh, Susannah." Sarah Jane draped both arms over Susannah's shoulders and touched her forehead to her older sister's for just a moment. "Life hurts, doesn't it? I'm going to miss you all dreadfully when I marry Peter."

  Susannah felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. Pressing a quick kiss to Sarah Jane's cheek, she pulled away and brushed her fingers over her lashes to remove any suspicious moisture.

  "If you're not careful we'll both be weeping, and then what will Mandy and Em think when they come down?"

  Sarah Jane laughed shakily. "That we've both gone mad, probably. Are you really going to let Mandy go to that party?"

  "I said I would, so I suppose so. Though it's probably a mistake."

  "Well, I think . . ." Sarah Jane went on to give at some length her view of parties at which dancing was featured, and by the time she was done Susannah's person was nearly dry, her emotions were under firm control, and supper was bubbling over the fire.

  25

  As Ian had threatened, he came in to supper, bringing her medicine case, which he deposited on the kitchen floor without so much as a word spoken to Susannah. Indeed, he didn't speak to her at all during the meal or even look at her, though he was charm itself to Mandy and Em. He even tried out one of his roguish smiles on Sarah Jane, who promptly froze him with a look so frosty that afterward he left her alone. But it was Mandy who came in for the lion's share of his attention—and Susannah secretly seethed.

  His behavior was no better at breakfast, or at the noon meal, or at supper. He ignored Susannah almost completely, though not blatantly enough to attract the notice of the Reverend Redmon or Ben. But Susannah was perfectly well aware of what he was doing, and all three of her sisters could hardly fail to miss his startling change of allegiance. Their reactions to the new order varied wildly.

  Sarah Jane stopped just short of being openly rude to him. She fixed their bound man with a gimlet glare whenever he put himself within her range of vision. Which mark of disfavor, if he was even aware of it, Ian blandly pretended not to notice. Mandy, making the most of opportunity, contrived to sit next to him at nearly every meal and responded to his most commonplace remark with dimpling smiles and oodles of charm. Em, fascinated by the by-play between her elders, watched with bemused attention, observing first one and then another of the principal players as if she were watching horses in a race. The situation might have struck Susannah as funny had she been in any mood for laughing and had she not been so closely involved. But she was involved, like it or not, and she was not laughing. She felt like a drowning person struggling with all her might just to keep her head above water.

  Having Ian as her enemy was as excruciatingly painful as anything she had ever experienced. She had not realized how much she had come to look forward to his ready smiles and teasing, to glances that made her feel attractive, to the mere brush of his hand. She had not realized how much sheer joy he had added to her previously humdrum life. Now the joy was gone, vanished like the sun with a dark cloud over it. She felt like a prisoner in her own home, sentenced to being near the thing she wanted most in the world without ever being allowed to have it.

  Even if she could have, she would not have restored her relationship with Ian to what it had been. If she was suffering, then she would just have to suffer, because his paramour she would not be. But to watch him turn on Mandy those same glimmering smiles and admiring looks he had once reserved for her alone was more hideous than any torture she could ever have imagined.

  A week passed, and Susannah was ready to go stark, staring mad. Craddock had not returned, and Susannah would have been concerned about him had she been capable of feeling concern for anyone save herself. Still, it was ridiculous to worry about a man who periodically went off on a three- or four-day drunk; doubtless this bender was just longer than the ones that usually took him.

  A consequence of Craddock's absence was not so easily dismissed, however; Ian spent much more time than heretofore about the farm, doing many of Craddock's chores. From Ben Susannah heard some amusing tales of his misadventures, not that she felt much like laughing at them, though it seemed that he really was learning something about farming. Not that she was in a position to judge his progress. Wherever Ian was, she tried her best not to be. Mandy, on the other hand, seemed to discover a previously unsuspected interest in all things out of doors. If Ian tried his hand at milking the cow, like as not Mandy held the bucket. If Ian fed the animals, Mandy called them in. If Ian drew water from the well, Mandy was there to drink it.

  Afraid of scolding Mandy for fear of drawing a charge of sour grapes (which carried the additional sting of being at least partially true), Susannah did her best to take the danger out of the situation by ordering Em to stay with Mandy at all times. Em, obedient even though she did not quite grasp the finer points of the situation her presence was supposed to prevent, faithfully trailed her sister like a shadow. Wherever Ian was, Mandy followed, and wherever Mandy went came Em.

  Not unnaturally, this irked Mandy considerably. But when she protested, Sarah Jane lent her voice to Susannah's, as Susannah was not very popular with Mandy just at that moment, to proclaim the impropriety of a girl of Mandy's age being alone with their young, handsome, and very virile bound man. Susannah's case had been quite different, as Sarah Jane explained quietly to Mandy when she thought Susannah couldn't hear (though Susannah, who unbeknownst to her sisters was cleaning the sitting room, heard every word the two exchanged in the adjoining kitchen). Being a mature woman of twenty-six who had been on the shelf for many years, Susannah was not considered at risk from their bound man, Sarah Jane said. No one had thought anything untoward about their association, simply because impropriety between the two seemed so unlikely. Everyone knew that Miss Susannah Redmon's morals were above reproach. Thinking evil of Susannah was like thinking evil of the Reverend Redmon himself: in other words, simply impossible to do.

  Overhearing that, Susannah felt like the biggest hypocrite alive. If anyone knew . . . But no one did, except for Ian, and, scoundrel though he was, it seemed he wasn't talking.

  She supposed she should thank God for that, but she didn't even feel like praying anymore. It was all she could do to make it through each day.

  On the few occasions when she had to be in lan's company—at mealtimes and on the way to church, for example—she spoke to him as little as possible and with careful civility. He would reply, when there was no help for it, but his words were so hard and cold they could have been carved from ice. When he had to glance her way, his eyes were as unyielding as granite.


  Susannah's heart ached. She bore up grimly by telling herself that even the worst pain eventually lessened. For solace she turned, as she had in times of dire trouble in the past, to her kitchen: when Susannah was emotionally upset, she cooked. Under these circumstances, the table practically groaned at every meal under the bounty with which she filled it.

  Steaming pots of rice and red beans, greens flavored with bacon grease, spoonbread, spicy sausages, caramelized yams, crawfish, catfish, flounder, and crab joined such staples as baked chicken and dumplings, ham, corn- bread, stewed tomatoes, black-eyed peas, mock oysters, and sweet potato pie. Every member of her family left the table groaningly replete at every meal. Everyone, that is, except Susannah herself. She could scarcely eat more than a few mouthfuls at a time. The hollows beneath her cheekbones and the new prominence of her collarbone might have pleased her had she been in any condition to notice.

  The Haskinses' party was to be held on the coming Friday evening, and Mandy was to attend with Susannah as her chaperone. Susannah, for all that she and Mandy were not on the best of terms, was busy two days before sewing her sister's gown. For years she had fashioned the best of their garments, because dressmaking, like cooking, was a skill at which she excelled. This particular dress was to be fashioned of the green silk Mandy had purchased in town and made to a design that Mandy had discovered on a fashion plate and coveted—fitted through the elongated bodice, with the newly fashionable pagoda sleeves, which were tight to the elbows and then flared to end in frills of lace above the wrist. The skirt, which was full and sweeping, was made to be worn over panniers, and for all Susannah's present annoyance with Mandy she was fashioning this most important dress with painstaking care. She and Mandy might be at odds, but she still wished for her sister to be the loveliest young lady present.

  Susannah had only to make a few minor adjustments to sleeves and waist, add the dark green velvet bows that she meant to use for adornment, hem, and press it, and the dress would be done. When Mandy, followed by the faithful Em, came in from gathering the eggs Susannah meant to use in a custard pie for supper, Susannah sent her up to her room to change into the new dress, then bade her return to the kitchen for the final fitting. Mandy, nothing loath to oblige her sister in this instance, did as she was told.