Susan Fox - A Wedding in the Family

“So, judging by your granny and your equally charming sister, you Renard women don’t really have any more manners or class than us uncouth Parrish men,” he commented as he divided his attention between her and the road ahead. His hand didn’t move.

Lillian was speechless. The feel of that big hand and its firm grip on her thigh conveyed an aggressive sensuality that took her breath away. She should have shoved his hand away, should have slapped it away. She should have slapped him, both for the harassment of her person and the mocking laughter in his eyes. But, frozen by the jolt of sensation that arced through her, she could do nothing but stare into his arrogant face with rounded eyes.

And that made him chuckle. It was a low, rich sound of masculine good humor. For the smallest moment, his hostility toward her eased. He dragged his hand from her thigh and slowed the pickup. She was still in an uproar from the feel of his hand, so she was only dimly aware that he was turning the truck off the highway onto a graveled ranch drive. He brought the vehicle to a halt and shifted into park before they reached the scrolled iron arch that read Parrish Ranch.

Lillian resisted the urge to shrink away when he suddenly turned toward her. The arm he laid on the back of the seat and the wrist he draped over the steering wheel made her feel claustrophobic.

“How did your grandma expect you to break up the lovers?” There was no sign of good humor now in his harsh, handsome face. The intensity in his gaze was relentless.

Lillian’s everlasting cowardice warred with her flagging pride as she tried to hold up under Rye’s intimidation. “Are we sharing confidences, Mr. Parrish, or are you in favor of the engagement?”

He tilted his head back slightly and his gaze narrowed on her pale face. It was obvious that he’d expected her to be easily bullied into giving a more precise answer.

“Oh, let’s do share confidences, Miz Lilly,” he drawled. His voice was intimately low, but his mouth was curved with a hint of menace.

Her daring, “You first,” brought him inches nearer. Suddenly, she could barely stand to have him so close to her. The subtle leather and aftershave scent of him was much more pronounced, and his blatant masculinity was overpowering in the close confines. The fact that she hadn’t the slightest notion how to deal with him was another distress.

She got out a hesitant, “Does this mean you approve of their plans to marry?”

The swearword he used was mild, but it was enough to startle her. “No, I do not approve,” he growled. “But if you so much as hint that to either of them, I’ll swear you’re a liar.”

The knowledge that neither of them approved of the marriage should have been a relief. It was the fervency of his threat that prevented her from relaxing.

“Why would you keep an opinion on something so important from your brother?” After living more than half her life with two relatives who made their opinions on every subject quite clear, it was a bit of a shock to think that other families practiced some restraint.

“Because it’s better for my brother to figure out for himself that Rocky is nothing more than trash with money.”

The brutal statement gave her heart a vicious squeeze. Her gaze fled the hard lights in his and she turned her face forward. Family loyalty should have prompted her to take offense and vigorously stand up for her sister. The bitter truth of his words broke her heart and kept her silent. She knew how wild and unprincipled her sister was. Lillian seemed to be the only member of her family who’d agonized over her sister’s abominable behavior. She was probably the only one who was genuinely terrified about how Rachel would end up.

Deep in her heart, she had hoped Rachel’s cowboy was strong enough to handle her, special enough to change her and inspire a more stable attitude and lifestyle. Rye’s blunt assessment told her that nothing had changed with Rachel. Truthfully, Lillian would have gladly seen her inheritance and Rachel’s lost if marrying Chad Parrish could save her sister from her headlong plunge toward disaster.

Rye suddenly felt faintly ashamed of himself. If he’d ever met a more fragile, repressed or proper young woman than Lillian Renard, he couldn’t remember her. She was the absolute opposite of her sister in temperament and manner, and he’d taken ruthless advantage of that. He’d been predisposed to be unkind to her, but now he felt like a bully.

And that made him think of what else was in store for her. “There’s something you ought to know,” he said gruffly. He watched as she stiffened, and looked over at him.

“Chad didn’t tell Rocky your grandma was sending you out here. He wanted it to be a...surprise.”

Judging from the flash of alarm in her blue eyes before she managed to conceal it from him, Lillian knew right away what kind of reception she would get from her sister.

He looked away from her then and stared out the back glass of the truck cab. “So, if you change your mind, we can turn around and get you on another plane. I’ll tell Chad to keep quiet...” He let his voice trail off.

There was nothing Lillian would have liked better than to leave Texas and fly home that instant. But Eugenia had sent her and Lillian knew she couldn’t go home until or unless she could bring her sister with her. Her single, unengaged sister.

“I need to see this through, Mr. Parrish,” she said quietly. “And I’d prefer to get my ‘surprise’ arrival over with, if that’s all right with you.”

“Whatever you say, Miz Lillian.”

Though Rye’s gruff words were suitably courteous, Lillian wasn’t foolish enough to think that the rancher’s attitude toward her was any less hostile. He didn’t look her way once during the ten minute ride to the main house.

The next surprise Lillian had was when they finally drove over the crest of the low rise south of the ranch house. After traveling for miles through the nearly empty expanse of Texas range land, the buildings and corrals beyond the main house looked as if they stretched at least a mile wide. The sheer size of the ranch headquarters was beyond anything Lillian had imagined.

But it was the huge house that sat well to the front of it all that captured her attention. Built of stone and adobe, its red tile roof ablaze from the light of the evening sun, the house was magnificent. Six wide adobe arches stretched across the front of the one-story structure. A stone veranda beneath the roof’s deep overhang divided the line of arches from the actual front of the house. Hanging pots of richly flowering plants adorned the arches and she glimpsed several groupings of black iron furniture. The wide stone veranda—and more arches—continued around both sides of the C-shaped house and suggested a size even more impressive than the front.

The obvious wealth of the Parrish home shocked her a little. Surely her grandmother had been mistaken in her judgment that Parrish money would never be enough for her sister.

“You have a beautiful home. Mr. Parrish,” she offered stiffly, unable to keep the comment back. The house was truly beautiful. It would be dishonest not to tell him so.

“It’s no New York mansion, but we’ve got indoor plumbing,” he drawled, the glance he sent her way once again mocking. She searched his face for the reason.

“Is it just me you’ve taken an instant dislike to, or do you hate women in general?” she dared, then felt her face warm at her uncharacteristic audacity.

Rye’s handsome mouth slanted. “I like women just fine, Miz Lilly,” he said. “Most women, that is.”

Lillian knew right away that she didn’t fit into the category of most women. She’d always known that she was lacking somehow, but the rancher’s clear indication that he didn’t like her specifically hurt.