Mariel by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online

you come to the Cloister and have dinner with us?”
    â€œI can’t. It’s Friday. I have to finish that sermon tonight. Tomorrow I am marrying Louis Bradley and Molly Gray.” When she laughed, he asked, “What is so funny?”
    Picking her way around a stump, she did not let go of his hand. He drew her back next to him as they continued toward the car. Reflectively, she queried, “How does it feel to say a few phrases and know you have married someone forever and ever?”
    â€œWonderful.” He mused, “The first time I officiated at a wedding, I was more nervous than the bride and groom. Such an awesome power to join two lives, knowing that the worse might come more often than the better. I no longer dread saying the wrong thing. Everyone usually is joyous at weddings, even when the vows have been anticipated and the girl’s father is insistent she marry immediately.”
    When she laughed, he regarded her shadowed face. Most women he knew would be shocked by such a statement. Not Mariel. She might be conventional about her own moral behavior; she did not judge others harshly. As they reached the automobile, he released her so she could don her odd driving costume.
    She sat next to him and reached for the ignition. His hand halted hers. Drawing it back to him, he lifted her trembling fingers to his lips. In the purple glow of the twilight, he could see the warmth in her eyes.
    Mariel did not move as she felt Ian’s other arm slide along the back of the seat to bring her to face him. Highlighted by the setting sun, the intensity of his emotions was engraved upon his face. He released her hand, and she moved to start the car again.
    Again he stopped her. His hand on her cheek brought her face back to his. Refusing to release her tense shoulders, his arm contracted to tilt her toward him. When she saw he intended to kiss her, instinct alone saved her. With her hands against his chest, she broke his gentle hold on her.
    Inserting the key into its slot, she refused to be waylaid from starting the motor. She put the automobile into gear and turned it to go back to the village. By her side was a small lantern connected to the batteries. She lit it, not to help her see, because it obscured her vision more than helping it, but to let others know the vehicle was on the road.
    She said nothing during the long trip back to Foxbridge. Several times, Ian asked her a question, but she did not answer. When she drew the automobile even with the porch, she stated coolly, “Good night.”
    â€œDo not be angry,” he said, refusing to leave until they had this misunderstanding solved. “If you do not want to be kissed, that is your prerogative. If I want to kiss you, it is mine.”
    â€œWhich you have no right to inflict on me!”
    He smiled. “Which I did not inflict on you, as you so nicely put it.” He leaned toward her and spoke in a low voice no passersby could hear. “Do you think you could have prevented me from kissing you if I had wanted to?” When she gasped, he went on swiftly, “I know what you are thinking. I am a minister. I should not be thinking of such things.”
    His vehemence disconcerted her as much as his shadow flowing over her in a dark caress. “That’s right.”
    His hands framed her face. “Mariel Wythe, I like you. You have a wonderful sense of humor and a cockeyed way of looking at the world. Something about you revitalizes me. If you do not want to be kissed, I can accept that.” He grinned ironically. “I can accept that reluctantly, but I do not want to go back to the spitting catfight of yesterday. Can we be friends?”
    â€œFriends?” Her eyes moved from his to the line of his lips. Her breath felt tight in her chest as she imagined how wonderful they would have felt over hers. Forcing that thought from her mind, she murmured, “I would like that, Ian. Just don’t press me. I do