Rebel by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

state of the Union at that moment.
    But he was damned sorry he had said whatever it was that he had. He didn’t want to argue politics right now. Lavinia’s whisper had been far too enticing.
    He glanced at Lilly. Lilly shook her head, worried about him. He smiled. Lilly should understand his attraction to Lavinia, and the fact that he could take care of himself without risking his own future plans or injuring any sweet, young, innocent girl. After all, he was going to marry a very proper young woman, but there would be endless plans to make, and God alone knew when his wedding might actually take place. Meeting Lavinia was pure entertainment for both parties, with no one getting hurt in any way. He wasn’t in love with Lavinia, and Lavinia knew it. Neither, of course, was Lavinia in love with him. They had become friends in the short times he had been home, and Lavinia was a widow who had now taken on a number of lovers, quite discreetly, of course. Lavinia was, and had said so frankly, quite enormously fond of good sexual entertainment without the silly restrictions of society. As a widow—one who would lose her dear departed husband’s bank accounts to his brother should she remarry—she could see little reason in denying herself what pleasures and amusements might remain to her.
    “McKenzie! Ian McKenzie! You make no sense, sir!” Alfred Ripply said, banging his cane against the polished hardwood of the library floor. “You sit there and say that John Brown deserved to hang, and in what is nearly the same breath, you say that Lincoln—that hideous long lank of malformation!—seeks no evil against Southerners, only strength in the Union!”
    Ian sighed, glancing at his father where he stood across the room, an elbow leaned against the mantel. Jarrett McKenzie remained as tall and supply muscled as ever; his stance hadn’t altered a hair in all the years Ian could remember. His father’s dark eyes were grave against his handsome, dignified features; his hair, nearlyjet-black, was just becoming touched with silver. Ian and Jarrett had certainly had their differences over time, but now, in many ways, they were discovering they were very much alike. In the last few years Ian had come to realize that he didn’t just love his father; he admired him very much. Jarrett’s opinions had definitely influenced much of his own thinking, but his life experiences had served to convince him of the tightness of his beliefs, at least in his own soul. And that was where, Jarrett had always taught him, it mattered most.
    “John Brown is, in my opinion, sir, a sad case. He believed most heartily that God had sanctioned his deeds in the pursuit of a higher goal. However, I say that he deserved to hang because murder is a crime punishable by hanging according to our laws. John Brown willfully and brutally murdered many men, claiming to do so in retaliation for raids into anti-slavery territory by pro-slavery men. Brown didn’t have the right to be judge and jury for those men.”
    Ian rose and bowed to the men in the room. His uncle James—up with his family for lan’s mother’s annual birthday gathering for his father—was watching him oddly. Ian offered his uncle a quick, wry grimace, then turned back to Ripply and the others. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll see to the wine list for this evening. Father?”
    Jarrett was evidently aware that his son was heartily sorry he’d ever allowed himself to become embroiled in such a conversation. Ripply wanted total agreement with his own beliefs, and nothing less. And he probably had no conception of just how ugly the argument over slavery could become.
    He hadn’t seen some of the atrocities committed out in Kansas, Nebraska and Missouri as each side struggled to prove that God had commanded their credo to be the right one.
    “Indeed, Ian,” his father said. “Please do so.”
    And he was free.
    Naturally, he didn’t need to see to a wine list. Such