Rebel by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

arrangements had all been taken care of long ago. His father didn’t know about Lavinia; he only knew Ian needed to escape, and he understood.
    He decided, however, that he’d best make his exit in the direction of the kitchen.
    And that was why, although he never saw the young lady involved, he clearly heard her kissing O’Neill—and then slapping him.
    Ian disliked O’Neill. O’Neill, whose father had just announced his son’s engagement to the cotton heiress Elsie Fitch, was rumored to have fathered several children already, scattered about the state. And if rumor held true, he had denounced each unwed young woman when her condition became apparent. O’Neill was probably considered conventionally handsome, and obviously he could be a charmer.
    When Ian entered the kitchen and happened upon the kiss and the slap, he was quickly certain that whoever the luckless lass might be, she was in his house and therefore deserved his protection. Assuming she wanted it.
    But when he forced back the dolly to enter the pantry, O’Neill was alone, somewhat bent over, nursing his cheek—and more of his anatomy, so it seemed. His face reddened so that the hand imprint on it seemed to deepen when he saw Ian.
    “Excuse me, Ian. Difficulties with an
affair de coeur
which must now be
fini.
I’m afraid that one was in love with me,” he said ruefully.
    “Indeed. It certainly sounded like it,” Ian said dryly.
    “She was totally inappropriate for marriage,” Peter said defensively.
    “You do seem to have that problem with the women who attract you.”
    Peter reddened still further. “My father would have none of it.”
    “But at least the concept of marriage did pass through your mind this time,” Ian said politely.
    Peter gave him an awkward smile and lifted his hands. “You’ve been around in the world, Ian,” he said. “You know how women can be. This one is…
wanton
. A little hellion. So ripe she was bursting. She wanted me. I couldn’t deny her. Believe me, Ian, I’d have had to have been a rock to resist her. You cannot imagine—”
    “Peter, spare me, and spare my father’s house your theatrics, and whatever callous cruelty you might bestowon your
inappropriate
women.” He started to walk by, then hesitated. “You’re not toying with a servant in my father’s house, are you?” For a moment, he was afraid that Lilly might have been involved.
    Peter drew himself upright at last, watery blue eyes spitting hatred. He knew Ian disliked him, and he was furious that Ian should have come upon such a scene. “Certainly not! And if rumor does truth justice in any way, Ian McKenzie, you’ve no right to condemn other men for their affairs with women.”
    Ian arched a brow, yet he managed not to reply. He wasn’t about to argue with Peter or try to explain the difference in enjoying the company of a mature and independent woman and seducing a young innocent. But then again, maybe he had no right to condemn Peter after all; he didn’t know the woman involved. And he was growing somewhat anxious.
    The hell with Peter and his problems.
    The usual place
. Lavinia could be impatient. She’d only wait so long.
    “Take care in my father’s house, Peter,” he said softly.
    “Or what?” Peter demanded, his tone surly.
    “Or I will have to make certain that you do,” Ian said evenly, then stepped past the man and hurried through the doorway that led back out to the great hall.
    As he left the house, he could hear the sounds of angry voices spilling from the library. He forgot Peter, and he wanted to forget the overwhelming sense of doom that seemed to hang over his country.
    He felt a burning sense of nostalgia for the way it used to be. For the slow, easy days when there was little to disturb the way the river rippled, when barges moved slowly and lazily by and the day-to-day life at Cimarron was like clockwork. When the pines sheltered the land, and the crystal pools cooled a man’s flesh from the heat of the