A Wedding in the Family

A Wedding in the Family
Susan Fox

BACK TO THE RANCHSister of the bride!Lillian has a mission: to stop her wayward sister's wedding! Not only will her grandmother cut both sisters off without a penny if it goes ahead…but Rachel is also about to marry into the family of Texan rancher Rye Parrish. And he's just about the most self-satisfied, egotistical man Lilly has ever met!Rye is equally determined to stop the wedding. Only he's too proud to cooperate with Lilly. Just because she's heart-stoppingly pretty, that doesn't mean she isn't a spoiled little rich girl, just like her sister! Except, somehow, Lilly is beginning to seem a lot like his ideal woman, after all…."Susan Fox entertains us with lighthearted scenes and witty dialogue."–Romantic Times

“How do you expect to break up the lovers?” (#u294e806f-b577-58a2-8c6e-42beb3ebc3c4)About the Author (#u06870d5f-f0f6-5cfc-9d2d-c195983a8a51)Title Page (#u66757440-0f10-54a0-a37f-80f456ee1ba4)CHAPTER ONE (#ucf8afd4a-4d15-573b-9829-c437efe571ae)CHAPTER TWO (#uc722ecc0-2f75-531d-aa73-dcf6ee9af02a)CHAPTER THREE (#u9e1e3d84-b3b2-5775-a133-4084df8cc71a)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“How do you expect to break up the lovers?”

“Does this mean you approve of their plans to marry?” Lilly countered.

“No, I do not approve,” he growled. Rye’s voice was intimately low, and his blatant masculinity overpowering. “But if you so much as hint that to either of them, I’ll swear you’re a liar. It’s better for my brother to figure out for himself that your sister is nothing more than trash with money!”

The statement gave Lilly’s heart a viscious squeeze. She longed to fly home that instant, but knew she couldn’t until she could bring her sister with her. Her single, unengaged sister...

Susan Fox writes deeply emotional romances that will move and enthrall you—till the very last page!

Susan Fox lives with her youngest son, Patrick, in Des Moines, Iowa. A lifelong fan of Westerns and cowboys, she tends to think of romantic heroes in terms of Stetsons and boots! In what spare time she has, Susan is an unabashed couch potato and movie fan. She particularly enjoys romantic movies and also reads a variety of romance novels—with guaranteed happy endings—and plans to write many more of her own.

Susan Fox loves to hear from readers! You can write to her at: P.O. Box 35681, Des Moines, Iowa 50315, USA.

A Wedding In The Family

Susan Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

RYE PARRISH hated socialites.

His mother had been one of those. Rich, spoiled, obsessed with her looks, her clothes and her rancher husband’s bank account. She’d hated the grand Texas house Rand Parrish had built for her. She’d endured his attentions and tolerated his companionship from time to time—as long as she could spend his money like water and live most of the year in the city.

But two sons later, she decided motherhood was too high a price to pay in exchange for the Parrish fortune. She’d abandoned her husband and sons. Walked away without a backward glance before her youngest was out of diapers and her eldest was eight years old.

Rye’s younger brother, Chad, had few memories of their beautiful mother. Rye remembered everything about the glamorous woman who’d never had the capacity to show affection to her rambunctious offspring. Rena Parrish had been appalled by the dirty face and dirty clothes he’d worn after a day of play. She’d been too squeamish about his scraped knees and normal childhood illnesses to tend them. She’d never offered comfort and seldom paid either of her sons any attention. Except to criticize.

Even so, her final desertion had deeply wounded him. Her abandonment had been so absolute that he’d eventually come to hate her. But for the rest of his thirty-three- years, he’d measured every female he’d ever met against her. Whatever a woman’s faults or shortcomings, he’d rarely come across one whose failings were as abysmal as Rena’s, rarely met another who deserved so little respect.

But the elegant blonde who walked through the small air terminal in his direction might be the rare one who came close.

Rye watched her, his eyes narrowing cynically as he noted that her collar-length blond hair had been trimmed to fall into a precise pageboy curve. Her aristocratic face was fine-boned, her features delicate, her skin a glamor-perfect peaches and cream. Her pink silk blouse and khaki bush pants were designer labels, the leather sandals on her small feet made for her by the same Italian designer who’d crafted the matching handbag. The baggage handler who carried four pieces of her monogrammed luggage followed closely, but her very erect, regal posture gave every signal that she’d dismissed his presence behind her as completely as if he’d been in charge of someone else’s luggage.

Rye Parrish liked most women, but his first glimpse of this woman roused little more than contempt. Even if he hadn’t guessed the little snob had come all the way from New York to Texas to express her snooty family’s disapproval of her sister’s engagement to his younger brother, he wouldn’t have liked her. His disdain for females of her ilk ensured that.

Lillian Renard walked down the concourse, so badly disrupted by this trip to the wilds of Texas that her stomach was in knots. She’d been watching dismally out the window when the commuter aircraft began to reduce altitude, more appalled by the second at the vast emptiness of the land she’d been about to descend upon. The sparse scattering of buildings—not one more than six stories high, she’d noted—emphasized the notion that she was hundreds of miles from civilization.

Lillian didn’t handle stress well. She was, in fact, a coward. Traveling to an area which she regarded as little more than a Wild West frontier was terrifying for a young woman who’d grown up in the city and had never traveled anywhere in the world that wasn’t metropolitan. Why her imperious grandmother had insisted that she be the one to travel to Texas to issue the ultimatum to her rebellious younger sister, Rachel, was impossible to discern.

Except that Rachel was Grandmama’s favorite. Lillian had lived most of her life scrambling to attain even a smidgen of their grandmother’s approval. But Rachel, no matter how eccentric, no matter what her latest escapade or public blunder, had managed to capture the lion’s share of the old woman’s affection.

Until she’d run off with a cowboy from Texas. Though Rachel was barely twenty-two, Chad Parrish was her fifth love affair. But because he was a cowboy—a glorified farmer who herded cattle from horseback—their grandmother had taken exception to him. Once she’d learned he’d inherited only half of a Texas fortune, which she’d calculated to be far below her staunch requirements for her favorite granddaughter, Grandmama was apoplectic. If Rachel didn’t give up her cowboy lover and return to. New York, she would be promptly and irrevocably disowned.

And though the old harridan hadn’t expressly decreed it, Lillian might well find herself disowned if she failed to succeed in her assignment.

Her heart trembled at the thought of being so horribly shamed. After growing up among the elites of New York, she couldn’t bear to imagine the terror of being cast adrift, without a penny to her name. The scandal and humiliation of it was unthinkable. Carefully cosseted and repressibly overprotected from those her grandmother deemed unworthy, every friend she’d ever had had been ruthlessly investigated and monitored by the old lady who downright dominated everyone she came in contact with. She’d restricted the education of her granddaughters to boarding schools and colleges which catered exclusively to young ladies of impeccable breeding. A real education in something useful—in anything that might have afforded either of them a moneymaking career apart from their inheritance—had been discouraged.

Lillian was certain even that was their grandmother’s way of maintaining control over her young, orphaned charges. Lillian and Rachel had been reared to supervise a houseful of servants, serve on the boards of selective charities, entertain guests on a grand scale, and make some wealthy man of Grandmama’s choosing the perfectly turned-out wife. Neither of them were capable of earning a living that would enable them to maintain the rarefied lifestyle they’d been born into. The idea of either of them reduced to making their way in the world without a fortune to back them was terrifying.

Which was why Lillian had come to Texas to rescue her wayward sister. Rachel behaved as if the prospect of imperiling her inheritance was as improbable as it was untenable. Rachel had already run through huge sums of money as she’d skipped about the world indulging her whims. That she also showered her man of the moment beneath the same fountain of money she showered over herself had made her an easy target for dishonorable men with an eye to her fortune. If young Rachel were suddenly impoverished, the free-spending lifestyle she seemed to require might lead her to make desperate choices which could lead to disaster.

Particularly when Lillian considered that Rachel had landed herself in enough disasters, even with their grandmother’s fortune to buy her out of trouble.

Lillian’s aloof gaze continued to scan the small air terminal. Though she would have heartily welcomed the sight of her sister’s beautiful face, she’d already resigned herself to the idea that Rachel would send someone else to carry out the boring chore of collecting her. That meant someone from the Parrish Ranch should already be on hand.

And that was surely the reason for the fresh wave of nervousness that flooded her. She was completely out of her element. She’d heard Texans were a difficult, if sometimes amiable lot. Filled with overweening pride and braggadocios exaggerations about heaven knew what in their huge, rugged state, Texans were reputed to be rough-mannered, uncouth, and nearly impossible to truly civilize, despite the size of their land, cattle and oil wealth. Grandmama had warned her implicitly about all that.

The fact that Lillian had been so closely shielded from such low-brow elements gave her an understandable fear of suddenly having to bear exposure.

And if the very tall, broad-shouldered cowboy who lounged against the next pillar was an example of the uncouth male element she’d be exposed to, she was certain she’d be terrified.

From his black Stetson to the scuffed and dusty leather of his boots, the man was a blatantly male specimen of Texas arrogance. Macho-looking in the extreme, he looked as hard and unrelenting as weathered granite. The chambray cotton of his work shirt strained over impressive chest, shoulder and arm muscles, and the soft wash-worn denim of his jeans hugged trim hips and heavily muscled thighs.

But it was the cowboy’s harshly chiseled face and the almost brutal line of his mouth that drew her attention and gave her qualms about meeting his gaze. When she did, the blazing blue of his narrowed eyes made her heart skip. Even from beneath the small bit of shade his Stetson cast over his tanned face, his eyes were a hot, electric blue, their color emphasized by his dark skin-tones. That those hot, electric-blue eyes were trained on her face with the cutting intensity of a laser made her chest tighten with distress as she registered the unmistakable hostility in their hard lights.

The tightness became more pronounced, but Lillian resisted the urge to immediately look away. Some primitive sense about the man warned her not to show even a sliver of weakness. If she could brazen out his harsh gaze a moment more and get past him, she would surely find someone from the Parrish Ranch and be on her way. Suddenly, the wild, outdoor expanse of a remote Texas cattle ranch seemed far less intimidating than the man who appeared to hate the very sight of her.

She finally allowed herself to glance away, finding it surprisingly difficult to break the gleaming eye contact. Her chin went up the slightest fraction in unconscious self-defense as she continued past him.

The low, gravelly drawl that reached her before she’d got a safe distance sent a shudder of pure horror through her small frame.

“Miz Renard?”

Somehow she’d known that low, gravelly drawl would carry the unmistakable hint of insolence that it did. But how had she known it would also be so slow-sounding and rough-edged, like the warning growl of a vicious guard dog? What she hadn’t known until she’d actually heard it, was that the cowboy’s voice had such an appealing sensual texture beneath all that insolence and warning. The fact that it called up the image of a velvet glove covering a tight male fist didn’t dampen a bit of her shockingly feminine response to it.

If this was the Texas cowboy Rachel had run off with, she could now understand a bit of her sister’s rabid attraction. She also understood even more deeply how unhealthy that rabid attraction was.

Lillian brought herself to a reluctant halt, her posture going more rigid as she tried to brace herself against the cowboy’s clear message of hostility. As she forced herself to turn back to him, she was terrified by the reminder that she never fared well with people who seemed not to like her. She did even worse with overbearing, domineering people. That this man appeared to possess all of those intimidating qualities badly unnerved her.

She gave a cool lift of her light brows as she tried desperately to mask the crippling insecurities she’d felt her whole life.

Her imperious, “Yes?” was meant to assert herself to him as a lady entitled to at least a pretense of outward respect. Instead, it seemed to give him license to behave in any manner he chose. That this cowboy would never lay claim to civilized manners was immediately evident.

“Figured you were Rocky’s meddling big sister. Not many little aristocrats from New York blow down this way without a reason.” He ignored her startled intake of breath. His insolent gaze made a head-to-toe pass over her before he reached for two of the suitcases the baggage handler carried for her.

“Here.” The cases he shoved at her were neither the smallest nor the lightest of her things. When she didn’t immediately take them, he fixed her with a hard look. “No one on the Parrish Ranch is gonna carry you around on a lace pillow, Princess. Either lend a hand and wait on yourself for a change, or climb back on that plane before it flies out.”

Lillian’s cheeks blazed a bright red. She read the challenge in the hard shine of his eyes. His hostility was like a mile-wide wall that soared to the clouds between them. Her first instinct was to abandon her luggage and run for the safety of the airplane. Her second, that she square off with this rude, uncouth male creature and somehow best him, was even stronger.

And that ranked as the biggest surprise of Lillian’s twenty-three years. As a woman who was easily intimidated, who had lived most of her life in cowardly subservience to her volatile grandmother, the notion that this man had somehow stirred some faint bit of spirit in her was stunning. That she felt compelled to fight her fears—and him—to win, was even more stunning.