A Wedding in the Family. Susan Fox

fit that had sent Chad to the far end of Parrish range until the next day. The second time, his little brother had stood his ground. Rocky had taken one of the cars and gone to a honky-tonk in town, coming back in the wee hours of the morning so dangerously drunk that they’d all been amazed she hadn’t wrecked the car or killed someone.

      From there, Rye realized it was only a matter of time—maybe days, hopefully hours—before Chad woke up to the idea that Rocky was incapable of making him any kind of decent wife. It took every bit of self-control he’d had to allow his brother time to see it.

      But now, just as he sensed Chad was on the verge of figuring it all out and calling off the engagement, here came the useless bit of fluff whose interference might coax the mismatched lovers more solidly together.

      The call Rocky’s grandmother had made to the ranch the day before had been their only warning of Lillian’s arrival. Chad had taken the call and, believing that a visit from Lillian might soften the old lady’s objections, he’d promised that she’d be met at the airport.

      Chad had wanted to meet her plane, but Rye had guessed right off what the sister’s sudden visit was about and insisted on doing the honors. Particularly since her grandmother had got him on the phone two days prior and expressed her violent objection to a marriage between their families. The female curmudgeon hadn’t minced words, so there was no reason to think Lillian Renard’s arrival would be anything more than a face-to-face repeat.

      But the fragile-looking socialite perched beside him on the seat didn’t appear capable of repeating the old witch’s exact words. Now that he’d met her, he also found it difficult to believe she could come up with any demands of her hedonistic sister that would press Rocky’s loud-mouthed temper toward anything more serious than laughter.

      He’d felt a little like laughing himself at her stiff little swine comment. His worries over her arrival at the ranch were probably groundless. After weeks of enduring Rocky’s overbearing personality and short temper, he couldn’t imagine how the two females were remotely related, much less that this little pansy had the ability to bully her sister into a rash act.

      Why the grandmother would send such a colorless little ninny to carry out her dirty work might have made for amusing speculation if he hadn’t found her so personally annoying. Particularly when he reckoned it was up to him to derail whatever it was that she and her grandmother had cooked up. And since his only chance of doing that was to level with her and try to gain her cooperation, Rye reckoned he’d have to make a better attempt at concealing his natural aversion to her kind.

      But not until he took the little snob down a notch or two. He leaned back a bit more comfortably on the seat and draped a wrist over the wheel.

      “A city girl, huh?”

      Rye’s lazy drawl was ripe with cynical humor. Lillian glanced at his strong profile, finding his tanned handsomeness more exciting than she wanted to. The raw masculinity of the man was staggering to a young woman who’d had so little experience with men. Every instinct warned her to keep a safe distance.

      “I’m certain you already know that, Mr. Parrish,” she answered stiffly. The man clearly disliked her and meant to rub it in.

      “And a gen-u-ine New York socialite,” he drawled on.

      Lillian bristled at the scorn in his tone and dared a comeback. “Is there a point to your rudeness, Mr. Parrish, or are you too boorish to realize your lack of manners? I believe it’s clear enough now that the invitation for me to visit your ranch was your brother’s idea. If you had such strong objections, perhaps you should have taken them up with him before my travel plans were this far along.”

      “What invitation are we talking about, Miz Renard?” The blue gaze that swung toward her was tinged with mockery. “I’d hardly call your grandma’s demand to meet you at the airport and escort you to the ranch an invitation.”

      Lillian stared over at him, startled by his blunt statement. Her face flushed. It was just like her grandmother to do such a thing. The grim duty of delivering her message was odious enough to Lillian. To compound it by barging in on everyone uninvited was unthinkable.

      Grandmama’s low regard for all things rural and all things Texan had apparently disqualified the Parrish brothers from any pretense of proper manners. Rye’s hostility toward her and his crudeness, though bad behavior, suddenly made sense. And because Lillian had labored all her life to be as proper and inoffensive as possible, her grandmother’s actions embarrassed her.

      “My apologies, Mr. Parrish.” She impulsively reached out to touch his arm to emphasize her sincerity, then froze, her fingers a mere inch from his shirt sleeve. “I naturally assumed—if I’d thought you were being forced—”

      She cut herself off, unable to complete the sentence. The knowledge that her grandmother would have pressured her to come anyway—and that she would have complied—kept her from offering the lie. She jerked her hand back and turned her face forward, her apprehension about coming to Texas multiplied a hundredfold.

      CHAPTER TWO

      RYE kept track of the highway ahead, but kept a large share of his attention on the brittle hothouse flower on the other side of the bench seat. She was truly embarrassed by her grandmother’s actions. Hard, heavy blushes like the one that reddened her light complexion were impossible to fake. All the better.

      “So,” he went on, “Grandma sent you out here to break up the lovebirds.”

      The color that had only begun to ebb from her cheeks blazed back. “What makes you think that, Mr. Parrish?” she asked. She’d meant to seek a private word with Rachel to convey their grandmother’s message. She’d hoped her clever younger sister could let Chad Parrish down gently and humanely. The coward in her hoped neither Parrish brother would connect her with the unpleasantness that would follow her visit. But her covert glance caught on the knowing look Rye was giving her.

      “Musta been something the old gal said about crude, ego-inflated Texans.” His handsome mouth quirked at Lillian’s look of horror. “I thought the part about hayseed farmers on horseback was off the mark, since we’re hayseed ranchers on horseback. But the real point your granny tried to make was that the Parrish pedigree isn’t blue-blooded enough for a Renard, and the Parrish fortune is too puny for Chad to be considered a decent catch for your sister.”

      Lillian’s soft, “Oh, no,” was choked. She turned her face away as her mortification deepened. Her grandmother had clearly been as offensive to Rye Parrish as possible. Grandmama had been wildly unreasonable on the whole subject of Rachel’s wedding plans, but Lillian had no idea the old lady had expressed her objections so boldly to anyone but her or Rachel.

      The huge hand that suddenly gripped her thigh made her jump. The embarrassing little squeak that was surprised out of her as she whipped her head around, elevated the trauma of the day to epic proportions.

      “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