rush her any more than necessary. He’d had to move fast enough as it was because of the merger announcement–
which he and the Townsends had agreed should come at the same time as the wedding. But he had also taken things carefully with Angie because he had found himself feeling curiously protective of her. It was a new experience for him.
But his overriding concern had been to make Angie his own. Owen had been certain that once he had put a ring on her finger, everything else would fall into place.
He was learning just how mistaken he had been.
He’d taken one hell of a risk bringing her to Jade Lake after things had gone so wrong last night. He did not bother to run through the reasoning he had used on the others and on Angie. None of it was valid. He’d invented that nonsense about needing privacy. This house was far from private what with Celia, Derwin and Helen hanging around. When he’d married Angie, he’d had absolutely no intention of letting her spend a single night under the same roof as Celia and the others.
It was perfectly true the house would be useful for keeping the financial world at bay for the next three weeks. But Owen knew very well he could have found a way to insure privacy for himself and his
unwilling bride without having to stay at the old family place.
That morning when he had awakened from his botched wedding night, however, Owen had made an
uncharacteristically impulsive and reckless decision. He wanted to find a way to force Angie to
confront the reality of their marriage. The fastest way to do that, he’d concluded, was to make her see herself as Mrs. Owen Sutherland.
Celia, Helen and Derwin had obliged him very nicely by attacking him as soon as he and Angie had walked in the front door. Owen had known they would, of course. It was inevitable, given his
relationships with the members of his family.
It had definitely been a risk, but it had paid off.
Owen groaned and turned over on the wide bed. He stared out the window at the moonlight on the lake.
He had wanted to force Angie to start seeing herself as his wife and he had known that there was no faster way to accomplish that than to make her choose sides. Tonight she had passed the first test with flying colors. There had always been the possibility that she might choose her own side. Therein had lain the real risk. She could have declared herself a Townsend and thereby taken a stand against all of them, her husband included.
But she had not. Owen had tossed the dice and he had gotten lucky.
Were you speaking to me, Celia? In that case, you made a mistake. My name is Mrs. Sutherland now.
Mrs. Owen Sutherland.
"Sooner or later," Owen muttered to the shadows, "You really will be Mrs. Owen Sutherland. We’ll have our wedding night, Angie. And when we do I’ll prove to you that you were never part of a
business arrangement."
4
Angie CREPT PAST Owen’s bed with all the silence of a ghost. Her bare feet made no sound on the
carpet. The hem of her nightgown, another daring concoction of lace and satin from her trousseau, floated around her ankles. She was carrying a quilted robe and her slippers in one hand.
Moonlight streamed in through the windows. It revealed Owen’s bare shoulders and smoothly muscled back as he lay sprawled facedown on the white sheets. Angie felt a sharp pang of longing and a deep, feminine curiosity as she studied her sleeping husband. He occupied the huge bed with a magnificent male arrogance that was not the least bit diminished by the fact that he was sound asleep.
She could have been in that bed with him, Angie told herself sadly as she tiptoed to the door. She had every right to be there. But she was afraid. That was the problem. She was afraid.
All the anguished questions that had sprung up on her wedding night haunted her more than ever now in the small, dark hours before dawn. She had to get some answers and she knew only one place to start. Harry might not appreciate being awakened
which he and the Townsends had agreed should come at the same time as the wedding. But he had also taken things carefully with Angie because he had found himself feeling curiously protective of her. It was a new experience for him.
But his overriding concern had been to make Angie his own. Owen had been certain that once he had put a ring on her finger, everything else would fall into place.
He was learning just how mistaken he had been.
He’d taken one hell of a risk bringing her to Jade Lake after things had gone so wrong last night. He did not bother to run through the reasoning he had used on the others and on Angie. None of it was valid. He’d invented that nonsense about needing privacy. This house was far from private what with Celia, Derwin and Helen hanging around. When he’d married Angie, he’d had absolutely no intention of letting her spend a single night under the same roof as Celia and the others.
It was perfectly true the house would be useful for keeping the financial world at bay for the next three weeks. But Owen knew very well he could have found a way to insure privacy for himself and his
unwilling bride without having to stay at the old family place.
That morning when he had awakened from his botched wedding night, however, Owen had made an
uncharacteristically impulsive and reckless decision. He wanted to find a way to force Angie to
confront the reality of their marriage. The fastest way to do that, he’d concluded, was to make her see herself as Mrs. Owen Sutherland.
Celia, Helen and Derwin had obliged him very nicely by attacking him as soon as he and Angie had walked in the front door. Owen had known they would, of course. It was inevitable, given his
relationships with the members of his family.
It had definitely been a risk, but it had paid off.
Owen groaned and turned over on the wide bed. He stared out the window at the moonlight on the lake.
He had wanted to force Angie to start seeing herself as his wife and he had known that there was no faster way to accomplish that than to make her choose sides. Tonight she had passed the first test with flying colors. There had always been the possibility that she might choose her own side. Therein had lain the real risk. She could have declared herself a Townsend and thereby taken a stand against all of them, her husband included.
But she had not. Owen had tossed the dice and he had gotten lucky.
Were you speaking to me, Celia? In that case, you made a mistake. My name is Mrs. Sutherland now.
Mrs. Owen Sutherland.
"Sooner or later," Owen muttered to the shadows, "You really will be Mrs. Owen Sutherland. We’ll have our wedding night, Angie. And when we do I’ll prove to you that you were never part of a
business arrangement."
4
Angie CREPT PAST Owen’s bed with all the silence of a ghost. Her bare feet made no sound on the
carpet. The hem of her nightgown, another daring concoction of lace and satin from her trousseau, floated around her ankles. She was carrying a quilted robe and her slippers in one hand.
Moonlight streamed in through the windows. It revealed Owen’s bare shoulders and smoothly muscled back as he lay sprawled facedown on the white sheets. Angie felt a sharp pang of longing and a deep, feminine curiosity as she studied her sleeping husband. He occupied the huge bed with a magnificent male arrogance that was not the least bit diminished by the fact that he was sound asleep.
She could have been in that bed with him, Angie told herself sadly as she tiptoed to the door. She had every right to be there. But she was afraid. That was the problem. She was afraid.
All the anguished questions that had sprung up on her wedding night haunted her more than ever now in the small, dark hours before dawn. She had to get some answers and she knew only one place to start. Harry might not appreciate being awakened
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