The Minister's Maid (15 page)

The woman nodded, her hand trembling as she placed it on his arm. "Brenda Davis," she said, her lips curving up only slightly. "I wasn't sure I should come, but I just couldn't stay away any longer."

Ian led her toward the quiet table in the corner where Harley and Monica were sitting alone. "Monica," he said, the grip on his arm tightening ever so slightly when his new sister-in-law looked up at them. "I'd like to introduce Brenda Davis. Your mother."

Monica rose from her seat to come forward, and her mother's hand slipped from his arm. The women stared at each other for a long moment, and then they were in each others arms.

Harley nodded at Ian, and Ian raised his glass once more before turning back to the crowd. Monica would want some time alone with Brenda, and he was about ready to toss Betsy over his shoulder and carry her off to his rooms, caveman style if necessary.

Tossing back the rest of his drink, he started across the large expanse of lawn and wooden tables. Just his luck, Betsy was all the way across the courtyard and every time Ian took a few more steps, someone had to stop and congratulate him again. He smiled and nodded and shook hands like he was supposed to, keeping his eye on the prize, and reminding himself that she was the reason he was doing this.

It was worth every second.

"Excuse me, sir."

He looked down at a tug on the sleeve of his jacket. A petite brunette blinked up at him, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand. He didn't recognize her, but he didn't recognize half the people here. She looked frustrated.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, trying to decide how old she was. Though small of stature, the lines on her face suggested she was well out of college. An odd dichotomy.

She scanned the crowd, then looked back up at him. "I can't find my date. I was wondering if you'd help me? He's over six feet, with brown hair that curls at his shoulders and he's wearing a black suit and white shirt with no tie. You'd think I'd be able to see him at his height, but there are so many of you tall men here..."

Ian chuckled, wisely refraining from a response, considering she was shorter than most women in attendance. She couldn't be more than five feet tall, if that. And she was wearing heels, he noted.

He turned a circle as he searched the crowd, but the only man who fit that description was the handyman, Chance Emery. Ian could have sworn he came in with Veronica Rowan, though she didn't seem to be around at the moment.

He pointed that direction. "Chance is the only guy without a tie here, I think, but he's with--"

The woman smiled, holding up a hand. "That's him. I'd better get over there before he leaves me. Thank you!" She hurried off before Ian could say another word. He thought about sticking around to watch the fireworks - Veronica didn't seem to be the type who would share, but then Betsy called his name and he remembered his mission.

Knowing it was rude, he pretended not to hear his own name as he strode to where she was waiting.

"I was watching you," she said as he pulled her into his arms. "I thought you'd never get here."

He grinned, placing a light kiss on her lips that raised another chorus of catcalls and hollering behind them. "Me either. I think I deserve a reward, don't you?"

She smiled up at him. "What did you have in mind?"

He wiggled his eyebrows, kissed the tip of her nose, and then bent down to grab her around the waist, lifting her up over his shoulder and holding her dress down around her legs.

Caveman style.

"Ian, what are you doing? Let me down! What about the cake? And the band?!"

The crowd went wild with laughter and lewd comments as Ian headed for the exit. "We can do cake later," he said, low enough so only she could hear. "Right now, there's only one thing I'm interested in 'doing', and that's you, Mrs. Mitchell. Wave goodbye to your friends."

He carried her out the gate, a little worried that she was so quiet. Once they were away from the castle though, he felt her hands caressing his back.

"Ian? Darling?"

"Yes love?"

"If you put me down, we can get home faster..."

###

About the Author

A full-time webmistress by day, Jamie DeBree writes steamy, action-packed romantic suspense late into the night. Her goal is to create the perfect blend of sensual attraction, emotional tension and fast-paced adventure, similar to the television crime dramas she's hopelessly addicted to.

Born in Billings Montana, she resides there with her husband and two over-sized lap dogs. She reads in a wide variety of genres including romance, erotica, action/adventure, thriller, horror and literary fiction.

For information on upcoming books, visit
JamieDeBree.com
.

Also by the Author

Tempest

Desert Heat

Heart Knocks

Indelibly Inked
The Biker’s Wench (Fantasy Ranch #1)