Ryan's Bride

by James, Maggie

  The skies opened and the rain poured down. Corbett uttered an oath which was received with a frown by two nuns leaving the abbey. He ducked his head in apology and darted by them. It was dry inside, and he could wait there until Angele came out. He damn well had no intentions of following her any farther. She could call them catacombs or whatever she wanted, but as far as he was concerned they were sewers, and she was nothing but a sewer rat. And the sooner Ryan realized that, the better. There was still time to stop the madness…time to keep him from making a terrible mistake. Denise was the wife for him—and also Corbett’s assurance of continuing to live at BelleRose.

  Angele needed no light to show her the way. This time, however, she was not being chased and could pick her way along carefully so she wouldn’t fall in a puddle. Still, she tried to walk quickly. No longer disguised as a boy, it was dangerous for her to be there. But there was one more thing she had to do before she left Paris.

  She took the first tunnel to the left, where the old people lived.

  A fire was burning, casting wild shadows against the cold, gray walls.

  A man and woman were huddled together near the flames for warmth. Worn, frayed woolen shawls hung about their bony shoulders. Their heads were bowed, and their gnarled, veined hands were intertwined.

  They did not hear Angele approach. Their hearing had faded along with their hope for a better life in old age.

  She knelt before them, and they gave a startled cry in unison.

  “Dear Lord…” the old man whispered in a paper-thin voice. “What do you want of us…” Milky eyes blinked in terror.

  The woman made soft moaning sounds as she pressed closer to him.

  Angele did not have time to explain how once they had befriended a bedraggled boy—or someone they believed to be a boy. They had shared what little food they had. They asked no questions. They knew the boy grieved because his mother had died. And they had wrapped their arms around him in comfort.

  Angele had shared the tiny cavern within the catacombs with the couple. She knew they had a hard time, for they could not move about like the younger folk.

  She took the rest of the money she had not spent from her reticule and folded the old man’s fingers about it. “Take this,” she whispered. “It will help you for a while, at least.”

  His mouth fell open when he saw how much it was.

  “I wish it could be more.” She pressed her lips to their foreheads in turn while they stared at her in bewilderment, then she left as quickly as she had come.

  Ryan paced anxiously about in the lobby. The clerk behind the desk peered at him over his glasses, then sighed as he started toward him again.

  Splaying his fingers on the counter, Ryan asked for not the first time, “Are you sure you don’t know where they went? It’s getting late, and—”

  “No, monsieur,” the clerk repeated with forced politeness and patience. “I have no knowledge of either the lady or the gentleman.”

  “And you say you’ve been here since morning?”

  “Oui. It is almost time for me to leave.” He sounded as though he was glad.

  Ryan had been at the hotel since noon. He had told Corbett when to expect him. There was a lot to be done to get ready to leave for Le Havre at first light the next morning. In addition, he and Angele needed to fill out some papers so the ship’s captain could perform their marriage ceremony. Time was growing short, and Ryan was getting worried.

  He had the concierge open the door to Angele’s room, worrying she might be in bed sick. He had seen the trunks she had bought and had delivered. They were cheap, and he was disappointed, but it was too late to do anything about it now. But why hadn’t Corbett helped her make the selection? He knew about such things, and Angele couldn’t be expected to, what with her background.

  Ryan didn’t know where to start looking and began to imagine all kinds of things that might have happened. Maybe they had both been in some kind of accident. Worse, what if Corbett had had too much to drink as he sometimes did? Angele would be terrified.

  Damn it, he fumed, he never should have gone off and left her. If his father got angry because he came home without the horses, so be it.

  As he paced about, he thought again how he knew so little about the woman he was going to marry. True, she was lovely and he looked forward to their wedding night with heated anticipation, but there was a remoteness about her, a coldness, that bothered him. He had not tried to kiss her. Had not even put his arm about her, really. Yet, if he made to touch her, she winced, as though she found his closeness revolting. He only hoped that once they were married things would be different. Probably she was only shy, afraid, as any virgin would be. Then, too, she had been suddenly thrust into a world she’d never known before, and that had to be frightening.

  He tried to get his mind on something else. She had been right about Francois DeNeux. He had excellent Anglo-Arabs, and Ryan had bought three mares and three stallions, spending more than he’d planned—but money was never a consideration when it came to horses. He intended to have the finest in all of Virginia, maybe the entire South.

  The situation at hand crept back into his mind once again. They had to be all right. Corbett would not dare do anything foolish.

  Ryan turned toward the stairs, thinking he should go wait in his room. Evidently the clerk had told some of the other employees he was upset, because they were starting to look at him strangely as they passed. Besides, he had whiskey in his room, and he could use a drink.

  He was halfway up to the first-floor landing when the clerk called sharply, “Monsieur Tremayne. The lady you have been waiting for is here.”

  Ryan turned to see Angele walking across the lobby. She hesitated as the clerk spoke, then glanced up at Ryan with anxious eyes and flushed cheeks. Her hair was wild about her face, and the gingham dress she was wearing was spattered with mud.

  He rushed to meet her, keeping his voice low as he caught her arm. “Where have you been? Is anything wrong?”

  Instinctively, she resisted a man’s touch and pulled from his grasp. “No, of course not. I just had some things I wanted to do before we left.”

  “Where’s Corbett? Why isn’t he with you?”

  “I felt like being alone today.”

  She started by him, but he firmly took her hand and led her up the stairs.

  Angele tensed. She could tell he was annoyed, but when Corbett told how she had sneaked out—as undoubtedly he would—he was really going to be mad.

  When they reached the landing and turned, and the staff could no longer see, Ryan quietly said, “I don’t like this, Angele. Corbett didn’t want to go with me to Blois, and I agreed with the understanding he would keep you company. I don’t want you out alone.”

  Angele was swept with indignity. He was not her keeper, for heaven’s sake! “You seem to forget,” she reminded stiffly, “that before you met me I was quite alone.”

  “That was different. You passed for a boy. Now you’re a lady.”

  “I can take care of myself.” She looked up at him and saw how his blue eyes were troubled. “Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  He returned her stare. “I said I didn’t want you out by yourself, Angele, and that’s the end of it.”

  She bit back an angry retort, not about to jeopardize her position. Let him think she would be subservient. Once they were married, he would quickly discover she had a mind of her own and was not about to be treated as chattel.

  Pretending acquiescence, she nodded, then, making her tone pleasant, inquired as to whether his trip to Blois had been successful.

  “Very much so. I bought some fine horses, and they’re being rushed to Le Havre to be boarded on the ship.” They had reached the door to her room. “I’ll tell you about them at dinner.”

  Angele looked beyond him to see Corbett coming down the hall. “I don’t want to go to dinner. I have a headache. I plan to retire early.”

  Before Ryan could respond, Corbett reache
d his side. “I’m sorry to hear that, Angele,” he said to her. “If you’re sick, maybe we should have a doctor come take a look at you.”

  Angele pulled her hand from Ryan’s. “I’m not sick. I just don’t feel well. I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”

  Ryan agreed with Corbett. “I’ll ask the concierge if he can find a doctor. We can’t have you start the trip sick.”

  “You are both making a fuss for nothing. I’m going to bed, and if anyone knocks on my door, I won’t answer.” She stepped inside her room, closed the door behind her, and locked it.

  Ryan stood there a moment, then whirled on Corbett. “Why did you let her go off by herself this morning? I told you to keep an eye on her.”

  Corbett started walking away. Ryan was right behind him, asking again why he had not followed his orders. Corbett waited till they were a good distance from Angele’s room. Probably the little conniver had her ear pressed to the door, wanting to hear what he had to say about her, and there was no way he was going to let her know he had followed her. He could tell she was wary of him, but he had to put on a genial front. After all, Ryan could be quite stubborn, and if he insisted on marrying her after what he had to tell him, he couldn’t make it look as though he was trying to make trouble. If that happened, Ryan would be prone not to believe him in the future.

  “Damn it, Corbett. I’m tired from the trip, and I’ve got a lot to do to be ready to leave tomorrow. I don’t need to be worrying about Angele. Now, I asked you—why didn’t you keep an eye on her?”

  Corbett clenched his teeth to keep from grinning as he responded to pique his cousin’s interest, “And what makes you think I didn’t?”

  Chapter Eight

  Angele knew Ryan was still angry, because he was quiet and brooding on the ride to Le Havre. Corbett, however, seemed to be trying to make up for how Ryan was acting, talking constantly and going out of his way to be nice to her.

  It was a gorgeous day. A gentle breeze blew puffy fingers of snowy-white clouds across a tinted cobalt sky, and the sun was a teasing peach-and-golden orb, sending warmth in peek-a-boo waves.

  They stopped for lunch at a tiny cafe. Ryan declined food but had several glasses of wine. Angele wondered fearfully if he might be having second thoughts about marrying her. That birthed worries of what she would do if he decided to abandon her in Le Havre. She had no money. He would probably strip her of her jewels so she’d have nothing to sell to keep from starving. But she told herself she was being silly. He was just angry. He was probably also tired from the trip to Blois. Besides, he had spent a lot of money on her and wasn’t likely to throw it away by changing his mind.

  At one of the rest stops, he stayed in the coach. Angele walked around in the perfumed air to stretch a bit, and Corbett went with her. She took the opportunity to try to find out just how upset Ryan was. “He’s hardly spoken to me all day,” she confided to Ryan’s cousin. “He must have been furious when you told him how I slipped away from you yesterday.”

  “I didn’t tell him that you did,” Corbett said smoothly.

  Her eyes widened. “You didn’t? Then what—”

  “I told him you’d said you wanted to have your last day in Paris all to yourself and that I understood. So it’s me he’s angry with for letting you go. Not you.”

  “But why did you take the blame? It was all my doing.”

  “Because I didn’t want him upset with you right before your wedding. Besides, he’s been angry with me before, and I don’t let it bother me. He’ll be all right once we’re on the ship and on our way. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But I do,” she protested. “It’s not fair, because it wasn’t your fault.”

  He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mind. Besides, maybe it will help make up for the awful way I acted that day when I found you in his room. I’m really very, very sorry about everything I said and did, Angele.

  “And,” he continued with an admiring glance, “that night I saw you in the hotel lobby all dressed up, I realized then and there why Ryan wanted to marry you. He could see you are a truly beautiful woman.”

  Angele blushed and murmured a thank-you, then, because she really did want to forget the bad encounter between them, she urged, “Let’s just pretend it never happened and never mention it again.”

  He gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you feel that way. I want us all to be one big happy family.”

  “That’s nice of you. And I hope your wife will feel the same way. You did say everyone thought Ryan was going to marry her cousin.”

  She didn’t notice how his face tightened, or how his eyes suddenly gleamed with his resentment. And it was only with a concerted effort that he was able to keep his tone light and warm as he lied, “Clarice won’t care. She’s always stayed out of Ryan’s business.” He quickly changed the subject. “You really had me worried yesterday, though. I was afraid something would happen to you.”

  They were walking along a path bordered by primroses. Angele stumbled on a rock she didn’t see, and he caught her arm. “Like now,” he laughed. “What if you’d been hurt? I’d never have forgiven myself when I was supposed to be looking out for you. And that’s why Ryan is so angry with me—I didn’t do what I was supposed to.”

  “He only thinks that,” she corrected. “And I’m going to let him know different. I’ll tell him what really happened.”

  He tensed. “I wish you wouldn’t. He’ll think I said something to you about it. Really, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  She was hesitant to agree, but Corbett sounded quite adamant. In fact, she noticed that he almost seemed scared. Well, he knew Ryan better than she did, so maybe it was best to let it alone.

  He paused and put his hand on her shoulder. “But I would appreciate your doing me one favor, if you will.”

  Angele never promised anything blindly. “You’ll have to tell me what you want first.”

  “Why didn’t you want me to go with you yesterday?”

  “Because I wanted to be alone.”

  “Where exactly did you go?”

  She decided he was being too nosy but didn’t want to offend him by saying so when they had started getting along so well. She continued walking, and he fell in step beside her. “I just wandered around the city. That’s all. Since I may never return, there were a few places I wanted to visit.”

  And men you wanted to see, you lying strumpet, Corbett thought, careful to keep his expression pleasant and compassionate. Last night, he had made Ryan pry everything out of him.

  Yes, he had assured him, he had kept an eye on Angele, secretly following her when he realized what she was up to. Ryan, then, of course, had insisted on knowing exactly where she had gone. Corbett had let him stew awhile, pretending to resist, murmuring how he hated to tattle. Finally, he had told him about seeing her meet a man and leave with him in a carriage. He did not mention it was in a cemetery.

  Ryan had clenched his fists and scowled and uttered an oath. He wanted to know where they went, and Corbett said he had no idea, because he could not keep up on foot. He decided not to say anything about her going to the catacombs. It was more important for Ryan to focus on the fact that she had met a man and think she had gone off with him.

  Gingerly, Corbett had asked if he was going to proceed with his plans to marry her. To his surprise—and disgust— Ryan had assured him that he most certainly was. After all, he had pointed out with a smile that was almost menacing, you didn’t shoot a colt just because he was hard to break.

  No, Corbett had bitten his tongue to keep from saying, but sometimes you have to take a whip to them. Ryan wouldn’t have appreciated such a remark. He did not believe in beating animals into submission.

  So Corbett had kept his silence. And now it was time to come up with another plan. No doubt, Ryan felt he had an investment in her due to all the money he had spent. He was probably also confident that once they were married he could control her—break her like a high-spirited colt. But Corbett could not take
a chance on that happening and knew he had to find a way to get rid of her. He only hoped the man he had hired to find out who was buried in the grave Angele had visited would write to him with interesting news soon. He also hoped he might be able to learn something about the man she had met, even though that was unlikely. Still, the more he could find out about the devious little bitch, the sooner he could turn Ryan against her.

  But Corbett didn’t intend to waste any other opportunities that might come his way—such as maybe getting rid of her before they reached New York.

  And he had no qualms about the method he might have to use.

  Lulled by the warm breeze and the swaying of the carriage, Angele felt herself getting drowsy. Ryan was already asleep on her left, while Corbett slumped against the door on the other side.

  She turned toward Ryan and pretended to close her eyes as she watched him and wondered what kind of man he really was. She knew so little about him, only that he liked horses and needed a French wife to keep from being disinherited. He seemed kind, but there was a forbidding air about him that warned he was not a man to be reckoned with.

  Had he had many women? she wondered. He was certainly attractive. And what of the one everyone thought he was going to marry? Was she pretty? Well bred? And what was his family going to think of him for bringing home a total stranger, someone they knew nothing about?

  Her body rocked in unison with the motion of the carriage, and finally she fell asleep—only to awaken some time later to realize with a start that her head was resting on Ryan’s shoulder.

  And, at the same instant, dread washed like a spring rain to see that her hand had fallen between his legs.

  She started to snatch it away, then something—curiosity, she supposed—made her hesitate. Beneath and to the right of the buttoned closing of his trousers she could feel a slight bulge, and her cheeks flamed to know she was actually touching a man in his most private of places.