“Aren’t you forgetting one little thing?” Ryan asked with a smile that bordered on being sinister. “The Tremaynes have always been one of the most prominent families in Virginia. Invitations to balls, parties, and barbecues at BelleRose are as coveted as the highest bid for cotton. People won’t dare snub my wife.”
The way he said it, Corbett knew he meant it, and he wouldn’t have dared to contradict him, anyway.
Ryan slapped him on the shoulder. “I want you to know I appreciate how nice you’ve been to Angele, and I’m sure I can count on Clarice to do the same.”
“Of course, of course.”
He watched as Ryan went to talk to the new passenger from England.
He could count on him and Clarice, all right.
They would be more than glad to take care of his problem.
Chapter Fourteen
At dinner, Ryan made the introductions, explaining that Nicholas and Ramona Wright didn’t speak French, then inquired, “Does anyone know English besides me and my cousin?”
“I’m afraid we don’t.” Annette Marceau answered for her husband, as well. “But don’t mind us. We can talk with your wife.”
“Good,” he said, relieved. “By the way, Angele didn’t have much to say about her sewing today. How did she do?”
Annette smiled indulgently. “All thumbs, I’m afraid. I don’t think the poor child has ever been around a needle in her life.”
Ryan gave Angele a wink no one else saw. “I think she has.”
Annette reached across the table to pat Angele’s hand. “Don’t worry, dear. You’re coming along nicely, and by the time the trip is over, you’ll be able to tat and crochet like the rest of us. You’ll need top practicing, of course.”
Ryan said she would have all the time she needed. “She won’t have anything else to do.”
Inwardly, Angele groaned. The last thing she wanted to do with the rest of her life was sit around all day sewing. Ryan was going to learn she had a mind and a will of her own—and soon.
Annette continued. “It’s a shame you dropped your dress overboard, dear.”
Ryan gave Angele a sharp look, and she quickly repeated the story she’d told to the ladies that morning. “I explained how I had fallen and got the gown dirty and was trying to shake it out the porthole to get some of the dirt off, but the wind tore it from my hands.”
“I see.” He turned to the Wrights and began speaking in English.
Angele tried to listen, pretending, of course, not to understand what was being said. Annette tried to get a conversation going with her, but soon gave up, used to Angele not having much to say.
“What’s this about her dropping her gown?” Ramona wanted to know.
Corbett spoke before Ryan had a chance. “Well, that’s what she says happened, and I can tell you, it gave everybody a fright. The gown floated, and it was dark, and when I saw it I recognized it as being Angele’s and thought she’d fallen overboard and drowned. I told Ryan and it gave him quite a scare till we all realized no one was in the dress. But it was hard to tell in the dark water.”
Ramona cast a querulous glance at Angele. “But wasn’t it quite late? Didn’t you wonder why she would have been out on deck at such an hour?”
Angele could tell by how the nerves tensed in Ryan’s jaw that he was annoyed with Corbett for revealing so much. “Sometimes Angele enjoys taking walks by herself late at night.”
Corbett further exasperated Ryan by bragging, “I had to save her life the first night we sailed. Some drunken rowdies from steerage shoved her, and she fell over the railing but managed to hang on till I got there and pulled her up.”
Ramona looked at Angele again, this time in wonder, then gushed to Corbett, “Well, that’s wonderful. Thank heavens you were nearby.”
Angele saw how Corbett’s chest puffed out a little as he proudly exclaimed, “I have to say it feels good to know I actually saved a life.”
Saved a life.
After getting over the shock, Angele had found herself wondering, more than once, if the incident had actually happened as Corbett claimed. She hadn’t heard anyone walking either toward her or away from her. And she hadn’t been aware of anyone being around her at all till she felt hands on her back, lifting…shoving…pushing. Then she heard Ryan shout, and suddenly Corbett was there to pull her up and declare he had saved her life. But she refused to dwell on it, because surely Corbett wouldn’t have tried to kill her.
Would he?
She lifted her glass of wine to take a sip as Corbett asked Nicholas Wright where they lived in England.
And when she heard his reply, her hands trembled uncontrollably and she was barely able to set her glass down to keep the contents from sloshing over.
“Grayton. It’s south of London.”
She noticed Annette was looking at her and she swallowed hard, forced a smile in her direction, then busied herself slathering butter on a roll as her blood turned to ice.
Grayton was where she had lived…and where Uncle Henry still did.
Nicholas went on to explain, “Actually, we’ve only been there a little over a month. We barely had time to move in before we were to leave on this trip, and since we’d planned it for some time, we decided to go ahead with it.”
Ramona spoke up. “But it was long enough to know we are going to love it there. The region is quite popular for hunting and raising horses. We’ll probably get involved, ourselves, when we return.”
“Ryan raises horses on his plantation,” Corbett interjected.
“Really?” She smiled at Ryan. “And how large is your plantation?”
“A thousand acres, more or less.”
She seemed impressed and turned to her husband.
“Lord Mooring said that was the size of his estate, remember, dear?”
Angele felt her heart stop, then start to beat so fast and furious she feared it would burst from her chest.
Ramona addressed Ryan again. “Lord Mooring is one of the wealthiest and most respected men in the Grayton region,” she explained. “His estate is called Foxwood, and his manor house is enormous and quite impressive. He was kind enough to invite us to a fox hunt the weekend before we left.”
Angele bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.
Ramona Wright was wrong.
Foxwood was much larger than the thousand acres Ryan claimed for BelleRose. It was over two thousand, her father had told her.
And how was Uncle Henry able to claim the title of Lord. Her father had been the rightful Lord Mooring. It was a title bestowed upon the original landowner, handed down from eldest son to eldest son. Her uncle had no right, even after he took over the land when her father had been stripped of it and sent to prison. The title was not something that could merely be asserted.
Annette noticed how Angele had paled and reached across the table to pat her hand again. “Are you all right, dear? You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, aware that Ryan had heard Annette and was watching—but only momentarily. He immediately turned back to the Wrights, apparently enjoying chatting in his native language, as well as interested to hear about their life in south England.
“So how was the fox hunt?” Corbett wanted to know. “I’ve always wanted to go on one.”
“Marvelous,” Nicholas said. “Lord Mooring has splendid horses. Dogs, too. His pack of fox terriers are extraordinary.”
Of course they are, Angele thought angrily, bitterly. My father trained them himself because he was extraordinary.
Suddenly she knew she couldn’t bear to hear any more and was about to excuse herself when Ramona’s next words were like ice water in her face. She tried to pretend she hadn’t heard, because she wasn’t supposed to be able to understand English. She reached for her water glass and took a big swallow to busy herself, giving thanks that Annette was busy talking to her husband and didn’t notice her unease.
“Poor Lord Mooring, he’s been through so much grief of late.
His brother was convicted of some dastardly deed and took his own life to escape the humiliation. Lord Mooring had to step in and take over Foxwood, and it’s said that even though he was devastated, he was determined to look after his sister-in-law and her child. But something terrible happened. They disappeared.”
Angele forgot to breathe.
“Disappeared?” Corbett echoed.
“Yes. He thinks his sister-in-law ran away because she was so ashamed of what her husband had done.”
Corbett, ever curious, wanted to know, “Whatever did he do?”
“We don’t know,” Nicholas Wright volunteered. “Evidently it was something so terrible no one was willing to talk about it. But Lord Mooring is beside himself over his sister-in-law and his niece. He’s offered rewards all over England for their return. He says he’s duty-bound to see they’re cared for.”
“He thinks they might have even gone to France,” Ramona added. “That’s where his sister-in-law was born. When we were in Cherbourg, my sister had even heard about the reward.”
Ryan commented that it was all very sad and he hoped they were found. Corbett expressed the same sentiment. Then the subject changed, and Angele was relieved, because she was having a very hard time pretending she didn’t know what was being said.
A reward.
All over England.
And France, as well.
Dear God, she had escaped just in time. But one thing was certain—she couldn’t tell Ryan anything. Not for a long, long time.
Somehow she made it through the rest of dinner. She declined coffee and dessert, anxious to go back to the cabin where she could be alone. She excused herself, but Ryan surprised her by also getting up and saying good night to everyone.
“I noticed you didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself at dinner,” he said as they walked along. “So I didn’t want to leave you by yourself.”
She didn’t want him thinking she’d been upset, and tried to be humorous. “Are you afraid I will actually fall overboard this time?”
“No. But you seemed worried about something. You hardly touched your food.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You never are.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s the food.”
“But it’s delicious,” he argued. “I think the chef does a good job.”
“Does he also cook for the steerage passengers?”
He laughed. “Corbett walked through the room where they eat just as they were sitting down to lunch today and said he’d starve before he’d take a bite of any of it. I think he’s exaggerating because he’s not happy about having to sleep down there. The captain told me they have the same food as the crew, and you know the crew wouldn’t have it too bad.”
“I guess Corbett blames me for being there. If I weren’t along, he’d be sharing the cabin with you.”
“If you weren’t along, we wouldn’t even be on this ship. Remember? We’d have returned on the same one we came over on, and both of us would have slept in a dormitory for men. It’s not as nice as this, but it’s certainly better than steerage.”
They had reached the cabin door. Angele used her key to open it, then urged, “Why don’t you join your friends now? I’m not going back out tonight. I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”
His voice was as warm and caressing as cashmere. “I want to go to bed, too—but not because I’m tired.”
She tensed. Engaging in a sexual episode was the last thing she felt like doing at the moment. The Wrights had ignited all the old memories, and she needed to deal with them. “I’m really, really tired,” she emphasized.
“You just think you are.” He pushed the door open and motioned her inside, then closed it.
He had just taken off his coat when there was a knock.
“Monsieur Tremayne,” the steward called softly. “I have the Champagne you ordered.”
Ryan looked at Angele, who was still standing in the middle of the room and making no move to begin undressing. “This will put you in the mood,” he whispered huskily.
He opened the door and took the Champagne.
Angele shook her head. “I…I don’t feel like drinking.”
“You’ll love this bottle. It’s the finest they have on board. It came from the captain’s personal stock. He let me have it as a favor.”
“Maybe some other night.”
She turned away and began to fiddle with the ribbons on her bodice.
He put his hands on her bare shoulders and spun her around. “Come on. Let’s sip Champagne and have that talk.”
“Not tonight,” she said, too loudly.
His brows rose.
She rushed to finish before she lost her nerve. “The past doesn’t matter. We’re married, and that’s the only thing that does. And quite frankly, I’m tired of your questions. My goodness, Ryan, you met me when I was a thief. You took me out of jail. Do you actually think there’s anything more horrible I can tell you about myself?”
“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me something good.”
She saw annoyance flash in his eyes but didn’t care. “Suffice to say that everything you learn about me from now on will be.”
“So far, it hasn’t been.”
She cocked her head and reached to grab his hands and fling them from her shoulders. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you’ve lied to me on several occasions, and I’ve told you that if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a deceiving woman.”
“And since you’ve told me that I haven’t done it again.”
He reached for her with heat-glazed eyes. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe this is all that does…”
His hot, hard mouth captured hers in a deep kiss and then he abruptly let her go to command, “Take your clothes off or I’ll rip them off.”
She stepped behind the screen, her pulse pounding.
Through the screen’s webbing, she could see him as he stripped. A little gasp, escaped her lips when she saw that he was already aroused.
When she was naked, she called to him to please turn down the lantern.
“No,” came his abrupt response. “I want to see you.”
She knew arguing would be in vain.
She stepped from behind the screen.
And it was his turn to gasp.
“I’ve never seen you this way. My God, you are truly everything a man could want…”
He crossed to pull her into his arms. Her face pressed against his granite chest, as always, the mat of hair tickling deliciously.
Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply of his masculine scent.
His hands dropped to her buttocks, and he began to knead the tender flesh, pressing her into him. “Stand on your toes.”
Bemused, she whispered, “Why do you—”
“Just do it,” he said gruffly, raising her up.
And then she knew why he wanted it, because his hard penis slid between her thighs, then her cleft.
He bent and again kissed her, this time more forcefully, his mouth almost brutal as his tongue devoured her.
He moved himself to and fro, massaging the hot nub of her center with the tip of his organ. Angele’s toes went stiff, and her fingers dug into his shoulders to hang on tight, because the sensation as he rubbed against her was so divine she wanted it to last forever.
His mouth stayed fused with hers as he backed her toward the wall. Her nipples hardened, and he felt them and moved his chest ever slowly from side to side, rubbing against her.
Angele clung to him even tighter, stunned by the unbelievable pleasure he was evoking in two places at once.
Her heart was leaping, and her head was whirling furiously. She felt as though she were drowning in his kiss as he sucked her tongue into his mouth and nibbled it ever so softly.
Her back was pressed against the wall. He continued to push himself in and out of her cleft with maddening rhythm.
He raised his lips to murmur, “Stay on your toe
s and spread your legs.”
She didn’t understand, and he showed her. Lowering his hands a few inches, he grasped her thighs and pulled them open. Then he held her by her waist and lifted her up till she was on the very tips of her toes.
“Now when I push inside you, wrap your legs around me.”
Again she didn’t know what he meant, and there was no time to ask, because the next thing she knew, he had impaled her.
All at once she understood, because it seemed only natural to leap upon him, her legs scissoring about his back, and she wrapped her arms yet tighter and held on.
He shoved harder, and her hips bounced against the wall, but she didn’t care. Her teeth sank into his shoulder as she tried to muffle her cries of rapture.
It was as though she could feel him all the way into her belly, and she delighted with each hard thrust he gave.
His hips undulated, grinding to set an even more delightfully torturous cadence.
Somehow he managed to lower his head to one of her breasts as he held her. He sucked as much as he could into his mouth, his tongue flicking to and fro over her nipple.
Angele’s hands went to his thick blond hair and, unconsciously, she began to kiss his neck, licking the perspiration away.
Her lips found his earlobe, and she sucked and chewed, breath ragged, panting.
She felt the explosion coming and began to shake her hips against him, wanting more, deeper, harder.
He felt it, too, and drove into her mercilessly.
It began as a tiny spark, in the very core of her, and then it spread upward into her loins like a great, all-consuming fire.
It roared all the way to her breasts, her nipples, and then to her heart and back down again.
The feeling didn’t end but went on and on, and Angele thought she would surely die and didn’t care in that crystallized moment in time if she did.
Ryan was moaning in his throat and suddenly cursed and said, “I want to be deep inside you…”
In one fluid motion, he stepped from the wall and then gave her a forward thrust that sent her back arching downward.
Her hair touched the floor; and she stretched her arms to cling to him, but he wasn’t about to let her fall. He held her buttocks firmly as he rammed into her, again and again.
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