The Seduction Of Ellen - Nan Ryan

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safety that most concerns me, Chris. These people are nothing but liars and thieves. And Alexandra wants to be young again so badly, there is no telling how much money they’ve taken from her. Don’t you see, they know how foolish she is and they may be planning to rob her of the entire fortune.”

      “Now, Mother,” Chris soothed, “I’m sure you’re worrying needlessly. Aunt Alex may be behaving foolishly, but she hasn’t lost her mind. Surely she’d never let anyone get their hands on all that money.”

      “I’m not so certain,” Ellen said. “I believe she’d give away the bulk of her estate if she thought it would get rid of a few wrinkles and buy her ten more years.” Her eyebrows knitted, she said, “For heaven’s sake, it is your inheritance we’re talking about here, Chris. The Landseer fortune should go to you and—”

      “Mother, I wish you would stop worrying about my inheritance and—”

      “Never!” Ellen said, interrupting. Her chin raised pugnaciously, she said in a cold, level voice, “I have tolerated that ill-tempered old woman all these years and I mean to see to it that you are not cheated out of what is rightfully yours.” Before he could reply, she softened and said, “It will be a long, difficult journey we’ll be making. We’re going all the way to the canyonlands of Utah. The lead guide, Mister Corey, has said that near the end we may have to walk and—”

      “Corey?” Chris interrupted. “Did you say Corey? What is this Mister Corey’s full name?”

      “Ah…I really don’t know. I’ve never heard anyone call him anything but Mister Corey. Why? Is the name familiar to you. Have you heard of Mister Corey?”

      Chris paused with indecision, then said, “No. No, Mother, I haven’t.”

      He quickly changed the subject, turning the conversation to the activities at the academy. No more was said about the journey or the man leading it.

      But after Chris had seen his mother off at the train station, he hurried back to the Citadel. Its quadrangle was nearly empty on this warm spring afternoon, very few cadets on the grounds. Chris went into the silent building that housed the Hall of Honor.

      In a glass display case he examined the sun-faded outline of a Silver Star, the nation’s second highest award for bravery. The medal was no longer there. Nearby, a framed photograph of the graduating class of 1882 hung on the wall. In the third row, standing fourth from the right, a cadet’s face had been crossed out.

      Chris read the name below, scratched through, but still discernible.

      Cadet Captain Steven J. Corey.

      Eight

      The contentment, the happiness, the warm glow that had enveloped Ellen during the long, lovely weekend in Charleston was rapidly slipping away. No matter how hard she tried, she was finding it difficult to retain that wonderful sense of well-being she’d felt from the minute she’d stepped off the train in Charleston on Friday afternoon.

      But now it was Monday.

      Blue Monday.

      And the northbound train on which she rode was moving steadily closer to New York City and the terminal at Grand Central Station. The joy of the past three days was behind her, already a sweet, fading memory.

      Ahead of her was a long arduous journey to the inhospitable West with her cranky aunt and a motley group of unprincipled characters led by a disrespectful man who had kissed her at the depot as if the two of them were lovers.

      Ellen’s eyes opened.

      A little tremor surged through her slender body. She told herself it was a shudder of revulsion at the memory of that audacious kiss.

      But was it?

      The train was now slowly rolling into the station. Dread was rising, creeping through her bones, tightening her throat, giving her a slight headache. Anxiously she peered out the window, praying she would not see a tall, lean man with coal-black hair and a long white scar on his right cheek waiting on the platform.

      Her prayer was in vain.

      Leaning lazily against a wide, square column that supported the depot roof’s overhang was Mister Corey. He was wearing a white shirt, buff-colored snug-fitting trousers and freshly polished leather shoes. Clothes that were no different from the ones worn by many of the other gentlemen on the platform. At least a half-dozen men were dressed similarly. They all looked neat, clean, harmless. Except for Mister Corey.

      He looked neat.

      He looked clean.

      But he didn’t look harmless.

      Ellen realized she was holding her breath. She didn’t want to get off the train. She didn’t want to encounter Mister Corey. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want him to drive her home. And she sure didn’t want him to kiss her.

      As she made her way down the narrow aisle toward the car’s door, Ellen stiffened her spine and silently lectured herself. Never let him see that you are nervous. Insult him before he has a chance to upset you. It’s the only thing his kind understands.

      Ellen stepped down from the train, tensed, expecting the dark devil to hurry forward, grab her off the steps and attempt to kiss her again. To her surprise, nothing of the kind happened. She looked about and saw that Mister Corey was still leaning against the pillar, unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest. What kind of game was he playing now?

      Frowning, Ellen stepped down onto the platform, lifted her valise with effort and headed into the busy terminal. She glanced at Mister Corey out of the corner of her eye and felt her temper rise. He was making no move to come to her, to relieve her of her heavy suitcase, to assist her in any way.

      Ellen went completely through the huge, crowded terminal and out onto the sidewalk in front of the station. She was raising her hand for a carriage when Mister Corey stepped up beside her, took the valise and said, “Welcome home, Ellen.”

      She did not return the greeting. “Where is the carriage?”

      Inclining his head, Mister Corey took her arm. “Just down the sidewalk about twenty yards. Think you can walk that far?”

      “I can walk all the way home if I have to,” she warned, pointedly freeing her arm from his loose grasp.

      “Then why don’t you?” he coolly challenged.

      Her head snapped around and she glared at him. “Oh! I have,” she said in clipped tones, “had just about enough of you and—”

      “I don’t believe you,” he cut in smoothly. His gaze briefly lowering to her lips, he said, “I don’t think, Ellen, that you’ve had nearly enough of me.”

      “Are you blind and deaf?” she said, flustered and annoyed. “Don’t you know that you disgust me?”

      They had reached the parked carriage. Mister Corey stepped close, put his hands to Ellen’s waist and lifted her up onto the leather seat. He placed her valise in the back and climbed up beside her.

      “Your kiss,” he said softly, looking directly into her eyes, “was not the kiss of a woman who finds me disgusting.”

      Ellen’s eyes narrowed. “I did not kiss you, you kissed me and I most certainly—”

      “You kissed me back.”

      “For heaven’s sake! Try and get this through your thick skull, Mister Corey, I did not want you to kiss me. I did not kiss you back. And I forbid you to ever kiss me again! Now, please, kindly just drive me home!”

      Mister Corey smiled, nodded, unwrapped the long leather reins from around the brake handle and guided the horse and carriage out onto the busy thoroughfare. He made several attempts at small talk, but Ellen refused to respond.

      He knew how to get a rise out of her.

      “Was your

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