Ryan's Bride by Maggie James Page B

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