The Seduction Of Ellen
THE SPINSTEREllen Cornelius knows exactly what Mister Corey is: an unscrupulous swindler…a man without morals who will fleece her foolish old aunt out of her fortune. But as the group travels west in search of the fountain of youth, Ellen is both repelled and beguiled by his dark, compelling sexuality. Her only protection is to hide behind her prim, patronizing manner and her acid tongue.THE SEDUCERSteve Corey tests Ellen's fragile poise saying things to her that no gentleman would say to a lady. He enjoys infuriating her, takes great pleasure in shocking her. He's become the dark seducer of her dreams, delivering a thunderstorm of ecstasy to a lonely, unsophisticated woman who's been hurt and disappointed too many times before.But he'd never dreamed that his seduction of Ellen would lure his own heart into uncharted territory as well….
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“There is nothing nice about you, Mister Corey.”
He smiled and in that smooth, half-mocking voice that only added to his magnetism, said, “You can be cruel. Anybody ever tell you that? Real cruel.”
“I have had excellent tutors,” Ellen coldly informed him.
“Well, if that were the case, why didn’t you…?”
“Don’t start with me! You know nothing of my life or the circumstances that govern it and I will not be appraised by a common carnival barker!”
For a long moment Mister Corey said nothing as he watched the expression on her face. When he spoke, it was in low, soft tones. “We live not as we wish to, but as we can. Or so the philosopher says.”
“Really?” she answered hatefully. “And if I want to hear any more of your trite little platitudes, I’ll be sure to let you know.” She gave him a smug look, pleased with herself.
But as usual, he surprised her. Leaning close, he said, “What about when you want me to kiss you again? Will you let me know?”
“Oh! That will never happen, I assure you. I did not want you to kiss me that morning at the station. And the day will never come when I do want you to kiss me!”
“What about the night?”
“Neither morning, noon or night. Not ever.”
He grinned wickedly. “Say that to me again in twenty-four hours.”
“Gladly!”
Nan Ryan “brings us a hot story with the unique flavors of New Orleans, heated passion, mystery and the spice of her signature sensuality.”
—Romantic Times on The Countess Misbehaves
Also available from MIRA Books and
NAN RYAN
WANTING YOU
THE COUNTESS MISBEHAVES
THE SCANDALOUS MISS HOWARD
For
my dear sister Glenda Henderson Howard
With love, affection and most of all,
gratitude for being there with me during the bad times as well as the good.
Contents
One
London, England
Early April 1899
It was growing dark when Ellen Cornelius stepped down from the hired coach before a gloomy tenement house in London’s West End. Ellen gazed at the dilapidated building and inwardly shuddered. She did not want to go inside. She dreaded knocking on the door, dreaded meeting the person behind it. Nervous, doubtful, Ellen longed to climb back inside the carriage and return to the safety and comfort of the Connaught Hotel.
She didn’t dare.
She hadn’t chosen to come here. She had been sent by her indomitable aunt, aging American heiress and industrialist Alexandra Landseer.
Alexandra, with Ellen in tow, had come to London from her Park Avenue home seeking a medical miracle. Desperate to slow the aging process, Alexandra seemed convinced that money would buy her longevity.
“Why can’t I live forever?” Alexandra had often asked with an arrogant sincerity. “I don’t intend to die like everybody else. I intend to stay young and vital!”
Now, after spending a week in a famed London clinic, Alexandra was both angered and disappointed by the results. She had been outraged when the team of noted Harley Street physicians bluntly told her that there was absolutely nothing they could do for her. She was, they pointed out in forthright terms, only mortal.
Nor did they sugarcoat their prediction that although she seemed to be in fairly good health, she could not expect to live many more years past her present age of eighty-one.
So now Ellen, Alexandra’s only niece, had come alone across the city of London to this strange place to do her aunt’s bidding. Just as always.
Ellen would, she knew, continue to endure and acquiesce to her self-centered aunt for as long as the old woman lived. She would cater to her every whim.
She would do it for Christopher—for her son who was now a cadet in South Carolina.
Resigned, long ago, to her lot in life, Ellen Cornelius looked older than her thirty-six years. And felt older. Especially tonight as she stood alone and frightened in this squalid section of London. She did not even know why she’d been sent to the West End. Only that she was to instruct the tenant in #203 to contact Alexandra Landseer at the Connaught Hotel in Mayfair as soon as possible.
Ellen summoned up her courage, stepped smartly up the weed-choked front walk and entered the building. It was dim and foreboding inside. The light was inadequate and as she looked up the shadowy stairway, Ellen felt the fine hair rise on the back of her neck. She clamped her teeth together, forced herself to climb the rickety stairs and, squinting, soon located the correct room.
Her heart in her throat, she lifted a hand and knocked. She waited, listening for sounds of movement inside. She heard nothing. Seconds passed. Ellen knocked again, more forcefully this time. Still no answer. Apparently no one was in. Beginning to relax, Ellen tried one last time.
