Ryan's Bride (13 page)

“To be married. The captain is waiting to perform the ceremony. We need to get it over with before we sail.”

Get it over with
, she mused dismally as he slipped his fingers around hers. That was not how she had envisioned her wedding day—as merely something to be done with.

But then nothing about her life, of late, had been anything like she ever dreamed it would be.

Chapter Nine

The marriage ceremony was quick and perfunctory. The captain had wasted no time. Busy with preparations for sailing, he was not pleased with having to perform a wedding. As soon as it was over, he had murmured hasty congratulations and rushed back to his duties.

They were standing toward the bow. Ryan and Angele just looked at each other, both feeling a bit awkward.

Corbett stepped forward to give Angele a quick kiss on each cheek and welcome her to the family.

She was grateful and said so.

Ryan thanked him also, and Angele noticed he seemed startled by what Corbett had done. Actually, she thought he should be embarrassed. After all, he could have said something—anything—instead of just standing there with that same, grim expression he’d worn since leaving Paris.

Corbett shook his hand. “Congratulations. It’s a shame the rest of the family and everybody else couldn’t be here, but I’m sure Clarice will make up for it and have a big party so everybody can meet your bride.”

“I’m sure she will,” Ryan said without enthusiasm.

“And now I think I’ll go have another drink in toast. Care to join me?”

Ryan shook his head. “I want to talk to Angele.”

She tensed, hoping he wasn’t planning on taking her to the cabin right then. Surely, he would wait till dark.

“Then I’ll see you at dinner.” Corbett smiled but not with his eyes. “At least I can leave steerage to eat with my own class.”

“You can leave steerage anytime you want,” Ryan corrected. “It certainly cost me enough to bribe the steward to let you have the run of the ship.”

Corbett kept on going.

Angele stared after him. “I’m sorry he has to sleep in steerage. I’ve heard it’s terrible.” Actually, she knew it for a fact from her own experience. She and her mother had steerage accommodations when they had crossed the Channel from England to France. Though they were grateful for escape and willing to use any means to do so, the trip had been almost as dismal as living in the catacombs. Food was hardly palatable, and people slept in a common room on hammocks or pads on the floor. She couldn’t imagine a man like Corbett having to put up with such misery.

“He’ll be fine.” Ryan took her arm. “Let’s stroll around a bit and meet some of the other passengers. We’ve got plenty of time before dinner.”

“I don’t think I’m going to feel like eating tonight.”

Ryan flashed her a look. “Nonsense.”

“I’m afraid I’ll get seasick.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Well, I’m not feeling well now.” Because of the apprehension over the night ahead, her head felt heavy and her stomach was churning. “I really want to go to the cabin and lie down for a while.”

He ignored her protest. “The fresh air will be good for you.”

Rather than argue, she decided to let him have his way for the time being.

They met a couple who were from Paris. When introductions were made, Angele was relieved when Ryan didn’t let on how they had just got married. People tended to fawn over newlyweds, and it would only mean more questions as to how they had met, and so forth. And, when the woman,
Madame
Annette Marceau, asked where they were from, Ryan gave the impression they were
both
from Virginia. He went on to proudly boast that it was one of the thirteen original states of America.

Madame
Marceau then looked to Angele, who had not said anything, as though expecting her to contribute to the conversation. Nervous, Angele blurted without thinking, “Virginia was also the tenth state to ratify the Constitution—in 1788.”

The instant she spoke, she was sorry she had, for Ryan drew a sharp breath of surprise that she had known that.

The couple chatted a while longer, but Angele was afraid to say anything else. When Ryan finally steered her away, he remarked, “You know, I was under the impression that you’ve had no formal schooling.”

“I haven’t,” she lied.

“Then how do you know Virginia was the tenth state to ratify the Constitution? You even know the correct year.”

She shrugged. “I hear things.”

“That’s what you said about Francois DeNeux.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I? You said yesterday that you bought some fine horses.”

“You were, and I did, and I’m going to go see about them in a little while.”

Anxious to get his mind on something else, she cried, “Let’s see to it now! We need to know if they’re being cared for like they should be.”

He laughed. “And how would you know? Or have you also heard about that, too?”

It would have been so easy to remove the mocking sneer from his face by telling him she had grown up around stables and probably knew more about raising horses than he did. She could also brag that she had been the best rider at Miss Appleton’s school and could out jump any man for miles around her father’s estate. “No,” she said instead, “but I’d like to see them, anyway.”

“The cargo area is no place for a lady. You can see them when we get home. I might even teach you how to ride.”

And that
, she thought, suppressing a smile,
would be an experience he would not soon forget.

She drew her hand from his and folded her arms across her bosom as though to ward off a chill. “It’s getting cool. I think I’ll go to the cabin now. I don’t want to walk anymore.”

“Later. Right now we need to talk. It’s the first time we’ve been alone since you ran off yesterday.”

They had reached the stern. The ship was starting to slowly move away from the pier, and everyone else had gathered at the bow. It was a quiet area, and, due to the way the deck curved behind the bulkhead of the stairway leading below, no one could see them. Angele liked the privacy and thought how it might be a good place for her to hide away with her thoughts during the voyage when she felt the need.

Crisply, she informed him, “I didn’t run away.” Corbett said he had fibbed for her, and she believed him. Ryan was just venting his anger on her for a change. “And I don’t feel like talking,” she added coldly.

“You don’t seem to feel like doing a lot of things, and I’m sorry, but I want to know where you went yesterday and why.”

“How many times must I tell you? I wanted to say goodbye to Paris in my own way.”

“Did you meet anybody—a man, perhaps?”

Her skin prickled. There was no way he could have found out. “Of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

She whirled on him, masking guilt with indignity. “I don’t think this is a fitting conversation on our wedding day.”

“You’re my wife, and I’ve a right to know where you go and what you do. I also have the right to know everything about you. So far you’ve told me nothing except that you’re an orphan. You’ve said nothing about your family. You say you were raised in a fishing village, yet you seem to know a lot about unusual things for a girl of your background—like horses and history—subjects not exactly taught in the home of a fisherman.”

“I told you—I hear things. I listen to people when they talk. It’s how I learn. You should try it sometime,” she added huffily, “instead of asking so many questions.” She turned her face toward the water, the stiff breeze blowing her hair about her face. Again, she attempted to get his mind on other things. “The sea is so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m actually sailing all the way to America.”

He snorted. “You’re obviously more excited over that than getting married.”

“It’s not exactly an orthodox marriage, you know. You needed to take a French wife, and I needed to get out of jail. It’s that simple. Besides, I don’t know you yet. I’ll have to wait and see if I made the right decision.”

“And so will I.”

She seized the opportunity to ask a question of her own, one that had been burning inside since the day he made his proposition. Whipping about to face him, she challenged, “And what if you find you didn’t make the right decision? What if you ultimately feel that you made a terrible mistake? We haven’t discussed that possibility and we should, because I need to know what’s to become of me if you do.”

“Do as you’re told, Angele, and that won’t happen.”

“No,” she fired back. “That’s not good enough. And besides, I’ve a will of my own, and I won’t always agree with you. What then? Will you make me leave?”

“I want you to have my baby as soon as possible. After that, I would never ask you to leave.”

“Good.” She nodded with satisfaction and even managed a small smile, despite the dark way he was staring down at her. She would not have to worry—
as long as she
produced a child
.

“But…”

She stiffened. His tone was foreboding.

“If you don’t have a baby, and we ultimately decide we can’t stand each other, then I suppose we could come to some kind of financial settlement so you could go your own way.”

Angele brought up another possibility. “And what about your inheritance if the marriage ends before we have a baby? Wouldn’t you be faced with having to find another French wife?”

“Maybe. But I would hope my father wouldn’t hold it against me that it didn’t last. After all, I did do what he asked by marrying a pure Frenchwoman. If it doesn’t work out…” He shrugged.

Pure Frenchwoman.
That was another reason Angele knew she had to keep her past a secret. He couldn’t find out she was only
half
French. He might hide it from his father, but he would hate her for having deceived him.

“I intend to do my part,” she said. “We should get along well.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. And don’t worry—I’ll teach you as much as I can about etiquette and so on before we get home. After that, Clarice can take over.”

“Fine.” Angele suppressed another smile to think how she could probably teach Clarice a thing or two about social graces.

It nettled that he continued to look at her so intensely. “Is something wrong?”

“Have you told me all you want to about yesterday?”

She threw her hands up, pretending to be disgusted. “There is nothing to tell. I walked around to take one last look at Paris. I can’t understand why you’re making such an issue of this.”

“Have you ever been with a man, Angele…”

She blinked, at first not understanding what he meant, but then it dawned just as he made it clear by lowering his voice to add, “…
intimately
?”

Taken aback, jolted to the tips of her toes, she all but shouted, “No, I haven’t!” And it was not altogether a lie. Her uncle had been intimate with
her
. She’d not been intimate with
him
. And she had fought him tooth and nail till he slapped her to dizziness and submission.

“Why do you ask me this?” she demanded.

“A man has a right to know.”

“Well, you asked me, and I’ve told you, and now I am going to the cabin. Don’t try to stop me.”

She turned on her heel and all but broke into a run to get away from him. Nothing had been resolved, she thought, frustrated. He was still curious about her past. Worse, he had confirmed her fears that the marriage would end if he wasn’t pleased with her. And she couldn’t let that happen—no matter what.

Because, sadly, life offered her no other option.

Ryan started to go after her but thought better of it. She was angry, but she would get over it. Hell, he was angry, too, because she had looked him straight in the eye and lied to him. She
had
met a man in Paris, and, according to Corbett, had got in his carriage and ridden off with him for the better part of the afternoon. As for her saying she had never been intimate with a man, he would soon know if she had lied about that, as well.

He told himself it should make no difference, but he knew it did. Despite the circumstances of how they’d met, despite her lack of upbringing and everything negative there was about her, he couldn’t deny being drawn to her. And he wanted her, damn it.

Ryan was well aware of how Angele caught the eye of every man in the dining room when they entered. She was wearing a pale-pink gown. The bodice was edged in black lace and pearls, scooped only low enough to show the barest swell of her generous bosom. She had coiffed her own hair in an upswept pouf, capped by the pearl-and-diamond comb he had given her along with many other fine pieces of jewelry. She was truly a lovely sight, and it was obvious everyone who saw her thought so, too.

He continued to be amazed by the wardrobe she’d selected. He had told the dressmaker not to spare any expense but discreetly let her know that due to Angele’s upbringing, she would need guidance. The dressmaker had reported, however, that Angele had demonstrated a keen sense of fashion and needed no help.

She was beautiful and mysterious, and he was delighted she was his bride. But it bothered him that when they had talked on deck earlier she had brought up the possibility of their marriage failing. He didn’t want that to happen. She was going to make a good wife, and he would make sure everything worked out as he planned.