1 ...6 7 8 10 11 12 ...15 Ellen exhaled with annoyance when Mister Corey slid onto the seat beside her and gave her a sly, sidelong glance. She knew then how he was going to behave. Or misbehave. She was tempted to jump down out of the carriage and hail a hired conveyance to drive her to the train depot.
Her apprehension escalated rapidly. The carriage wheels had hardly begun to turn on the pavement before Mister Corey was teasing and deviling her. She realized he arrogantly assumed that he could easily upset her, just as he had at the shipboard dance.
But he was wrong.
Now that she was back home and in familiar, comfortable surroundings, Ellen had regained her rigid composure. She could and did hold her own with her needling tormentor and, in fact, took secret pleasure in triumphantly putting him in his place.
Subtly, but directly, so that there was no misunderstanding, Ellen let Mister Corey know that she thought he was far beneath her in social status and class. She made it clear that she was of the upper echelon and did not associate with his kind.
Mister Corey seemed to take her disdain in stride. He smiled when he said, “You really think you’re better than me, Ellen?”
“Yes and don’t you ever doubt it!” she replied sarcastically.
And then took a great degree of satisfaction from seeing the distinct hardening of his tanned jaw. She wanted to laugh out loud. She had managed to penetrate that ever-present armor of indifference. Taking pleasure from her small victory, Ellen suddenly realized that she needn’t fear Mister Corey. He was human after all. Despite his impervious demeanor, he obviously had feelings that could be hurt, just as she did. That valuable bit of knowledge would work to her advantage. It was simple, really. All she had to do was to never let him forget that she felt nothing but contempt for him.
“Ah, but I do doubt that you’re any better than me,” he said, “and so do you.”
“Not for a minute, Mister ‘Carnival Barker’ Corey!” she replied cuttingly.
“There are worse ways of earning your daily bread.”
“I can’t think of any.”
“I can.”
Ellen gave him a smug look. “Pray tell, what could they possibly be?”
“Constantly kowtowing to a disagreeable old woman, for one.”
“You have no right to judge me.”
“Nor you me.”
The two continued to spar all the way to the train depot.
When the carriage finally reached busy Grand Central Station, Ellen felt a great sense of relief. While she was now confident that she could successfully put Mister Corey in his place, it was taxing and she was eager to get away from him.
As soon as he had helped her out of the carriage and retrieved her valise, Ellen said, “I can manage from here.”
“I’ll go inside with you,” he stated flatly.
Ellen made a face. “What about the carriage? You can’t just leave it unattended.”
Mister Corey looked about, motioned to a young boy who was selling fresh-cut flowers. Flipping the boy a shiny silver dollar, Mister Corey said, “Watch this carriage until I get back and I’ll give you another dollar.”
“Yes, sir!” said the boy, then beamed when Mister Corey withdrew a bill from his pocket as he reached for a bouquet of fragrant ivory roses.
“For you,” Mister Corey said and held out the roses to Ellen.
The frown still on her face, she reluctantly took the flowers, not wishing to cause a scene in public.
Inside the huge terminal were crushing crowds of people, all seeming to be going in different directions and all in a hurry to get there. Ellen was bumped by a big, stout man before she had taken two steps.
“You okay?” Mister Corey asked. She nodded. He took her hand and said, “Follow me.”
Running interference, he managed to get her safely through the terminal and out onto the platform where the trains arrived and departed. Pointing out the locomotive that would take her to Charleston, he looked up and down the tracks and asked, “Where’s the private rail car? I thought those private cars were usually added to the rear.”
“I’m not taking the private rail car,” Ellen said, dreading what she knew was coming next.
“Not taking it? Why? What’s the use of having…?”
“For your information, Mister Corey,” Ellen said, “it costs a great deal of money to transport a private rail car. The price is equivalent to eighteen first-class rail tickets, plus an additional fee.”
Mister Corey’s dark left eyebrow lifted. “Jesus, that rich old woman makes you travel in a day coach like the poorest of travelers?”
“It isn’t that far to—”
“It’s seven or eight hundred miles,” he corrected. “It will take nearly twenty-four hours.”
“I enjoy visiting with the other travelers,” she said, wishing he would mind his own business.
“Sure you do,” Mister Corey said, “and trying to sleep in one of those hard chairs is really delightful.”
“All aboard for Philadelphia, Salisbury, Norfolk, Wilmington, Charleston, Savannah and Jacksonville!” shouted a portly uniformed conductor.
“That’s me,” said Ellen. “It’s time for departure. You may go now.”
She made an attempt to take her valise from him. He withheld it. Travelers were pushing forward, eager to board the train. They were surrounded by people.
“I have to go,” she said, again reaching for her suitcase.
She had no idea that Mister Corey had decided to have his last bit of fun at her expense.
Purposely speaking loudly enough for most of the crowd to hear, he said, “Goodbye, dear. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll keep close watch on the children while you’re away.”
As she stared at him round-eyed and openmouthed, he wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her into his embrace so swiftly the bouquet of ivory roses was caught and crushed between them and kissed her soundly.
“All aboard,” called the chuckling conductor, spotting the kissing couple as he stood in place beside a set of portable steps. “All aboard!”
Vaguely, as if from far away, Ellen heard the conductor’s shouted appeal for all passengers to get on board. But she was far too captivated by the warm, smooth lips moving on hers to respond to anything or anyone but the dark, devilish man who was kissing her as she’d never been kissed in her life.
Mister Corey held nothing back. He kissed her as if they were all alone, two lovers who were hot for each other and about to make love. His sleek tongue slid deep inside her mouth, exploring, touching, conquering in an intimate invasion that shocked, thrilled and scared her half to death.
Then all at once, the hot, intrusive kiss ended as unexpectedly as it had started.
“All aboard that’s going aboard!” shouted the perspiring, shiny-faced conductor.
“Better get on board,” said Mister Corey coolly as if he had done nothing more than shake her hand.
Ellen gave no reply. Her face was bloodred and her heart was racing. She was furious. She was shaking. She was half-dazed and confused. Mister Corey took her arm, guided her to the train steps, handed the conductor her valise and said to the man, “Look after the missus for me, won’t you?” He peeled off a bill and handed it to the rail employee.
“I’ll sure do that, mister,” said the beaming conductor. “Don’t you worry about your little wife, we’ll take real good care of her.”
Her face a study in silent fury, Ellen made her way down the aisle as the locomotive’s wheels began to slowly turn on the tracks. She found her seat and dropped down into it, the crushed bouquet of ivory roses still gripped tightly in her hand. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.
Then jumped, startled, at the faint rapping on the train window. Mister Corey stood there mouthing the words, “See you soon, Ellen.”
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