The Seduction Of Ellen

“Aunt Alexandra, this is Padjan,” Ellen indicated the smaller man. “Padjan, may I present my aunt, Miss Alexandra Landseer.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Padjan stepped forward, bowed from the waist and, taking the hand Alexandra offered, said with sincere enthusiasm, “It is a true pleasure to meet such a great lady, Miss Landseer.”

Charmed, she said, “Forget the formalities, call me Alexandra.”

Nodding, Padjan released her hand and moved aside.

“And this,” said Ellen, glancing up at him, “is Mister Corey. Mister Corey, my aunt, Alexandra Landseer.”

Mister Corey was not impolite, but he did not grin or bow to the seated heiress or take her outstretched hand as Padjan had done. “Miss Landseer,” he said and almost imperceptibly nodded.

Within minutes Alexandra and Padjan had their heads together, talking like two old friends. Padjan knew exactly what Alexandra wanted to hear and he wasted no time telling her about his Lost City and its Magic Waters.

Mister Corey said little.

Ellen said even less.

The two of them sat at opposite ends of a long brocade sofa. Ellen, paying close attention to the conversation taking place between Padjan and her aunt, was nevertheless vitally aware of Mister Corey’s strong masculine presence.

Occasionally casting covert glances at him, she wondered what he was thinking. He looked bored. Disinterested. And he looked as if he was bored and disinterested much of the time. He was, she surmised, a man who was experienced and world-weary. She got the impression that he had been everywhere and done everything and that he expected life to hold no further surprises or joys for him.

How, she wondered, had he ended up living in an old tenement building far from his native America? Hawking magic elixirs at street carnivals?

“Just you wait right here!” Padjan was saying as he nimbly rose to his feet and hurried out into the foyer.

In seconds he was back with the green paper bag. Gingerly placing the bag on the footstool before Alexandra, he looked up at her and said, “Here is proof that I am who I say, a member of the Anasazi, the Ancient Ones who the world believes have disappeared.” Dark eyes flashing, he opened the bag, swept it aside and withdrew a beautiful pottery artifact. He placed the artifact on the stool before Alexandra. “This came from the mystical Lost City,” he proudly declared. “You will see nothing like it anywhere else in the world.”

Alexandra sat up straighter in her chair and reached out to touch the exquisite urn. An avid collector of pre-Columbian art, she immediately recognized that the piece predated many within her own collection, that it was authentic and not some modern reproduction.

Her bejeweled hands running admiringly over the precious artifact, she said, “Ellen, perhaps you’d like to retire to your room now. The gentlemen and I have some business to conduct.”

“If you don’t mind, Aunt Alexandra,” Ellen tried to sound casual, “I’m finding this so fascinating that I’d prefer to stay and—”

Alexandra looked up from the relic she was admiring. “I do mind,” she cut Ellen off.

Ellen, mortified, felt Mister Corey’s dark, disapproving gaze touch her. Without meeting his eyes, she was certain they held an expression of mild disdain. He was, she felt sure, silently rebuking her for meekly allowing her aunt to dismiss her as if she were a child.

Well, she didn’t care what he thought. He knew nothing about her relationship with Alexandra or why she allowed the older woman to order her about. She was not surprised that her aunt had insisted she leave. She had expected it.

She was always banished from the room anytime finances were to be discussed.

Alexandra patiently waited until the door was shut and her niece was out of earshot, then said, “Gentlemen, let’s get down to business. I want to hire the two of you to take me to the Magic Waters and—”

Interrupting, Padjan shook his head. “Miss Landseer, there are four in our party. If one goes, we all go.”

Alexandra frowned. “Four? We’ve no need of four people. Can’t you just leave the other two here?”

A deep shade of red appeared beneath Padjan’s smooth copper skin. “Never,” he said and he was no longer smiling. “If you are ever to see the Magic Waters, you will take all four of us.”

“Oh, all right,” said Alexandra. “You will take me to your Magic Waters.”

“I will,” said Padjan, nodding solemnly.

“Then give it to me straight, please. Tell me, how much?” Alexandra asked. “How much is this entire operation going to set me back?”

The terms were promptly laid out. The deal was quickly made. Alexandra told the pair she would, come morning, have her niece book passage to America for them all within the week.

“Tie up any loose ends you have here in London and be ready to sail to America when I send word,” she instructed Padjan and Mister Corey.

“We’ll be ready,” said Padjan. “The sooner, the better.”

“I agree. I can hardly wait,” enthused Alexandra as she showed them out.

She closed the door behind them and clapped her hands with glee.

Three

Aboard the SS White Star

April 1899

In top cabin staterooms, very near to their own, was the strange carnival contingent that was to guide Ellen and her aunt to the Lost City of the Anasazi.

After having met all four, Ellen wondered how such a diverse group of people had ever come together.

Mister Corey was obviously a loner who needed no one. If he had any feelings, he never revealed them. He said little, rarely smiled, kept his own counsel, went his own way. His rugged sensuality, heavy-lidded gaze and devil-may-care attitude was repellent and appealing at the same time.

A man best left alone.

Enrique O’Mara was the exact opposite of the somber Mister Corey. He was a sunny-dispositioned, carefree half-Latin, half-Irishman, who everyone called Ricky. Of average height, Ricky was a sturdy, muscular man in his early thirties. He had dark wavy hair, snapping green eyes and an ever-present smile that could melt the coldest of hearts.

There was Padjan, of course. A man who loved to talk to anyone who would listen, he could speak for hours on any subject under the sun. Seemingly better educated than most university graduates, he impressed both Ellen and Alexandra with his vast wealth of knowledge. Alexandra was clearly fascinated by Padjan and the two spent long hours together talking.

Rounding out the quartet was the birdlike Summer Dawn, a tiny Indian woman who was so old and so weak she could not walk unaided and no longer spoke. Shriveled and extremely frail, she had tried to smile when Padjan had introduced her, saying simply, “This is our sweetheart, the precious Summer Dawn.” Nodding, smiling, both Ellen and Alexandra had assumed that Summer Dawn was a close relative of Padjan’s. His grandmother, or perhaps even great-grandmother.

Having met the entire foursome, Ellen’s concerns had only increased. Did Alexandra actually expect these down-on-their-luck characters to lead her to the fountain of youth? There was no doubt in Ellen’s mind that they were a bunch of charlatans whose sole aim was to fleece Alexandra of her fortune. And she dreaded the prospect of spending the next several weeks—perhaps even months—in the company of such disreputable people.

Especially in the company of the disturbing Mister Corey. Ellen wouldn’t allow herself to even think about the treacherous trek across the rugged country of western America when there would be nowhere she could escape his presence.

It would be all she could do to avoid him on the long voyage home.

As feared, Ellen encountered Mister Corey on shipboard.

Often.

She simply couldn’t bear to stay in the stateroom forever listening to the constantly complaining Alexandra. She had to get away from her aunt for a few minutes now and then if she were to maintain her sanity. But every time she ventured out to stand at the railing to feel the mist on her face or take a leisurely stroll around the deck, the unprincipled man she held personally responsible for this entire costly charade mysteriously appeared.

And immediately gravitated toward her.