Surrender the Stars

by Wright, Cynthia

  The frigid anger in his voice sent a chill down her spine, and for the first time it occurred to Lindsay that she might have gone too far. Was it possible that her attempt to share this adventure with Ryan might have cost her his love? Her eyes swam with tears.

  "For God's sake, don't cry!" he shouted, pacing across the room. "It will only make matters worse. I can't believe this is happening! After we just discussed this very subject less than twenty-four hours ago!"

  "I haven't forgotten," she replied. "I promised you that I would consider carefully—"

  "This is insane!" Ryan interrupted, his eyes blazing. "What good does such a promise do me if you turn around, dress as a boy, and follow me that very night? I might as well conduct these discussions with a chair for all the progress I make with you! I can only imagine the little scene that ensued after you went to bed last night, knowing that I planned to leave for Falmouth. Did you pause momentarily and have a dialogue with yourself?" He mimicked her: " 'Hmm. Ryan's off to Ireland! I can't bear to think of him having an adventure that I cannot share. He probably wouldn't want me to come, but I can surely calm him down. I'll shed a few tears, then kiss him, and before we know it, he'll be thanking me for practicing yet another deception!' "

  Lindsay's mouth tightened. "It wasn't that way at all."

  "Frankly, I don't care. Your total disregard for my thoughts and feelings can only make me reconsider the notion of marrying you." His eyes were like blue ice; his voice was without emotion. "If I had the time, I'd tie you up, take you back home, and lock you in your room! As it is, I need some food. I'm going downstairs to eat—and to think. You may do as you wish."

  As he glanced back over one broad shoulder, his eyebrow curved upward sarcastically. "You always do."

  * * *

  The taproom was filled with villagers who were relaxing and conversing over mugs of ale, a dozen or so guests discharged from a stage, and Ryan and Lindsay. The stage passengers filled every settle and table except one. It was occupied by a distinctly unfriendly-looking Ryan Coleraine. He ate his pork stew, hot bread, and potatoes without lifting his eyes more than two or three times. Mrs. Craddock refilled his ale without being asked. Passing Lindsay, who sat on a stick-backed chair in the corner, plate on lap, the large old woman merely flicked her brows upward.

  Lindsay pushed the aromatic pieces of pork and vegetables around her plate, but she was far too upset to eat. Finally, she returned her dishes to the kitchen and went back to the room. She wished that she might douse the lights and pretend to be asleep before Ryan returned, but she wasn't certain he would even deign to share a bed with her.

  After removing all her clothing except a thin linen shirt, Lindsay washed carefully with soap and water, scrubbed her teeth, then emptied the basin and poured fresh water for Ryan. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, bathed in the glow of one candle, when the door opened and he appeared.

  Coleraine stared for a moment, then muttered, "Why aren't you asleep?"

  "I wasn't sure you wanted me here," she whispered. Her palms were wet.

  "I don't." Ryan stared out the window, moonlight silvering his chiseled profile, and added, "But then you haven't left me a choice, have you?"

  "Ryan, I—"

  "I'm too angry to discuss this any further. Go to sleep."

  Tears filled her throat as she watched him strip off his jacket, shirt, and boots. Finally, she was able to say, "I could sleep somewhere else."

  He let out a short bark of sarcastic laughter. "You've put yourself in enough danger as it is. I don't intend to let you out of my sight again!"

  She stared at the play of muscles in his wide, tapering back as he washed, her stomach churning. When Coleraine approached the bed and bent to pull off his buckskin breeches, Lindsay said, sobbing, "Ryan, I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

  A muscle moved in his jaw as he blew out the candle and got into bed next to her. "Spare me your penitence, Lindsay. It's too late."

  Pressing a hand to her mouth, she swallowed tears that tasted like acid and turned away from him, drawing her knees up. Ryan lay far away on the clean but lumpy bed. He might not have been there at all except that she could sense his potent anger.

  Through the windows, the night sky was stunning. Clear and black, it made a perfect backdrop for a dazzling display of stars and a huge, luminous full moon. Lindsay's lower lip trembled as she found Cassiopeia, and then the North Star, the constellation of Cygnus, and the glowing light orange star called Arcturus.

  The night on board La Mouette when Ryan had shown her the stars seemed months rather than weeks ago. How far they had come since then... until she undid it all with her folly. Wishing that she could go back to the moment when Ryan had asked her parents for her hand in marriage, Lindsay glimpsed the arc of a falling star. The voice of her grandmother returned to warn that shooting stars were the smoke of sin, and she felt more frightened than ever.

  What if Ryan never forgave her?

  * * *

  The dawn sky was streaked with peach and rose when Ryan's eyes opened. The first thing he saw were curls that matched the sunrise spilling across his chest. Lindsay's delicate nose was pressed to the hard curve of his shoulder, and her fingers were splayed in the crisp hair on his chest. Instinctive tender emotions were cut off, however, when he remembered where they were and the fact that Lindsay had gone too far with her latest masquerade.

  Still, the sight of the dark smudges under her eyes and the tearstreaks on her cheeks made him sigh inwardly, if only for an instant. Then he steeled himself.

  "Wake up."

  Lindsay nuzzled closer, then opened her eyes suddenly and rolled away from him almost as if she were frightened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "To touch me? Never mind." His tone was caustic. "That's the least of your transgressions, Miss Raveneau. Get up now and get dressed. We have a very long day ahead of us. I mean to reach Exeter, at the very least, and I expect you to keep pace."

  * * *

  Coleraine continued to treat Lindsay with an icy courtesy that bordered on rudeness. Today, he did not ride ahead, leaving her to guess his route and catch up, but whenever her mare began to lag behind, he shot her a look of darkest rage. Each time they stopped, she stayed in the yard to water and rest the horses while he went into the inn. Ryan always saw to it that Lindsay had access to the facilities and enough food and water, but his stormy expression indicated that he was counting every minute she cost him, and Lindsay was too proud to allow that tally to grow beyond what was absolutely necessary. Besides, she only pretended to eat, stuffing the food into her pockets when he wasn't looking. The mere thought of food turned her stomach.

  Over and over again, as her fatigue and despair mounted apace, she wondered what had possessed her to try Ryan's patience so sorely. He had forgiven her so many escapades and loved her so unreservedly that she had begun to think that his capitulation would be inevitable. She saw now that she had acted far too rashly. When she'd heard him speak to Able Barker about needing a groom, the smell of adventure had whetted her appetite almost irrationally. Lindsay couldn't bear the thought of being separated from Ryan, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to share not only a fabulous adventure but also long hours alone, away from the prying eyes of her family and London society.

  Only now did she realize, all too painfully, that her decision to proceed without consulting Ryan had been dangerously foolish. Every time she dared to glance at his proud, angry profile, tears stung her eyes. With his raven hair blowing in the wind and his buckskin-sheathed thighs flexing against Simon's sides, Ryan had never looked more splendid—or less attainable. As her own body weakened from sheer exhaustion, she began to believe that he was lost to her forever.

  Lindsay's despair was such that she barely noticed the unseasonable chill in the air. By late afternoon, when they were a few miles outside of the village of Combe St. Nicholas, soot-colored clouds were racing across the sky. Pulling up his coat collar, Ryan instinctively looke
d back at Lindsay.

  "Are you warm enough?" he called gruffly.

  Although she felt chilled, Lindsay nodded, afraid to speak. Then, as the clouds overhead seemed to pause, swelling and darkening, a deafening clap of thunder sent both horses rearing back fearfully.

  "Damn," muttered Ryan, "this is all I need." He looked over at Lindsay almost as if he assumed that she must be responsible. "We'll have to ride like hell for the village to beat the storm."

  She nodded obediently and dug her knees into the mare's sides, and the horses and riders galloped over the darkening, hilly road. Raindrops began to spatter them, but Lindsay barely noticed. All she cared about was keeping pace with Ryan and Simon. Even when her hat blew off, freeing her hair, and the rain gradually soaked each strand, plastering them to her head and face, Lindsay refused to think of it. The rain intensified until it took all her concentration to keep Ryan and Simon in sight. Her clothes were soaked, the raindrops felt like needles against her face, and she was shivering from head to toe as she rode, yet she would have rather died than call out to Ryan.

  Long minutes later, Ryan reined Simon in before a tiny alehouse called the Plough and Sail. Wiping his face with his fingers, he turned in the saddle to check on Lindsay. The mare was trotting up to them while her mistress rode with both arms wrapped around the horse's dappled neck. Rainwater streamed from Lindsay's hair and her half-closed eyes were glazed with fatigue and cold.

  "Oh, God," Ryan uttered in stricken tones. In an instant, he vaulted from Simon's back to the muddy ground and reached up to catch Lindsay in his arms. To the approaching stableboy, he shouted, "Take care of these horses! We'll be staying the night. See to it that they're fed and kept warm and dry!"

  Through a haze of cold, shivering misery, Lindsay was vaguely conscious of Ryan cradling her in his arms as he made his way toward the alehouse. If she had been able, she would have smiled.

  * * *

  "This is just an alehouse, not a proper inn!" cried the proprietor, a mountainous, red-faced man called Sedgwick. "We only let two rooms and they're both taken!"

  Ryan was seated on a bench against one scarred stone wall and Lindsay occupied his lap. Her face was pressed to the curve where his neck and shoulder joined. "Look here, sir, I'll be happy to pay you handsomely if you can provide lodgings for my wife and me. Can't you see she's ill? I couldn't possibly take her back out into that storm."

  "Don't see why you had her out on a horse rather than in a closed stage, but then you didn't ask me, did you?"

  Mrs. Sedgwick came scurrying across the taproom with two mugs of steaming tea laced with brandy and cinnamon. "Poor lass!" she cried over the noise of the storm. "Can you drink a little of this, Mrs...."

  "Coleraine," Ryan supplied.

  A certain note of tenderness in his voice roused her. Still shivering in Ryan's arms, Lindsay reached for the mug and sipped tentatively. It seemed to be more brandy than tea, but it certainly warmed her. Slowly, as she drank, her shivering ceased.

  "This little lass is going to have a hot bath and a warm bed tonight!" Mrs. Sedgwick declared, ignoring her husband. "My sister and her family have a nice, cozy cottage next door. They're away in Plymouth for the whole of June. You can stay there."

  "That's very kind of you," Ryan said.

  "The pair of you stay right there while I run over and put some supper on and some water to heat for a bath." She glanced at her husband. "You come along and light a fire."

  By the time the Sedgwicks returned, Lindsay was feeling greatly restored. Ryan didn't talk to her, but he did keep one arm curved around her and the angry stiffness was gone from his body. For her part, she drank her "tea" and enjoyed the glow that spread over her. When Mrs. Sedgwick reappeared, her mobcap slightly askew, Lindsay was on the verge of dozing off.

  "Everything's ready for you, and your horses are being looked after, too. Can you walk, Mrs. Coleraine?"

  "I think so." She gave the old woman a slightly woozy smile. "You're very kind!"

  Ryan helped her to her feet and kept one arm around her waist for support as they exited through the back door and followed the Sedgwicks' directions through the rain to a half-timbered cottage with golden light at each window.

  * * *

  "Feeling better?"

  Lindsay looked up in the act of swallowing the last spoonful of oxtail soup to see Ryan pour another bucket of steaming water into the tub before the fireplace. "I was hungry."

  He inclined his dark head toward her coat, which hung on a peg by the door. "I can see why after peeking inside those pockets. No wonder you were so weak."

  Lowering her lashes under his regard, she murmured, "I wasn't feeling quite the thing today."

  Ryan's eyes closed for a moment. "Well." His relieved tone was husky with emotion. "I'm glad that you're better. After a hot bath and a good night's sleep, you should be your old self tomorrow."

  "An incurable termagant?"

  "I'd settle for a brat," Ryan replied softly.

  "Oh, oh..." Lindsay rose shakily and walked into his arms, weeping. "I thought I'd never hear you call me that again!"

  "Shh, angel." He stroked her damp hair and found that his own hands were trembling. "I was a beast. Have you any idea how I felt when I saw you, soaking wet and faint, clinging to that mare's neck? I deserve to be shot for the way I treated you today!"

  "No, you were absolutely right! I was very, very bad to ignore all that you said to me in London. It was terribly selfish and foolish of me, and I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again!"

  Suddenly, in the midst of their mutual apologies, their eyes met and they began to laugh, clinging to each other. Then Ryan was kissing Lindsay and stripping off her clothes.

  "I think we've said enough for now. Let's have that bath before it gets cold."

  Lindsay's eyes sparkled with delight. "You're coming in with me?" Then she blushed as his dark fingers opened her shirt, baring her creamy, rose-tipped breasts.

  Ryan covered them with his palms. "You're so cold, angel. Come on." With that, he unfastened her breeches and stripped them away. Sensing Lindsay's shyness, he tried not to look but lifted her up and gently placed her in the tub.

  "Oh, my!" She gasped. "It feels wonderful. Is there soap?" Accepting the bar he handed her, she concentrated on lathering her arms and tried not to stare as Ryan undressed.

  Still, it was impossible to ignore the bronzed, sculpted beauty of his physique. His legs were long and solid with muscle, his chest hard and tapering. Lindsay tried not to see what was in between. Her face was burning as he eased into the bathtub opposite her, but Ryan held out his arms.

  "Come here, angel."

  Her embarrassment melted away under the heat of his love. Even the sensation of his manhood against her belly as she leaned against him felt endearing somehow. "Oh, Ryan, I've missed you so!" Suddenly, she began to cry.

  "Oh, God, please don't!" he begged. "I feel guilty enough as it is." Lifting her face to his lips, he tasted salty tears. "Lindsay, my darling, you know that I would rather die than cause you distress, but—" He shook his head. "I was so angry."

  "I deserved to be taught a lesson," she insisted, gulping back her sobs. "You were absolutely right, Ryan! I thought about it a great deal today, when I feared that you didn't love me anymore, and I don't intend to forget it. If you had chuckled and forgiven me when I revealed myself to you last night, I don't doubt that I would have been completely incorrigible for the duration of our marriage!" Seeing his sudden white grin, she laughed herself and paused to kiss him. "It's true. Since meeting you in Pettipauge, I've come out of myself to a remarkable degree. I've always been very confident, but since my best friends were books, I was unschooled when it came to people. You've always known that, yet you learned to love me, anyway. That took a tremendous leap of faith on your part!"

  "It wasn't conscious, I assure you. I simply fell in love with you, Lindsay." His strong arms slid around her back in the water, lifting her up so that their eyes m
et. For an instant, his dark head dipped and he kissed the wet curve of her breast, then came up to smile into her eyes. "Do you want me to be honest?"

  She winced slightly. "Of course!"

  "I love you more than my own life, angel, but that doesn't mean I love everything that you do. That's natural, isn't it? I'm certain there must be things that I do that rub you the wrong way, too."

  She nodded with certainty while trying to remember even one of his flaws.

  "When I realized that I loved you and then, later, that I wanted to spend my life with you, I also had to realize that I couldn't expect to change you—"

  "Are there a lot of things I do that bother you?" Lindsay interrupted.

  "Of course not!" He laughed. "I'm speaking of this contrary streak you have. You demanded to know the other night whether I intend to be your master, and today I had to think about that. It would be a crime to try to master a woman of your rare spirit, but at the same time we will have to work out a partnership that involves compromise and, above all, honesty."

  She pressed her nose to his broad, wet shoulder. "I know. You're absolutely right! Today I learned my lesson."

  "And I learned mine. Now, let's have our bath." Ryan searched for the soap in the water, teasing her with his fingertips in the process.

  Lindsay was nearly dizzy with happiness. Staring at his splendid face, which had been so harsh and forbidding all day long, she felt overcome with love. "Can we hurry? I want to go to bed!"

  His right brow curved upward suggestively. "Tired? Be patient. We'll tuck you up very soon."

  Running slim hands over Ryan's shoulders and down the muscled contours of his chest, Lindsay smiled, catlike, "Oh, good. I can't wait...."

  Chapter 33

  Jane 27-29, 1814

  Firelight burnished each strand of Lindsay's hair as Ryan brushed it; some were coppery, some gold, and some a soft shade of apricot. She sat in front of him, clad only in a clean, unbuttoned shirt, her head lolling in complete relaxation.

  For Ryan's part, desire grew with each passing minute. Why did females have to wear their hair long, so impossibly long? It seemed to take hours for it to dry! Sliding his hand around the back of her neck, Ryan pushed upward with splayed fingers and was relieved to find that her beautiful curls at last felt dry to the touch.