Surrender the Stars
Page 38
"Who's that?" Ryan demanded. "Not a spurned suitor from Pettipauge, I hope!"
The dark-haired man had turned from the Raveneaus and was walking toward the balloon, beaming. In wonderment, Lindsay exclaimed, "It's Nathan! My brother!"
"Wait, you can't get out, angel." Ryan put an arm around her. "They're ready to loose us from the moorings. Let him come to us."
Nathan Raveneau approached the boat, his blue eyes twinkling, and hugged his sister so hard she gasped, laughing. "Lindsay, what's going on?" he exclaimed. "I went to Grosvenor Square last night, not even knowing all of you were in London, and the Butters regaled me with a tale so incredible I was certain they were pulling my leg! Have you really gotten married? The sister I left in Connecticut last fall wouldn't even bat her eyelashes at a man!"
"Oh, Nathan, it's simply wonderful to see you! So much has happened since you left. This is Captain Ryan Coleraine, my husband!" She beamed as the two men shook hands.
"It's good to see you again, Ryan," Nathan said with a grin. "Welcome to the family."
"Thank you, Nathan." He looked down at Lindsay. "Your brother and I are already acquainted, although we were rarely in Pettipauge at the same time."
"How silly of me. Of course you must know each other. I never thought about it! Nathan, Ryan has been impersonating you these past few weeks. How fortuitous that you didn't appear before today! What would we have done?"
Coleraine smiled at the younger man. "I'm afraid that you may discover that you already have a reputation of sorts in London!"
Leaning forward, Lindsay gave her handsome brother another hug. "Mama and Papa will have to explain it all to you. I'll be back from Paris in a few weeks, but at the moment I'm afraid we must be off!"
"So I see..." Nathan kissed her cheek, then returned to join the rest of his family outside the enclosure.
The balloon was released from its moorings as Ryan expertly operated the cord attached to the valve that controlled their ascent. Fearlessly, Lindsay laughed with delight and waved to the crowd as the balloon rose slowly into the sky.
Soon, their family and friends were dots against the green expanse of Christ Church meadow. The wind was with them as they sailed over the dreaming spires of Oxford and the surrounding countryside, following the River Thames as it wound southward.
Lindsay leaned back against Ryan, loving the feel of his strong arms around her waist. They looked down as they floated over softly rolling countryside dotted with sheep and stone farmhouses and roads winding throughout like golden ribbons.
"This is the happiest moment of my life," Lindsay announced.
Ryan leaned around to kiss her, touching her tongue with his, then drew back to smile and to arch a suggestive eyebrow. "So far, you mean!"
Lindsay's heart swelled as she tasted him on her lips and considered that prospect. "Oh, my..."
The End
Author's Note
The town of Essex, Connecticut, one of the jewels of New England, was not called Essex until 1854. In 1814, it was still known by its Indian name, Pettipauge (or Potapaug or Patapoug). Today, visitors to Essex will find the village much the same as I have described it in the pages of this book. Although I have moved from Connecticut to California, I love to visit Essex and spend a long, joyous evening at the Griswold Inn.
Another of my favorite places is the Turf Tavern in Oxford, England. When Ryan and Lindsay visited, it was known as the Spotted Cow. Visitors today can still reach this seven-century-old pub through a maze of twisting alleyways that seem to lead one back in time.
I hope that all of you enjoy reading Surrender the Stars as much as I enjoyed researching and writing it!
I'm having a ball this year, revisiting my characters from the past as I edit my backlist titles for release as eBooks. It was a joy to go straight from Andre & Devon's story in Silver Storm to Ryan & Lindsay's! Next, I'll be spending time with Nathan Raveneau in Silver Sea (previously titled Barbados). It's a wonderful tale set in Regency England and the West Indies, filled with humor, intrigue, swashbuckling, adventure, and – of course, romance!
Places and times may change but, thankfully, the common theme of a man and a woman growing through love is universal.
All my best,
Cynthia Wright, August 2011
Excerpt from
Caroline
Special Author's Cut Edition
Beauvisage Novel #1
by
Cynthia Wright
Chapter 1
One could hardly imagine a more perfect October day, for the autumn of 1783 had painted the Connecticut landscape in her most glorious colors. The low mountains were a riot of flaming oranges, reds, and yellows which contrasted sharply with the clear azure of the sky. The air had a clean chill to it, and Alexandre Beauvisage, winding his way between the trees astride a handsome stallion, felt very good indeed. He had been brimming with a rich euphoria for over a month now—ever since the final Peace Treaty had been signed in Paris. The last eight years of war had been long but victory made all the bloodshed and tragedy seem worthwhile. The cost of freedom had been high, but that shining prize belonged to America at last.
Granted, it had been two years since the British had laid down their arms to General Washington at Yorktown. Only the most sporadic fighting had occurred since then, and the majority of the American soldiers had been able to go home to their families long ago.
Alec grimaced when he thought back over his own life during the past two years. All through the Revolutionary War, he had only occasionally played the part of soldier; his had been a unique role tailored especially to his talents and background. He had been a mixture of spy and scout, given the trickiest and usually the most dangerous assignments. After Yorktown, Alec had been able to return to his home and business at intervals, but just as he would settle back into a normal pattern of life his services would be needed again.
"We simply can't trust anyone else to carry off this plan without being detected, Beauvisage. You are a master!" the officer in charge would declare. Alec had to admit that despite the terrible aspects of war, there was a certain thrill in the role he played. He had roamed the swamps of South Carolina with Frances Marion, captained a sleek privateer, and drunk cognac with Washington and Lafayette on the banks of the Hudson. He had been required to put his ingenuity and intelligence to full use, and the constant danger had been stimulating. Perhaps the return to full-time everyday life would prove boring?
A bright patch of color beneath a tree at the side of the trail caught Alec's attention, rousing him from his reverie. Gently, he brought his horse, Ivan, to a stop and dismounted, walking back to investigate. It appeared to be a packet of garments drawn hastily together inside a piece of bottle-green silk. He hunkered down among the crisp leaves, preparing to open the bundle, when a soft moan rose from the trees to his left. His head came up, instantly alert, and then he was off as lightly as a cat in the direction of the noise. Soon he spotted its source—a small form lying at the foot of an oak tree about twenty-five feet away. Cautiously, Alec drew a pistol from his belt and moved forward. From a distance, he perceived the figure to be that of a young boy, clad in ill-fitting gray breeches, a loose white work smock, and a green tricorn hat that seemed to cover his entire head. Drawing alongside the boy, he replaced his pistol and knelt down beside the still form. His dark brows came together at the sight of two suspicious shapes outlined against the loose shirt. Tentatively, Alec placed a hand over one of the mounds, which proved beyond a doubt to be a beautifully formed breast.
"What the hell?" he muttered in bewilderment while drawing the green hat off. Lustrous honey-colored hair spilled out over the rusty leaves and Alec let out a low whistle as he bent over the girl's face. She looked little more than eighteen, and for a moment he felt that he must be dreaming. The girl had the face of an angel. Her eyes were fringed by long lashes that brushed her creamy skin. Alec's gaze took in her tiny nose, and came to rest on appealing lips. Gently, he raised her head an
d cradled it in his arms. Almost instinctively, he tipped her chin up with his forefinger and covered her mouth with his own.
When he felt her lips move gently in response, he drew back, thinking, Who do you think you are, Beauvisage—a damned Prince Charming? Involuntarily, his mouth twisted in a smile of cynical amusement. What do you suppose I've got myself into this time? he wondered, and grinned in spite of himself.
* * *
The girl felt as if she was gliding down to earth from a great height, and seemed to touch ground with only the smallest jolt. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up into a most remarkable face. It was brown and lean, framed by shining raven-black hair drawn casually back and tied at the neck. The man wore a short beard, but it failed to disguise his charming half-smile or the contrast of his gleaming white teeth with tanned skin. Above a straight nose sparkled eyes of an amazing turquoise color which held her own almost against her will. As she became more fully conscious she realized that she felt no fear, although he held her in his arms and his muscles were hard against her cheek.
Alec, for his part, found himself looking into warm caramel-brown eyes flecked with gold. The girl was simply exquisite!
"M'lady, I would, be extremely gratified if you could attempt to explain your presence here. I must confess to a curiosity that grows stronger by the minute!"
As the girl struggled to sit up, Alec braced her with his arm. Gingerly, she raised her hand to touch what proved to be a large lump. Alec gently parted her glossy hair and looked closely at the swollen area. His forehead creased at the sight of the nasty bump and a patch of dried blood.
"Tell me now, what has happened here? What is your name and where do you come from?" His deep voice had grown sharp with concern.
The girl covered her eyes as though collecting her thoughts. Then, slowly, she drew her hand away, her eyes brimming with sudden tears.
"Oh, sir—I don't seem to be able to remember! I cannot recall a thing—not even my own name!"
* * *
Several minutes of questioning brought Alec no closer to the truth. He surmised that the girl had probably been riding and caught her head on a low-hanging branch. Perhaps something had frightened the horse, causing her to lose control. At any rate, the steed was gone, and Alec was left with an injured woman-child dressed in boys' clothing who had no memory of her past.
He had propped her up against a tree trunk and was pacing through the dry leaves. The girl was alternately investigating the contents of the green silk bundle and watching Alec stride to and fro. He moved with a natural grace and suppressed strength that were easy to admire. His fawn-colored breeches were close-fitting and showed the play of muscles in his lean thighs with each step he took. Leather boots, softly shining, rose to his knees, and a linen shirt split halfway down the front to reveal a hard brown chest.
Suddenly the girl's soft voice broke the rhythm of Alec's rustling stride through the leaves.
"Sir, you wouldn't be a pirate by chance, would you? Perhaps you're ashore to bury your treasure...?"
He threw back his head and laughed with pure delight.
"Why do you ask that, pray tell?"
"You look the way I suppose pirates must look. Quite swashbuckling and adventurous, really. Rather unscrupulous, too." She found him grinning at her and blushed. "I'm sorry about that last. It wasn't a very nice thing to say, was it?"
Alec strolled over to drop down beside her and clasped one soft hand between his strong ones.
"Think nothing of it. I admire your candor and I must confess that I laugh in part because you hit quite near the truth. My father was indeed a pirate—a French buccaneer of the first water. If the war had not intervened, perhaps I would have followed in his footsteps!" Alec's smile held a hint of mockery, but there was warmth in his eyes. They darkened, however, as the problem at hand returned to his thoughts. Gesturing at the clothes which lay on the piece of green silk, he asked:
"You don't see anything there that sparks your memory?" He had already been through the bundle himself, but found little that looked informative. There was another simple white smock, one of the loose shirts worn by Colonial men as part of their working attire. Also inside the bundle were a few items of well-made underclothing, a lacy fichu, and some dainty shoes. Lastly, there was a lovely gown, simple but pretty, the color of buttercups and trimmed in lace. Inside of it were wrapped a fine china hairbrush, two satin ribbons, and a bar of jasmine-scented soap.
The girl looked up at Alec and shook her head in bewilderment.
"I cannot place a thing. This is all so confusing—and frightening! Sir, what will you do with me?" Her brown eyes were wide and her tiny chin trembled. Alec reached out and gathered her into his arms. Although he was uncomfortably conscious of two ripe breasts pressing firmly against his chest, he managed to restrain himself so that he only stroked her hair in a brotherly fashion.
"What did you imagine I would do—leave you here alone in the woods? I may look unscrupulous, but I believe that you will find I have a definite streak of decency! You shall come with me back to my home and we'll find out who you are. In the meantime, perhaps you'll recover your memory."
Impulsively, she hugged him, and Alec could smell the sweetness of clover in her rich hair. Her voice was warm with excitement in his ear:
"You would do that for me? How shall I ever thank you?"
He could think of a few ways, but feared that none of them would meet with her approval. He could not resist smiling to himself as the girl loosened her grasp on him to look up and ask:
"Could you please tell me your name? And what shall mine be?"
"Ah, yes! Forgive me for neglecting to introduce myself. I am known as Alexandre Beauvisage, but you must call me Alec. As for your own name, I think it should be your choice."
A smile lit her face, revealing deep dimples. "What fun—being able to choose one's own name! And yours, sir, is wonderful and most fitting. 'Handsome face'!"
He colored beneath his beard and bit his lip. "Yes, unfortunately, that is the meaning. A constant source of embarrassment to me, I assure you."
"But why? Certainly it is perfect for you! It would only prove embarrassing if you were a homely man, I should think!"
Alec relaxed and was chuckling softly when a sudden realization struck him.
“You must have some education in the French language. You know, that's no small accomplishment for a female, especially one who has grown up during a time of war in a relatively undeveloped country. You must have come from a good family...." His voice trailed off and he frowned. "Why, I wonder, were you running away?"
"Do you think that is what I was doing?"
"My dear, that is the only reasonable conclusion I can draw from this rather inexpert disguise. Also, you were more than a little off the main road. To be precise, you were miles from the nearest house. I can't imagine what you were planning to do before you had this accident, and I feel certain that you were well on your way to being hopelessly lost." He paused. "I suspect that you were running away in great haste from someone or something. Your belongings were quickly assembled... and you were taking an escape route to which you could not have given much thought. As a matter of fact, you must have deliberately crossed over the Boston Post Road some miles back."
He glanced over at the girl next to him only to find her in perfect profile, staring dreamily into space. He lifted one honey-colored curl from her shoulder and teasingly flicked it across her tilted nose. His voice held a note of ironic amusement.
"You do wonders for a man's ego. I can see that you hold my brilliant conversation in high esteem!"
"Oh—sir—please do not be offended!" Relief spread across her face at the sight of his flickering. "You are teasing me! I am glad you’re not angry, because I was daydreaming for a good reason. My name! To me it is so important, and I hope you'll approve of my choice." She moved closer to him and paused dramatically. "It is... Caroline. Don't you think that is the loveliest-sounding name?"
"I believe that you have chosen the most beautiful name in existence, little Caro."
Twilight gathered quickly, and Caroline did not notice the approaching darkness until she felt a chill in the air. She and Alec were both astride the black stallion, Ivan, who was patiently making his way through the trees. Caroline sat in front of Alec, who held her securely around her petite waist. His nearness unnerved her, and during all the hours they had been riding she had found it difficult to think—and heaven knew she had plenty to think about! She realized that the discomfort she felt wasn't because he repulsed her; instead, it seemed that all her senses were full of him. His arm was strong and her skin seemed to tingle beneath it. She would watch his brown hand holding the reins, and find herself fascinated by its deft movements. She was leaning into his broad chest and his chin brushed the top of her head. She thought he smelled wonderful.
Riding into a clearing, Alec brought Ivan to a stand-still and Caroline came back down to earth.
"Well," he inquired lightly, "how does this strike you as an inn? Ceilings of tree branches and carpets of leaves are the latest fashion, I'm told."