"But what about your island?"
"Devil take that island. I never want to see the place again. I've arranged to free Captain Longheart and his ship—sans cargo, of course—on the condition that he picks up Eugenie en route. Also, I wrote a letter this morning asking Cook, Hermann, and Elsa to come staff our new home. I see no reason to leave any more than a handful of servants on the island, and those only to keep the place from rotting away."
"Oh, Andre, do you mean it? How wonderful! I cannot absorb such news! Elsa! Cook! A house of our own!"
"I thought we three might take a short honeymoon along the coast, looking for the ideal spot. I'd like a large place with sunny rooms and a great library, a few dozen acres with woods, and a stable for horses. What do you think?"
"I am numb."
"I only need to be near a good harbor. The privateering business will end with the war, and I want to lay the groundwork for the China trade. I don't plan to sail on every voyage, now that I have other responsibilities, but I'll admit the excitement of it is already in my blood."
Devon stiffened. She could feel the pain of separation even now; the long months alone at home with Mouette, waiting and watching, while Raveneau tasted adventure and explored new oceans and lands.
"Why do you draw away from me?" he whispered, kissing her hair.
Devon pulled free and reached for her chemise, yanking it over her head. "I am cold. We must be getting back. Mouette—"
"Devon, look at me." When she resisted, he gripped her small chin and turned it angrily. "Faithless tears! I never want to see them again. Do you think so little of me? Do you imagine I could ever leave you behind? I need you, petite chatte, and I need our daughter as well. You have already proved to me your seaworthiness. In fact, you have been a true asset to my crew. If you will say yes, I would be honored to count you as one of my officers from this day forward."
She wept and laughed at the same time, while Raveneau dressed. She was still fumbling happily with her own fastenings when he pulled on his boots and stood up.
"Silly chit," he admonished. "Never doubt me again."
With deft expertise, he hooked her gown and watched as she put on her silk slippers. Devon beamed when Raveneau smoothed back her flame-gold curls, purposely neglecting to remove the crumpled leaf that peeked from one side.
"Our daughter awaits," he said sternly, but his lips twitched in a loving smile. Devon stood on tiptoe to kiss her husband, then took his arm and lifted her rumpled skirts as they walked off through the twilight toward New London.
The End
***~~~***
Excerpt from
Surrender the Stars
The Author's Cut Edition
Raveneau Novel #2
by
Cynthia Wright
***~~~***
It's the spring of 1814 and the War of 1812 is in progress. Andre and Devon Raveneau live on the coast of Connecticut with their bluestocking daughter, Lindsay. Andre still owns ships, one of which is captained by Ryan Coleraine, a rakish Irishman. The book's prologue finds the elder Raveneaus in Philadelphia, meeting with old friends who want to persuade the Raveneau family to go to Regency England on a mission for the president, with Coleraine taking the place of their son Nathan who is in the West Indies. Part One opens in Connecticut, where Ryan Coleraine's ship, the Chimera, has just docked.
***~~~***
Descending the Chimera's gangplank, Ryan Coleraine set foot on American soil for the first time in one hundred days and smiled. Behind him, the privateer he commanded swayed at anchor alongside other proud ships lining the Point. Painted pale yellow, with a blue stripe between the wales, the sleek brigantine basked in the spring sunlight as sailors scurried over her decks and up the ratlines, unloading cargo and securing the lines.
"Are you off to the Griswold Inn for a drink, Captain?" inquired Drew, the Chimera's first mate, as he set a crate of rum on the wharf.
Coleraine gazed distractedly out over the glittering Connecticut River. "Not just yet. I have to report to Captain Raveneau first on the success of our voyage." He gave the young man a smile then. "When you and the others are finished here, come along to the Gris and I'll buy you all a round."
"Thank you, sir! I can taste it already!"
Ryan's progress up Main Street was slow as various residents of Pettipauge stopped to welcome him home. The greeting jarred a bit, for Coleraine was there so little that he'd never felt that this was his home. He was more at ease on board the Chimera, surrounded by a sweep of ocean, than here on this street lined with clean white houses and shops, budding oaks and rows of sunny daffodils.
Young women turned to stare as the privateer captain passed by, but he was too preoccupied to notice. At thirty-one, Ryan Coleraine was shockingly attractive. Tall, lean, and strong, he was blessed with shining, crisp black hair that curled against the back of his neck, brilliant blue eyes, chiseled features that were somehow accentuated by his closely trimmed beard, and a devastating smile. Today he wore a white shirt, a simple, snowy cravat, a blue-gray waistcoat with a thin charcoal stripe, gray breeches that skimmed his long, hard thighs, and black knee boots. In his left hand, he casually held a midnight-blue coat.
Approaching the Raveneau house, he considered what he wished to say to the man who had been his mentor since his arrival in Pettipauge nine years ago. Ryan had worked long and hard, earning Raveneau's trust and saving his money. Now he was ready to strike out on his own. He wanted to buy the Chimera, which he had designed and christened himself. How would Raveneau react?
The large Georgian house owned by the Raveneau family had been built on the right side of Main Street within sight of the ship-lined Point. Painted a warm, light yellow, in contrast to its white neighbors, the home seemed to exude contentment. Square boxwood hedges marked the boundaries of the corner yard, while budding elms arched before beds of jewel like crocus and narcissus. Ryan thought that the house's windows made the inviting picture complete: green shutters framed open sashes and clean, fluttering curtains. It was hard for him to believe that when Raveneau was Coleraine's age, he, too, had called the sea his home and had been a confirmed rogue and womanizer.
Able Barker, the family's tall, rawboned butler, answered Ryan's knock at the door and informed him that the Raveneaus were away in Philadelphia and that he wasn't certain when they'd return. Then, seeing the younger man's disappointment, he added, "I'll wager that Miss Lindsay would know. Why don't you stop by the schoolhouse and ask her?"
"Miss Lindsay?"
"Captain Raveneau's daughter. She's been schoolmistress since Ethan Painter went off to war. Doing a fine job of it, too. The schoolhouse is up on Pound Hill. Think you can find it?"
"I'll manage. Thank you, Able."
"Captain, how did you fare at sea?"
Coleraine's grin flashed white. "I'd say we did rather well. We took eleven prizes and our hold is well packed with rum, sugar, brandy, wine, dry goods, iron, fish, and fruit. Best of all, we lost not one man."
"Congratulations, sir! Just the sort of news Pettipauge needs to hear."
Back on Main Street, Ryan searched his memory. He couldn't recall ever meeting this mysterious daughter, but then he usually saw Andre Raveneau in the latter's office on the Point. Ryan vaguely remembered hearing that the attractive, adventurous Raveneaus had somehow produced a serious, bookish daughter, but he'd laughed at the time, dismissing the idea.
The handsome, three-story, green-shuttered Griswold Inn loomed up to his right, its open doors beckoning him to enter. Ryan longed to relax inside with his friends, to prop his booted feet on a scarred table and drink a tankard of ale, but first he had to pay a tiresome visit to Pettipauge's schoolhouse.
* * *
"I wish you would let me finish this tonight," complained Betsy Urquhart. She sat alone, surrounded by empty desks, and gazed mournfully at the figure sorting papers at the front of the schoolroom.
"If you had written your theme last night, as instructed, you wouldn't
be here now," her teacher replied without looking up.
"King Lear is so tedious." She pouted. "Besides, I thought you were my friend, Lindsay!"
"When we are in this room, I am your teacher and you must address me accordingly. Now, finish your theme so that we may both go home!"
Betsy wrote laboriously for several minutes, then said, "One would never guess that you are just two years older than I am—or that you come from such an adventurous family. I don't understand how you can be so dull—"
"I am not dull!" Lindsay answered sharply. "Simply because my relatives are afflicted with wanderlust, that does not make me dull. I choose to remain on land and pursue more serious endeavors. I enjoy teaching. Imparting knowledge to others is a great source of satisfaction to me."
"Do you never long for even a bit of adventure?" Betsy eyed her speculatively. "Or... romance? Mary Pratt told me that the Chimera is supposed to dock today. She's practically the only ship that has been able to elude that blockade of the sound, but considering her captain, it's no surprise." She paused to sigh dreamily. "I was planning to walk to the Point after school in hopes of seeing him. Surely even you must grow weak at the thought of Ryan Coleraine! I've never seen a handsomer man...."
"Don't be absurd. In the first place, the Chimera is not the first privateer to achieve such feats. My father was just as successful during the Revolutionary War, and, as you know, Papa had the Chimera built, so your precious Ryan Coleraine is in his employ!"
Betsy tossed her curls impatiently. "You haven't answered my question! Don't you find Captain Coleraine attractive?"
"We've never met, but from what I've seen, the answer is no." Lindsay shuffled her papers nervously. "His looks don't appeal to me. I prefer fair men. Aside from that, Captain Coleraine's character is, in my opinion, repugnant."
"Repugnant?" Betsy was unfamiliar with the word but sensed its meaning. "How can you say such a thing?"
"He's an uneducated, cocky, ill-mannered rogue," Lindsay stated with finality. "Take my advice and stay away from men of his ilk. They lack scruples and take pleasure in ruining the reputations of gullible females like you."
From the doorway, a male voice spoke. "Am I to infer that you don't approve of me, Miss Raveneau?"
Startled, Lindsay spun around to find Ryan Coleraine leaning against the door frame, one eyebrow arched. A smile of cynical amusement played over his mouth.
"I—I—" she stammered. Hearing Betsy's muffled giggle, she looked in her direction. "You may go now, Elizabeth."
"But what about my theme? I'm not finished yet!"
"You may finish it tonight."
As the teacher and pupil continued to argue, Coleraine's dark blue eyes wandered over Lindsay Raveneau. He was surprised to discover that she was beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than her mother. She was about twenty and taller than Devon Raveneau. Even though Lindsay wore a demure, cream-colored chemise frock and a cashmere shawl, Ryan's practiced eyes detected a lithe, long-legged body with a narrow waist and high, perfect breasts. Her hair was the same amazing rosy-gold shade as her mother's, and she wore it in a fashionable Grecian knot high atop her head, with a profusion of soft curls escaping to frame her lovely, intelligent countenance.
"Good-bye, Captain Coleraine," Betsy said as she passed him in the doorway.
Ryan looked at Lindsay. "Dare I enter? I can assure you that I have come not to ruin your reputation but to inquire after your father."
"Please, come in. I apologize for the things you heard me say about you, but you should have made your presence known instead of eavesdropping."
He approached her desk, thinking that he had never met a young lady with so cool and confident a gaze. Lindsay's eyes were striking: thick-lashed and the color of smoke. Her complexion was creamy, with smudges of pink accentuating her cheekbones, and below a delicate nose reposed a mouth with a frankly sensual lower lip. Perhaps there was hope for this bluestocking after all, he thought as his eyes lingered there, then rose to meet her questioning gaze.
"My father is in Philadelphia, Captain Coleraine."
"So I heard. It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Raveneau." Ryan extended a strong hand and gently clasped hers. "I'm sorry that you're unable to say the same."
Sensing his amusement, Lindsay strove to retain her composure. What a humiliating situation this was! "It's been a long day, Captain Coleraine, and I may have spoken rashly. Again, I beg your pardon. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to finish my work here. How can I help you?"
"I am anxious to see your father. Able Barker thought that you might know when he's returning to Pettipauge."
"Within the week. I'm sorry that I can't give you an exact date."
Coleraine shrugged, frustration further darkening his mood. "Well, then, I suppose I'll just have to wait. I appreciate your speaking to me, Miss Raveneau. I know it can't have been easy." He gave her a cool smile and turned toward the schoolhouse doorway. "Good afternoon."
When his hand touched the latch, Lindsay called, "Wait! There's something I've always wanted to know. Will you tell me how you chose the Chimera's name? I was surprised when Papa told me that you had christened her."
He glanced back over one broad shoulder. "I liked the image of a she-monster with a serpent's tail, a goat's body, and a lion's head spitting flames. I think of my ship like the chimera from Greek mythology: a magical creature with the ability to overcome all obstacles."
Lindsay lifted her chin slightly. "I wouldn't have expected you to be a student of Greek mythology, Captain."
He laughed shortly. "Believe it or not, Miss Raveneau, I don't spend every spare moment seducing unsuspecting young females!"
The door closed behind him and Lindsay found herself alone in the schoolroom, muttering rude rejoinders that she was certain she'd never have an opportunity to employ.
* * *
Misty clouds veiled the luminous, perfect crescent moon that hung suspended in a black sky. Lindsay knew that midnight had passed, yet she continued to sit at her window, gazing down at Main Street. At one end, ships, including the imposing Chimera, swayed at anchor along the Point, while at the other end, Main Street was bordered with clean white houses that shaded upward into Pound Hill.
The village was quiet now except for an occasional sailor or two emerging from the Griswold Inn. Lindsay guessed they must be from the Chimera, still celebrating their sea triumphs.
Earlier that evening, Able Barker had repeated a rumor that the Chimera would head a fleet of ships from Pettipauge that would slip into the sound in an effort to break the British blockade near New London. Able had marveled, "What an honor for Captain Coleraine! Your father certainly knew what he was doing when he gave that Irishman command of the Chimera!"
Able's wife, Cassie, was the family's housekeeper. Still pretty and buxom at fifty, she never missed an opportunity to tease her earnest husband. Lindsay sighed now, remembering how Cassie's eyes had twinkled as she rejoined, "I think the women of Pettipauge have benefited most! Ah, but it's pure pleasure to behold Ryan Coleraine! How I hope that Lindsay's parents invite him to supper when they return from Philadelphia!"
It was certainly a strong possibility, Lindsay thought, propping an elbow on the windowsill and resting her chin on her hand. She was unnerved to realize how much time she had spent this evening reviewing her meeting with Ryan Coleraine—and unconsciously spinning fantasies for the visit he would doubtless pay to her home after her parents returned. She tried to give herself the same lecture she'd delivered to Elizabeth Urquhart about the foolishness of mooning over a rake like Coleraine. Still... when he'd smiled at her with those blue eyes, female instincts Lindsay hadn't known she possessed had kindled deep inside of her. The mere thought of him sent a current of exhilaration through her heart, while her mind shouted, "Danger! Beware!"
I have to get some sleep, Lindsay thought. She was just about to turn from the window when she caught sight of a tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped figure silhouetted in moonli
ght on the street below. Lindsay didn't need to see the man's face to know that it was Ryan Coleraine. Perhaps it was the way he cocked his head ever so slightly to the right before bending to kiss the woman he held in his arms. Lindsay couldn't identify her and realized that she didn't want to. The embrace was continuing as Lindsay drew her curtains closed and turned toward the bed, her cheeks burning.
In bed, she stared at the canopy and thought, I was right the first time. The man's a tomcat. He'd turn his charm on for anything that wears skirts. Thank God I came to my senses and took his measure before I did something incredibly foolish!
* * *
Yanking off his boots in total darkness, Ryan Coleraine supposed that the hour of three must be at hand. Certainly it was the middle of the night and he was a fool to be awake. Harvey, his literate steward, would be shaking him at dawn, waving coffee under his nose and urging him to eat the plate of scones, kippers, and eggs he specially prepared for his master.
With a moan, Ryan threw himself down on his moonlit bunk. Muscles flexed over his hard, tapering chest as he crossed both arms over his eyes, too tired even to remove the ever-present books that poked his side and the sole of his left foot.
The woman's scent lingered on his skin. Frowning, Coleraine removed his arms from the vicinity of his face. He wasn't proud of what he'd done tonight; he wasn't even certain of the woman's name. Kathryn? Kathleen? They'd just met that evening. Her husband had been killed at Fort Erie and she'd been alone ever since. Ryan supposed that Kathryn (Kathleen?) and he had come together out of mutual need, and the woman was certainly an adult, but he'd seen the familiar softening in her eyes when she looked at him, heard the note of joy in her voice, and, as always, he felt unsettling twinges of guilt. Now it would be necessary to avoid her, for Ryan certainly had no intention of using the woman on a regular basis. If his mother were still alive, she'd label him a sinner, but that wasn't quite true. At least he told himself so late at night when sleep wouldn't come. Ryan never took a woman who wasn't willing, and he backed away instantly if he sensed that she hoped for love. He hadn't been raised to break women's hearts, but at the same time he had no wish to marry and believed celibacy a sacrifice for saints. Nights with women like Kathryn (Kathleen?) were inevitable.
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