Surrender the Stars Read online

  Striding up behind her, Ryan lightly took her arm. "Either the whiskey or those breeches have gone to your head," he murmured ironically. "Your behavior is that of a hot-headed fifteen-year-old boy, and you believe you can get by with it because it's obvious that you are not a boy. However, before the story begins to spread that Schoolmistress Raveneau has gone mad, I think we should take you home. No doubt a hot bath, some sleep and a maidenly frock will work wonders."

  Lindsay jerked her arm away. "I'm going to the Griswold Inn to see for myself what's going on."

  "I think not."

  "Think whatever you like, but leave me alone." She pivoted away and started up Main Street. Marching along, Lindsay decided that she liked walking in breeches.

  Only the memory of Andre Raveneau and all he'd done for him over the years kept Ryan from leaving Lindsay to fend for herself. He told himself that she was upset and exhausted, that she must be defending the Raveneau honor in the absence of its men. Lindsay had seemed poised and mature during their meeting the previous afternoon, but in fact she was probably a dozen years his junior. It was a situation that called for patience.

  Drawing alongside, Ryan attempted to appeal to her pride. "Lindsay, the whole town will be outside the inn. Do you want them to see you like that?"

  "It's none of your concern," she replied coldly, staring straight ahead. The fact that she could not walk faster than he made her furious.

  Ryan rubbed his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger, thinking, The hell with it! I'll stay close, in case the little hellion goes berserk, but no more. It's Raveneau's own fault for not hiring a keeper for his daughter when he left town.

  An almost macabre cloud of excitement hung over Main Street's budding trees, handsome houses, and neat shops. People were everywhere, their voices high-pitched in the dawn light. Grumbling men, whispering women, and shouting children crowded near the Griswold Inn where ranks of British marines stood in silent contrast to the conquered Americans.

  Ryan followed Lindsay as she sought a place as close to the inn as possible. He was relieved to see that no one seemed to recognize her, or if they did, they were too preoccupied to care.

  "Captain Coleraine!" a shopkeeper exclaimed in his ear. "What's happened? What do these cursed redcoats mean to do?"

  The sound of Ryan's name prompted others to crane their necks in the crush. In the absence of Andre Raveneau, they all hoped his celebrated protégé might perform a miracle and dispose of the British or at least reassure them that this was some kind of mistake.

  "I know little more than any of you," Ryan said grimly. "That's why I'm here. We'll just have to see what—" He broke off in relief at the sight of a British officer mounting the steps of the Griswold Inn.

  Above the crowd, the young officer cleared his throat and unfurled a sheet of parchment. "I am Lieutenant Lloyd and I am here to read a message from Captain Coote, the officer in command." The stilted proclamation announced that the British intended only to destroy shipping. No harm would befall the local residents unless there was resistance, in which case the torch would be put to the entire town. Seagoing ships would be warped out into the river to be burned, while vessels under construction would be torched in the yards. Marines who were not employed in the destruction of the ships would seize supplies from the naval stores to be loaded on two ships that the British intended to spare and take with them when they left Pettipauge. Captain Coote had chosen the Young Anaconda and The Eagle, both privateers. "We mean you no harm and appreciate your cooperation in ending this episode as speedily as possible," Lieutenant Lloyd declared in closing.

  Murmurs swept through the crowd. Lindsay exclaimed, "I don't believe it! Isn't anyone going to stand up for our rights?"

  "What rights?" Ryan said tersely. "This is a war. We're the enemy. Haven't you heard accounts of the raids on towns farther down the coastline? Our fate could be much worse."

  Lindsay fell silent at that, remembering the stories her mother had told of the British attack on New London during the Revolutionary War. It had been a nightmare. Still, Lindsay was in no mood to thank these redcoats for only burning her father's ships and refraining from destroying the town and raping its women. She couldn't believe her eyes when she spied Charles Jones approaching the British soldiers with a tray laden with glasses and rum. Was this going to turn into some sort of celebration?

  "Fool," Coleraine muttered.

  Even as he spoke, a red-coated officer swung his musket across the tray, smashing the bottle and glasses. "Do not think that you can tempt us with liquor!" he declared.

  Lindsay jumped off the ground, her eyes flashing. "Brute!" she managed to scream before a strong hand covered her mouth and its mate clenched her waist. For the second time in four hours, she found herself being forcibly hauled away by the detestable Ryan Coleraine.

  Much later, Lindsay would see the humor in a small incident that occurred as Ryan was dragging her out of the crowd. Lindsay was too busy trying to twist around and pummel Ryan's face to notice Able and Cassie Barker standing on the edge of the throng, but Cassie recognized her in spite of the breeches and the fact that half her face was obscured by a large, sun-bronzed hand.

  "Why, Lindsay!" Cassie exclaimed. "There you are! I thought you must have gone in to school early to grade examinations! Goodness, why are you wearing Nathan's old breeches?" Eliciting no response except some wild flailing of Lindsay's arms and a rakish you-know-how-women-are shrug from Ryan, Cassie tried another tack. "You didn't tell me that you and Captain Coleraine were acquainted!"

  Ryan laughed out loud at that, nearly losing his cargo in the process, but he recovered neatly. "Miss Raveneau is upset by the morning's events," he called as they drew farther away. "I thought it best to take her home."

  In the distance, Able stared while Cassie bobbed her head. "It's kind of you to look after her, Captain!"

  Lindsay sank her teeth into his palm.

  "You little wildcat!" They were nearing the Raveneau house now, and Ryan risked removing his hand from her mouth.

  "Let go of me!" she warned in murderous tones. His arms were and chest were like iron against her slim back, and Lindsay was incensed by her powerlessness against him. When she twisted wildly, she only succeeded in jamming her left breast into the curve of his hand.

  "Why, Lindsay," he murmured, "I'm surprised at you. Couldn't you wait until we're inside?" Then, for good measure, Ryan squeezed gently.

  Her cheeks burning, Lindsay managed to catch him off guard and turn just enough to bring her knee up between his legs. Ryan's jaw clenched with pain and fury, his eyes blazing in a way that sent a current of fear through her.

  "I ought to—" He bit off the threat, then, in one swift motion, swung Lindsay's slim body over his shoulder and reached up to deliver a sharp whack! to her derriere.

  "Ouch!" she yelled.

  "Behave, you little hellion!"

  "You'll have to kill me first!"

  "That idea is not without merit...."

  "I hate you!"

  Throwing open the front door, Ryan deposited her in the entry hall. Lindsay immediately drew her hand back to slap him, but his fingers caught her wrist.

  "What's wrong with you? All I've done is protect you these past hours and you behave as if I've been torturing you."

  "You have!" she accused, breathing hard. "I'm a grown woman. I didn't ask for your protection; you forced it on me!"

  "Good God, do you never stop? If you want to prove you're a woman, why not try behaving like one?"

  "What would that accomplish with a beast like you?"

  Exhaustion and exasperation combined to snap Ryan's patience. He gripped Lindsay's slim shoulders through the fabric of her shirt and when she opened her mouth, he knew that more insult would be unendurable. His own mouth swooped down to silence her with stunning efficiency. The hot, angry joining of their lips scarcely qualified as a kiss, and although Lindsay's knees buckled in reaction, she would not surrender. It didn't occur to her to fight
back by resisting; instead she joined in the battle with a counterattack.

  Her arms rounded Coleraine's broad shoulders, one hand gripping his neck while the other sank into his gleaming black hair. He, in turn, crushed her against the length of his body so that their hips were joined and Lindsay's firm breasts seemed to scorch his chest through the thin fabric of their shirts.

  Ryan bent her backward as he deepened the kiss, expecting her to yield and melt, but instead Lindsay made the embrace a battle of wills. He never would have believed the truth - that she had only been kissed twice before and hadn't realized that men and women opened their mouths to kiss with such intimacy. Now, when Ryan's tongue plundered the softness of her mouth, her own tongue fenced with his. For long moments, a primitive fury governed this skirmish between their bodies, but nature won in the end. Lindsay's naïveté was such that she was scarcely aware of the gradual change in her physical response. Slowly, pleasure replaced anger as the source of her passion, and she experienced arousal for the first time.

  She found herself loving the taste of Ryan's mouth, the texture of the curls at the nape of his neck, the pressure of his hard male body against her own, the warmth and the scent of his skin, and the sure touch of his fingers. For an instant, Lindsay reveled in Ryan Coleraine before it dawned on her that this was not the way she was supposed to feel. Panic struck like a slap in the face.

  Ryan felt her stiffen and tremble simultaneously and, guessing the reason, released her. "Had enough?" he whispered hoarsely.

  She had to grip the edge of the Pembroke hall table for support. Surrounded by her tangled mane of curls, Lindsay's face looked poignantly stricken and pale, but then sparks kindled in her eyes. "You are an animal. I despise you!"

  Ryan laughed outright, looking wickedly piratical. "So you keep telling me! Would it be rude of me to wonder what favors you bestow on the men you like?"

  Narrowing her eyes, Lindsay said, "You forced yourself on me."

  "Oh." He nodded with painstaking sobriety. "How thoughtless of me. No doubt an apology is in order. I must have been overwhelmed by your extraordinary charm and beauty."

  "I see that it was wrong of me to call you an animal, Captain Coleraine. Your rudeness prevents you from winning a place among those innocent creatures." She was pleased to hear how dispassionate she sounded. "Now please leave my house. I pray never to have to suffer your company again."

  Opening the door, Ryan remarked, "For once we are in wholehearted agreement, Miss Raveneau." Then he sketched a mocking bow and was gone.

  Chapter 3

  April 15-16, 1814

  Devon paused on the threshold of the kitchen to demand, "What is that heavenly smell?"

  "Hotchpotch of mutton," Cassie replied, beaming and stirring. She watched her mistress lean over the pot to inhale the fragrance of mutton simmering with onions, carrots, savoy cabbage, turnips, and thyme. "Captain Raveneau asked me to make it this morning. He said he'd had his fill of rich food in Philadelphia and craved something plain."

  "It is good to be home. It felt as if we were away three months rather than three weeks—especially in light of all that happened in our absence."

  "Such a shock for both of you," Cassie commiserated. "Those ships were Pettipauge's lifeblood and now they're just gone! I still can't believe it. And I don't mind telling you that Able and I were sick with dread evening before last, waiting for you and the captain to arrive home. Able knew that he'd have to break the news to Captain Raveneau and we had no idea how he might react! I suppose, though, that we worried needlessly. We've certainly known him long enough to have expected him to bear this tragedy with fortitude."

  Devon poured herself a cup of tea and took a Windsor chair near the hearth. "Well," she said, mustering a weak smile, "all we lost were ships—"

  "The four finest craft on the Eastern seaboard!" Cassie amended proudly.

  "But replaceable, unlike human lives. And Andre is consoled by the fact that our two favorite ships, the Black Eagle and La Mouette, are anchored safely at Stonington. Also, at this stage in our lives, we have a greater fortune than we ever dreamed of when we married. When the war is over, we can afford to rebuild the ships that were burned—and help some of Pettipauge's less financially secure shipowners to do the same." Her clear blue gaze held Cassie's. "You lived in New London during the battle in 1781, didn't you? I've been reminding myself these past two days just how much worse this British raid could have been. None of our townspeople were killed or hurt, and none of our homes were destroyed."

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Cassie sat down opposite her mistress. "Ma'am, ever since you confided yesterday that you and Captain Raveneau may sail to London, I've thought of little else." She spoke in a whisper, glancing over her shoulder as if worried that a redcoat might be lurking at the garden window. "You said that he hadn't made up his mind, and he told that senator in Philadelphia he wanted to think it over, but hasn't this catastrophe with the ships decided the matter? There's nothing to keep the captain here now, and it's occurred to me that the Lord may want you to go to England. I believe He has plans for this family!"

  "Might your enthusiasm be influenced by my wish that you and Able accompany us?" Devon teased.

  Eyes twinkling, Cassie allowed, "I won't deny that I'd love to see England, ma'am. I have relations in Cornwall that I've never met, and Able was raised in Kent and his family live there still. Also, I can spy with the best of them!" She glanced suspiciously under the table.

  Devon laughed fondly. "I don't doubt that for a moment!"

  "Still and all, I meant what I said before. I'd call that senator's request to Captain Raveneau a blessing in disguise."

  "I hope you're right, Cassie, because Andre has decided to agree to Senator Hampshire's plans. Not that he really had a choice since the request came from President Madison himself, but my husband has a mind of his own. Like you, he realized that he isn't really needed here now that the ships are gone, and in any case, I think that the scent of new adventure attracts him more than he has been willing to admit."

  Cassie beamed with satisfaction. "I wish I could've seen Miss Lindsay's face when you told her the news! Gracious, but London will do her a world of good. I don't mind telling you that I've been concerned about that young lady. She sorely needs some excitement—parties, gowns, dancing—and beaux! Now more than ever. This past week, she's kept even more to herself than usual, behaving as if she's seventy-five instead of twenty!" The housekeeper shook her head, then brightened. "What did Miss Lindsay say when you told her she's going to London?"

  Devon sipped her tea. "Actually, I've been delaying that... I plan to tell her today, when she arrives home from school and I'm a bit worried about her reaction. Cassie, you mentioned Lindsay's behavior this past week. We've noticed that she's been unusually quiet since our return, but then the entire town seems subdued. How did Lindsay react to the British attack? Was she terribly frightened? Naturally, Andre and I feel sick that we were away. Thank God the British didn't raid private homes and that you and Able were here so that Lindsay didn't feel abandoned and defenseless!"

  Rising, Cassie stirred the stew and wondered how to respond. She hadn't said anything to her employers about their daughter's behavior the morning of the British attack because it wasn't clear to Cassie exactly what Lindsay had been doing. She'd tried to talk to her since, but all the girl would say was "When the alarm was sounded, I put on Nathan's breeches to go down to the Point to see if anything could be done to save Papa's ships. Captain Coleraine brought me on board the Chimera and kept me safe after that. There's nothing else to tell."

  Cassie had pressed, "But when we saw the two of you in front of the Griswold Inn—" Lindsay cut her off. "I was upset, and Captain Coleraine was afraid I would make a scene. It was a horrible day, one I'd like to forget. Please, don't ask me about it again."

  It occurred to Cassie that Devon might welcome the tale of her daughter's apparent bravery in the face of an enemy attack, but she decided to opt fo
r discretion. The memory of Ryan Coleraine hauling a flailing, breeches-clad figure barely recognizable as Lindsay away from the gathering on Main Street never failed to strike bemused concern in Cassie's considerable breast. She might have deduced that the British attack on Pettipauge's ships had caused Lindsay to go mad, but the very next morning the girl had risen at dawn to teach school, just as she always had. Lindsay had appeared in the kitchen to make her own tea, clad in a demure gown of pink-and-white-striped muslin. Freshly scrubbed, every hair neatly arranged atop her head, she had been the embodiment of restrained gentility. It was an image that hadn't even wavered during the following days; if anything, Lindsay's usual tendency toward proper reserve had only intensified during the past week.

  "Cassie, did you hear me? How did Lindsay respond to the British attack? Perhaps it was more traumatic for her than she lets on?"

  "She was quite upset that those redcoats just sailed into our harbor and burned the ships—particularly those built by Captain Raveneau. After the British warped the ships out into the river and set fire to them, I saw Miss Lindsay walk out the front door and stand in the middle of Main Street to watch that tragic spectacle. Tears were running down her face, and I'm not sure she even realized it." Cassie took a breath, searching for the right words. "She seemed frustrated that nothing could be done to stop the redcoats and that the townspeople weren't fighting back. But once it was over and the damage was done, Miss Lindsay seemed quick to recover and to go on with her life as usual."

  Devon listened thoughtfully. It was hard to imagine her daughter weeping in the middle of Main Street or wishing violence on anyone, even red-coated enemies. Perhaps Lindsay was pluckier than her parents realized. Devon could only hope that this was the case and that the adventure of moving to London would release some of that pent-up liveliness.