Natalya (58 page)

She bit off her next complaint as a vision of the fashionable dress shops in America's largest city flashed in her mind. Suddenly her face was sweet and lovely again as she edged closer to Lion until he could smell the heady scent of magnolia that clung to her. "I really must apologize for my behavior, Captain Hampshire. Why, if Mama were alive, she'd thrash me for speaking that way to you! I can't imagine what came over me. I certainly wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression of your future wife!"

"Don't worry," he replied with an ironic smile, "I won't form any inaccurate opinions."

Her crimson lips were turned up to him and Lion took his cue, lightly tipping her chin back with a lean finger. Priscilla closed her eyes, waiting, and was surprised to feel his mouth touch hers so lightly that for a moment she thought she had imagined it. Hesitantly she peeked out from under long lashes and found Lion smiling down at her in an odd way. There was a frost in his eyes that confused and vaguely frightened her.

Removing his hand from her chin, he inquired, "Where is your brother? We should say our farewells and be on our way."

Priscilla flushed, stammering in a false, high voice, "Well, it is quite the most peculiar thing! He seems to have eaten something at breakfast which did not agree with him and has taken to his bed!"

Lion watched her closely, raising an eyebrow. "It is fortunate that you were not similarly afflicted."

"Yes!" She glanced around agitatedly, half expecting James to recover from his sabotaged meal and appear on the stairs to find her out.

"Where is your maid? Call her so that we may take our leave."

He went outside to summon the coachman to help with the trunks and Meagan popped out from behind the highboy in the parlor. She wore a demure gray dress and matching pelisse, giggling softly with excitement as she pulled the hood over her black curls.

"What a marvelous adventure this is! I am looking forward to practicing this small deception on your self-assured fiancé!"

Priscilla was wild-eyed. "It will never work! He will know—"

"Not if you can manage to collect your wits and stop acting so guilty! Besides, what does it matter to him who your
maid
is so long as you have one?"

Lion came through the door then and Meagan immediately stared at her feet, assuming an attitude of meek subservience.

"I thought I told you to call your maid," he said sharply. "What trunks have you decided on?"

In her panic Priscilla pointed to two of them at random, then hurried over to Meagan's side. For a moment Meagan feared she might attempt to hide behind her. Lion stared at the two of them while the coachman carried out the cowhide trunks.

"What the devil is going on here? Where is your maid?"

"H-here," Priscilla gasped and Meagan wanted to pinch her.

He strode across the floor to peer at her, then drew off the hood on her pelisse. The long black hair spilled down her back and recognition sparked in Lion's eyes.

"It's you!"

Excerpt from

Surrender the Stars

Special Author's Cut Edition

Raveneau Novel #2

by

Cynthia Wright

It's the spring of 1814 and the War of 1812 between England and the United States is in progress. Andre and Devon Raveneau live on the coast of Connecticut with their 21 year old bluestocking daughter, Lindsay. Andre still owns ships, one of which is captained by Ryan Coleraine, a rakish Irishman who can elude any blockade. The book's prologue finds the elder Raveneaus in Philadelphia, meeting with old friends who want to persuade them to go to England on a mission for the president. 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.