Surrender the Stars (32 page)

Sensing Andre's amused smile from across the table, Devon tried to keep a straight face as she replied, "It's delicious, but no, thank you."

Some distance away, Lindsay felt that she was in the middle of a bad dream. Perhaps she hadn't awakened from her nap after all? The sight of Ryan's blue eyes fixed on the countenance of Lady Chadwick made her feel both angry and ill. They seemed to be having a marvelous time, whispering and laughing together.

"I happen to think that Byron is at least as controversial a character as Beau Brummell," Dudley murmured close to her ear.

Lindsay roused herself. "I must inform you, sir, that I admire Lord Byron excessively." For an instant, her mind spun back to the day Ryan had teased her so mercilessly about Byron in her cabin aboard
La Mouette.
She saw herself toppling from the chair into his arms and then being tossed onto the bed. Had she really been angry when he dropped down beside her and read aloud, mockingly, from
Childe Harold
? Looking back, she felt an odd current of warmth and suspected that, even then, she'd been captivated by his brash charm.

"You should be warned, then, my dear Lindsay," Dudley was saying, "that Byron is quite disreputable in his dealings with women! I have heard rumors that would scorch your sweet ears. Perhaps you have heard that Lady Caroline Lamb pronounced him 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know.' I cannot fathom why you females are so taken with men of this type!"

Only half listening, Lindsay's heart jumped at his last words. Immediately, her eyes went to Ryan. He looked utterly splendid, his blue eyes dancing with devils as he listened to something Hester was saying. Silently, Lindsay repeated the phrase "mad, bad, and dangerous to know." She realized that it applied to Ryan—and that, rather than heeding its implied warning, she was feeling more attracted to him than ever.

Hester looked over, her necklace of emeralds glittering in the candlelight. "Are you all right, Miss Raveneau? Yes? I do hope I'm not being rude monopolizing your brother this way, but I find him very diverting. I was just telling Nathan about my daughter, Amanda. She is eight now and very full of herself. Truly a charmer. Of course, the fact that she has ebony curls and sapphire eyes does nothing to curb her self-confidence...."

Something in Lady Chadwick's tone and gaze sounded an alarm inside Lindsay's brain. An eight-year-old raven-haired, blue-eyed daughter? The night at Carlton House when Hester and Ryan met again, she'd said that it had been nine years since their parting. Lindsay's cheeks flamed as she reached a natural conclusion. Ryan Coleraine had fathered the Earl of Chadwick's first child!

"I say, sister dear," Ryan murmured lazily, lifting his quizzing glass, "you don't look at all well. I do hope you haven't been so foolish as to nibble on a sausage cake today."

Lindsay lifted her chin and her gray eyes were wintry. "I assure you that I am perfectly fine. Never better, in fact!" Running a hand down Dudley's arm, she beamed at him. "How could it be otherwise when I am seated next to the most charming, intelligent, handsome
man in Britain?"

Watching Dudley succumb to her spell, Ryan's face darkened. "How, indeed?" he muttered coldly.

Chapter 23

June 16, 1814

Ryan stared broodingly into his nearly empty snifter of cognac and listened to the spatter of raindrops against the windows of his bedroom and the wind howling through the chimneys of Grimley Court.

With tense fingers, he loosened his cravat and sent it sailing across the bed to lie atop his discarded jacket. The clock atop the mantelpiece struck midnight. On either side, candle flames guttered, then leaped as a fresh burst of wind found its way out through the fireplace. Ryan's mouth hardened. What was Lindsay doing?

When the boring dinner, followed by the obligatory ceremony of port and cigars for the men, had come to an end, the Earl and Countess of Grimley had retired and the rest of the sleepy guests gratefully followed suit. Hester had looked more reluctant, but she had little choice except to go with her husband. Lindsay and Dudley openly declared that they were not tired, then slipped away to the library, ostensibly to review the Grimley collection of books.

Now it was midnight. The house was quiet except for the sounds of the storm, yet Ryan had not heard Lindsay and Dudley come upstairs. Bitterly, he imagined the two of them in the darkened library. Were they lying on one of the great Chippendale sofas, kissing passionately? Unwilling to rein in his imagination, Ryan's rage smoldered and flared brighter by the moment. If that smarmy coxcomb dared to lay a hand on Lindsay...

Soft, girlish laughter drifted in from the hallway. Every muscle tensed, Ryan drained his cognac and slowly got to his feet. His own door was ajar and through it he saw them in the doorway to Lindsay's suite of rooms. Her hair was loosened, making a halo around her delicate face, and Dudley was bending over her. Ryan ignored the blush that suffused Lindsay's cheeks and the uneasy expression she wore as she endured the viscount's kiss. All he knew was that a white-hot rage possessed him at the sight of her being touched by another man. His emotions, fueled by the fine cognac, were too raw for Ryan to analyze—or subdue.

When Dudley wandered off dreamily in the direction of his own distant apartments beyond the chapel, Ryan waited to hear the faint click of his door, then entered the corridor. Reason was lost to him as he tapped once on Lindsay's door.

She opened it slightly while shaking out her long curls. "Dudley, you must—" Her voice broke off at the unexpected sight of Ryan.

The danger of being overheard was all the reason he needed to enter uninvited and close the door. "I want to talk to you. Privately."

"Don't be ridiculous! You can't barge in here at this hour of the night!"

"Really?" One black brow flew up sardonically. "I was under the impression I just did exactly that."

Lindsay backed away, all too aware of her vulnerability and the potency of his attraction. Her heart had felt bruised and numb ever since dinner, but her body responded traitorously to the sight of Ryan. His ruffled hair gleamed in the faint candleglow, his eyes were as wild and dark as the Irish Sea, and dimly she noticed that his hard, male chest was half exposed and the muscles of his thighs were outlined against the snug fabric of his breeches.

"You must go," she announced. "Someone will hear us."

"I doubt that. The only other rooms on this side of the house are your parents', and mine are in between. In any event, everyone's been asleep for at least an hour—except for you and your lover."

Somehow, Lindsay resisted the bait. Although the rapid rise and fall of her breasts gave her away, she sounded credibly calm as she replied, "Obviously, I cannot force you to respect my wishes. I had considered revising my conviction that you were a coarse brute on the basis of the new information about your educational background. This is most instructive. I must not forget that even an Oxford degree is no guarantee of breeding or good manners."

"Oddly enough, I went to Oxford in search of knowledge rather than manners. Being polite is not in my nature—unless it is engendered honestly." Ryan took another step toward her, then laughed softly when Lindsay instinctively backed up again. "At any rate, I came here not to discuss my lack of breeding but
yours."

"You must be drunk. What can you possibly mean?"

"I am referring, my
dear,
to the ruthless little game you are playing with that thick-skulled Fanshawe. What do you hope to gain by it? A title?"

Lindsay gasped. "How dare you!"

"Not a very original retort, darling, but then an evening with the viscount has doubtless dulled your wits. It must be something of a relief to be adored unconditionally. Needn't you give
anything
in return? Perhaps he settles for a chaste kiss at the moment, but I trust you realize that once you're his wife, you'll have to fulfill some carnal obligations."

"You are odious and vile!" Lindsay whispered heatedly.

"Merely stating the truth, my dear."

"Overstepping the bounds, you mean! How
dare
you speak to me about carnal behavior when you yourself are carrying on with a married woman?" Silver sparks flashed from her eyes.

Ryan caught Lindsay's slim, pale wrists. "I can take care of myself, but I have serious doubts about you." He stared down at her, their faces so close that their breath mingled. "What kind of a game are you playing, Lindsay? I cannot believe that you are serious about Fanshawe. How can you even consider lying for the rest of your life with such a passionless twit? Flowery speeches and flattery may impress you now, but let me tell you that they're a poor substitute for the embrace of a real man."

She felt dizzy with rage and longing. "It's—it's none of your affair—"

His mouth hardened. "
Isn't
it?"

Lindsay opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, she found herself being enfolded almost roughly into Ryan's steely embrace. And then she couldn't speak because he was kissing her.

Lindsay tried not to touch him, but the sensations his mouth evoked went far beyond any token resistance her mind could mount. Her hands fluttered only once before rounding his shoulders. Similarly, Ryan's anger was also quickly forgotten. All either of them knew was a consuming hunger for the other. After the first fiery moments of passion, Ryan's lips and arms grew gentler as he sensed there was no battle to fight. Lindsay was on his side.

Her mouth was incredibly sweet and soft. He kissed the full lower lip, tasting, while his hands shaped the supple curves of her waist and hips. "Ah, Lindsay..." His voice was edged with a moan. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

She opened smoky, gold-flecked eyes and gazed up into his face. "I know what you do to me," she whispered as they exchanged butterfly kisses. "I feel that I've gone mad, that you've put a spell on me, that I... can't get enough..."

Lindsay's low, sensual voice unleashed a fresh torrent of passion in him. Ryan's mouth covered hers and their tongues met, caressing, even as her fingers sank into his gleaming hair and his arms gathered her against the length of his body. The outside world ceased to exist. They sank down onto the plush Aubusson rug before the dark fireplace, the room illuminated only by the wavering flame of one candle, while raindrops fitfully splashed against the windowpanes.

For long moments, they kissed wonderingly, pausing at times to gaze into each other's eyes before resuming. The sensation of touching Ryan was bliss for Lindsay. Her fingers gloried in the texture of his hair, the sculpted contours of his face, and the broad strength of his shoulders. Their bodies intertwined as if this mating had been preordained from the instant of their own conceptions. When Ryan's fingers flicked open the fastenings on the back of her filmy gown, Lindsay didn't panic. Her own hands fumbled joyously with his buttons.

Ryan paused to blink at her, surprise and love mingling in his expression. "Aren't you going to push me away?" he whispered gently, kissing her. "Tell me I'm a brute? A cad? And, worst of all, a man?"

Smiling dreamily, she ran the tip of her tongue over his lower lip. "Yes, I'll tell you you're a man... and I'm a woman... and it's time we were together."

"At last we agree." His dark hands lowered the bodice of her gown. In the flickering candlelight, her breasts were pale and ripe, the nipples puckered with longing. "Christ, but you're beautiful."

Lindsay drew her arms from the puffed sleeves and stretched like a sensual cat when his lips began a warm and leisurely exploration of her breasts. The feeling of his mouth, gently kissing and sucking, drove her mad. Tingling currents of arousal spread downward to her womanhood and instinctively she arched against him. He was now lying between her legs, hot and hard even through his breeches and the fabric of her gown, and Lindsay sensed dimly that both of them were spinning past the point of no return.

Her fingers sank into his hair and he came back to kiss her mouth again, so deeply and ardently that she was breathless. She pulled at his shirt and then it was gone. Ryan's lips seemed to scorch her delicate flesh. He kissed the bridge of her nose, the curve of her cheek, the length of her neck, and the hollow at the base of her throat. Lindsay, meanwhile, was experiencing sensations she'd never dreamed of. She was wet and aching between her legs, moving against Ryan's hardness with an involuntary rhythm. She touched him wonderingly: his arms and chest were golden brown, hard and warm all at once.

"My darling," Ryan whispered hoarsely, "you must tell me now if you have second thoughts. I fear the moment of truth is at hand!"

An incandescent smile lit her face. "I want you, Ryan. I want
us."

He gazed down at her with warm sapphire eyes and paused to smooth back her tangled strawberry-blond mane. Then he knelt to slip off her gown, drinking in the sight of her curved hips, long, slim legs, and the auburn curls at their apex. "Dear God," he murmured, "you're exquisite."