Surrender the Stars (37 page)

She beamed back. "Yes—yes, I can!"

His arm rounded her back, sweeping her into his arms. "It's easy. Just count one-two-three and turn with the music. You see?"

Lindsay felt fluid and graceful. Her feet found the rhythm, one moving behind the other, then reaching out, and it seemed that she was dancing on a cloud. She dropped her head back, gazing at the ceiling. "This is fun!"

Ryan's head bent to press a scorching kiss on her arched neck. "Good. As long as you keep hearing the music, the fun will continue for the rest of our lives...."

Chapter 26

June 21-22, 1814

At breakfast the next morning, Ryan stirred his tea, tasted it, and then remarked, "I thought I might visit the British Museum today. I've never seen the Rosetta stone!"

"Hmm!" Andre grinned around the London
Times.
"Sounds nearly as exciting as the visit Devon and I are paying to an old friend in Islington. I captured Captain Silas Longheart's ship back in 1782, and he was obliging enough to perform Devon's and my wedding. Silas is nearly eighty now. We've kept in touch and I gather that his health is failing. It seemed only right that we go up there to see him." He glanced at Lindsay, who was pouring a cup of chocolate. "I don't suppose you want to come along?"

She looked slightly pained. "Well, Papa, it's not that an afternoon in Islington doesn't sound vastly entertaining, but..."

"You're welcome to inspect the Rosetta stone with me," Ryan said casually. With the edge of his spoon, he gently cracked a boiled egg, ignoring the stare Devon suddenly turned in his direction. "That is, if you haven't any other plans."

Lindsay pretended to consider his invitation. "Actually, I've been meaning to go to the museum. As a teacher, I should find it particularly worthwhile."

"Well, good." Raveneau folded the newspaper and drained his tea. "We all have constructive plans for the day. Devon, we ought to leave soon, you know. I thought we might bring a luncheon in to Silas; it would doubtless be a great treat for him."

"I'll speak to Mrs. Butter, darling," she replied, "and I'll be ready to go within the hour." Watching Andre rise and go upstairs, Devon narrowed her eyes at Ryan, then at Lindsay. "Very neatly done!"

Coleraine stared right back at her. "Are you worried that I'll try to take advantage of your daughter at the British Museum? Lift her skirts amidst the Egyptian artifacts?"

She flushed, looked away, then sighed. "No. Of course not. I apologize. I suppose I'm overreacting—and I shouldn't begrudge you two an afternoon together, should I?"

"No, Mama," Lindsay answered. "We'll be careful."

Shaking her head, she murmured, "It's just that so
much
shows in your faces, in the way you look at each other..."

"I doubt whether any of the smart set will be wandering around the museum today," Ryan said reassuringly, then stood up. "And you needn't worry that I'll take advantage of your absence to force my attentions on Lindsay. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I must go upstairs and do battle with a cravat."

* * *

"How very disgusting!" Lindsay murmured, her eyes fixed on a stuffed yet seemingly half-decayed badger. "Did we come to the British Museum to look at such things?"

"Shh." Ryan had to bite the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. Grasping her elbow, he guided her, along with the rest of their group of fifteen, past rows of inexpertly stuffed birds.

"And why did we have to wait for a fifteenth person? Have you ever heard a sillier rule? Fourteen of us were forced to wait for more than half an hour, and then the rest of the fifteenth person's family had to be left behind because of this ridiculous group-of-fifteen rule!"

"Lindsay, do stop!" He pulled her aside, gripped her bare upper arms, and tried not to laugh down at her. "If we make a scene and are expelled from the tour, they may all have to go back and wait for an even fifteen before they can start again!"

For one brief, mad moment, she felt almost faint with longing for him. Lindsay longed only to lean upward and kiss him.

"Don't think it," he cautioned, arching a brow. "Come along, Miss Raveneau, and fix your mind on higher matters."

The German guide, or cicerone as he liked to call himself, set a brisk pace as he led the group through more rooms of stuffed birds and animals, then past weapons, dresses, and ornaments of savage tribes. Lindsay barely had time to widen her eyes at some particularly curious objects before they were swept onward to a display of antiquities from Herculaneum.

"Herculaneum?" Lindsay stage-whispered to Ryan. "Where's that? Greece?"

"You're incorrigible, brat," he replied, his breath warm against her ear.

"Am I? No one's ever said so before, but it's a quality I've always aspired to."

"For the record, Herculaneum's in Italy." Stifling his laughter, Ryan shook his head and pointed toward the cicerone.

Her mouth made an O. "Of course! It's near Pompeii. How silly of me!"

The cicerone craned his neck and pursed his lips in Lindsay's direction. "I do not mean to interrupt, fraulein, but perhaps you might close your mouth so that others will be able to hear my descriptions of these artifacts from Pompeii that we are approaching!"

"Oh, yes!" Lindsay replied with enthusiasm. "That was very near Herculaneum, wasn't it? I promise to be quiet as a mouse from this moment on, Herr von Tiebolt!"

Ryan's senses reeled. He wanted nothing more than to pull Lindsay into an alcove and kiss her senseless, but there didn't seem to be any alcoves handy at the moment.

They both turned serious during the exhibit from Pompeii and even more so when they were able to pause in front of the Rosetta stone. It featured a treble inscription on a large block of dark porphyry: one in hieroglyphics, one in the common language of Egypt, and one in Greek. All three said the same thing, therefore each served as a glossary to the others and proved the key to deciphering hieroglyphics. Herr von Tiebolt hurried them along, however, promising that there were great Roman and Greek marbles to follow. Lindsay caught only a glimpse of the Egyptian sarcophagi and statues before they were out of the room.

In America, Lindsay had read about and gazed at drawings of ancient statues, but this was the first time she had ever actually seen such works of art. There was a breathtaking statue of Diana, and then she was taken aback to see a bust of a woman looking at her with an expression that mingled indignation and terror.

"How unusual!" she whispered to Ryan. "Statues from that period are usually so placid! I wonder what upset this poor woman so?"

"Perhaps she saw a chimera," he replied absently.

Lindsay stared up at his profile, sensing his feelings. "You miss her, don't you?"

He glanced at her, then away, but gradually brought his eyes back to hers. "The ship, you mean? Yes, I suppose I do. There's been little time to brood over that loss, what with
all
that's been happening here in England." One side of his mouth quirked mischievously.

She would not be diverted. "By the time we get home, you'll have a new
Chimera,
you know, and she'll be even more wonderful because she'll be up-to-date! Everything will shine, the wood will be perfectly smoothed—"

"Don't go on if your intention is to cheer me up, angel. I enjoyed the feeling that the
Chimera
was worn and supple. It used to seem that she had acquired wisdom and experience with age, like a woman of the world." Without looking, Ryan's fingers entwined with Lindsay's. "It's like the difference between a new house that still smells of paint and seems untried and one that creaks in familiar places and has acquired a cozy, golden glow."

"I do know what you mean," she replied simply. "The
Chimera
was your friend and your partner, and she can't be replaced by an untested imitation."

"I
beg
your pardon," intoned the cicerone, pursing his lips in their direction. "Sir, if you and this young lady have something important that must be discussed during our tour, I will have to ask you to go out."

"All right," Ryan replied pleasantly. Still holding Lindsay's hand, he turned to leave.

"Are you aware that you will miss seeing the museum's rare manuscripts, including forty-three volumes of Icelandic literature?"

Coleraine glanced back and said somberly, "Please. This is already hard enough." With that, he made good their escape, emerging with Lindsay into the sunlight.

"How ill bred they must think us," she remarked, opening her parasol as she looked down Great Russell Street. "You are very bad, you know."

"So you have mentioned." Smiling up at the sky, Ryan sighed. "I'm glad
that's
over. I might have enjoyed it if we could have viewed the exhibits at our own pace, choosing what to skip and what to linger over, but I would
not
have chosen Herr von Tiebolt as a browsing companion."

"Yet we did have fun."

"Of course we did. And we may have enriched our minds at the same time... though I'll probably suffer for the rest of my life as a result of being deprived of those Icelandic manuscripts."

Lindsay laughed softly and tucked her gloved hand through his arm as they strolled. "Our cicerone interrupted when I was about to ask you what effect your lack of enthusiasm about the new
Chimera
might have on your future. Are you thinking of not returning to Connecticut, Ryan?"

His blue eyes were far away. "I haven't given it a great deal of thought. As I've said, the goings-on
chez
Raveneau have kept me pretty well occupied. There's a lot to take into consideration; after all, it's only been this past week that I've dared to hope you might care to
share
my life. If we manage to make a success of this madness between us, you'll have an equal say in the circumstances of our future."

Lindsay flushed slightly, torn between worry that he might be unsure of their love and delight that he wanted his wife to be an equal partner. "Well, as you said, there's a great deal to sort out. The sea has been your life for so many years—"

"And let me guess. You always swore that you would never marry a sea captain." Feeling safe in this neighborhood, which was a good distance from Mayfair, Ryan bent to kiss Lindsay's nose under the brim of her Angouleme bonnet.

"I've shed some of my own prejudices," she replied meekly. "Before I met you, I thought I knew exactly what my future held. Now the one thing I'm sure of is that I
don't
know."

"That's why our plans are best deferred until we've untangled the other business here in London. Who knows what could happen by summer's end?"

He's
not
sure about us, Lindsay thought despairingly. A sigh was welling up in her when Ryan suddenly slipped an arm around her waist and said, "What shall we do now? It's a beautiful day. Why don't we walk home? We could buy some fruit and wine on the way and make a detour through Hyde Park."

Her heart lightened. "Might we walk along the Serpentine and have a small picnic?"

Lindsay leaned her head against his shoulder and Ryan inhaled her fresh scent. What he really longed to do was take her to bed for the rest of the afternoon. The memory of their coupling on the rug at Grimley Court was still sharp and arousing. That brief taste of Lindsay's abandon had only served to whet his appetite for more, but for the time being he had to be content with tantalizing crumbs... a stolen, hungry kiss; the sight of love and longing in her smoky eyes; a sudden touch of her hand on his arm or back; the pressure of her breasts against his chest when they danced. Had she any idea of her power over him? Never before had Ryan felt this way about any woman, for this was much more than lust. He wanted her so much because he
loved
her. True, the memory of her body haunted his dreams, but he also yearned to give Lindsay pleasure, to have her moan again against his mouth and wildly return his kiss, to smile suddenly in that way that lit the darkness, to return his caresses shyly until she felt at ease with his body, to tell him what she liked best. And he wanted to hold her in his arms in the afterglow, then sleep through the night, embracing...

"Ryan?"

"Hmm..."

"You didn't answer. Can we have a picnic along the Serpentine?"

"Of course we can. We'll do anything you want, angel." He was about to drop a kiss on Lindsay's sensual, upturned mouth when he glimpsed a familiar figure across Bedford Square. Instantly, Ryan straightened and moved away from Lindsay. "Shh. Look, it's Lord Chadwick with Lord Liverpool, the prime minister. We can only pray that he didn't see us before." Meanwhile, Ryan was also remembering everything Michael Angelo Taylor had said about Francis passing information to Liverpool and Castlereagh that had helped in the war with America.

They paused to chat with the two men, acting like typical siblings. Lindsay related the tale of their expulsion from the British Museum, blaming "Nathan," and laughter ensued.

Ryan glanced casually at Lord Chadwick, wondering if the earl had observed him and Lindsay during those suspiciously intimate moments. And, again, he wondered
what
information Francis was privy to—and how he had obtained it.