Surrender the Stars (50 page)

"Oh, Ryan!"

"For God's sake, don't pity me, Lindsay! My life has definitely turned out for the best. But, there's a part of me that wishes I'd been in Galway when Mother fell ill. No doubt she would have enlightened me and died happy. As it was..."

"What do you mean, enlightened you?"

"Hester told me the other night that Blake was illegitimate—and that he has known it since my father's last illness. Of course, by then, he'd married and begun a family believing that he'd inherit—and to be honest, he was better suited to the title and its responsibilities than I. I don't really blame him, and I think that fate was kind to me. What does bother me, however, was Hester's revelation that Blake conspired with Francis to force me to leave Britain. It was he who urged me not to see Hester again, to leave for America, and who gave me money, all because the Earl of Chadwick was blackmailing him, threatening to tell me that I was the legitimate heir to the title if I remained in England."

Lindsay's head was spinning as she tried to take it all in. "Ryan, are you saying that your brother is the Irishman who owes Chadwick a favor? Is
he
the person Harry and Francis intend to seek refuge with?"

"You're quite astute!" he teased gently. "
Now
do you understand why I wanted you to stay put in London? The explanation alone is too much trouble!"

She wasn't listening. "But what if we don't overtake them at sea and you are forced to follow them to Clifden Castle? That would mean that you would be confronted by all three of them: Chadwick, Harry, and your own brother! This sounds dreadfully dangerous! Wouldn't it be convenient for Blake if you were accidentally killed?"

Ryan kissed Lindsay's flushed cheeks and then her lips. His mood was much improved now that he had shared all of his secrets. He felt lighter. "If Blake were that sort, he'd have had me murdered by a footpad a decade ago. In truth, he always struck me as being a good man, if a trifle weak. And Hester told me one more thing that should reassure you. It seems that Blake is very ill and wants to make amends. His wife has left him and gone to France and his children have apparently grown into horrible adults. Hester believes that as Blake confronts the prospect of the title passing to his elder son, he's been having an attack of guilt. Perhaps he wants justice done. Perhaps he would take my side against Brandreth and Chadwick."

Lindsay leaned against his chest, thinking. At length, she said, "It seems to me that it might be a good thing for you to visit Clifden Castle and talk to Blake even if we don't have to go there in search of Harry and Chadwick."

To her amazement, Ryan kissed her brow, smiled, and replied, "It seems to me that you may be right, sweetheart." Meanwhile, his hands strayed over the curves of her hips, drawing her against him. "Unburdening oneself is exhausting, I've discovered. I don't think I can speak another word for the moment."

Lindsay wore an expression of mock perplexity. "What shall we do, then?"

Ryan put a finger over her mouth, then backed her up against the rail. Smiling roguishly, he bent to cover Lindsay's lips with his own.

Chapter 35

July 1, 1814

Eyes burning with fatigue, Ryan traversed the dimly lit gangway. It was three o'clock in the morning, and although he hated to give in to sleep, he knew he would need a nap in order to be alert when dawn broke. If the winds remained favorable,
La Mouette
would reach Galway by midday.

He paused in the doorway of Raveneau's cabin, rubbing his unshaven jaw. Silvery moonlight splashed through the transom, dappling Andre's slumbering form and that of his daughter, who sprawled in the chair beside his bunk. Lindsay's legs, clad in baggy breeches, were apart, her stockinged feet pointing upward. Her fingers were curled around the tails of her voluminous untucked shirt, while her head dropped toward one shoulder, curls tumbling over her cheek.

Ryan approached silently and paused, noting the shadowed sweep of Lindsay's lashes and the soft sound of her breathing through parted lips. He bent and tenderly gathered her into his arms. She curled against his chest, murmuring, as Ryan carried her into his cabin and laid her on the bunk. In the darkness, he drew off her clothing, then his own, and pulled the covers up over them both.

Still sleeping, Lindsay lifted her face, searching. Ryan cradled her in his arms, trying to ignore the soft, inviting warmth of her body, and kissed her gently.

"Mmm," she purred. Her lush mouth moved against his, then opened instinctively.

Ryan groaned, instantly and fully aroused. His senses drank in the taste of her, the scent of her hair, the smoothness of her neck as he kissed his way downward. Her breasts, warm with sleep, seemed more beautiful than ever to him. Ryan touched one wonderingly with parted lips, tracing the perfect swell until he reached the dusky, petal-soft nipple. Slowly, he circled it with his tongue, then took it into his mouth and suckled gently for long, relaxed minutes.

The cabin was completely dark. Lindsay and Ryan seemed to be floating, beyond reality, as her legs opened and his lean, tapering fingers slipped between them. His mouth moved lower, tasting and exploring until Lindsay's fingers tangled in Ryan's hair, drawing him up to drown in her kiss.

Their coupling was exquisitely slow, each of them savoring the keen, sweet jolts of pleasure. Eventually, they slept, arms and legs entwined.

* * *

"Captain Coleraine?" Drew pushed open the door to Ryan's cabin, took one startled look, then backed up and eased the door closed. For an instant, he wondered if he'd been seeing things. Before he could think what to do next, the door reopened and Coleraine's face appeared.

"What the devil is it, Drew?"

"Uh—uh—"

"If that's all, I have more important matters to attend to."

"No, wait!" Drew wondered if his face was as red as it felt. "I think we've sighted the
Lady Hester.
She's on the horizon."

Coleraine's eyes sharpened. "What time is it?"

"Six o'clock, sir."

"Good God!"

The door slammed shut in Drew's face.

Ryan stared down at Lindsay, whose shapely limbs were twisted in the sheets while her bright curls splashed across his pillow. Willing himself to resist, he pulled on buff-colored breeches, stockings, boots, and a clean white shirt, then ran a hand through his hair. Finally, armored against her potent charms, he leaned over and patted the curve of her backside.

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Drowsily, she attempted to sit up. Ryan had gone over to the table to splash water on his face and to clean his teeth. Staring at him, Lindsay tried to get her bearings.

"Oh, my," she murmured at length, blushing. "I thought that was just a naughty dream."

"Don't you mean delicious?" He flashed a grin, then returned to drop a kiss on her brow. "We've been truant long enough. Drew thinks that Chadwick's ship is on the horizon. If that's true, she's less than ten miles away and the chase begins in earnest. You'd better get dressed quickly, my sweet, and take the news to your father."

Suddenly Lindsay was wide awake, inhaling air charged with excitement and danger. When Ryan tossed her clothes to her on his way to the door, she caught them neatly. Rested and well loved, Lindsay was ready to face the enemy!

* * *

As the sun rose higher in the cloudless, azure sky,
La Mouette
tenaciously shortened the distance between herself and her prey. Coleraine paced the quarterdeck like a caged panther, plotting his strategy with Drew and Hornbeam, the boatswain. Lindsay ran back and forth with bulletins for her father and offerings of food for Ryan.

Ryan's biggest concern was the relatively small crew on board. Too many men hadn't been at the White Dog when Higgins went to fetch them. When Lindsay heard Ryan worrying aloud about this handicap, she questioned her father about it.

Raveneau appeared to be much better. He sat up in bed, drinking ale and eating the muffins Lindsay pressed on him, eager for each bit of news. When his daughter mentioned Ryan's apparent concern, Andre waved her off.

"Don't be fooled by that. In here"—he pointed to his midsection—"Coleraine knows better."

"But, Papa, we're close enough that I can see the
Lady Hester
clearly through the telescope, and she looks bigger than
La Mouette!"

"Slower," he amended firmly, brushing crumbs from his bandaged chest. "And I don't care if Chadwick has twice the crew, he's not a privateer captain. Ryan is expert at tactics that Chadwick's never dreamed of."

When Lindsay repeated this to Ryan, he laughed shortly and squeezed her arm. "I appreciate your father's vote of confidence. And he's right. Chadwick and Harry couldn't begin to prepare for me." He didn't mention that his only real worry was a proper boarding party. If it came to a man-to-man confrontation and they were greatly outnumbered, the outcome was less predictable. Narrowing his eyes at the ship that was a scant mile away, Coleraine added distractedly, "I think it's time that you went below—to stay. And get a pistol. I'll see if I can spare a man to stay with you and Andre."

Lindsay realized that he wouldn't appreciate an argument at that moment. She did go below, but remained on the ladder, peeking out of the hatch from time to time.

It was shortly after ten o'clock when Ryan told Drew that he was ready to close in for the kill. They were drawing near, sailing to the weather side of the
Lady Hester,
and Ryan was careful to keep
La Mouette's
keel at an efficient angle to the wind. The gunner's mates were loading the cannon, while the gun watch armed themselves with cutlasses and pikes for boarding. Aloft, topmen were climbing the ratlines to oversee the action among the sails.

His jaw clenched and dark blue eyes narrowed, Ryan lifted the telescope. He scanned the familiar, craggy Irish shore, recognizing the Cliffs of Moher. They were just south of Galway Bay. Turning the glass, Coleraine then focused on the
Lady Hester
and smiled grimly at the sight of Harry Brandreth running back and forth on the quarterdeck in a state of obvious panic. "If he recognizes
La Mouette,
he must think it's Raveneau's ghost coming for revenge," Ryan murmured to Drew.

"That's not far off the truth, is it, sir?"

He didn't hear the first mate. "They're tacking to windward. Good! How fortunate that our fine Lord Chadwick hasn't any practice in sea warfare."

La Mouette,
her speed being better to the weather side, was able to make a tight arc that brought her within shooting distance of the other ship's stern. Cannon volleys commenced from the
Lady Hester,
and Ryan gave the order to reply in kind.

Then, like a cat with a mouse, Ryan came abreast of his prey, then veered away as if yielding to her fire. Overconfident now, Chadwick gave the order to pursue and his ship veered toward
La Mouette.

Laughing, Coleraine dodged a lit, cast-iron hand grenade thrown from the
Lady Hester's
maintop. "That's right, you fools! Teach us a lesson!" he shouted.

Drew stared in joyous awe, awaiting the moment when his captain turned and said, "Tell Hornbeam to stand by to trim sails. The men in the maintop should be lighting the stinkpots." Ryan then signaled to the first gun watch, adding a wink for encouragement.

From then on, a well-organized sort of chaos prevailed. At the moment the
Lady Hester
veered into the position Coleraine was waiting for, he put his helm hard alee and the sails were quickly trimmed. In the next instant, grappling irons were thrown to the captured ship's lower yardarms, and the first gun watch stormed over the sides.

Drawing his sword, Ryan prepared to follow when he glimpsed Andre Raveneau leaning against the mainmast. The older man saluted, grinning, and called, "Well done, Captain! Now finish your work—but remember to save your vengeance for another day."

Coleraine felt a stab of raw emotion, but there was no time to indulge it. As he vaulted onto the
Lady Hester's
main deck, dodging rifle fire, Lindsay peeked above the hatch. Terror for Ryan made her stomach churn. She longed to run after him and pull him to safety, but she could not. Her only alternative was prayer.

"Papa, come below before your wound opens or you're shot!" To her relief, he obeyed her, seeming to sense that he could do more good at his daughter's side.

Meanwhile, thanks to the flaming stinkpots thrown by Ryan's topmen, several fires had broken out on the
Lady Hester's
battered decks. Chadwick's crew, untrained for battle, scattered in an effort to put out the flames or to repel Coleraine's boarding party. After more than a dozen bodies had fallen on the decks, the panic-stricken Chadwick surrendered.

He came down from the quarterdeck to face Ryan. Grimy with sweat and gunpowder, the Earl of Chadwick looked puny and frightened as he turned over his sword. Harry stood behind him, supremely incongruous in these surroundings. His golden curls were matted, his cravat untied, and his polished Hessians scarred. Fear, and dawning confusion, shone in Harry's eyes.