Surrender the Stars (34 page)

"I refuse to wait at your convenience a moment longer!" Lindsay announced, bursting into the room. "I hope it isn't asking too much to insist that you cut short this tete-a-tete? Besides, I heard Lord Chadwick come upstairs. I think that the countess might be wise to return to her own rooms."

Ryan held Hester at arm's length. "Lindsay's right. You'd better go."

Cheeks flushed, the older woman glanced from one to the other. "Of course. I—well, good night." Tilting her chin, she managed to smile in both directions as she exited.

Ryan closed the door. "It's not what you think."

Too incensed to listen or think, Lindsay wanted to scream but instead whispered heatedly, "Please, spare me your weak explanations! I have eyes! You would do well to remember, Captain Coleraine, that I am not some insipid English twit during her first Season in London! I am a strong, intelligent
American
woman, so you would be wise to disabuse yourself of any notions of treating me otherwise!"

The corners of his mouth quirked. "My darling, I learned all that the day we met!"

Rounding on him, Lindsay poked his chest with her forefinger. "Don't you dare to call me darling! Perhaps I made a fool of myself tonight, but I won't apologize for that, either! I have the same needs as any healthy adult—"

Ryan was losing patience. "Stop this." He caught her wrists and held them even as she struggled. "Behave yourself. I appreciate all that you are saying, and the emotions that prompted this tirade, but I can't let you continue. Do you think that you can sweep in here, jealous, and tell me that you made love with me out of mere lust? Lindsay, you could rant and rave until dawn and never convince me of that. And if you'd cool of for a moment, you'd realize that nothing could have happened here between Hester and me."

Gasping for breath, she let her head drop against his chest. "Oh, Ryan..."

He caressed Lindsay's silky, burnished hair, then tipped up her chin. "Look at me. Can you honestly say that you didn't
know
what my feelings were when we lay together? Even if I hadn't said it aloud, you should have sensed that I love you, angel."

Her eyes were pools of emotion. "I—I don't have anything to compare it to. And you have such a reputation as a rogue..."

"I never knew any of those women the way I know you. You and I were enemies, and then friends, long before I dared to consider what I felt."

Unable to stop herself, Lindsay pressed, "What about Lady Chadwick? Was she not a great love?"

His eyebrows flicked upward as he glanced toward the ornamented ceiling. "I will tell you what I told Hester just before you came in. That was another lifetime, another world, and I have changed and grown a great deal since then. Because she and I were young, the passion seemed intense, but I can see now that it lacked depth. Do you want to know what makes the relationship I have with you so magical for me?"

Lindsay's anger melted with each word he spoke. Now her face glowed as she gazed up at him. "Yes."

"It's the sense of friendship between us; the camaraderie, the sparring, the laughter... the fact that we don't have to be loverlike to enjoy each other's company. And yet, isn't that the ideal situation for lovers? When you and I are engaged in a discussion about a book or playing cards or arguing furiously, I feel a wholly new sort of passion that has more depth than anything I've experienced before. I've been used to wooing women, but lately I've found myself far more aroused during the wildest arguments with you than ever before in my life...."

"Yet you've rarely acted on that passion," she reminded him quietly.

"To be honest, it frightened the life out of me! I didn't know what would happen if I gave in to it. Perhaps I had to feel more certain that you felt the same."

Resisting the urge to melt into his arms, Lindsay instead spun away, her hair frothing out to halo her face. "Old habits die hard, though, don't they? You just said that you resisted your feelings for me. Aren't you used to doing just that with women and turning to someone else to keep your feelings at bay? What about Hester? How could you be alone with her—and
kiss
her—just minutes after—after—"

"She's confused," Ryan said quietly. "I felt that I had to hear her out. I owed her that much."

"Did you owe her a kiss as well?" Lindsay heard herself burst out. "Or was that in deference to your daughter?"

He stared, uncomprehending. "What?"

"Amanda! Frankly, I find it very strange that you could get Lady Chadwick with child and then desert her, but, of course, I don't know the circumstances. Perhaps she didn't tell you? Yet why else would you have begun a new life in America? I can only hope that you will see fit to enlighten me about that period of your life if you intend to continue
our
relationship!"

Ryan sank down into a chair by the fireplace and reached for his brandy. Sighing, he muttered, "I'm not Amanda's father."

"I didn't think you would admit it." She glanced away.

"Lindsay, I suddenly find that I am very tired. Unless you think that we can actually resolve this matter within the next few minutes, why not let it alone? I think you may see things differently in the morning."

Anger welled up inside her. "Fine. It's most instructive to learn that you are the type of man who simply turns away when a conversation becomes serious—"

"It's two o'clock in the morning, for God's sake! And, may I remind you again, we are not alone in this house."

Lindsay ignored him. Perching on the edge of the bed, she declared, "In any event, I did not come here to discuss your love life. I came to tell you that I saw Lord Chadwick and Harry talking in the garden after you left my rooms."

"And?" Ryan was slightly irritated to realize how eagerly his eyes drank in the sight of her there in her modest nightdress and clinging silk dressing gown. How bizarre—yet how natural—that they should be talking thusly, at this hour of night. He could almost imagine it as a daily occurrence....

"Must I spell it out for you? Why should Harry and Chadwick meet alone, secretly, on the grounds at such an hour? Plus, their demeanor gave every indication of subterfuge. They were obviously having an animated, though whispered, conversation, and when it ended, Lord Chadwick passed something to Harry."

"And I suppose that you know what this means?" Ryan asked ironically.

"Of course not!" Her voice rose. "I only thought that you should hear about this in case it might have some significance."

"I see. Well, I appreciate your concern, but it's probably misplaced. I find it difficult to envision Harry and Francis as spies."

"I didn't say they were! Ryan, if you think that I brought you this information merely as an excuse to intrude on your little... tryst with the countess, kindly disabuse yourself—"

"Why?" he broke in and, rising, came toward her. "Because you don't care what I do? I don't mean to overrule this pose of cool bravado, darling, but I know you too well—and you should realize that it's much too soon to expect me to forget, even momentarily, our own tryst tonight."

Lindsay's heart began to pound in her ears as she realized that she couldn't back away from him, nor did she want to. "I lost my head," she murmured weakly.

One brow curved high above his dark blue eyes. "You lost more than that, my angel."

The sensation of his warm breath on her averted face made her feel faint. Why,
why
, did he have this effect on her? As his hands, so strong and masculine, slid up her arms, Lindsay blinked back tears. Swallowing audibly, she twisted to meet his gaze. It was like jumping into the middle of the ocean. "Oh, Ryan..."

"Forget Lady Chadwick, Lindsay." His voice was rough yet gentle at the same time. "I have."

She moaned artlessly, lips parting, as he began to kiss her. Lindsay had never guessed that kissing could be so sublime an experience. Dudley's mouth had reminded her of wet marble. Now her hands crept helplessly up Ryan's chest to clutch at his shoulders while his palms framed her face. In a moment, he'd be beside her on the bed.

From the doorway, a soft, familiar voice murmured, "Mad, bad, and dangerous to know," followed by a deep sigh of resignation.

Lindsay literally jumped, panic-stricken, away from Ryan and off the bed, clutching her dressing gown together at the same time. "Mama!" she croaked.

Ryan said nothing, but his mouth hardened and his brows drew together as he straightened and looked at Devon Raveneau.

She wore only a billowing white nightgown with a lace collar around her neck and her hair was loose, making her look more like Lindsay's sister than her mother. There was nothing childish about her expression, however. It was deadly serious. "I realize that I've displayed very bad manners walking in on you two this way, but I had grown tired of playing the cat to your mice. Few things frustrate me more than
knowing
something in my heart but having the truth denied to me repeatedly. Worse, it's been painful and frankly worrying to me that the denials have come from my own daughter and a man I've come to care for as if he truly were my son."

Lindsay's eyes were huge and luminous in her pale face. She couldn't move or even relax her grip on the edges of her dressing gown, which she held tight across her bosom. Ryan, however, appeared self-assured as he walked over to stand beside Lindsay and rest a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"I don't think we've set out purposely to deceive you, Devon. The truth is that neither of us was certain what truly existed between us; we've been confused and frustrated ourselves much of the time. It's only tonight that we've begun to sort things out."

"I
see
," Devon said in measured tones, then sighed. Her well-honed instincts told her that her daughter was no longer a virgin. She hardly knew how to proceed or even what to feel. She was terribly fond of Ryan Coleraine and yet, as a mother, she could not help but see warning flags when she considered his past and his reputation with women. Might he not have been captivated by the challenge of winning a girl who had professed from the first to despise him? And what about the adventure of wooing her under the noses of her parents—and all those who thought them to be brother and sister?

Devon sighed again. "I don't have to tell you that it has bothered me enormously not only to keep my suspicions about you two from my husband but also to allay his own as they crop up. And I wonder if you have any idea how he would have reacted if he had walked in here tonight instead of me!"

"Do you imagine that Lindsay and I hatched a plot to fall in love whilst keeping her parents in the dark?" Ryan demanded in a low, intense voice. "Or perhaps it is I alone whom you suspect? If so, let me assure you that there has been no conscious subterfuge involved. We've both resisted romantic feelings for the very reasons you named. I am fully aware of the seriousness of my business here in England and of the trust you and Andre have placed in me. I'd never set out to damage either of those aspects of my current situation, but at the same time, my heart has been increasingly occupied with Lindsay."

Lindsay herself felt as if there were a whirlpool of conflicting emotions inside her. When she opened her mouth, only one word would come out. "Mama..."

Devon's heart twisted. "Since Andre isn't here to speak as Lindsay's father, I feel a responsibility to ask you in his place exactly what your feelings are, Ryan. You both realize that you're playing a dangerous game—you're risking the ruin of everything we set out to accomplish here in England. But much more important than that is the safety of Lindsay's heart."

"I intend to guard your daughter's heart, but I'm not inclined to give an intimate account of my feelings even to you."

"Indeed?" Devon's eyes and tone sent hot blood to Lindsay's face. "Perhaps my daughter is too shy to discuss this matter in front of you, Ryan. Lindsay, you and I will talk when we return to London. In the meantime, I can only warn both of you that you
must not
allow even a glimmer of romance to show through when you are in the presence of others. In fact, if you're wise, you'll postpone it completely until the family's business in England is finished."

Spoken like a true mother, Ryan thought wryly. Aloud, he said, nodding, "That's good advice. We'll certainly do our best to keep our heads until it's safe for me to court your daughter openly."

"You realize that means you can't be stealing into each other's rooms? Especially in a house filled with guests who believe you to be brother and sister?"

Lindsay found her voice at last. "I've certainly gone to Nathan's room to talk in my nightclothes before!"

Her mother fixed her with a penetrating stare. "I think you
know
what I mean. And now it's time for us to return to our various beds before someone else hears us and comes to investigate. Lindsay?"

Ryan led her over to join her mother and then, at the door, kissed each of them on the cheek. "Good night, ladies."

He watched them separate and go into their rooms on either side of his own. Shaking his head, he doused his lights, pulled off his breeches and shirt for the second time that night, climbed into bed, and wondered if he'd have time to sleep at all after sorting through all the events of the evening.

Devon, meanwhile, was slipping under the sheets next to her slumbering husband. Bathed in a pool of moonlight, she stared out the window and swallowed another sigh. Telling the two of them that they must suppress their feelings and desires had been an exercise in futility. If Devon weren't so keenly aware of the spellbinding power of new love, she wouldn't be nearly so worried....

Andre made a low sound in his sleep and reached for her. Snuggling against her husband's warm, hard body, Devon remembered their own stormy beginnings. If she could manage now to step back and consider Lindsay's situation as a woman rather than as a parent, she might be able to get to sleep after all.

Down the hall, Lindsay alone had not yet gotten into bed. She paced in the darkness, her eyes drawn against her will to the place on the rug where she and Ryan had made love. Blushing at each memory, Lindsay was torn between happiness and the shame she felt when she recalled the look on her mother's face. Mama
knows,
she thought over and over again. She knows what I've done! How can I ever face her again? And how can I look at Ryan in the morning?