Surrender the Stars (9 page)

James Post, a kind, industrious young man who had helped to build all of the Raveneau ships, believed himself to be in love with Lindsay. For nearly a year, he had pursued her with dogged devotion, and she had exhibited equal persistence in treating his attentions with friendly discouragement. Now, however, the sight of him made her heart swell with regret. If only she weren't being forced to go to England! How much more pleasurable it would be to spend her free hours with dear, sweet James Post.

"James!" she exclaimed. "How good it is to see you! Don't say that you have come all this way to see us off."

He crossed the threshold to meet her. "My only worry was that I would be too late," he told Lindsay, then turned to her mother. "May I walk Lindsay to the ship? I would be most grateful if you would grant me these few moments of her time."

"You're far too polite!" Devon laughed lightly. "My daughter will do as she pleases, with or without my permission."

"I'll see you at the ship, then, Mama."

James held the door for her and Lindsay stepped through it onto Ash Street. Instinctively, she glanced back at the house where her parents had first lived after their marriage and continued to inhabit during visits to Stonington. It was simple and sweet, she thought, a typical one-and-a-half-story dwelling, long and low with a gambrel roof. Lindsay hadn't been away from Connecticut for nearly ten years. As soon as she had been old enough to protest, she had insisted on remaining behind with Cassie and Able whenever the rest of the family embarked on the sea voyages they loved so much. Now, gazing back at the little house, she was swept by melancholy. When would she return?

"You certainly look pretty today, Lindsay," James was saying as he cocked an elbow for her to take.

"It's kind of you to say so." For reasons she couldn't fully explain, Lindsay had taken special pains with her appearance. She'd risen in the dark to bathe and to wash her hair before donning a fashionable new gown of peach muslin, its high waist and short, puffed sleeves edged with Belgian lace. Simple pearls accentuated the creamy softness of her throat, and Lindsay's beautiful gray eyes were complemented by a high-crowned bonnet of peach silk. To protect against the dawn chill, she had borrowed an ecru cashmere shawl from her mother.

"Pettipauge will be a dull place without you," James murmured, covering her slim fingers with his hand.

Lindsay turned to look at him. Why did he sound so ardent? They had known each other since birth, and though James's shyness and her own serious, solitary nature had kept them from being close, she had always thought of him as a friend. It was true that he had turned up to walk her home from school quite frequently of late and seemed to make a point of reading every book she mentioned, but it had never occurred to her...

"I wish you weren't going away!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I had just begun working up the courage to let you know how I feel. It's not fair!"

"Why, James! You surprise me." Lindsay spoke honestly, for she had never learned or cared to be coy.

"Sometimes I think you must be blind!" he cried, the floodgates opening at last. "How can you be unaware that every male you encounter is rendered speechless by your beauty? You're the most exquisite woman I've ever
seen,
Lindsay, in addition to being the most intelligent! If you'd ever given the slightest encouragement to any of the unmarried men in Pettipauge, you would have been besieged by suitors."

"Now you're being ridiculous. To suggest that dozens of men have been languishing in a sea of unrequited love, waiting for me to bestow a smile on them, is utterly silly!"

"Not a bit." James shook his head doggedly. "Though you might consider the notion that someone like me might have been afraid to approach you out of fear that you'd say that very thing. I can assure you, however, that my feelings for you are not 'silly'!"

Lindsay's head was spinning. "I beg your pardon, James. I certainly didn't mean to offend you! It's just that... I suppose I feel unworthy. It has never occurred to me that I might be the object of someone's admiration—or affections."

"You've been too lost in your books. You're at an age now where you ought to give some thought to
real
people!"

Emerging from Ash Street, they turned north onto the main thoroughfare of Water Street, which was lined with wharves and tall-masted ships. The borough of Stonington was located on a tapering finger of land that jutted out into Fisher's Island Sound. This narrow, picturesque village was barely three blocks wide, affording spellbinding water views from nearly every dwelling on the tightly built lanes. Since the end of the Revolutionary War, Stonington had truly begun to thrive as a seaport. It acquired not only fishing but whaling vessels, too. Soon they were joined by packets engaged in trade with the West Indies. Andre Raveneau had moved his own shipbuilding enterprise to Pettipauge before Lindsay's birth, but he kept his two older, sentimentally favored ships anchored at Stonington. One was the privateer the
Black Eagle,
which he had commanded with such success during the Revolution, and the other was a larger brig named for his first daughter,
La Mouette,
which meant the Seagull in French.

Lindsay was happy to enter the bustle of activity on Water Street. She'd been surprised and flattered by James Post's revelations, but since she could not offer him any encouragement, distraction was welcome. Ahead of them, she could see the stately masts of
La Mouette
rising against the tangerine-and-lavender sky. In spite of herself, Lindsay experienced a sudden thrill at the sight of seamen climbing the ratlines, bounding over the decks, and loading supplies up the gangplank. Drawing nearer, she spied her father standing on the quarterdeck. His silvery hair and loose white shirt were ruffled in the dawn breeze as he oversaw his crew, and though he didn't smile, Lindsay could sense his pleasure even from a distance.

"You've never been like the rest of your family," James said softly. "You have told me countless times that you care nothing for the sea. Why are you going?"

"I didn't really have a choice." Lindsay's tone was absent; her eyes were on her father.

"What if I were to offer you one?"

At that moment, a carriage drew up beside them. Driven by Able, it also contained Cassie, Devon, and all of their belongings.

"Good morning, Miss Lindsay!" Able cried exultantly. "It's an exciting day, isn't it?"

Shielding her eyes against the eastern sun, she smiled up at him, waving back at Cassie and nodding to her mother. "Good morning! I'll see you all on board."

As the carriage clattered off, Lindsay murmured, "It's getting late. Papa will be looking for me."

James was looking upset. He stopped to buy a basket of strawberries, which he presented to Lindsay, and they walked on in silence while he tried to decide what to say next. Lindsay, meanwhile, nibbled at a juicy berry and unconsciously scanned the crowd gathering around
La Mouette.
Suddenly, she spotted Ryan Coleraine striding forward to offer his hand to Devon. He was looking almost indecently handsome, his black curls tousled, his bearded face rakish and tanned. Clad in boots, biscuit-colored breeches, and an open-necked white shirt, Ryan moved with the grace of a panther. Lindsay was astonished to feel her heart skip.

Then, after escorting the captain's wife up the gangplank, Ryan returned to the dock. A woman stepped from the crowd to meet him, and the ease with which he slipped an arm about her waist told Lindsay that they had been together before the carriage drew up. Now, staring helplessly, she watched as they kissed. A tear sparkled on the woman's cheek, and Ryan smiled and erased it with a fingertip.

"Lindsay, I have to talk to you."

James! She'd forgotten all about him, which was no wonder since they stood just a few feet away from Coleraine and his paramour. Now, pointedly ignoring the Irishman, she gave all her attention to James.

"It's time for me to board, you know, but I want to thank you for coming all this way to see me off. That gesture, and the lovely things you said to me, mean more than I can tell you."

"Lindsay, you don't have to go!" he burst out. "Please, stay here. Come home to Pettipauge where you belong and marry me. I'll give you a good life, I vow it!"

She was surprised to realize that she wasn't even considering this offer, which ostensibly answered all of her prayers of the past fortnight. It seemed that a new part of Lindsay was emerging that actually welcomed the challenge of the adventure she was beginning, despite its uncertainties.

"James," she whispered, "I shall treasure your proposal. It's my first! But I cannot accept. I'm not in love with you."

"But you never cared for such things! You've told me that you think love is a myth."

"It may be that I have been too opinionated for my own good," Lindsay replied gently. "In any event, you deserve a wife who will love you. Someone with a better temperament than I have. I don't know that I'm suited for marriage—at least not now. And as for this voyage—for better or worse, I am committed to go."

After kissing his cheek, she turned away and started up the gangplank. At the top, Lindsay reached out to the rail for balance before stepping down, but a strong, dark hand appeared to grasp her arm.

"Allow me, Miss Raveneau."

She turned her face just enough to glimpse his chiseled profile and the ironic arch of his left brow. "Why, Captain Coleraine, what a surprise." Her tone was dry.

With a swift, graceful movement, he preceded her onto the deck and lifted her down. "Didn't you notice? I was there all the time. But, of course, you were far too busy declining marriage proposals to greet your brother."

"Eavesdropping again, I see!" she retorted lightly, walking past him toward the quarter deck. "And I would have certainly greeted my brother if he had appeared on the dock! After all, Nathan's early return from the West Indies would mean that I wouldn't have to spend the next few months in
your
company!"

Ryan smiled grudgingly as he watched her stroll away. The chit had a sharp tongue, but she used it with style and the sight of her long, slim back and appealingly curved hips begged him to forgive and forget her less admirable traits. Thoughtfully, Ryan rubbed his jaw and decided that it was probably fortunate that they didn't like each other or this brother-sister charade would already be doomed.

* * *

As
La Mouette
sailed from Stonington Harbor toward Long Island Sound, Lindsay was unpacking a trunkful of books in her cramped cabin. After only a few minutes of bending and straightening in her muslin gown, she stripped it off and donned one of the sets of shirts and breeches belonging to Nathan that her mother had insisted she pack. "On a voyage of this length, you'd be foolish to wear dresses all the time," Devon had said. "On board ship, we all become family; it's not necessary to try to impress anyone or even to follow the usual rules of etiquette."

Lindsay smoldered with outrage when she thought of Ryan Coleraine appraising her backside that morning. Of course, the beast had no inkling that she'd realized what he was doing, and the circumstances made it impossible for her to confront him. Now she was determined to turn up in shapeless, unflattering boys' garb at every available opportunity. Let him leer at this! she thought angrily, pulling books from the trunk.

"Miss Lindsay, what are you doing down here?" Cassie cried, poking her head in from the gangway. "It's such a beautiful morning! The water's so blue and it looks like it's strewn with diamonds!"

Relenting to an unfamiliar urge to socialize and partake of this new experience, Lindsay smiled and let Cassie pull her toward the hatch. Up on deck, the sight was spectacular.
La Mouette
sliced through the sapphire-hued water, throwing up mists of fresh, salty water. Fisher's Island lay off the starboard bow, humped, enormous, and spring green against the blue sky and water. In the other direction, Lindsay could see the vague outline of Stonington and the Connecticut coast. She knew that before the sun set, they would be out of the Sound and into the Atlantic Ocean.

"Lindsay!" her mother called from the quarterdeck, the captain's honored elevation at the stern of the ship. "Come and join us!"

Shielding her eyes, she saw only her parents and one or two ship's officers. Since there was no sign of her nemesis, Lindsay accepted the invitation.

"Give your poor papa a hug," Raveneau greeted her, turning over the wheel to his first lieutenant. "I've been ignored of late!"

Lindsay laughed and returned his embrace. "Papa, I've been packing! Besides, you have spent most of these past few days on board
La Mouette."

"Only to ensure that this voyage would be a happy one for you,
ma fille.
I even ordered this weather personally, trusting no one else to get it right. Do you approve?"

It was an old joke, dating back to a time when she had believed her father actually could perform such miracles. "Of course I approve! It's a perfect day!" Dropping her head back, Lindsay pulled the pins from her hair and freed a bright waterfall of curls. The sky was astonishingly blue above her, and she suddenly felt joyous... until she caught sight of a familiar figure high in the mainmast's rigging. Even from this distance, she imagined that she could see the laughter in Ryan Coleraine's eyes before he sketched a salute at her and returned his attention to reefing the topgallant sail.

"You're being too sensitive, you know," Raveneau murmured. "He may very well have meant that salute as a friendly gesture—and even if it was in jest, he doubtless does it to tease you. Why do you let the man chafe at you so?"

"I can't help it, Papa. I despise him!"

"Strong words,
cherie,"
he cautioned. "And even if you do feel so strongly, you ought to endeavor to hide it from Coleraine. It seems to me that he's already treating you in a brotherly fashion. Knowing that he has the power to annoy you, he delights in using it."

Something about this speech of her father's irked Lindsay. His choice of words seemed ill-advised. Shading her eyes, she wrinkled her nose with distaste and looked back up the mainmast. Ryan was descending the ratlines now, and Lindsay found herself staring at the play of long muscles in his thighs, the narrow lines of his hips, the breadth of his shoulders, and the glint of sunlight on his crisp black hair. When she realized her own thoughts, she looked quickly away, her cheeks aflame, until Ryan dropped lightly to the deck before her and dusted off his breeches. To Lindsay's further consternation, she discovered that her father had gone to join her mother at the rail.