Surrender the Stars (28 page)

The comparison made Ryan smile. He felt confident as he turned back toward the High until he looked for Lindsay and saw that both she and Dudley Fanshawe had vanished.

* * *

"Oh, Dudley, this is heaven!" Lindsay exclaimed as she lay back in the punt. The wooden shell drifted lazily down the Cherwell River, propelled by the pole Dudley wielded as he stood at the far end.

"I'm delighted to hear you say so, Lindsay dear. Dare I hope that I am in heaven with you?"

She laughed rather uneasily, wishing somehow that he
weren't
part of this real-life fantasy. Looking away from him, she concentrated on the dainty willows that bent near the narrow river, whispering in the breeze. In the distance were lush meadows, their beauty intensified by sprinklings of buttercups, bright red poppies, and lacy, pale golden meadowsweet. The river itself seemed to define the word
peace
as it murmured against the sides of the punt.

Dreamily, Lindsay turned her head and surveyed the ancient surviving walls of Oxford above which rose topaz-tinted spires and domes. "I love it here. If I lived in such a place, I don't think I could ever leave."

"Well, one has to get on with one's life," Dudley pronounced, guiding the punt toward a grassy bank. "Either that or become a don, I suppose, and I'm not that sort!"

Unsure of how to respond to that comment, Lindsay sat up slightly and inquired, "Why are we stopping?"

"That's Christ Church meadow," Dudley said, pointing absently to his right. "We've gone far enough—and I have a bottle of wine I thought we might open."

"Oh." She felt a certain trepidation but told herself that Dudley Fanshawe was a most reliable gentleman—unlike certain other men! Sitting up in the punt, Lindsay peeked over the meadow grass at the amber towers of Christ Church. "What a magnificent place!"

"Christ Church?" Dudley shrugged as he drew the cork from the wine bottle and magically produced two glasses. "I suppose. Of course, it's an honor to attend any college at Oxford, but in terms of prestige, I suppose Christ Church ranks first. It's the grandest, at any rate."

"Is it very old?"

"Not as old as many of the colleges. Merton, you know, was founded in the thirteenth century. As I recall, it was 1264. Christ Church was begun by Cardinal Wolsey, during Henry VIII's reign, when they had a tendency to overdo such things. It was the king, I believe, who united the college with the cathedral."

"How fascinating!" Lindsay accepted the glass of wine and took a sip. "It was very kind of you to take me punting, Dudley, and to suffer all my questions."

"At last you are calling me by my Christian name without being prompted!" He smiled. Carefully, Fanshawe slid down into the punt so that they sat close together. "It's been my pleasure to show you Oxford, dear Lindsay. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that you are interested in becoming acquainted with the places that have shaped my life."

In the act of swallowing a bit of wine, she choked and took a huge gulp, then another before the spasm subsided.

"My dear, are you all right?" he inquired solicitously. Seeing his opportunity, Dudley put an arm about her and bent near, hoping that she might grant him a kiss in this moment of weakness and gratitude.

"All right?"
echoed a familiar voice from the river-bank. "My sister will be perfectly well once she is restored to dry land."

Still coughing, Lindsay struggled out of Fanshawe's unwelcome embrace. "Nathan!"

He slowly lifted a dark brow. "None other. May I assist you?"

Dudley blinked in disbelief and muttered under his breath, "The man is like a curse, invariably turning up to plague me at the worst possible moment!"

Chapter 20

June 14, 1814

Ryan gave the younger man a charming smile. "I beg your pardon, Fanshawe? Did you say something?"

"No." He rolled his eyes.

Deftly, Ryan came down the steep bank and lifted Lindsay from the punt with ease. When she stood on the high ground of Christ Church meadow, he turned back to Dudley.

"I hope you don't think that I have been less than a gentleman, sir," the blond man intoned, balancing unsteadily in the slender punt.

Forcing himself, Ryan raised his quizzing glass. "Not at all! Why should I imagine such a thing? Fact is, my sister is notoriously prone to seasickness! She wouldn't tell you, of course, but as her brother, I felt it my duty to come to her rescue!" He gave him his best foolish smile. "I'd suggest that you return that punt, Fanshawe. Excuse us, won't you?"

Lindsay waved weakly from the bank, then Ryan took her arm in a hard grip and led her away.

"Surely you don't think that anything happened—" she began.

"Surely you don't take me for a fool!" he retorted angrily. "Your family didn't know where you were, your father is imagining all sorts of things, and you should thank God that I found you before he did!"

"If you're referring to the fact that I accepted a glass of wine and allowed Dudley to sit beside me—"

"Spare me!" Ryan shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I am well aware of your passionate nature."

Lindsay stopped and tried to slap him, but he easily caught her hand. "No more of that. I can't go round with a different bruise on my face every day!"

Suddenly the anger between them seemed to melt away and the humor seeped in. Lindsay pressed her lips together in an effort not to laugh at the thought of Ryan trying to explain his various slap marks, but a giggle slipped out. He caught both her wrists and tried to glare down at her, yet his own eyes were dancing. "Little vixen!" They stood in the middle of Christ Church meadow surrounded by sun-dappled wildflowers and chestnut trees in full bloom. "Of course I know you weren't doing anything, but you were a fool to go!"

"You're jealous," she said impulsively.

"Of that ridiculous jackanapes?" He started off again with Lindsay in tow. "Don't insult me."

She decided to change the subject and pointed to the distant buildings. "That's Christ Church College, you know. I think it is magnificent! Dudley has been instructing me."

"No doubt," Ryan muttered dryly.

"Truly! I am utterly captivated by Oxford and eager to learn more about it." She lifted her chin. "I wish that Dudley were here now to tell me what I am seeing."

Before he could stop himself, Ryan said, "Believe it or not, brat, even an ill-bred boor like myself can manage to retain a few facts over the course of a lifetime." He lifted a dark hand and pointed, his finger moving from left to right. "That's Christ Church's hall, and the bell tower with the high, tapering curve is Tom Tower, named after Thomas a Becket. The tallest spire is that of Oxford Cathedral, which is also Christ Church's chapel. Satisfied?"

Lindsay held fast to his arm and nearly stumbled in the grass as she tried to match Ryan's stride. "How do you know all of this?"

"Never mind. I shouldn't have spoken at all." His profile was chiseled, remote. "I shouldn't have
come
at all."

"To Oxford or to find me?"

"Take your pick!"

"Well, then, why did you? I could be having a perfectly lovely time if you weren't so intent on spoiling it!"

"Drinking wine in a punt with that milksop Fanshawe?" he asked acidly. "Kissing him under the willows? How romantic!"

"You're impossible and unfair!" Lindsay cried. "Why do you hate him so? He's a perfect gentleman and has never said or done anything to offend you!"

"His mere existence offends me," he shot back unreasonably. "He's puffed up with his own consequence and it's all hot air. His title, his manners, his family estate, his Oxford degree—"

"I still say you're jealous!"

Ryan stopped suddenly and stared down at her with stormy midnight-blue eyes. "I'll say this only once, Lindsay, and then you'd be wise not to throw those words in my face again. I wouldn't accept Fanshawe's assets if they were presented to me on a silver platter. They don't count a damn toward character."

She couldn't help herself. "Well, of course
you'd
say that!"

He turned and walked away.

Furious herself, Lindsay lifted her skirts and ran after him. As they emerged from the meadow onto the Broad Walk they passed fellows in caps and gowns who turned to look curiously at Lindsay's lovely but unladylike figure.

"Wait for me!" she cried at last. Ryan stopped but neither looked back nor spoke as she came up behind him. "You are the horridest man I know!" She gasped, trying to balance and remove a pebble from her kid slipper at the same time. "Would you have me make a fool of myself before all of Oxford?"

"You're perfectly capable of doing that without any assistance from me." When he saw that she was in danger of toppling over at the moment when her shoe was nearly back in place, Ryan put out a steadying hand. "You know," he remarked conversationally, "sometimes I could strangle you."

"And I, you!" Eyes flashing and cheeks pink, she gave him a murderous glance. "You are the rudest, crudest—"

Lightly, he waved a hand in front of her mouth. "Never mind the rest. It's all redundant. You've listed my shortcomings so many times that even
I
, oaf that I am, have managed to commit them to memory."

As they resumed walking, Lindsay attacked from a different angle. "Furthermore, I am sick to death of your petty complaints about Dudley! What about your precious Heather? Don't you suppose that my sensibilities are offended by the sight of a married woman with children—and, I might add, with one of those pompous titles you disdain—fawning over you like a schoolgirl? Even more unpleasant is the sight of you, fawning in return, for all the world to see! Is it any wonder that I accepted Dudley's invitation to go punting rather than endure one more nauseating moment of such a spectacle?"

The corners of Ryan's mouth twitched. "Hmm." He gave a mock sigh. "Sounds like jealousy to
me...
but then, what do I know about such things?"

She longed to scream and pummel him with her fists, but instead she cuffed his arm. "This is simply—"

"Shh." Staring ahead, he caught her wrist in a grip that was firm yet gentle.

Something in his manner gave Lindsay pause. She swallowed her arguments and followed his eyes. They had turned north on St. Aldate's and were approaching Tom Tower, which loomed above the arched entrance to Christ Church's Tom Quad. The only person coming toward them was an elegant, tired-looking old man dressed in what Lindsay guessed were robes that bespoke a position of authority.

Almost inaudibly, Ryan muttered, "Jesus, I'm done for now. I was a fool to leave London."

While still some distance away, the old gentleman's head lifted a bit, his shoulders straightened, and a smile flickered in his eyes. Ryan returned Lindsay's hand to the crook of his arm and whispered. "Behave yourself." Then they walked forward.

Before they reached the old man, a gowned student passed them from behind and removed his cap. "Good afternoon, Dean Jackson."

The dean nodded. "Mulcaster." Then, as the boy went on, he came to meet Ryan and Lindsay. "Hello, Coleraine." His smile was faint but suffused with affection. "You've changed, but, of course, I never forget a face. Yours in particular!"

They shook hands, and once again Ryan felt that strange rush of mixed emotions wherein the past tangled with the present. "Dean Jackson, it's good to see you. You're looking very fit."

"I have to be to maintain my legendary tact in managing that most unruly group of undergraduates: noblemen. Why do they all flock to Christ Church?" Ruefully, he shook his head. "I must say, though, I don't feel very fit at the moment. That ceremony in the High was interminable! I confess that I slipped away before everyone adjourned to the Sheldonian to witness the czar and the king receiving their degrees." Now Cyril Jackson turned his keen gaze on Lindsay and waited.

"Allow me to present Miss Lindsay Raveneau." Ryan's tone barely betrayed his discomfort. "Miss Raveneau, you have the honor of meeting Dr. Cyril Jackson, dean of Christ Church."

"The honor is mine, I assure you," Jackson said gallantly. "How are you, Miss Raveneau?"

Completely confused, Lindsay extended her hand and told him of her enchantment with Oxford.

"Miss Raveneau is visiting from America," Ryan explained, hating the fact that he could not be honest with this man for whom he felt such deep affection and respect. "Her father owns the ships I have sailed these past few years, and, at his invitation, I accompanied the family to England for a few months."

"I appreciated your last letter, Coleraine, but you're a less than model correspondent. I believe it arrived more than three years ago! Fortunately, I have heard of your exploits at sea from other sources." His eyes twinkled. "Did I not tell you when you left Oxford that I would pursue you, as long as I live, with a jealous and watchful eye? I haven't forgotten you, you know, or your potential. I'm still waiting for you to live up to it. Woe be to you if you fail me!" Before Ryan, who felt as if he were choking, could reply, Jackson turned to Lindsay. "This young man could have been professor of astronomy by now if he'd remained at Oxford. He might have been a dean one day! But he chose to employ other talents, and who can blame a young man for seeking adventure and longing to conquer new worlds?"