Surrender the Stars (33 page)

She had been thinking much the same thing as she stared at his tapering chest. He was the very image of an Irish pirate. A thin line of black hair bisected the muscled ridges of his belly, and when Ryan removed the rest of his own clothing, Lindsay saw that it pointed to the very impressive proof of his manhood—and his desire for her. She reached out to run her fingertips down the hard edge of Ryan's hip, touching first the taut curve of his buttocks and then the line of his thigh. No sculptor, she thought, however brilliant, could capture such perfect male beauty in marble. For this was a warm-blooded, living man; the man she loved.

Without thinking, Lindsay said it aloud. "I love you, Ryan."

He covered her body with his own and that alone was the stuff of rapture. His dark hands framed her face. He kissed each smoky eye, lingered over her sensual mouth, then whispered, "I love you, Lindsay."

Her thighs opened. She felt swollen yet fairly abuzz with new sensations. Slowly, he touched her there, skillfully and gently, until she sobbed against his mouth. Then Ryan came into her with the utmost care, biting the inside of his mouth in an effort to contain his own intense pleasure. She was so taut, so warm and wet...

"Am I hurting you?"

"It feels wonderful... better than wonderful. I never dreamed..."

"Sweet Lindsay." His mouth closed over hers and their tongues met at the same instant that he thrust inside, joining their bodies completely. She moaned, passion and pain mingling, then her hips found Ryan's slow, building rhythm and her fingers clutched his muscled back. Together, they moved in a ritual of love as old as time itself. Hot, pleasurable tension built between their thrusting hips. Lindsay thought it might drive her mad as she panted against his neck. Then, suddenly, the spiral of passion exploded in what felt like a million sparkling stars cascading out from the very core of her being. She let out a moan of primitive surprise, her slim form trembling against the strength of his body. Feeling her reflexive contractions, Ryan smiled and kissed her damp hair, then allowed himself a climax that left him drained and breathless.

They gasped for air together, half laughing with joy.

Lindsay adored the feel of him still inside her, warm and pulsing. Ryan rolled onto his back, taking her with him, their bodies still joined, and reached up to caress her tumbled curls and glowing face.

"I had no idea..." she murmured, bending to kiss Ryan's mouth.

"To tell you the truth, neither did I." He chuckled.

"I was... all right, then? I mean, I know you're used to more experienced women—"

"It's never been like this, Lindsay, with anyone else." Wrapping his arms around her, he held her against him so that their heartbeats mingled. "Are you in any pain?"

"I never felt better in my life!" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

Gradually, reality seeped into Ryan's consciousness. Was it possible that this had actually happened in a house filled with other people—not the least of which were Lindsay's parents?

She felt him stiffen slightly and a shadow fell over her heart. Then Ryan gently turned them both sideways, just enough so that he could withdraw carefully.

"What's wrong?" Lindsay managed to whisper brokenly.

"It's just beginning to dawn on me how incredibly mad I've been to take you
here
—in the house of your suitor and under the noses of your parents!" Reaching for his breeches, he found a handkerchief and ministered to Lindsay as if they had always been intimate. "You know that I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night in bed with you, my darling, but the harsh truth is that I must get out of here as soon as possible. If anyone should knock on either of our doors, we'd never be able to explain!"

Goose bumps spread over Lindsay's naked form as she watched him pull his clothing back on, then hold out his hands to her. "Come on, angel, get up. God, but you're beautiful!" Briefly Ryan held her against him. "Don't look at me like that! Have you forgotten that nearly everyone in this considerably crowded household thinks we are brother and sister? I'd say that we've taken enough risks for one night. Where are your nightgowns?"

Wearing an expression of utter dejection, Lindsay pointed to the dressing room. Ryan went in, rummaged around, then returned to pull a shapeless white garment over her head with a sigh of relief.

"That's better. Now be a good girl and scrub your teeth, wash your face, and get into bed." For a moment, he cupped her delicate face and stared down into her great gray eyes. "Don't despair, Lindsay. We'll steal some time alone to talk when we get back to London, but for the moment, it's necessary that we put what happened between us away. You do understand, don't you?"

She couldn't stop shivering. If she'd felt she could wrap her arms around him and stay safe in his embrace, it would have been easier to bear. However, as things stood, Lindsay was embarrassed by her body's betrayal. She disengaged herself, backed away, and pasted on a tremulous smile.

"Of course I understand! We—we both lost our heads! I expect it was all that wine at dinner. And you're perfectly right; you must go back to your room immediately before we're found out!" Lindsay managed a hiccup of laughter. "It wouldn't do for you to be called out by both Dudley
and
my father, would it!"

He was unsettled by her manner. "Don't misunderstand me, Lindsay—"

"Misunderstand? You are not talking to a child. I am nearly twenty years old, and I do not lack for intelligence. I understand exactly what transpired here tonight, and you needn't be concerned that I shall swoon tomorrow morning at the sight of you. Even if there were not so many practical considerations, I would have no desire whatever to inform the world of tonight's... uhm... lapse."

Ryan knew her well enough to recognize what was happening now, but he couldn't afford to stay and sort it out. Instead, he stared at Lindsay long and hard and reached out to caress her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "It was not a lapse, and well you know it!" he scolded gently. "Try to get some sleep, and we'll—"

Weakening at his touch, Lindsay watched as Ryan suddenly inclined his head. "Shh!" he warned, raising a tapering, dark forefinger.

"You
were talking, not I!" she whispered, bristling.

"I think I heard something. I'd better go." Then, unceremoniously, he gripped Lindsay's forearm and pulled her against him, kissing her already bruised lips. "We'll finish this in London. Sleep well, angel."

A moment later, Lindsay was alone in the huge sitting room and trembling again. Dazedly, she wandered into the bedroom where more candles had been lit by a maid.

Ryan had called her angel. Remembering, she felt a welcome rush of warmth but then found herself wondering if it was merely a standard endearment that he used whenever he had made love to a woman....

White curtains billowed at the windows; the wind blew in and then retreated like a living thing. Lindsay found herself drawn to a window, its casements thrown open, wondering numbly if the stars were out tonight. Stray raindrops stung her face as she searched the sky and watched dark clouds obscure and then reveal a glimmering crescent moon. More clouds hid the stars. Fitting, Lindsay thought morosely.

She was about to turn away from the window when she noticed a shadow move on the lawn below. Staring, she recognized Harry's blond head and then saw another man come into view. It was the Earl of Chadwick. There was something furtive about their movements that put Lindsay on guard, and she grew more suspicious as minutes passed and they continued to converse with heated intensity. At times, she could hear one of their voices break above a whisper, and Lord Chadwick repeatedly poked Harry's handsome chest. Finally, Chadwick produced what appeared to be a letter and handed it to Lindsay's brother-in-law, then they turned in opposite directions and disappeared.

What could it mean? Lindsay's heart was beating in her throat as she considered the possibilities. Lord Chadwick was one of the most powerful Tories in the House of Lords, while Harry had a new seat in the House of Commons. Could politics be a factor in their meeting?

One thing was clear: She had to tell Ryan. Crazily, she searched for a pink silk dressing gown and went out into the corridor without a thought to her appearance. Lindsay found that, aside from the puzzle of Harry and Lord Chadwick, she could hardly wait to see Ryan again and be near him. Boldly, she knocked at his door.

There was a long pause and then from inside came the voice of Lady Chadwick. "Ryan darling, aren't you going to see who it is?"

Chapter 24

June 16, 1814

Before Lindsay could run, the door swung open and Ryan stood before her. Hester was a blur across the room.

"Lindsay!" he whispered with sharp surprise.

"I must speak to you. A... family matter. When you're free...?"

Before he could respond, she turned and dashed away to her own rooms. Shaking his head, Ryan looked back to find Hester in the corner by his bed pouring herself a glass of cognac. Her green eyes tilted upward slightly as she regarded him from under long lashes.

"I hope you don't mind. It's very bad of me, I know, but I need the extra courage." She smiled. "Let me fix you a drink, too."

Ryan buttoned his shirt up to his collarbone as he watched Hester approach with the two crystal snifters. When she handed him his and clinked her own against it, he knew a strong sense of disorientation. How bizarre to have just made love to Lindsay for the first time in a strange house and now to be alone with Hester in the same unfamiliar surroundings. When her fingers brushed his own, he nearly flinched.

"Darling," Hester was murmuring, "do you remember the first night I drank brandy with you? It was in your rooms in St. James's. If my parents had known that I was there alone with you—"

"I remember." Ryan averted his eyes and set down the glass. "Hester, is it wise for you to be here alone with me now? Your husband is in the same house and he could wake up and discover your absence at any moment."

Daringly, she leaned forward enough so that her brow grazed his chest. "Francis isn't asleep; he went downstairs a little while ago."

Ryan's blue eyes widened. "But that means that he could return at any time and search you out. I do
not
think that this is the proper place or time for that sort of confrontation! Hester, you must tell me what it is you want and then go back to your own rooms." Firmly, his fingers closed around her arm and he moved her away from him.

"I had to talk to you." Realizing that he was in no mood for nostalgia, Hester seized the moment. "I know that tomorrow we all return to London and I wasn't certain when I would see you again. Ryan, ever since the night we talked at Vauxhall Gardens, I've been unable to think of anything except you. When I told you that I was content in my marriage, I wasn't being entirely truthful... though I didn't realize that until later." She laid a slim hand on his sleeve. "Tonight, sitting with you at dinner, I felt as if the years had fallen away, and afterwards I couldn't sleep. Finally it dawned on me that I was feeling the same way I did when we first fell in love a decade ago."

"Please don't do this to yourself. We both agreed that we're better off as friends now." Ryan wished that he might sound more sympathetic and caring, but the fact was that this was the last thing he needed at the moment. He longed to be alone if he couldn't be with Lindsay, to lie in the darkness and relive every word, every moment of their time together. The situation was muddled enough without Hester injecting a whole new set of complications into his life! Still, he looked down at his old lover and tried to muster sympathetic concern. "You have a family to think of. We both have new lives..."

Her green eyes cooled. "I knew it."

"Pardon?"

"It's that girl. Lindsay. I suppose it was inevitable since the two of you have been thrown together for weeks, but really, darling, I should have expected your standards to be higher!"

A muscle clenched in his jaw. "I can't imagine what you mean." Privately, he thought that she sounded bitter and frustrated. "Hester, I won't say that I wish we could continue this discussion. Frankly, I think it's a waste of time and energy, and, worse, it's dangerous. Your husband will be missing you. There was a time when I would have relished the thought of fighting a duel with him but no longer."

She felt as if Ryan were twisting a knife in her heart. The sight of him, grown even more appealing with age, made her ache with longing. Hester could feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his shirt. She breathed in his masculine fragrance and longed for the sensation of his mouth covering her own, his hands touching her body....

"Ryan," she whispered brokenly, "have you really forgotten what was once between us?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten." Softening, he brushed a fingertip over the side of her cheek. "It was marvelous then, but we can't go back."

Desperation overwhelmed her. Her hands crept up to his shoulders and her lips sought his. Ryan's mouth was unyielding, but pity kept him from drawing back until a knock sounded at the door and it swung open.