Surrender the Stars (60 page)

"I had to talk to you when I was certain Captain Hampshire wouldn't be around. I have arrived at the perfect solution to all our problems!"

Chapter 4

The high yellow wheels appeared slender to the point of fragility, and Dr. Dick eyed the post-chariot dubiously. A cool, sunny breeze ruffled his dark hair as he turned to speak to Lion Hampshire. "Are you certain that this contraption is strong enough to support the weight of human beings?"

Lion laughed out loud, his head bent as he finished strapping his valise to the carriage. "Elisha, you are entirely too skeptical! I assure you that not only is it strong enough, but it is also one of the fastest vehicles on the road." He came around then to clasp his friend's outstretched hand. "I thank you for providing me with such fine accommodations

. It has been wonderful to see you again and to meet Hannah at last."

"The pleasure has been entirely ours! You are welcome in our home at any time." Dr. Dick paused, frowning slightly. "Are you certain that this marriage to Priscilla Wade will go according to your plans?"

"Well," Lion smiled dryly, "I'll admit that her brother may have oversold her to me, but I believe she'll do. Priscilla's shallow beauty should suit my purposes quite well."

Elisha cocked an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I suppose farewells are in order. Again, thank you for coming to me; it's been wonderful catching up on each other's lives. I hope, after all you've told me, that your problems with Marcus Reems can somehow be resolved. It seems such a shame... Perhaps your marriage might help—"

"I don't lose sleep over Marcus, and haven't for fifteen years," Lion replied laconically. "His bitterness goes too deep to allow room for hope of mending matters between us. I cannot enjoy knowing that any man would name himself my enemy, but at least I am assured that the fault lies in Marcus, not in me."

Elisha's face puckered with sadness, not only because of what Lion had said, but also because of the tone of his voice. The gregarious, magnetic youth he had known so well at the Academy had a new, diamond-hard facet to his personality; cool, determined, and apparently lacking in sentimentality. Was it possible for him to have hardened so, or could this attitude be a defense? Blinking, Dr. Dick extended his hand. "Good fortune to you, Lion. Give my regards to our old friends in Philadelphia and keep in touch. If you should change your mind—if your plans don't work out—we should be delighted to see you settle here. Alexandria is destined to become a great seaport, you know!"

Lion grinned, white teeth contrasting with his tanned face. "I appreciate that, but I intend that my future will be all that I desire."

He called to Joshua, his coachman, who hopped onto the carriage perch, and then Lion mounted his own chestnut roan. Hair shining in the sunlight, he waved to Elisha and to Hannah, who had appeared in the doorway, then rode away down Cameron Street.

It was still early when the white columns of West Hills appeared on the horizon, rising over the bare treetops. The yellow carriage was right behind him as he cantered down the drive.

Priscilla stood on the veranda, looking attractively nervous. The robe of her emerald green silk gown was parted to reveal a pale muslin underskirt tiered with narrow ruffles, while her lovely breasts curved above the low, round neckline. Only a woven shawl protected her from the crisp February air and she took care that it was held open across her bodice. As Lion came toward her she smiled at him coquettishly, dropping her eyes when he raised her soft white hand to his lips.

"You are looking exceedingly lovely this morning, Miss Wade. I am honored by this personal welcome!"

His eyes lingered on her bosom in a way that made her blush, her long lashes sweeping her cheeks. "You are too kind, Captain Hampshire... but now that we're betrothed, won't you call me Priscilla?"

He grinned. "Nothing would please me more. Now—are you ready to leave? Where are your things?"

Flustered, she hurried past him into the marble entry hall. A large assortment of trunks and boxes filled the area, and Lion let out a low whistle, at the sight.

"Ah—Priscilla, I was not able to bring an extra wagon for the baggage due to the weather, and I fear that if we attempt to load all of these onto my carriage, the wheels would sink out of sight in the mud!"

Her expression was horrified. "Sir, I hope you are not suggesting that we leave any of my possessions behind! I was given to understand that I could bring whatever I wished!"

Lion raised an eyebrow coldly, deciding that his fiancée was beginning to resemble a petulant child. "That, my charmer, was before I realized that you owned more possessions than even one of my ships could carry!"

"How insufferably rude you are!" she shrilled.

"Perhaps you had better become accustomed to it or else cease your spoiled tirades. Now, if you still want to travel to Philadelphia, I suggest that you choose two of those trunks and one bandbox. Anything else you need I will purchase for you after we arrive."

She bit off her next complaint as a vision of the fashionable dress shops in America's largest city flashed in her mind. Suddenly her face was sweet and lovely again as she edged closer to Lion until he could smell the heady scent of magnolia that clung to her. "I really must apologize for my behavior, Captain Hampshire. Why, if Mama were alive, she'd thrash me for speaking that way to you! I can't imagine what came over me. I certainly wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression of your future wife!"

"Don't worry," he replied with an ironic smile, "I won't form any inaccurate opinions."

Her crimson lips were turned up to him and Lion took his cue, lightly tipping her chin back with a lean finger. Priscilla closed her eyes, waiting, and was surprised to feel his mouth touch hers so lightly that for a moment she thought she had imagined it. Hesitantly she peeked out from under long lashes and found Lion smiling down at her in an odd way. There was a frost in his eyes that confused and vaguely frightened her.

Removing his hand from her chin, he inquired, "Where is your brother? We should say our farewells and be on our way."

Priscilla flushed, stammering in a false, high voice, "Well, it is quite the most peculiar thing! He seems to have eaten something at breakfast which did not agree with him and has taken to his bed!"

Lion watched her closely, raising an eyebrow. "It is fortunate that you were not similarly afflicted."

"Yes!" She glanced around agitatedly, half expecting James to recover from his sabotaged meal and appear on the stairs to find her out.

"Where is your maid? Call her so that we may take our leave."

He went outside to summon the coachman to help with the trunks and Meagan popped out from behind the highboy in the parlor. She wore a demure gray dress and matching pelisse, giggling softly with excitement as she pulled the hood over her black curls.

"What a marvelous adventure this is! I am looking forward to practicing this small deception on your self-assured fiancé!"

Priscilla was wild-eyed. "It will never work! He will know—"

"Not if you can manage to collect your wits and stop acting so guilty! Besides, what does it matter to him who your
maid
is so long as you have one?"

Lion came through the door then and Meagan immediately stared at her feet, assuming an attitude of meek subservience.

"I thought I told you to call your maid," he said sharply. "What trunks have you decided on?"

In her panic Priscilla pointed to two of them at random, then hurried over to Meagan's side. For a moment Meagan feared she might attempt to hide behind her. Lion stared at the two of them while the coachman carried out the cowhide trunks.

"What the devil is going on here? Where is your maid?"

"H-here," Priscilla gasped and Meagan wanted to pinch her.

He strode across the floor to peer at her, then drew off the hood on her pelisse. The long black hair spilled down her back and recognition sparked in Lion's eyes.

"It's you!"

Excerpt from

Natalya

Special Author's Cut Edition

Beauvisage Novel #2

by

Cynthia Wright

The year is 1814. Natalya Beauvisage, daughter of Caroline & Alec, is in France at her ancestral chateau in the Loire Valley. She is 26, an independent author, and she now longs to return home to America in spite of the war that makes travel dangerous...

"I'll find a way," Natalya insisted. "And I'm not motivated by stubbornness, or a whim. Something inside"—she pressed a hand over her heart—"tells me it's time to go home. It's the same inner voice that bade me leave Philadelphia and travel to Europe after my twentieth birthday. Whether it is God or my own best instincts, I trust it enough to do my utmost to obey."

Everything Natalya did and felt seemed to be
bigger
than normal, Lisette thought as she formulated a tactful reply. However, before she could speak, Marie-Helene appeared in the doorway.

"Madame, there is a stranger outside, insisting that he speak to M'sieur Nicholai." The little maid's eyes were wide with trepidation.

"M'sieur Nicholai and James have not yet returned from their ride to Saumur?"

"No, madame."

"Well, I'm sure that they'll be back momentarily. It's started to rain, hasn't it? You must ask our visitor in, give him a drink, and assure him that M'sieur Beauvisage should arrive home within minutes."

Marie-Helene looked pained. "Madame, this man is... a
stranger."

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Lisette was losing patience. "If he is a friend of my husband's—"

"He does not look like any friend of M'sieur Beauvisage's that I have seen before. He looks almost—dangerous...." The maid began to wring her hands nervously.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Natalya exclaimed, "I'll go down and deal with the man!"

Standing, she drew her shawl close around her slim shoulders and hurried out of the room. Marie-Helene scuttled along behind, head down. They descended the curving, white marble stairway, Natalya's fingers skimming the rail of the intricately carved, black wrought-iron balustrade. At the bottom stretched the chateau's long gallery, magnificent with its floor of black-and-white marble squares and its renaissance tapestries. Through the gallery's long windows, which overlooked terraced gardens, Natalya could see the stranger who struck such fear into Marie-Helene. Clad all in black, he stood inside the arched doorway to the chateau's east wing. A slight breeze billowed his cape and caused him to lift his head, giving Natalya a glimpse of a rakish, dark, bearded face.