Captive Embraces (13 page)

“That be Saint Dunstan Hill, milady.”

Frau Holtz, quick to perceive a situation, glanced backward through the muddied glass and noticed the sign. “Sit down, Mevrouw,” she urged, “before we overturn on this murderous road.”

Sirena stood up, leaning precariously out the hastily opened window for another glimpse of the sign. Regan! Regan! She felt herself being forced back into her seat by Frau Holtz and, when she lifted her eyes again, they were glistening with unshed tears.
“Kind, Kind,”
the Frau soothed, “child, child, the time will come soon enough.” She sought Sirena's shaking hand and clasped it tightly, the heated words of moments ago forgotten in the compassion for her Mevrouw.

Sirena committed the location of Regan's establishment to memory and settled back in her seat, the sights and sounds of London no longer diversionary.

When, at last, the rocking coach stopped at the corner of New Queen Street and Cloaks Lane, Sirena and Frau Holtz disembarked with the aid of their driver, issuing him instructions that he should wait for them. Here the neighborhood improved markedly.

Head held proudly, Sirena approached the wide brick steps leading to the offices of Tyler Payne Sinclair, Esquire. Her hand poised to knock on the multi-paned glass door, a chill washed over her as she debated her next move. A sidelong glance at the grim countenance of the elderly woman beside her made her square her shoulders as she swung open the door.

The inner vestibule was well lit, a welcome sight after the dinginess without. Unlike Tio Esteban's office, this was opulently furnished. Sitting at the far end of the room was a secretary perched on a high stool, leaning over ledgers. Coughing lightly to attract his attention, Sirena waited to introduce herself.

“Sir Sinclair has been expecting you,” the cranelike young man stated in a cultured voice. “I'll tell him you have arrived. Won't you make yourself comfortable?” he asked, gesturing toward masculine leather couches.

“No, thank you,” Sirena replied. “If you will just tell Sir Sinclair I'm here.”

The secretary smiled appreciatively at her, taking in every detail of her appearance. Then his glance settled on Frau Holtz's stern expression and he hurried to do Sirena's bidding.

From out of the inner office stepped a tall, dark-eyed man attired in the current elegant fashions without assuming some of the more ridiculous feminine exaggerations. His doublet was of blue brocade and revealed a wide expanse of snowy white linen shirting which was laced at the neck and wrist. Following the trend, in place of the stiff, unbecoming ruff, his waistcoat fell into a casual, wide collar of deepest indigo velvet. His boot tops were loose and ornamented with spurs as was the style since the start of the conflict between Catholic and Protestant. For the most part the animosity between the two factions was still contained in Germany but outcroppings of it were slowly creeping across the continent and threatened to engulf most of Europe.

Turning his gaze on Sirena, he exclaimed, “Mevrouw van der Rhys,” clearly enunciating the Dutch form of address. “Welcome to England, welcome. Had I known your ship had docked I would have sent a private coach for you.”

“Thank you, but it wasn't necessary. Frau Holtz, from all appearances, this is Sir Sinclair.” Sirena flashed a winning smile at him. “Congratulations on your knighthood. Señor Arroya told me it was quite recent.”

Tyler Payne Sinclair was unnerved at having such a lack of manners in not introducing himself formally. Usually at ease with any situation, he was babbling like a schoolboy instead of a man in his twenties in front of this raven-haired, green-eyed goddess. Taking a breath to recover himself, he leaned over Frau Holtz's hand and bowed, murmuring his pardons. At a loss again for greeting the housekeeper before he paid his compliments to Sirena, Tyler decided to forego the amenities and simply took Sirena's offered hand and pressed his lips to her fingers.

Sirena didn't miss Frau Holtz's disapproving indrawn breath, nor did she fail to notice Tyler Sinclair's open admiration mingled with a devilish glint as he observed her over her slim, white hand.

“Please, be seated. Allow me to offer you a glass of wine. You must both be weary from your drive from the wharf.” Sirena inclined her head in acceptance while the Frau flatly refused the offer.

“This is excellent Maderia,” he said softly. “Perhaps you'll recognize the bouquet.”

Sirena studied Sinclair over the rim of her crystal goblet and was amused by the expression she read in his eyes. She liked what she saw and her emerald eyes lightened. He was handsome and well built. He'd look magnificent stripped to the waist on board ship with the wind ruffling his black curls. His gaze was direct, and his eyes the color of ripe chestnuts beneath thick, straight brows. His features were masculine and regular, but there was a sensuality in the mouth, and when he smiled, a cleft developed in his chin. Sirena noticed he had caught her in her open inspection of him and reddened slightly. “Excellent wine, thank you.”

Tyler Sinclair drew a chair opposite Sirena and seated himself, his long legs stretched out in front of him in a relaxed pose. “Allow me to apologize for the beastly weather,” he laughed. “I imagine Englishmen have been apologizing for it for centuries. Tell me, when did you arrive in London and on what ship did you book passage? I'll send someone to see after your baggage. Was your voyage comfortable?”

Sirena placed her goblet carefully on the small table nearby and spoke softly. “We sailed on the
Rotterdam
and we had a most enjoyable trip,” she lied. There was no need for the man to know she captained her own ship and commanded her own crew. It didn't pay to tell everything. In fact, as of late, she believed it was best to reveal as little as possible. She would be wary of how much she divulged to this handsome rake with the devilish glint in his eyes. Very careful, indeed. Even though Tio Esteban had assured her of Sinclair's honesty, she would still rather keep her own counsel and maintain a silence about her personal life.

“You are aware that I've been in communication with Esteban Arroya, are you not? I see by the packet in your hand that you did indeed visit the gentleman. I'm certain he explained how he came to my father and myself and turned your affairs over to our care. If it will be more agreeable, I will come to call on you the day after tomorrow and we will discuss your affairs in greater detail. You must have had a wearying day and I don't wish to burden you now. Let it suffice to say that all is being handled according to Señor Arroya's specifications; meeting your approval.”

“That will be most appreciated, Sir Sinclair. It has been a hectic day and I'm certain Frau Holtz is in need of her rest. As to my baggage, there is no need for you to send for it. There are final arrangements I must make at the ship and Frau Holtz will see to it. I understand that you have been commissioned to purchase a house for me.”

“Yes,” Tyler Sinclair stated, with a degree of enthusiasm. “It is a grand house in a very fashionable section of the city. It is on King Street, just across from Saint James Park. Westminster Abbey is down the road a piece and you're not far from Whitehall itself. It has been furnished for you, exquisitely so, according to my mother, the Baroness, who has a certain eye and flair for such matters. I trust it will be satisfactory.”

“I'm certain of it, Sir Sinclair. I hope the matter didn't inconvenience you too greatly.”

“On the contrary. I rather enjoyed making the purchase and haggling over the price. Once you are settled, the Baroness intends to set you on a social whirl. Prepare yourself,” he cajoled. His grin lighted his eyes and encouraged the rakish cleft to appear on his chin.

“Servants?”

. “Everything has been seen to, so my mother assures me.”

“Perhaps you will stay to dinner the day after tomorrow?” Sirena flashed a smile and was amused at its effect.

“I would enjoy that greatly, Mevrouw van der Rhys.” Damn the woman, Tyler thought, that smile near takes my breath away and leaves me sputtering like an idiot. “There are a few matters which must be seen to as soon as possible. Among them is your ... one of them is Mynheer van der Rhys.”

Sirena felt her heart begin to pound at the mention of Regan's name. God in Heaven, would it always be like this? Struggling for control over her emotions, Sirena asked, “How is Regan?”

“Hale and hearty. He's established his import-export business and I imagine he'll do very well with it. He has some very sound ideas and, of course, his endeavors with the Dutch East India Company are to his credit. As a matter of fact, we discussed his plans at some great length. I can see by your expression that this puzzles you. Your ... ex-husband must keep me informed of his business dealings and open his ledgers to me at the first of the month. I wish I could tell you he was amenable to it, but he's not. He objected quite strongly. Thanks to Señor Arroya's shrewdness, the Dutchman has little choice but to do so.”

“Did you mention to Regan that I was expected in England?” Sirena inquired quietly, averting her eyes from Sir Sinclair's in an effort to conceal her emotions.

“I saw no need to discuss your plans with him.” Tyler could see this turn in the conversation was causing Sirena a good deal of pain and he admired the way she kept herself in control. God, what could the Dutchman be thinking of to leave a woman like this? The man must be a fool! Yet, in his dealings with Regan, Tyler realized van der Rhys was anything but a fool. The Dutchman was a sharp businessman of keen intelligence. In fact, had they not been working at opposite sides of the court, so to speak, Tyler would have taken a sincere liking to him.

“Then Regan has no idea that I'm here, or for that matter, that I've left Java.”

Tyler's brown eyes narrowed slightly and he observed the grim lines around Sirena's mouth. Was it possible she still loved the Dutchman? Esteban Arroya had given no indication that this was the case. There must have been something irreconcilable to have driven two such vitally attractive people apart. Without a doubt, she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. He sensed she held banked fires in check. Regan van der Rhys' eyes betrayed the same haunted look as Sirena's. If she did love him still, what would she say once she learned of rumors linking the Dutchman with the lovely, fair-skinned Camilla?

“Ladies, the hour grows late and the fog seems to have rolled in thicker than before, if that is possible. You must allow me to escort you to your new home. The streets aren't safe. On your drive here you must have noticed the presence of an inordinate number of street riffraff. Not since the founding of Bridewell have we had such a convergence of scoundrels on the city. The matter would have been seen to quicker except for this damnable fog which has settled itself on us for the past week. The special committee of beadles has been attempting to round them off to Bridewell but they keep escaping and moving deeper into the city. Today, at the noon hour, I heard that Graie Friars—a hospital for beggar children—is filled to overflowing. These vagabonds bring their entire families and when they get rousted, they leave the offspring behind. I shudder to think what condition Saint Bartholomew's is in.”

“St. Bartholomew's?” Frau Holtz questioned, disliking London more by the minute.

“A hostelry for the poor,” Tyler explained. “These beggars bring disease with them and there have been noises of a cholera epidemic. These institutions may sound cruel, but the people are fed, clothed and given medical attention there. As for now, the streets aren't safe.”

Frau Holtz recalled the milling throngs of urchins and their hostility when their carriage drove by. “We would be most grateful for your company!” Frau Holtz exclaimed.
“Ja,
Mevrouw?”

“Yes, thank you, Sir Sinclair. Also I want to thank you for all you've done in my behalf.” She rose to her feet and looked into his chestnut eyes and for the first time since leaving Batavia she was fully aware of being a woman. A woman who was being admired by a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, attractive man.

“Must we be so formal? Please, call me Tyler; I'm still not comfortable with my new title. There's time enough for that when my father passes on and I'll be the Baron Sinclair.”

Sirena laughed, the first genuine expression of amusement Frau Holtz had heard from her in more months than she cared to remember. “Then you must call me Sirena. My legal and formal name is too staggering for the human tongue.”

“As I well know, having written it several hundred times in preparing a legal brief. See here,” he said, reaching across his desk for a slip of cream-colored parchment. “You are, as it says, Sirena Magdelena Consuela Ramosy Córdez. You no longer carry the van der Rhys name. You are a free woman.”

His words were a shock. All the color drained from her face and she felt weak-kneed. Tyler raced to put his arms protectively around her. Through the shock of hearing that years of her life had been erased, that she was no longer a van der Rhys, Sirena was aware of Tyler's steady support. She heard his quick intake of breath as he gazed down at her. She watched as he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.

Sirena smiled in spite of herself. She liked this strong, lusty man. What was it Frau Holtz was always saying? Ah, yes, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” This bird would be well worth taking in hand. His tail feathers were definitely plumed. And then, too, if Regan found another man attracted to her, he might ... Deliberately, Sirena leaned more heavily into the closeness of Tyler's embrace and lowered her thick lashes. She allowed her mouth to quiver slightly before carefully extracting herself from his arms. She held his gaze with her own, her eyes grass-green and shimmeringly moist.