Captive Embraces (3 page)

Regan grasped her arms, pulling her across the floor, her heavy, black skirts trailing.

“Take your hands off me! No man will ever again subject me to rape and that includes you!” she snarled, her teeth bared. “Sooner or later you'll have to release one of my hands and the moment you do, you'll be blinded. I'll pluck your mocking eyes out of your ignorant head!”

Regan merely laughed, the sound raising the hackles on the back of Sirena's neck.

“Damn your soul to Hell!” Sirena shrilled, her fists beating against his hard chest. Regan's hold on her forearm was viselike, yet she continued to struggle. Her legs thrashed out at him from beneath her cumbersome skirts.

Regan locked both her thin wrists in one large hand, his other drawing her face to within inches of his. He looked deep into her stormy eyes and grinned. This was the Sirena he knew and loved. This woman of determination, of vitality; who would fight and spit and turn the fates to her advantage; who could stir his blood and arouse his passions; who would meet him on equal footing or see them both dead before admitting failure. Sirena, his Siren. This was the temptress who was the creator of her own destiny; who would never compromise with what life sent her way but would rush out and meet life and savor it and change that which was not to her liking.

He forced her face still closer and crushed her mouth with his. “Devil!” he shouted furiously as he drew back, blood oozing from his lip. His grip loosened momentarily and Sirena wrenched free, racing to the long, curved stairway and up to her bedroom and the security of its locked door.

In a rage Regan bounded up the steps, his arms reaching out in an attempt to catch her by the skirt.

Fleet of foot, Sirena eluded him and breathlessly gained the top of the stairs. Regan was close behind her, careening in a zigzag pattern, his heavy shoulders glancing against the wall.

Sirena reached her bedroom and successfully slammed the door, turning the key in the lock. Her eyes wide and staring, she backed across the room, cursing herself for her foolhardiness. A wooden barrier would never stop Regan; she should have run through the garden doors and out into the jungle. There, in the dark, hidden from view, she could have bided her time until Regan's fury cooled.

Regan threw himself against the door. Once. Twice. The third time the teak splintered as a result of his force and Sirena's spine stiffened as she prepared herself for his attack. Regan stepped over the fallen fragments. His head lowered, glaring up at her from beneath hooded lids, his mouth a line of grim resolution.

“Have you no respect for bereavement? Have you no respect for your son's death or his mother? Do you think of nothing save that which rests between your legs? Get out of here! Satisfy your lust somewhere else!”

Still he came, step by step, shoulders hunched, eyes blazing.

“Leave me to my mourning. I'm warning you, Regan ...,” she said huskily, backing into the room, putting the width of the bed between them. An instant later Regan was across the bed, his arms reaching for her. Sirena jerked her arm free of his grasp and felt the fabric of her sleeve rip as she luched around the foot of the bed.

“Bastard!” she shrieked. “Tear my clothes, will you?” The lamp found its way into her hand and sailed past Regan, missing him by a scant hairbreadth. A crystal scent bottle followed. Regan tried to brush the scent from his clothes. “Now you smell like the brothels you play in,” Sirena gasped as a brush and then a heavy jar sailed toward him.

Regan chuckled, “How is it you know how a brothel smells?”

“Whoring bastard!” Sirena shrilled. “You talk in your sleep. I learn everything about you when you sleep. I ask you questions and you, fool that you are, answer me.” Suddenly she laughed, a high, silvery tinkle that bounced off the walls and came to rest on Regan's ears. He flinched at the sound but leapt across the bed.

Deftly, she sidestepped him, flinging a small, jeweled coffer at his head.

“If that had found its mark, I would be seriously hurt,” Regan growled.

“I know,” Sirena answered softly, “you've grown fat, Regan. You're slow and clumsy, like all Dutchmen,” she trilled. “Rich food and too much rum has added inches to your girth. I have no desire to bed an obese man,” she taunted. “Find your way out of my presence.”

“You can't win, Sirena. I mean to have you and I will. Come here to me and we'll make a new son.” The instant the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. Never had he seen such unleashed fury.

The room was a living explosion of objects hurtling as though they had a life of their own. Dresser drawers and anything that could be lifted had to be reckoned. with. Dodging a high-flying shoe, he covered his head, cursing all Spaniards and women in general. Sirena returned his oaths just as quickly and vehemently. “All you want is for me to be ugly and heavy with your child.”

“I'm a man,” Regan said through clenched teeth, “and you're a woman!”

“Which means what?”

“Which means I'm the superior. We're not fighting with weapons now. Now it's man versus woman and the man is the stronger.”

“I have only your word for that. Chaezar Alvarez made the mistake of thinking the same thing,” Sirena said quietly as she gauged the distance between herself and the doorway.

“Chaezar,” Regan sneered, “was an animal, not a man! I am a man, Sirena, your husband, and when I say I mean to have you, I will! You are also coming with me when I leave for Spain. I've had enough of this nonsense,” he said, racing toward the door as soon as he saw what her objective was.

Roughly he grasped her by both shoulders, his fingers biting cruelly into her flesh. He issued an epithet of disgust as he threw her onto the bed. The breath driven from her body, Sirena could only gasp. Regan stood looking down at her, his face a mixture of emotions. “I mean to have you ... one way or the other,” he said distinctly. “And make no mistake, you'll be aboard my ship in the morning. I have just now decided to hasten my departure and you will be with me!”

Sirena lay quietly, her eyes half closed. She neither acknowledged hearing his words nor that she cared what he stated.

“Stand up!” Regan ordered.

“No.”

Regan pulled her to her feet. “Take your clothes off,” he ordered. “You always did have a penchant for wearing mourning garb. When you first came here, you hid yourself beneath your black gowns and your prayer beads. All the while you were commanding a ship, playing the part of a lady pirate. Lady! Bah! You were no more a lady than the monkeys in the trees. I'm sick of this drab attire. Take it off!”

“No.”

“Then I will do it for you,” Regan snarled as he tore her gown from throat to navel. Her breasts, free of their restrictions, were taut and erect beneath the thin chemise she wore.

“Remove the rest,” he commanded sharply, his eyes on her quivering bosom.

“No.”

Staring steadily at his face, Sirena felt the rest of her gown slip to the floor and lay about her feet. Regan's hands were clenched into fists and it was with effort that he opened them to lower her gently to the soft mattress. She remained limp, her eyes wide and unblinking as his lips crushed hers. Desire mounted in him as he touched and caressed her, knowing which delicate caress awakened her desire and response.

Caught in his passions, he mouthed sweet words of love as his lips feverishly sought her mouth, her throat, her breasts. He willed her to respond, demanded it, needed it.

His kisses were gentle and expert as he worshipped her. Tenderly, his lips clung to hers, softly he tasted the sweetness that was hers alone. Their breath mingled, the pulse of her throat beat a tattoo against his hungry mouth. She was warm and supple beneath him, her breasts flattened against his chest, her hips answering his.

A small cry escaped her as he kissed her with passion-bruised lips. Her senses whirled and soared, making her dizzy with a joy that bordered upon lust. Her arms closed about him, drawing him nearer.

She craved his touch, the taste of his mouth, the smell of his skin. She had been starved for him and she hadn't even realized it. She had been so caught up with thoughts about Mikel that she had lost all touch with her own feelings. She had turned away from Regan because he could make her aware that she was alive and she hadn't wanted to be alive. She had denied Regan and herself. This man she adored with her whole being, wanted her, needed her, and she had needed him in return.

Now he had put her back in contact with life. And she wanted to give herself—her body, her love–to him. Her sensuous embraces were answered with Regan's scorching passion. Moaning with ecstasy, she turned her body in his arms, pliant to his demands, relishing the sensuality that was rising to the surface. A sensuality too long held dormant.

Exulting in his pleasure, Sirena sought for and found the most sensual caress and was enraptured with the pleasure and inspiration she gave him. Against his lips she murmured, “Have me, have me, Regan. For now, for tomorrow, for always...”

Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, both of them having found peace. Sirena's eyes closed languidly.

“Darling, have you changed your mind? You will come with me, say it. I need to hear you say it.” Regan's voice was warm and his arms tightened about her, urging her answer.

“Shhhh,” Sirena whispered, laying a gentle hand on his lips. “We'll speak of it later.”

“No.” Regan's tone was gentle. “We must discuss it now. I want you to travel to Spain with me. Caleb is in school in Holland. We'd be closer to him in Spain. Say you'll come.” He was just making a formal gesture in asking. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that her answer would be in the affirmative. “Your holdings must be put in order. You've always wanted to return to your homeland and now I'm ready to go with you.”

“But Mikel. I can't leave him,” Sirena said tearfully.

“Sirena,” Regan said kindly, “Mikel is gone. Staying here won't change anything.”

“I can't. I can't leave. I hate this island and what it has robbed from me,” Sirena cried, “but I can't leave. How can you be so inhuman as to ask me such a thing. Didn't Mikel mean anything to you? How can you want to abandon the one thing our love created? I don't understand you, you're his father.”

“Was his father. Why don't you understand? Day after day you sit there by his grave and pull the weeds so the jungle won't claim that small mound of earth.”

“I can't leave,” Sirena repeated, burying her head in the pillow. “Don't force me to go with you.”

“No, I won't make you do something against your will,” Regan said sadly. “But I've decided to leave in the morning. If you change your mind ...”

He was answered by Sirena's sobs as she buried her face deeper. Regan stretched out beside her, holding her, comforting her. God, how I love him, she thought. Why can't I do as he asks? He meant to go with her or without her. Regan never made half statements. How could she survive without him? How could she desert Mikel?

Sometime during the long night Regan quietly left their bed. He stood looking down at Sirena for a long moment, etching her lovely features upon his memory.

Sirena stirred, feeling his glance as though it were a loving caress. She sat up in bed, hair tumbled into a wreath of cloudy darkness, eyes bright with unshed tears, and cheeks flushed with emotion. “Regan, your ship isn't ready to set sail. You planned this trip for the end of the month, why are you leaving so soon?”

“You know the answer to that, darling. It's become a simple matter of choice. Mikel or me. Last night reminded me how much I love you and need you. There's no place in my life for half a wife. Come with me now, Sirena. Be my love. Take Mikel with you in your heart.”

She dropped her eyes, not being able to bear seeing the pain in his. When she again looked up, Regan's look was cold and bitter. “Then this is good-bye, Sirena. If you should ever tire of your prayers and your vigils, perhaps you will join me in Cádiz. But
I won't wait forever, Sirena.”

“I understand,” she said flatly. “Have a safe voyage,” she whispered, her throat constricting with her words.

“Sirena ... I ... ,” the words were lost as she lay back against her pillow, her face calm, her eyes tearless. Regan smacked one large fist into the palm of the other hand and looked down at her. She appeared as if she were already dead and his heart went out to her. Was there nothing he could say to bring her out of this lethargy? Last night there had been a fire in her. He glanced about the room and saw the shambles they had created with their struggling. Was that the only way he could bring about her response? Did he want to spend the rest of his life raping his own wife, begging her for a physical expression of caring? For the first time he accepted the fact that she would never journey to Europe with him. Never join him on a new adventure. She had made her choice and he would have to acknowledge it, no matter how difficult it might be.

 

When Regan left, Sirena lay on the tumbled sheets for some time. Emotion flooded through her, threatening to drown her, choking off air. Regan ... Regan ... her heart cried. She cried for the love they had shared, the life they had made together ... the son they had lost.

Why couldn't Regan realize that somehow her loss of Mikel was easier to bear when she was near the little plot of ground where the child rested.

Sirena rose and scouted the room for her dressing gown and slippers. A smile brightened her face as she perused the wreckage of the evening before. He had been magnificent. He had conquered the feelings of emptiness engulfing her. He had demanded her love and had received it. He had been right. She did need his love. She did want it. She was a vital woman—a woman grown used to feeling the arms of her lover around her and the passions he could arouse in her.