Captive Embraces (30 page)

“Damn you, Regan. I know what I'm talking about! Stop Caleb, stop him before it's too late! Gambling is not a trade which prolongs one's life! Scurrilous gamblers have been known to claim they're being cheated and someone's death usually results. In this instance, it could be Caleb.”

“Perhaps you're right,” Regan said conversationally. “I have been remiss in my parental duties. Caleb needs a fatherly hand. I'll seek him out and take him to the finest brothel in all of England. I'll see to it that his manly education is complete. And there's no need for you to worry about some gambler killing him. Caleb has mastered the art of self-defense, thanks to a certain female pirate who took him under her wing.”

“You'd do that, wouldn't you? You would take your own son to a whorehouse and stand by while he learns the van der Rhys methods in carnality. I swear if you do, Regan, I
will
kill you!”

“So you've told me,” he answered harshly. “Do it and get it over with, it has become a source of boredom. But before you do, let me tell you that I think your mothering concern for Caleb is a little late. Motherhood doesn't become you Sirena.”

Sirena blinked as though she had been slapped. Scalding tears escaped her eyes as she tried to bring Regan into her line of vision. “Motherhood doesn't become you!” Did she hear him say those words? Even he couldn't have said that to her. He couldn't be so malicious. Crystal tears glistened on her sooty lashes. “Caleb is your son. I was wrong to come here; I see that now. I gave him the
Rana
and what he does with it is his affair. I will pray with each breath I take that as a parent you will do the wise thing.” Sirena faltered a moment as she wiped at her watery eyes. “I apologize for coming here. Forgive me, Regan,” she said, turning to leave.

Regan tensed. She was up to something. Sirena never apologized to anyone for anything. Two long strides and he had her arm in a viselike grip. She was really crying! he thought, stunned. A ploy. She was as wily as a lean, hungry fox. In one heartrending second he saw in her eyes what he thought he would never see again. Defeat!

At his touch, Sirena felt herself stiffen. What was that look in his eyes? Dear God, no, she cried silently as she tried to disengage her arm. Never, never again! Regan would never do that to her! “Take your hands off me!” she cried, her voice tinged with fear. “Leave me be!” she insisted, wrestling loose.

No sooner had she gained her freedom than she turned to run from the room. Suddenly, Regan's fierce hold imprisoned her again. “What is this I see here?” he asked mockingly. “Are you afraid of me? The brave and cunning Sea Siren afraid of a mere man?” he smiled churlishly.

“Let me go, Regan. I don't like you this way,” she said defiantly.

“And how is it you like me, Sirena? Do you ever like me? A few moments ago you said you would kill me. You couldn't have liked me then.” His voice was as smooth as satin and the gleam in his eyes was as glassy as chips of shaved ice.

“You're right. I didn't like you then and I hate you now!” she snarled, baring her teeth like a trapped animal. “God help me, but I wonder what I ever liked about you!”

“Do you wonder?” Regan smiled, both hands grasping her shoulders, drawing her against him. “Shall I tell you? Don't you already know?”

“Regan! Release me!”

“No, Sirena. You came here to my home. You sought me out. Was it really to tell me about Caleb or did you have another reason?”

“What other motive could I possibly have?” she spit, her beautiful face contorted into something feral.

“Perhaps to seduce me again. You have been known to do that, love.” His grip on her became stronger, pressing her against him till she thought it impossible to take another breath. His voice was smooth, yet his tone harbored a seething dislike.

“Regan, don't do this.”

“Do what, love? Take you in my arms? You love the things I do to you, my hands, my mouth. Won't you sing for me passion's song? You sang it for me so prettily the last time you were here.”

“You're a pig!”

“Ah, love, those are not the words. Don't you remember them? Shall I help your memory? Shall I press my lips to that most secret place where your passions are stirred and your melodies evoked?” Not waiting for an answer, Regan wrapped his arms about her, forcing her head to be still, covering her mouth with his.

Sirena clamped her lips shut, feeling his teeth biting against her mouth, his tongue seeking entrance.

“Tell me what you like about me, Sirena,” he taunted, forcing her to her knees on the thick carpet, his menacing face only inches away. He pinned her arms to her sides, knocking her backward, falling heavily atop her. “Tell me, love, let me hear you say the words. Do you like it when I touch your breasts and make them swell?” His hand groped inside the wide neckline of her gown, seeking the firm flesh, questing for the stiffening rosy crests. “What do you like, Sirena? Tell me,” he urged, using a silky, deprecating tone.

Sirena remained silent, refusing to speak.

“Do you like it when I cover your skin with my mouth? Do you like the emotions I release in you, Sirena?” His head dropped and his lips were where his hands had been, his tongue teasing her sensitive skin.

This was not Regan, her heart cried. This was not the man who could bring her to the heights of rapture with his tenderness. These were not the hands that had caressed her flesh, worshiping her, adoring her. These were the hands of a beast, the mouth of a devil. When his hands groped beneath her skirts, Sirena stiffened, abhorring his touch. He was using her—worse, mocking her. There was no pleasure in this for him. He wanted to hurt her, wound her, ultimately destroy her. The hostility was there to be heard in his voice as well. What he was doing was worse than a beating, worse than killing her, and he knew it! That knowledge ate at her soul, chipping away at her heart. This was his revenge, his reprisal, to defame her and denigrate her. His pleasure was not in the act, but a brutal attempt to revile her.

She had stripped him of all weapons. She had attacked him and threatened to destroy him and forced him to come to this. The ultimate injury a man could inflict upon a woman. Rape.

She loved Regan too much to allow him to do this. It would destroy both of them. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. He would hate himself and her. He would never be able to look her in the face again. Tears stung her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. “Please, Regan,” she cried hoarsely, “don't do this to me. Don't do this to yourself. Please.”

Something in her voice stilled Regan's movements. The moment seemed like an eternity and she waited with bated breath. Suddenly, Regan seemed to slump. She heard his breath come in ragged gasps as he lifted his weight from her body.

“Get out of here, Sirena. Get out before you wish I would kill you, or you me. Get out, Sirena, for God's sake go!”

Sirena reached out to comfort him wanting to touch his shock of golden hair, she checked her hand in midair. His pride would be inconsolable if she offered to forgive him. He would never allow it.

Slowly, she dragged herself to her feet, taking a brief moment to arrange her skirts and bodice before departing for the waiting carriage. When she looked around again, Regan was on his feet, his back to her.

“Get out of here, Sirena, and don't ever return.”

Imperceptibly, Sirena straightened her shoulders as she exited the house and blinked the burning tears away. She had to get home, where she could give into her humiliation, where no one save herself would see or care.

Sensing a commotion, she looked around to hear a frightened wail. Mikel had cried like that once. Sirena watched in horror as a small, thin child struggled with a man who was bent on dragging her down the cobbled street. “I swear, I didn't take it,” the girl pleaded. “I gave you all the money. I didn't keep any.” She continued to whimper during her feeble struggles.

Sirena's head jerked up as she raced after the pair. “Unhand that child this minute,” she shouted hoarsely, her clenched fists lashing out at the burly, bearded man. Stunned, the man loosened his hold and the child was free, running toward the carriage. “I demand to know what you were doing,” Sirena shouted, her green eyes full of venom, her lips curled back into a snarl.

“She cheated me,” the man blustered. “She's been keeping some of the coins for herself, that's what she's been doing, and it's none of your affair, my fancy lady. Now she's gotten away and for that you can thank yourself. She'll get a whipping the likes of which she'll never forget.”

Sirena brought up her booted foot and aimed a well-placed kick in the direction of the man's groin. “If there's any whipping to be done, it will be you who gets it, not the child. If I ever,” she said acidly, “see you near that girl again, I'll have you thrown in Newgate and that's where you'll rot. Get out of my sight,” she spat as she turned on her heel and raced to the waiting vehicle and gathered the youngster in her arms.

How wasted she was. She's not much more than a baby and forced to work on the streets for the likes of that slovenly bastard. Gently, Sirena touched the gaunt face and looked searchingly into round, terrified eyes. “I remember you,” she said softly. “You had a fistful of gold buttons in your hand the last time I saw you.”

The child stared at her, saying nothing.

“There's no need for you to fear me. I'm going to take you home with me and keep you safe. You have my word that nothing will ever harm you again. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”

The child nodded.

“I promise you that you will be safe with me,” she said, hugging the frail figure. “Get into the carriage and wait for me.

“You,” Sirena screeched at the driver, “climb down from your seat and tell me why you sat there, letting a grown man beat upon a child and not go to her aid.” The man was thunderstruck at her tone and the menacing look on her face, but he descended and stood before her, a sullen look on his face.

“It was no affair of mine,” he said defensively. “I would only have gotten the ruffian's boot for interfering.”

“Now you'll feel my boot,” Sirena said, kicking him in the middle of the shin. At his cry of pain, she kicked again, this time at his other leg. “There's one place left,” she said coldly. “If I were you, I would get back up there on your perch and drive this coach home. While you're doing it, remember that a defenseless child could have died for your neglect. Tomorrow I will decide if you are to remain in my employ.”

“Oh Missy-ma'am, what you did for me was so wonderful. I will never be able to thank you,” the girl said, throwing her dirty arms around Sirena's shoulders. “You helped me. Nobody ever did before. It was always, Wren do this, Wren do that, Wren where is the money and Wren you must get a whipping because you didn't make enough money today. Thank you, Missy-ma'am,” she said, smacking Sirena on the cheek with a wet kiss. “I'll do whatever you want. I'll be so good you won't be sorry you helped me. I just love you, Missy-ma'am!” she exclaimed, hugging Sirena again.

Sirena cradled the small dark head to her and smiled. You were wrong, Regan, this child knows and feels that I am a mother. Was a mother, she corrected the thought. She stroked the child's hair the way she had stroked Mikel's. Her heart lightened as she saw the small eyes close in weariness.

“Sirena, darling, we really must go to the opening,” Stephan said firmly. “Everyone will be there. Our absence will be conspicuous. We don't want that now, do we? I like to try my hand at a new gaming table, and your reluctance to accompany me is quite puzzling.”

“There is nothing strange in my reluctance to attend this ‘gala' as you call it, Stephan. I simply don't wish to come.” Sirena's temper threatened to flare. Stephan was speaking to her as though she were a spoiled child. “If it means so much to you, go by yourself.”

“I wouldn't enjoy it without you, darling. If you'd rather a quiet evening here at your home, then I will oblige. As a matter of fact, it has been some time since we've had privacy.”

When it became obvious that Stephan had every intention of spending the evening with her, Sirena had second thoughts. The idea of whiling away an entire evening listening to him recite the inane gossip he acquired in drawing rooms and taprooms was hardly appealing. Nor did she care to listen politely as he told her of his luck at the faro table or his plans for the fencing academy. Stephan had told her also that Regan was taking Camilla to Caleb's new enterprise and the last person she wanted to face was Regan. It had been only yesterday that she went to his house. It would take some time to get over what had nearly happened. Still, if Regan had recovered himself to spend a night out with Camilla, what was she to do? Hide away in the house and refuse to show her face? “Very well, Stephan, but let us make it an early evening.”

“Wonderful,” Langdon smiled. “I will do all I can to make the evening. a success for you.”

Sirena's stomach churned at the thought of going aboard the beloved
Rana
and seeing Caleb again and all the gaming equipment. She wasn't entirely certain she would be able to contain her irritation over what he had made of the frigate.

Reluctantly, Sirena ascended the stairway to get ready. She took special care with her toilette in order to compensate for what had transpired between herself and Regan. A gown of rich gold with a low, yet modest, bodice was her final choice. She fastened a large, triangular-shaped emerald at the V of her gown and attached matching gems to her earlobes. Her dark hair shone like the sleek feathers of a raven as it took wing. A light touch of Spanish paper brought color to her cheeks and lips.

As Stephan waited for Frau Holtz to bring Sirena's light wrap, he said appreciatively, “Sirena, have I neglected to tell you how breathtaking you are tonight.” His gaze centered upon the brooch and his finger itched to snatch it from her bosom. He contented himself with knowing that, sooner or later, his hands would close around it. “By the by, darling,” Stephan said sweetly, “it seems as though I've forgotten to bring my purse. Could you extend me some pounds to amuse myself at the tables? A few hundred would do nicely.”

“A few hundred what?” Sirena asked sarcastically. “You say it as though you were talking about fish!”

“Darling, I wouldn't ask you save for the fact that until I've established an account at the Sea Siren's tables, I'm at a disadvantage. Of course, we could always stop by my house to retrieve my purse.” Tiny beads of perspiration broke out on Stephan's forehead. If she didn't lend him the money, he would have to contrive another lie to keep her from discovering he hadn't a farthing to his name.

“Very well, Stephan, darling,” she added the endearment with a curled lip. “I wouldn't want to spoil your evening, would I?”

Suddenly Stephan turned around, sensing an unexpected presence in the room. There stood Wren, her dark eyes shining as she looked admiringly at Sirena.

“Wren! Shouldn't Frau Holtz have put you to bed? It's very late, little one.” Stephan raised an eyebrow at Sirena's soft tone and brought his attention back to the child. “Stephan, this is Wren. Curtsy to Lord Langdon, sweetheart,” she directed affectionately.

Wren made a quick, embarrassed curtsy and shyly glanced up into Stephan's face. The soft lighting in the room heightened the pink glow on the girl's smooth cheeks and her brown hair bounced in springy curls with her action. Stephan reached out his hand and smoothed the errant locks back from her brow and lifted her chin to study her features. “Wren, now, is it? A niece of yours, Sirena?” he questioned. “Where did you ever find such a lovely child?”

“No, not a niece. Wren was in sorry straits when we found each other. Isn't that right, sweetheart?” Again her tone gentled and Stephan noticed. “I've taken her in as my ward and the situation pleases both of us.” Her smile was maternal and loving.

“Sirena, you can't mean to say you've taken a waif off the streets and brought her into your home?”

Sirena bristled at Stephan's tone and tenderly ordered Wren to run off to bed. After the girl left Sirena turned hostile, glittering eyes on her intended. “Don't ever talk in that deprecating manner around Wren. I won't have it!”

Stephan sensed the danger of his actions. Immediately, he amended: “Darling, it is only for your own sake I ask these questions. You're such a child yourself when it comes to the horrors of London. You have no way of knowing whether or not that urchin is part of a gang of thugs and intends to make it possible for them to rob you blind! Haven't you thought of that possibility?”

“Much to my own merit, Stephan, no I haven't. Wren is a loving, beautiful and grateful child. As a matter of fact, I intend to adopt her sometime soon. As such, she deserves your respect, if not your affection.”

Stephan sensed he was journeying on shaky ground. The light in Sirena's eyes had heightened to the glow of molten metal. “Of course, darling, how generous of you. I should never have spoken as I did, regardless of my apprehensions. Forgive me.”

Sirena remained silent. Tugging her wrap closer about her shoulders, she moved to the door, waiting for Stephan to open it for her. As she stepped out into the cool air, Stephan turned and saw Wren staring down at him from the second-floor balustrade. Her dark eyes bore into him and held a wise and knowing look that made the hackles on the back of his neck rise to attention. Long after he had closed the door behind him, Stephan could feel the child's eyes boring into his back.

 

As they rode toward Rosemary Lane, where Caleb's ship was anchored near Barking Church, Sirena listened with half an ear as Stephan droned on and on about gambling halls and fortunes men had won and lost. She seethed and her body trembled. What was wrong with her? Here she was, in a civilized society, and she was behaving like an ignorant schoolgirl. Was it possible that she could only come to life at sea, free to roam the decks of her own ship dressed as the notorious Sea Siren? I've made a shambles of my life, she thought sadly as she felt Stephan inch closer to her in the coach. And, she thought unexpectedly, Stephan nauseates me. And here I am, sitting beside him and I'll marry him in a few days' time. Regan is right. I must be insane!

The carriage lurched and came to a grinding halt. Sirena fell sideways and Stephan caught her in his arms. She swallowed hard to fight back the tears as she righted herself. Strings of festively colorful lanterns lit the wharf surrounding her beloved frigate. The newly painted name on the bow was stark and eye-catching. Elegantly clad women strolled the decks, their arms demurely tucked into those of their escorts as they laughed and chattered excitedly of the evening ahead.

On deck, the newly varnished rails were sleek and smooth to the touch. For a second Sirena was frightened to walk beneath the swaying lamps, remembering the near catastrophe at the masquerade party. Her attention was directed away from her fears to the bright ribbons and lanterns festooning the wheelhouse. Stifling her annoyance, she allowed Stephan to escort her into the main room, which had once been the crew's quarters and quarterdeck.

The center area was devoted to the gaming tables while the perimeters were furnished with intimate dining tables. A small stage had been erected in the far corner and was lengthened with a narrow runway, making it visible at every angle.

The room was so crowded it was almost impossible to move. Men argued in brisk, friendly tones as they waited their turn at dice or faro. Sirena noticed a distinguished, aristocratic gentleman weaving in and out of the throng, assuring the guests they would all be seen to and each would have their chance. Over and over he repeated that the Sea Siren would be open every night for dining, entertainment and for a toss with Lady Luck.

After Stephan seated Sirena at a dining table, he positioned himself across from her, his eyes continually roving to the dice game in progress. “Go on and enjoy yourself, Stephan, I'll be perfectly happy to sit here and watch.”

“You're certain you wouldn't mind?” he asked perfunctorily, already rising from his chair, an excited, hungry look marking his handsome features.

“I'm certain. Go, have a try for me.” She saw Stephan's hand go unconsciously to the breast pocket where he had put the money she had loaned him. Gallantly, he leaned over her hand and pressed his lips to it, murmuring a promise he wouldn't be long.

It was some time before Sirena noticed Caleb in the crowded, airless room. Her eyes met his the instant he looked up. She was stunned once again by the close resemblance to Regan. Why did she keep thinking of him as a young boy? It was apparent to everyone that he was a very handsome and, judging from the number of patrons on the ship, promisingly rich young man. Sadly, Regan had been correct in saying Caleb had put his immaturity behind. His shoulders were broad and muscular as he lithely snaked his way among the gay guests. His dark eyes flashed happily and a wide grin split his face as he finally succeeded in arriving at Sirena's table.

When he perceived her cold attitude, his smile faded and his eyes took on a wary, brooding expression, so like Regan's. “I'm glad you came tonight, Sirena. My father is somewhere with his young lady. He wished me success and I was hoping you would do. the same.”

Even his voice seemed to have changed—low, husky and almost seductive. His evening wear fitted him perfectly, as though the tailor cut it to his precise form. She noted his eye follow a slim, young woman bent on winning at dice. “Hello, Caleb,” she said softly. “I can do no less than Regan. Of course, I wish you well. If tonight is any indication of your success, you'll turn a handsome profit. What will you do with your wealth?”

“First, I plan to repay what is owed to you. Then I want to go to the American colonies. How soon this will be depends upon my success here. And what of yourself, Sirena, how do you fare?”

“If you cared how I was, you would have called and not let me discover what you've done with the
Rana
by means of a carelessly thrown handbill. You've inherited a good deal of your father's traits,” Sirena said cooly.

Caleb sat down opposite her and said seriously, “I am not Regan, Sirena. Remember that. I made a promise to myself not to interfere in your lives and I expect the same from both of you. I could well be making a terrible mistake with this enterprise, but I will have only myself to blame. Haven't you noticed I'm no longer that young boy?”

“I've noticed,” Sirena answered quietly, a part of her mourning for that tousle-headed youth who climbed like a monkey up the masts and through the rigging. “Tell me, Caleb, what do you think of Regan's betrothed?”

Something flashed in Caleb's eyes as he squirmed beneath Sirena's scrutiny. Even in the dim light she could detect the beginning of a flush. “They look well together,” he hedged. “My father has had little to say to me since he came aboard this evening. Sirena, what are you going to do—do you plan to stay in England?”

“Did he instruct you to discover my intentions?”

“Of course not. I ask because I'm interested.”

“When I decide, I'll let you know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll try my hand against the house.” With a nod to Caleb, she rose and walked off, aware of him staring at her receding back.

This wasn't the old Sirena, Caleb thought dejectedly. Never had he seen her so hostile. Between Regan and himself, they had succeeded in stealing the spirit right out of her. His dark gaze searched the room for Regan and Camilla. His eyes became speculative as he walked in their direction, his attention centering on the beautiful blonde who was soon to be his stepmother.

Regan settled his fianceé beside a portly woman, with whom she seemed familiar, and made his way to the crowded faro table. Just as he turned his back on the ladies, Caleb sauntered up to Camilla and offered to point out the attractions of the
Sea Siren.
Camilla flushed and prettily agreed.

Out on deck, beneath the festive lanterns, Camilla looked up at Caleb. “Regan never told me he had a son. I can't imagine why, since you are a very attractive man.”

Caleb smiled, barely keeping himself from grimacing. Regan kept many secrets to himself, he was thinking. Then, looking down into Camilla's fragile face, he realized how reluctant Regan would be to admit he had a son nearly as old as his future wife. “Perhaps Father was frightened I would steal you off.”

Camilla looked up at Caleb, the resemblance to Regan amazing. Despite the fact that Caleb's hair and eyes were dark brown while Regan resembled a Norse god, their gestures and stride were the same, as well as the breadth of shoulders and slender hips. But in Caleb, Regan's good looks were almost exotic, owing to the slight tilt of his eyes. “Would you, Caleb? Steal me off, that is?” Her frank appreciation for him was evident in the languorous look she bestowed on him.

“Yes, I suppose I would have,” he answered truthfully. She was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen and merely being near her did odd things to his pulse. “Would you have come with me?” he asked huskily.