Pirate's Golden Promise (24 page)

“I congratulate you, Henry, but where is Cort? What have you done with him?”

Henry pursed his mouth and looked levelly at her. “Cort, of course, is quite safe at the moment.”

“I demand to see him!”

Wynter rose from her chair, but Morgan firmly pushed her back down.

“Don't raise your ire, my dear. By all means, you shall see Cort. In fact, I demand that you do.”

Wynter sensed a trick in this. “What is your plan, Henry?”

He touched the long curl resting on her bare shoulder. His fingers lightly skimmed her flesh and sent shivers down her back.

“If you recall, I sent a note to you. I told you that only you could save your beloved. Well, now is the time to prove just how much you do love him. Van Linden has been in my power for a few weeks now. I could have had him executed at any time, but I didn't. Hasn't this thought ever occurred to you, Wynter?”

It had, but she replied nothing and let him continue. “I wanted you to come to Port Royal, which you did. To be honest with you, I never intended to execute your lover. Death for such a man would be too easy. He must pay for stealing my ship and humiliating me before my crew all those years ago. And you are the perfect revenge, my dear.”

This time his fingers crawled lazily up and down her back. “Of course, I don't mean to use you only for vengeance. You're far too irresistible for such folly. I mean to make you my mistress, Wynter, and you will agree to this. Otherwise I shall make certain your beloved Cort suffers such physical tortures that he'll wish for death to release him from his suffering. And for such a young, robust man to lose the ability to walk, or talk, or whatever I decide, will be far worse than death. Do you understand me, Wynter?”

Numbly she nodded, but her eyes were filled with hatred for Morgan.

“Good, my dear. Now, when I summon Cort here—and by the way, he has been held in the governor's room all evening—you shall tell him in no uncertain terms that you wish to remain on Port Royal with me. Nay, not only do you wish to stay here, but that you're already my mistress and quite in love with me. If he has any doubts as to this, all he must do is look at the diamonds I've hung around your neck. If I see any indication by eye contact or deed that he doesn't believe you, I shall carry out my threat and maim him for life. So, my little dove, since you are so adept at play-acting, I suggest you give the performance of your life. Otherwise—”

“I understand!” she snapped, not wishing to hear any more of how he'd make Cort suffer. “Will you release Cort if he believes me?”

“I'll make certain he is escorted to the
Sea Bride.”

“You won't harm him?”

“You have my word as a gentleman.”

“Gentleman? Surely you jest, but I have no other alternative.”

He inclined his head and knocked on the door that separated his room from the governor's.

Before Wynter's startled gaze, the two guards from the prison escorted Cort into the room. His white shirt was torn, and a bruise marred his face, but his eyes held defiance and hatred. When he saw Wynter, concern flooded his countenance.

“Wynter! You should be on the
Sea Bride
,” he said.

Morgan came forward and placed his arm around Wynter's waist. “As you can see, she isn't.”

“What's your plan?” Cort's voice was tinged with suspicion.

Morgan let out a huge guffaw. “Still don't trust me, lad, but then you shouldn't. But this time there is no plan. It seems all the planning has come to naught. Of course, you and your men are responsible for a great deal of damage, and Modyford won't be as quick to look the other way as I, but then he has nothing to gain by such an oversight. However, I shall be magnanimous and allow you to leave Port Royal, with your ship intact.”

Cort's eyes narrowed. “I don't believe you.”

“It's true, lad. Ask Wynter if I didn't say just minutes ago that I had given my word for your safe departure.”

Wynter nodded at Cort's quizzical look. “Henry has given his word.” Was that her own voice? she wondered. She sounded so cold, so aloof, exactly as she wished to. She had no doubt that Morgan would harm Cort if Cort suspected anything.

“Very kind of you,” Cort said. “Now untie my hands, and Wynter and I shall be on our way.”

Morgan gave the order to untie Cort's hands, and when he was free of his bonds, he made a grab for Wynter, but she shook herself from him with such vehemence that he thought he had burned her.

“I'm not going with you!” she cried.

“You're going to Santa Margarita with me, Wynter. Morgan can't keep you here against your will, and I gather that's what has happened.”

Wynter caught the arch of Morgan's brow as he gazed in her direction. She prayed she'd be able to be convincing.

“Against my will?” She laughed. “Cort, please stop treating me like a child, for that's the only way you've ever treated me, and I'm weary of it. You think I have no mind of my own, that I'm a foolish little girl to be hauled off the
Mary Jack
and thrown into your arms and your bed. Thanks to you, I've grown up. And under Henry's hands, I've truly become a woman. He doesn't treat me as an adolescent with no regard for my well-being. Henry pampers me, spoils me. Things I've missed since Papa died, and something I've never known with you.”

“What have you done to her?” Cort cried and made a bolt for Morgan, but the two guards caught him and pulled him back.

“I've done nothing but love her, lad. Does she look abused?” Henry purposely fingered the diamond necklace around her throat and grinned, “The lady seems quite content in my company. Aren't you, my love?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes, Henry,” Wynter answered adoringly, almost fawningly. Even her eyes sparkled like fine crystal, and to an observer seemed to shine with happiness and love. But Henry Morgan saw the huge tears filling their gray depths and knew these weren't tears of joy.

With great control, Wynter turned her attention to Cort. “I've not forgiven you for what you did to me, Cort. I thought I was your wife and you let me believe a lie. When I visited the prison and spoke to you, I decided that you deserved to suffer the same fate. I lied to you about loving you. How could I love someone as despicable and untruthful as you? I hate you, Cort Van Linden, and I shall go to my grave hating you.”

She put her arm possessively through Henry's and kissed his cheek. “I want to stay here with my Henry. He can give me everything I want, while all you offer is a life on a dreary little island. Port Royal has parties and clothes and elegant people. Things I've been too long without. Don't fret over me, Cort, for I shall be quite content here. Now if you will excuse me, the hour grows late.”

Wynter went to the door and looked directly at Cort. She would never forget the appearance of the man, totally shaken, with eyes no longer the color of gold but a deep, murky brown. Never had she seen such pain in another human being's face before, and she hoped never to see it again. But though her heart was breaking and she felt close to tears, she controlled herself for Cort's sake. Just a few more seconds and he would be safe. She didn't know if she had convinced him, but if not, she knew she would within the next few moments.

“You're a pitiful wreck,” she said scathingly. “How glad I shall be when you're gone from here and permanently out of my life.” Then she leaned against the door jamb and said in a husky, suggestive voice to Morgan, “I'll be waiting in bed for you, my love. Don't let this filthy pirate keep you longer than necessary.” She blew a kiss and left the room, going to the sanctuary of her own room on wooden feet. It was after she had closed the door, and stood weakly in the center of the room, that she heard the sound of an animal's agonized wail. She realized when she fell into a crumpled heap on the floor that it wasn't an animal at all.

It was Cort, crying her name.

As the first pale streaks of dawn lightened the sky, Wynter watched from her window as the
Sea Bride
sailed out of the harbor. The tears, which had flowed so freely during the night, were now gone, but dried remnants remained on her cheeks. She didn't believe she'd ever cry again. Inside, she felt dead.

For a moment, she thought she noticed Cort on the quarterdeck, but she realized with a sinking sensation that it was Jan with Mary beside him. Despite her pain, she smiled to think that someone was happy.

When she could no longer see the sails, she left the window and sat tiredly on the bed. Her blue silk gown billowed about her, and she hadn't realized how rumpled it was, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered but the image of Cort's face, the chilling shriek of his voice the last time she saw him. His image would haunt her for the rest of her life. She'd never forgive Henry Morgan for what he had done to Cort, to her, to their child. But she'd had no alternative. At least, Cort was safe.

A knock on the door caused her to jump, and when she didn't bid entrance, she heard Morgan's voice. “I know you're in there, Wynter. Unlock the door or I'll break it down. I don't think the governor and Lady Modyford would care to have the door repaired.”

She thought he was a despicable human being, but she got up and unlocked the door. His eyes scanned her face.

“I see you've had a good cry. Now those are the last tears you'll shed over that blasted Dutchman!”

He strode into the room and reclined on the bed.

Slamming the door, Wynter spun around to face him. “I shall cry over anyone I please! You don't own my feelings, my soul.”

“Don't I?” He held out his arms to her. “Come here, Wynter. I want to prove to you how much I do own of you.”

“No!”

He nonchalantly examined his manicured fingernails. “The
Sea Bride
may have left Port Royal, my dear, but my influence is quite vast. My crew could be ready in a quarter of an hour and track down Van Linden's ship. It would be blown out of the water before he was aware of it. Then you'd really have something to cry over, and I warrant your defiance would quickly evaporate.”

Wynter knew he meant his threat. On trembling legs, she walked to the bed. His long arm reached out and pulled her down beside him. Thin fingers traced the ridge of her nose, her lips. “You'd not shiver if I were Van Linden, would you, love?”

Not giving a reply, she stared mutely at him. “Well, it doesn't matter,” he said. “You're mine now. Kiss me, Wynter.”

He tilted her chin, and she had no other alternative. She planted a small kiss on his cheek.

“Still defiant, are you? Kiss me as a lover!” he ground out and brought her face level with his. “Remember that your Cort is still within my sphere of influence.”

When her lips touched his, a growl of pleasure escaped him. She had thought the kiss would be short, but his tongue explored the cavity of her mouth; and when she moved to pull away, he held her head in place. She realized he wanted her tongue to meet his. Defiance rose again in her but was quelled by Henry's warning. She knew she must appease this man or risk Cort's life anew.

Her tongue twined with his, and he pulled her against his body. She felt his swollen manhood and prepared herself for the assault to follow. But Henry broke away, a pleased gleam in his eyes.

“I won't bed you now, my love. The day is new and we've much to do.” He smacked her backside as if she were a bawdy tavern wench and climbed off the bed. “A servant girl is coming to help you pack your things. And please clean your face. I want no reminder of Van Linden.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To our love nest, my beauty.”

“Can I be getting you anything else, miss?”

Selma's voice roused Wynter from the first stages of slumber. The little serving girl waited in front of the bed in expectation of other orders. Wynter glanced at the mahogany table where Selma had just set down a luncheon tray and shook her head.

“That will be all,” Wynter told her.

Selma bobbed a curtsy and was gone.

Wynter heaved a sigh and began to wave the red-and-gold fan Henry had purchased for her, with other articles of clothing, from Port Royal's only dressmaker. She thought the fan and some of the clothes were rather gaudy creations, but she didn't protest. In fact, she hadn't had the energy for anything the last few days. Since moving into their “love nest” as Henry was wont to call it, Wynter had taken very little interest in the world around her. She found the weather unbearably hot, and the only consolation she could find in her predicament was that the house was on the beach, set apart from other homes.

A slight breeze drifted through the long, open windows but did little to cool her. She felt so hot and edgy all the time—probably because she didn't know when Henry would demand that she live up to her part of the bargain. So far, he hadn't. An emergency meeting with the governor, followed by the arrival of an important visitor, had saved her from Henry's lust. He'd been much too pressed for time to sleep in the new house with her, so he stayed at Kingshouse. Yet she knew it was a matter of time before he came back and demanded she fulfill their agreement.

When Morgan had brought her here, before she even unpacked her things, she told him she was pregnant with Cort's child. She hoped, prayed, this news would make a difference to him. It hadn't. Henry only shrugged and said, “A little inconvenience, my dear. A baby shall not keep you from me.”

She was at her wit's end, unable to think what to do. All she wanted was to see Cort again and somehow convince him she loved him and had lied to him to save his life. But the possibility seemed remote. There wasn't any way she could leave Port Royal without Henry's being aware of it. Sometimes she even thought he was having her watched by a small, black-haired man with red cheeks named John Esquemeling, who was part of Henry's crew and “a scribbler of sorts,” or so Henry had told her. It seemed no matter where she went, whether for a carriage ride or, like now, as she walked to the back of the house and onto the beach, Esquemeling was there.