Pirate's Golden Promise (27 page)

In the driving wind and rain she stated her case. She didn't know John's thoughts and had even decided that he was going to force her back to the house, but he nodded to her and Dirk. “You can't make it to Santa Margarita in that rickety boat. A sailor would know this.” His accusing tone seemed to sting Dirk, but Wynter defended him to John.

“This was the only boat Dirk could find for us.”

“Come along. Let's go to Littleton's Tavern until the rain slacks or you'll catch your death. Somehow I'll arrange passage on a proper ship.”

Captain Rye's small eyes peered thoughtfully at Wynter as he wished her a good morning after she'd settled herself on deck beside Dirk. She'd wakened only moments ago and sipped the warm tea the captain handed her.

“A fair-weather morning,” he said and doffed his cap.

Wynter agreed that it was and smiled at the man before he went below deck. A warm breeze blew from the south and billowed the sails upwards into the cloudless sky. As Rye's ship, the
Lady Kay,
sailed swiftly through the Caribbean's current, she guessed they'd arrive at Santa Margarita sooner than expected.

Dirk grunted, intruding into her thoughts. “This English ship can't compare to the
Sea Bride.”

“Perhaps not,” Wynter agreed with him, noting that the crew didn't bustle about at their chores and the deck flooring was wet and dirty. “But we're lucky John talked Captain Rye into arranging our passage. We're more or less welcome stowaways. If Rye hadn't owed John a favor, we'd still be imprisoned on Port Royal.”

“I'd have gotten you off the island somehow, vrouw.”

Wynter didn't argue with Dirk about this, though she wondered where they'd be if not for John Esquemeling. The corners of her mouth simply turned up and she patted his back. “You're a good friend to me.”

The voyage passed uneventfully except for a moment's uneasiness when Henry's ship, the
Fortune,
was spotted returning from the direction of Santa Margarita. Fear gripped Wynter, and she prayed that the ship wouldn't come closer to the
Lady Kay
. If Henry decided to board her …

She breathed a relieved sigh when the
Fortune
passed them without incident. If only the
Lady Kay
would sail faster so she could be in Cort's arms again.

By noon the tip of Santa Margarita's volcano came into view. Within an hour the
Lady Kay
had anchored in the harbor and deposited Wynter and Dirk on the beach. But the sight that met their eyes destroyed any hope in their hearts.

For the most part, the island lay in ruins. Except for small huts on the beach which somehow had miraculously survived the
Fortune's
cannons, most of the islanders' homes resembled felled trees. Some of Cort's men milled about, and Dirk joined them, the few who were alive. Wynter ran up the cliffside steps, which were jagged and loose, and in some spots she had to brace herself on all fours to keep from sliding down the steep hillside. But she made it up to the house … a house which was now only a shell.

Most of the inside walls were gone. The room which had been hers and Cort's now had but one wall. The bed they'd slept in, loved in, had been blown to bits, and pieces of it lay scattered on the ground. The rest of the furnishings had suffered the same fate.

Choking sobs rose within her, but she quelled them. She mustn't give way to tears now, she chided herself, and fled back down the hillside. Cort. Where was Cort? Please, God, don't let him be dead, she prayed.

When she came to the beach, she noticed that Mora's hut still stood. Cabi was standing outside of it, watching her with large, black eyes. Beside him was Henrik.

She rushed over to the two boys and embraced them. They fell upon her, sobbing. Henrik spoke mostly Dutch with smatterings of broken English. Cabi told her that a pirate ship had attacked them the day before and killed his stepfather.

“My mother is inside with a friend of yours.” Cabi inclined his head towards the hut. The first person Wynter thought of was Cort. Rushing into the hut, she saw a grief-stricken Mora. The woman made a small greeting and left the hut. Wynter's gaze settled on the small, dark-haired figure resting on a pallet.

“Mary! You've been hurt!”

Mary looked up at her with sorrowful eyes. “No, I wasn't hurt. I lost my baby. Mora is taking care of me, but she needs someone to look after her. I'll be all right soon.”

“Where's Jan? Surely he can care for you.”

“Jan was killed.”

Wynter sank to the ground. Evidently Mary had lost the child from the shock of Jan's death. “I'm so sorry,” Wynter said and finally began to weep. “You loved each other so much.”

“Don't be sad. There was nothing anyone could do. I've always taken care of myself. At least we were married before … before it happened.”

How strange that Mary should comfort her when she'd lost so much. Wynter, at least, still had her baby. And Cort?

“Have you seen Cort?” Wynter inquired, not wanting to hear the worst.

“Not since before the cannon fire hit us. I don't know where he is.”

“I must find him. Rest now, Mary. I'll be back to tend to you later.”

She learned from one of Cort's crewmen that Saba had been with him before the island was attacked. Cabi told her that Saba now resided in the hut that Wynter had used for the school.

When Wynter reached the doorway to the hut and called the woman's name, Saba came quickly out. The two women embraced.

“Where is Cort?” Wynter asked, after making certain that Saba wasn't injured.

A wave of alarm rushed through Wynter at the woman's composed but detached look. “Captain Cort died this morning. I took care of him all night, but in the end, his spirit left him. He is buried there.” She pointed a thin, brown arm in the direction of the ocean. “A sea captain should rest in the sea.”

The tears rushed from Wynter's eyes, down her cheeks, and onto the bodice of her gown. Never in her life had she felt such a wrenching pain in her chest. Why couldn't she have died, too?

For a long while she sat on the huge, ebony rock, the same one Cort had sat on the day she fished in the ocean. His body now rested for eternity in that same ocean. Her mind flew back to the first time she'd seen him at McChesney Manor, to the times she'd slapped him and declared she hated him, to the time she loved him. All the memories intermingled until she thought she'd die from the sweet pain of them. She cried openly and unashamedly until she felt Dirk's hand on her arm.

“Will you stay here, vrouw? Captain Rye wishes to set sail.”

She shook her head. “No, but I have nowhere to go.”

“Neither do I. Captain Cort is gone. He was my friend, and you are the woman he loved and who carries his child. Wherever you go, I will go. He'd want me to look after you.”

“I think he would, Dirk.” She sat and glanced at the white-foamed waves breaking at her feet. “Do you suppose that Captain Rye would take us to New Netherland? Cort spoke of Lindenwyck and his family so fondly that I should like to visit. I want our child to be born at Lindenwyck. Cort would have approved, I believe.”

“Ja, ja, that is it. I go to speak to the captain now.”

After Dirk hurried away, Wynter got up and found that Saba had been watching her and listening the whole time. The old woman came forward and embraced her once more.

“Go on with your life. You are young and will make a new beginning.”

“Thank you for looking after Cort, for everything you did before he died.” Wynter found it terribly hard to say those last two words. Saba smiled her understanding, and Wynter went to Mora's hut.

“You're coming with me, Mary. I'll have Dirk bundle you up and carry you to the
Lady Kay.”
Wynter thought a minute, then said, “If you want to come with us to New Netherland.”

“Yes. I'd like that.”

Within the hour, Wynter, Dirk, and Mary were aboard the
Lady Kay
with some of the rest of Cort's crew who decided to leave Santa Margarita. Henrik stayed behind with Cabi, and Wynter realized he'd be happier there with the islanders since he had no true family. As the
Lady Kay
sailed away, and Santa Margarita faded into the distance, she wondered if Cort's family would accept her. Would his aunt and cousin take in the pregnant mistress of Cort Van Linden?

Wynter wanted Cort's child to be accepted at Lindenwyck. Though Cort had spent his childhood and young manhood there, she sensed that he hadn't been happy the last year of his stay. She also knew that he felt he didn't belong but had lived on his relatives' charity all of his life.

Well, that wouldn't happen to their child, she vowed to herself. When she arrived at Lindenwyck, there would be no doubt in anyone's mind that Cort Van Linden had been a prosperous man and that she was the woman he had loved.

She unfolded the blue silk gown Cort had bought for her and counted the tiny diamonds on the bodice and full sleeves. She realized she had a small fortune in diamonds here, and that, if spent with care, the proceeds from such a sale would last her a long time. At least until she could think of another way to make her fortune and return to McChesney Manor.

“Miss, whatever are you thinking about?” Mary asked from the bunk in the cabin that Captain Rye had assigned to them.

“I'm thinking that once we arrive at Lindenwyck, Wynter Van Linden will be a wealthy woman.”

“Oh, you wouldn't pretend to be the captain's wife?”

Tears misted Wynter's eyes, and the gray orbs resembled the skies before a snowstorm. She turned to Mary. “In all respects I am Cort Van Linden's wife and the soon-to-be mother of his child. If anyone has a right to call herself a Van Linden, it is me.” She fingered the betrothal ring, knowing she could sell it but also knowing she'd never be able to part with it.

Before the
Lady Kay
would dock in the busy harbor of New Amsterdam, everyone on board would refer to her as Vrouw Van Linden, widow of the famous Captain Cort.

On Santa Margarita, Saba ministered to her patient. Every day she sat beside the pallet where his broken body lay and forced liquids down his throat. She didn't know why she attempted the impossible. More than likely, Captain Cort was going to die. She'd told Wynter he already was dead so the young woman wouldn't have to live with the sight of him.

Saba hadn't expected Cort to live through the first night, but he had. His skin burned like fire, and he mumbled Wynter's name throughout the night. The injuries he suffered during the attack hadn't been as bad as some of the others' on the island. At least Cort was alive. His leg had been injured and infection could set in. Saba knew that if he hoped to survive, the leg might have to go. But Cort was a fighter, and through a stroke of luck, his fever broke and the leg mended. He would retain a slight limp for the rest of his life, but he was fortunate to be alive. That's what Saba told him.

Cort didn't think so. He had wanted to die, but the thought of Wynter kept him alive. Hate coursed through him, and when he learned that she'd actually visited the island and cried crocodile tears over his apparent demise, rage had consumed him. How dare the little vixen show up! He wondered if she were back in Port Royal with Henry.

Three months after the attack, Cort finally walked the beach. Saba joined him and, like a mother, she took his hand.

“Captain Cort is sad.”

He grabbed her around the waist. “Sad? How could I be sad with you beside me?” The corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile.

“I am not your Wynter.”

The happy smile dissolved into a grimace. “I never want to speak about her again. The tart is probably living like a queen in Port Royal with Henry Morgan.”

“No, Captain Cort. I heard her tell Dirk that she wanted to go to Lindenwyck.”

Cort stopped in his tracks. “She can't be serious. Why?”

“Return home and find out.”

Home! He hadn't been to Lindenwyck in over ten years, and now to return because of Wynter … What was she up to? Why would she go there, of all places? Unless Henry had thrown her out and she needed money to buy McChesney Manor. Of course, that was the reason. Somehow she was going to wheedle the funds out of his Aunt Lena to buy the estate.

Well, he'd settle that score with Wynter once and for all. No one was going to use his aunt. Not even Wynter McChesney, a woman he still hungered for, desired and detested.

The
Sea Bride
was still seaworthy and hadn't been destroyed in the attack by Morgan's fleet because she'd been harbored on the other side of Santa Margarita. He'd call the remaining members of his crew together and go home. Even if no one wanted to go along, hell, he'd go by himself!

He couldn't wait to see the lying little tart's face when he arrived at Lindenwyck.

“I'm returning to Lindenwyck, Saba, and no one is going to stop me.”

Cort strode back up the beach, and Saba smiled to herself. She silently decided that he should be with the woman he loved and must return home for that woman. She purposely didn't tell him about the baby.

New Amsterdam

A late summer's wind caressed Wynter's face as the
Lady Kay
sailed into the harbor of New Amsterdam. The
verdant
slopes of Long Island were to her right, and on her left
was a heavily forested shoreline.

Wynter breathed a relieved sigh now that the ship no longer bobbed and tossed on the ocean and had entered calmer water. She was exhausted from the trip, and if she never set foot on another ship in her life she'd be grateful. A part of her realized that on the
Sea Bride,
with Cort beside her, she had come to love the sea. Now, she hated it and couldn't wait until she stepped on dry land again.