Pirate's Golden Promise (34 page)

The north wind whistled across the countryside
.
Flurries of snow restlessly blew about Cort's face and landed on his fur-lined cape and clung to his hair. He walked over the frozen ground and mulled over his situation with Wynter. He knew now that he loved her, and this realization filled him with a sense of peace. When he arrived at the house, he entered through the kitchen and was surprised to find Dirk, warming himself before the brick hearth.

“I had no idea you were here,” Cort said after shaking Dirk's hand. Pleasure at seeing him was obvious in Cort's expression. “I thought you had been captured and killed on Port Royal.”

Dirk explained how he had hidden for weeks in empty buildings and kept an eye on Wynter. “I thought you would have wanted me to look after her,” Dirk finished.

Cort examined the burly man. So many times Dirk appeared crude, but within his large chest beat a caring heart. “I'm thankful to you for watching over her.”

“Ja, Captain, it wasn't easy. Morgan had a man always nearby, but I knew Morgan hadn't harmed her, also that he hadn't touched her.”

Cort glanced inquisitively at the help, then motioned to Dirk to join him in the library. When they were alone, Cort said to him, “How do you know Morgan never touched Wynter?”

Dirk grinned from ear to ear. “One night I was in a tavern and Morgan bragged to his men how he was going home to sample his tasty morsel. I knew he meant your lady. So I followed him back and he went inside the house. Not long afterwards, he shot out of the house like a mad raven and said to his man that she was a heartless wench, but one day she'd toe the mark and not push him away.”

“Morgan meant Wynter?”

“Ja. That was the night the doctor was called. The doctor was the one who said that Captain Morgan wasn't to touch her, but vrouw later told me she play-acted to gain the doctor's sympathy. Pretty smart, huh?”

Slowly Cort nodded. “Dirk, did you know that Wynter was having a child?”

“Not until she left for Port Royal. Mary told me later that she discovered she carried a baby on Santa Margarita.”

“But why didn't she tell me?”

“She didn't know until after you left her on the island. Saba knew.”

It appeared that everyone had known of Wynter's pregnancy but him. What a fool he'd been to believe the baby was Morgan's child. He would make it all up to her; he vowed he would. At that moment, Lena poked her head in the doorway.

“Goodness, Cort! I've been searching all over for you. Wynter has had the baby.”

Without waiting for further words, Cort rushed from the library and bounded up the stairs to Wynter's room. He found her sitting against the pillows, her hair cascading in waves around her shoulders. Never had he seen her eyes sparkle with so much happiness, or her face wreathed in such benevolent love. In her arms she held the baby. A huge sob tore through him, and pure love clutched at his heart to see his child suckling at the breast of the woman he loved.

Almost as if he were in a church, he approached the bed and reverently knelt beside them. His large, tanned finger stroked the incredibly tiny fist of the baby. Then he tenderly patted the small, blond head. A little sucking sound was the only noise in the room.

Cort glanced at Wynter's peaceful, glowing face.

“He has a healthy appetite.”

She frowned. “You have a daughter, Cort, not a son. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not, Wynter. I love her already. Almost as much as I love her mother.”

“Oh, Cort.” She emitted a long sigh and hadn't realized she was holding her breath, waiting for his reaction. “Do you really mean that? Do you believe the baby is yours?”

He sat on the bed and kissed her greedily. “When you're well again, you'll know how much I do love you and our child.” He smiled a dazzling smile. “What is her name to be?”

“I'd like to name her after your mother.”

“Lyntje. Lyntje Van Linden. Mother would have liked that. My mother would have loved you. I love you.”

Wynter clasped an arm around his neck, careful not to disturb the child between them. “Never doubt that I love you, my heart. Never doubt my love for you again.”

“No, I won't, little one. I promise to love you forever and always.”

Wynter gave her lips up to his for another kiss. Nothing would destroy their love, she vowed. Nothing and no one.

Cold. It was unbearably cold. Lucy wasn't used to the midwinter assault as the freezing wind and rain swept down from the mountains. Always at McChesney Manor the wall tapestries had dispelled the chill, and even at Somerset House she'd never noticed it.

Now she did. And all because of her wayward spouse, Somerset. She rued the day she married the scoundrel. If she'd known that things were going to turn out like this, that she'd be forced to live in a caretaker's cottage, she'd have let Wynter have him, and would have bid good riddance to both of them. However, there was nothing to be done now but make the best of it, Maddie constantly told her. But this was something Lucy determined not to do.

Her bags were packed, the few of them that she had. Most of her clothes had been sold, all of the jewelry except the Somerset pendant and ring. Adam had had the gall to ask for them, but she refused to give them to him. How dare he think that every article of jewelry, each antique, belonged to him? The creditors still swarmed around the Somerset estate, still knocked on the door of the caretaker's cottage, seeking to claim their due. Well, nothing was left. Even after they had sold everything off, plus McChesney Manor and Somerset House, bills needed to be paid.

Lucy was grateful to the new owner of Somerset House for allowing her and Maddie to stay in the cottage. She felt a bit sorry for the caretaker and his family who were evicted, but then they would make do with their relatives. She had no one but Maddie, and Maddie was less than a comfort to her these days.

Adam had shipped off with the king's navy some time ago, and if Lucy never laid eyes upon him again, it would be too soon. She'd written to him about the circumstances in which she found herself, explained how she had to dodge creditors trying to collect on his debts. The upstart had the nerve to write and tell her to make the best of the situation. He was unable to deal with such petty trifles now. She wondered how her mother would have reacted to the abject poverty in which Lucy now found herself. Debra would never have allowed her daughter to inhabit such a humble dwelling, but Debra had died five months ago, and Lucy needed a roof over her head.

The caretaker's cottage was better than nothing for the time being. However, Lucy had other plans. Maddie shook her head in displeasure as Lucy threw on her cape and went to the small window to search for the coachman.

“Lord Bartholomew was kind to lend me his carriage,” Lucy said and pulled on a pair of kid gloves which had seen better days. “I know his caretaker will be happy to move back here once I'm gone. Heaven only knows why.” Lucy looked in disgust at the small room which had been her home the last months.

“Thank the good Lord you had a roof over your head, missy.”

Lucy sniffed. “The ‘good' Lord as you so put it, Maddie, has been less than kind to me. I shall be quite glad to leave this place and England. The name of Somerset is besmirched now, and I intend to make a place for myself elsewhere.”

“You mean you intend to wheedle yourself into the good graces of my daughter-in-law, in that heathen place she lives now.”

Lucy hooked her cape. “New Netherland, Maddie. And Wynter isn't your daughter-in-law any longer.”

“I know,” Maddie said and clutched the letter in her pocket which Wynter had sent shortly after arriving in New Amsterdam. In the letter she told of Fletcher's death, and said that she had remarried and was living in a place with the heathen name of Lindenwyck. Maddie didn't know what it meant, but the name sounded foreign, and she didn't care for it. “But Wynter was always like my own child. I wish her well, and that doesn't mean yourself, Lady Lucy.”

“Pooh! Wynter shall be overjoyed to see me again, and I know once she learns of my misfortune, she'll be only too glad to lend a helping hand to me. We are sisters.”

“Fine time to realize that now. You should have acted like a sister to her when she needed one. I hope she throws you out on your ear.”

“Old hag!” Lucy muttered and heard the coachman's knock on the door. The man entered and took her bags. Lucy turned to Maddie. “You may come with me if you'd like. I should fetch quite a sum for the Somerset jewels.”

Maddie shook her head. “Nay. My boy died going to a strange, heathen land. I'll stay here and work for Lord Bartholomew. His daughter requires a nanny.”

“Suit yourself,” Lucy said and shrugged. She didn't look at Maddie who stood in the doorway, but entered the carriage. In fact, as she drove away, she found it difficult to stop the tears which threatened to fall from her eyes if she as much as glanced in Maddie's direction. She didn't want her to know how much she'd miss her. Maddie had been a trial, but then so had she. She admitted she hadn't been the very best charge all of these years. Maddie, like Debra, had always been there for her. Now she had no one.

If only she could find someone to love her for herself. Adam had forever told her how plain and scrawny she was, that she had the inward fire of a rock when he referred to bedding her. Even now as the carriage sped away, Lucy winced. Never again would she allow a man to hurt her physically or emotionally. Adam never cared that he was cruel or perverted in their lovemaking. He only decreed that she pleasure him, and when she didn't know what to do, he had become enraged. God, she hated him!

Well, now she was free as the birds in the sky. She wondered what Lindenwyck would be like. Would there be nice parties, pretty clothes? She hoped so. She was so tired of Maddie having to redo the few gowns she possessed. Most of all she hoped that Wynter would accept her into her family. And though Lucy wouldn't admit it, even to herself, she wanted to see her sister again.

Lyntje's birth was publicly announced when Lena
tied
a
simple
white pincushion to the knocker on the front door. The pincushion had been
inherited from Van Linden ancestors
, and if the
next
baby
born was a
son,
the
blue pincushion
, stored after Mikel's birth, would be used
. Everyone instantly fell in love with Lyntje with her large, blue-gray eyes and blond
e
hair. Streams of visitors, many of them people whom Wynter had met on St. Nicholas Eve, paid court on the new arrival, bearing gifts.

Wynter thought the Dutch custom of swaddling newborns was a bit absurd, but she allowed Lena to do it. But when Wynter noticed that her firmly bound daughter couldn't move hand or foot after being lovingly placed in an elaborately carved cradle, Wynter protested and took the child from it.

She undid the bindings so the baby could move freely, and she placed her in a small crib on the floor near the bed.

“It's an old Dutch custom, Wynter. No harm comes to the children, but if you prefer your own ways, then so be it.”

She knew by the warm tone of his voice that he didn't mind and was much amused by it all. “However, my dear,” he told her, “you must apologize to Lena. She was only doing what any good Dutch grandmother would do.”

Wynter did offer an apology, which Lena graciously accepted.

When Wynter felt well enough to go downstairs, she dressed in a becoming mauve gown which enhanced the blush of her cheeks, the lustrous hair piled high upon her head, and the full breasts which were now larger due to mother's milk. She hadn't seen Cort that morning. Since the baby's birth, he had slept elsewhere in the house. They'd spent one night together, the night before Lyntje's birth. Now he told her he thought it best he not sleep in the same room, so she'd be able to rest. Lyntje was a demanding baby, always hungry, and sometimes Wynter nursed her four times a night. More than once she found herself dozing and had to shake herself awake.

She missed Cort next to her, and she would have loved to have him there during the long, cold hours of night. His room was down the hall from hers, and she'd catch herself listening as she nursed the baby in the nighttime stillness. What am I listening for? she asked herself. But she knew. She listened for sounds of Katrina's voice from that room, and she hated herself for thinking that Cort would carry on with the woman only feet away from her. She had no reason to believe that Cort was interested in Katrina. Since Lyntje's birth, things were smooth between them. Then why doesn't he really want to sleep in my bed? Wynter pondered.

She wanted a book and headed for the library, where she found Rolfe going over some account books. He looked up at her entrance and smiled.

“Motherhood agrees with you, dear cousin. I've never seen you more glowing.”

Wynter inclined her head in acceptance of his compliment. “I'm very happy to have such a beautiful and healthy child.”

“As you should be.” Rolfe leaned back and took in her appearance with hungry eyes. “Cort is a lucky devil of a man to have you for a wife.”

Wife. She wasn't Cort's wife, and Rolfe's alluding to it caused her to turn her head and look at the shelves of books.

“Lena told me this morning that Katrina has another headache and doesn't wish to be disturbed,” she said.

“Katrina always has a headache,” Rolfe pronounced tersely. She did suffer from periodic headaches, Rolfe knew, but not as many as she liked people to think. Right now, Rolfe suspected she was holed up in the huge bed upstairs with the stable boy again, slaking her lust on him when she really wanted Cort as her lover. But Rolfe had long ago decided he didn't care with whom she trysted. He only wanted her gone, and now that Cort had returned, his plans for making Wynter fall in love with him were pushed aside for the time being.