Pirate's Golden Promise (35 page)

Wynter spotted a volume of poetry, and she stood on a small stool to grab at it, but she was still too short to reach it. Standing on tiptoe, she made a lunge for the book but felt herself falling when the stool tilted. She expected to land unceremoniously on her backside, but Rolfe had rushed over to her and grabbed her before she made contact with the floor.

His arms encircled her and held her close against him. Her feet dangled in the air. Without a warning, his lips pressed against hers in a hot, wet kiss which stunned her.

“Wynter, I love you. I adore you. Please say you'll belong to me. We could rule Lindenwyck together.”

“Release me, Rolfe. Release me at once!”

Rolfe blinked at her command. He'd never seen her face so filled with anger.

In reluctance he set her down on the floor. “I told you once before that nothing can happen between us. Nothing,” she repeated. “This is the last time I shall tell you this, and I'd appreciate your heeding my words. You have a wife, I have a … husband. I don't love you, Rolfe. The next time you take liberties with me, you shall be sorry.”

“What shall you do, tell Cort?” He sneered.

“Yes.”

“He doesn't love you, Wynter. He loves Katrina.”

She felt as if he had thrown cold water on her face. Her insecurity returned, and she lost her anger. “Cort loves me,” she said in the hope to convince Rolfe as well as herself.

“Think what you will, but Cort has always loved Katrina, otherwise he'd never have left all those years ago. Their love was deep and passionate. One doesn't soon get over such love.”

How well Wynter knew that! Cort was the only man she'd ever loved, and she'd never get over loving him.

“As you said, Rolfe, that love was years ago. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a child who needs tending.”

“I'm here if you need me, Wynter. Remember how much I love you.”

She left the room without turning around.

If Rolfe had planned the next few minutes, the end result wouldn't have pleased him more. But Rolfe was ignorant of a peculiarity of Katrina's and didn't realize the extent of her obsession for Cort.

While Katrina writhed beneath the sheets with her stable boy, she felt no real pleasure in their mating. Something was lacking, and she knew what it was: Cort wasn't the one making love to her. When the young man nearly reached a climax, Katrina halted him with a hand on his hard-muscled chest. “What is wrong, Katrina?” he asked; an urgency could be heard in his voice.

“Call me your ‘sweet Katrina.'”

“Sweet Katrina,” he parroted, eager to finish.

“And I shall call you Cort.”

“My name is Fredrik,” he said, somewhat petulantly, always disliking this part of the act.

“Your name is Cort as long as you are in my bed. What difference does it make to you what I call you as long as you satisfy yourself and me, hmmm?”

From the first time that Fredrik had sneaked into Katrina's bed, they'd had this battle of wills. Always she called him by another man's name, and though he hated her not seeing him for himself, he couldn't deny Katrina Van Linden anything. To him, she was the most beautiful and experienced woman in the world, and the only woman he'd ever laid with. He feared that if he didn't allow her the privilege of believing he was another man for a few moments in the heat of passion, she'd no longer require his services. And he'd die without Katrina's love. He might be ten years younger, but he loved her with the same intensity as a man years older.

Fredrik could contain his passion for her no longer when her hands stroked his back and kneaded his buttocks. He was lost!

“Sweet Katrina,” he rasped as he climaxed.

Katrina pushed against him, the sudden rush of passion overtook her, and she forgot that the young, virile man wasn't Cort. In her mind she was transported through the years to the times when Cort had joined her in this very room, this very bed.

“Cort, my darling!” she cried.

Outside Katrina's door, Wynter stood stock-still, and if she had felt able to function, she'd have screamed.

The strange guttural sounds she'd heard from Katrina's room had greeted her ears when she neared the door. At first, she thought Katrina might be ill and she would have knocked, except for Katrina's ecstatic cry. Cort! He and Katrina were together.

Pain finally propelled her past the door to her own room. She sat on the bed, oblivious to Mary's chatter as she straightened up and to the slight whining of the baby.

No wonder he didn't want to sleep in their room, she thought. All the time she had felt guilty for suspecting that Katrina would visit Cort's room. Instead, he'd gone to hers. What was worse were Wynter's expectations that soon Cort would marry her and give the baby his name. But he didn't have to explain the situation to anyone or accept full responsibility for Lyntje. They weren't married, and if she conveniently disappeared, Cort most probably would be relieved to be rid of her.

“Is anything wrong, ma'am?” Mary asked when Wynter didn't respond to a question.

“Nothing that can't be resolved,” she said with determination and ordered Mary to pack a bag for her and the baby.

“Where are you going? The river is still frozen.”

“Anywhere but here, Mary. If I have to skate all the way to New Amsterdam with Lyntje in my arms, I shall. Now pack that bag and let's get away from this house.”

Mary took unusually long to gather the baby's belongings, and Wynter was growing apprehensive that she wouldn't get away from Lindenwyck before dark. While Mary was out of the room, she threw on her cloak and left the house to find Dirk in the stables cleaning out the stalls.

“I need a favor of you, Dirk,” she said.

“Ja, vrouw, if I can help you, I will.”

“I would like you to take Lyntje and me to New Amsterdam. We have to get away from Lindenwyck.”

Dirk sputtered, and seemed unable to find words. But he was saved from saying anything when Cort walked in.

“I shall handle this, Dirk,” Cort said and took Wynter's arm to lead her out of the stables.

“I'm not going anywhere with you!” She tried to pull away, but his fingers wound tighter around her.

“Wynter, I don't know what you're doing or why. Mary found me and told me you intended to take my child and leave. Are you insane? The river is still frozen. You can't go anywhere.”

“We'll take the ice boat.”

“No. You're staying here.”

He stopped and turned her to him. The wind whipped past them and stung their faces with its force, but neither of them felt anything other than each other's closeness.

“Tell me why you want to leave me?” he asked so gently that her heart fluttered.

“Cort, please don't pretend you don't know. I can't bear your game-playing. I should like to keep some shred of dignity.”

He shook his head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Fine. Let's not speak about it.”

Wynter started to move away, but he held her in place. “I want the reason now for this abrupt departure.”

The sudden harshness of his tone riled her. How dare he pretend he was innocent, while he and Katrina were having an affair under her very nose?

“Where were you all afternoon, Cort? I couldn't find you.”

“I've been busy.”

“Busy with what or whom?”

“Tell me what you're trying to discover!” he cried.

“I already know you were in Katrina's bed. I heard her cry your name in ecstasy. There, I've told you, so release me!”

“I don't know what you think you heard, but I wasn't with Katrina. I swear to you that I love you, not her. Only you.”

She wanted to believe him. He sounded so painfully sincere, but he'd duped her on the
Sea Bride,
allowed her to think they were married. Was there nothing sacred to Cort Van Linden? She wouldn't let him make a fool of her again.

“You're lying,” she blurted out. “If you weren't in her bed, then where were you?”

The new moon had risen and its silvered light touched the hard golden depths of Cort's eyes. She expected him to lie about his whereabouts, but instead he pushed her in the direction of the house. “I'll show you where I was,” he muttered.

Once inside, they passed the library, where Rolfe stuck his head out and asked what was wrong. Cort didn't answer him but kept a stony face and pulled Wynter up the stairs behind him. To her surprise, he took the next flight of stairs, past the second level, and soon they stopped in a candlelit hallway. On one end of it were two opened doors where she noticed servants dusting furniture and setting things in order. It was the room on the opposite side of the hall to which he led her.

Throwing open the door, he dragged her into the room. A large candelabra sat on a table, set for two. The small table brimmed over with meats, fruits, and wine. The testered bed filled the middle of the area, and the covers had been turned down. On the far wall was a blazing hearth, and the large window behind the bed allowed an unimpeded view of the frozen North River.

“I've been up here all day, Wynter, arranging this room for us. The two rooms down the hall are for Mary and Lyntje. I've also hired a nurse for the baby, who will sleep in the nursery. So you can lay your suspicions about Katrina and me to rest. All this is for us … if you want it.”

“But I heard Katrina—”

“I don't care what you heard!” Cort burst out. Then he took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “I swear to you that I was here all afternoon. Ask Mary, ask Lena. They both knew what I was doing.”

Wynter believed him. It wasn't his words that swayed her, but the way his face filled with hope and also with a fleeting look of uncertainty. She felt very foolish, and she didn't know how to apologize for her stupidity. The thought struck her that if they were destined to love one another, then they must trust that love.

Instead of telling him she did trust him, she said, “Why have you done this, Cort? There are perfectly good rooms downstairs.”

For a second he appeared exasperated, then he smiled the dazzling smile which always caused her heart to pound. “Look on the table.”

Drawing closer to the table, she noticed only the food, but when he told her to look closely, her pulse quickened. Sitting atop an apple was the diamond betrothal ring. Cort reached for it and placed it on her finger.

“This ring seals our love, Wynter. I'm asking you to share my bed, my life. I love you and Lyntje more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. Marry me, please.”

“Oh, Cort, my darling.” Her whisper was barely audible and filled with surprise. She hadn't expected a marriage proposal, but to be his wife was all she had ever wanted, and she'd not refuse. Suddenly she accepted the truth about Katrina. He hadn't been with the woman and would never want her again. Katrina was Cort's past, she was his future.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and tears of happiness slid down her cheeks.

“I love you, Cort. I'll marry you whenever and wherever you say.”

His kiss seared her lips, and she melted against him. He picked her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. She had waited for this moment, prayed it would come. During the days after Lyntje's birth, she wondered if she'd be able to keep him, if he'd truly desire her again. She had felt insecure, frightened she would lose him to Katrina or another woman, but the thought that Cort loved her made her dizzy with desire.

He went to the door and locked it. Before she was aware of it, they had undressed and were mindless of everything but each other. But when his lips claimed hers again, she broke away.

“Cort,” she said in a small voice. “I don't believe I'm sufficiently recovered from the baby's birth.”

He looked startled for a moment, as if he hadn't thought about Wynter's physical condition. Then he kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her in the bed beside him. Covering both of them with the heavy quilts, he sighed and held her in his arms.

“I suppose we'll have to use restraint until you are, my love. But when you're well again, nothing will deter me.”

Wynter grinned at him. “And believe that nothing will keep me from you either.”

With arms wrapped around one another, they drifted off to sleep.

“A wedding here at Lindenwyck?”

Lena sounded disbelieving when Cort announced to her the next morning that he and Wynter were planning a wedding ceremony. “So we might enjoy the fanfare we missed the first time,” he told Lena and gently squeezed Wynter's hand.

“How touching!” was Katrina's only comment. Wynter didn't fail to miss the hateful glitter in her eyes, but something like slyness, too.

“Well, that would be wonderful!” Lena said after a few moments thought. “We have much to do for such a celebration, and, granted, it is unusual for a couple to want to remarry, but such a lovely idea!” She beamed at Cort and Wynter. Rolfe finished his morning tea and appeared thoroughly amused.

After they finished breakfast, Lena hurried Wynter and Cort away to begin preparations for the wedding. Katrina sat at the table, her arms folded, and Rolfe threw her a grin.

“You don't look too pleased, dear wife. Doesn't the prospect of seeing your former lover remarry his wife appeal to you?”

“It pleases me as much as it does you, Rolfe. I know how fond you've grown of Wynter since her arrival.”

“Do you mind?”

“No.”

“Then we have no problem, do we, Katrina? You're still in love with Cort, and I'm in love with his wife.”

“Wife! That's a poor joke, Rolfe. Wynter is as much Cort's wife as am I.”

“What?”

Katrina hadn't meant to reveal this tidbit of information, but now that she had, she could do nothing but admit to what she had overheard the day of Cort's return.