Pirate's Golden Promise (45 page)

“I don't understand,” Katrina said in confusion.

“Unfortunate accidents do occur.”

She blinked her astonishment. Could Cort actually mean what she thought he was suggesting? Could he kill Wynter? The idea was a shock, but a pleasant one. Yes, if Wynter died, they could marry soon. Something about his attitude unnerved her slightly, but Katrina was so in love with Cort that she found herself nodding in agreement.

“Accidents do occur,” she repeated his words. “A boating accident like Rolfe's. I think we could arrange such a thing as that. I was with Rolfe when he fell overboard. He intended to kill me, but I grabbed the oar and struck him on the head. He fell into the water and never surfaced. You see, I know all about accidents. And Wynter's death must appear accidental. We wouldn't be going through this torture now if Somerset hadn't botched things so. He was supposed to make Wynter want him again, then she'd have been well away from Lindenwyck by now. But Somerset was a bungler.” Her eyes shone as she grabbed Cort's sleeve, seemingly eager to unburden herself of her crime. “I had to kill him, Cort. I hoped that by planting evidence that Wynter had done the deed, you'd be free of her. But we shall just have to get rid of her, my darling. I love you too much to wait for you to be free.”

Cort's eyes darkened, and he would have beat Katrina senseless except at that moment Lena's voice was heard in the vestibule.

“Herr burgomaster, what are you doing listening at the door?”

Katrina jumped up when the man entered the room. She wondered if he'd heard her confession to Cort. Glancing at Cort, she realized he had planned the whole thing. “You tricked me!”

“Take her away,” Cort ordered the burgomaster. “I never want to see her wretched face again.”

“I hate you!” Katrina ground out as the plump man pulled her out of the room.

Cort ignored her and quickly told Lena what had transpired. Lena was in shock, and Cort was heading for the door to bring Wynter back from Lucy's when the burgomaster ran back into the house.

“She has escaped!” he rasped, out of breath. “She kicked me and ran into the woods.”

Cort cursed and rushed into the chilly fall night.

Katrina raced headlong through the dark forest, tears blinding her way. Cort had tricked her into confessing. He loved Wynter, not her, never her. She had no one. Except for Fredrik who'd help her. She must get to Fredrik.

Pushing through the tangled undergrowth she made her way towards the stables where Fredrik slept. Suddenly an arm reached out to grab her and she fell to the vine-covered ground.

Katrina screamed and kicked at the figure that fell on top of her. “I hate you!” she railed, believing the attacker to be Cort.

“I hate
you,
” came the deadly calm voice.

She stopped flailing, stopped screaming. Her heart sounded in her ears, and though she couldn't see the man well, she knew it was Rolfe who held her pinned to the ground.

“Rolfe?” Her voice sounded thin and cracked. “It can't be you.”

“My precious wife, I think you're ill pleased to see me. You wound me with your hatred.”

“You're dead. I saw you drown.”

“No,” he corrected. “You saw me go under, but you didn't see me surface on the other side of the boat. I was too dazed to come after you, so I let you row back to shore. Then I allowed the current to carry me a little way to Gerta's house. My kind, gentle Gerta took me in and nursed me after I nearly died of chills and fever. I was ill for weeks, luckily for you. But I knew that one day I'd come upon you, my faithful wife, and that when I did, you'd die the death you were deprived of that night on the river.”

Fear hit her like a bolt of lightning. Rolfe was going to kill her—she knew it. Her life was meant to end, and she knew that no amount of protesting would save her. But she tried.

“I won't let you do this to me,” she cried and attempted to kick him, but Rolfe was much larger and heavier than Katrina. Her movements met with futility.

Her vain struggles enraged him. “You've always been so stupid where Cort was concerned. If you had come to me and asked me to help you win him away from Wynter, I would have, but you were so deceitful. You hired Somerset to do the deed. I knew all about him, Katrina, even how you killed him.

“There's very little about you that I don't know, even how much you hate pain. And for the love I bore you years ago, I shall grant you a merciful end. Much more merciful than the life I've led with you.”

Rolfe doubled his fist and knocked her unconscious. Picking Katrina up, he carried her limp form to the bluff overlooking the river. He gave her a tender kiss on her ruby mouth, and threw her over the precipice and watched as her body hurtled into dark space. He heard the splash.

The next morning Katrina's lifeless body was found a mile up the river by one of Lindenwyck's farmers.

Cort arrived at Lucy's house to take Wynter home. At first she didn't want to go, but when he explained what had happened, why he had pretended to love Katrina, Wynter understood.

She entered his outstretched arms, and with their child, they returned to Lindenwyck, content in their happiness.

But one person wasn't content. He watched from the forest as they entered the house and heard their delighted laughter. Rage filled Rolfe and squeezed his inside
s
like
twenty
hands. He vowed that before the year ended, Wynter would be his, and Cort would not live to see the new year dawn.

A cold north wind whipped around the house at the end of November. One morning, on a gray and snowy day, Wynter looked out the window to see that the river had frozen. Some of the farmers and their families already skated on its
gleaming
surface.

“Will you skate today?” Wynter asked Cort who was adding long columns of figures in an account book.

He looked up distracted, but smiled at the radiant picture she made in a ruby velvet gown, cut low and edged with cream-colored lace. Her cheeks bloomed like roses, and her perfectly shaped mouth resembled spring berries. Wynter's beauty always amazed him, and he never tired of gazing at her.

“Come here,” he drawled and held out his arms to her.

Eagerly she came to him and placed her slender arms around his neck. Their kiss was warm and would have flared into passion had not a knock sounded on the door. Cort, in a disgruntled tone of voice, ordered the intruder into the room.

A serving woman, new to Lindenwyck, apologized for bothering them and handed Cort a letter which had recently arrived from New York.

“Someone sent a letter in this weather?” he asked. “Is there to be a reply?”

“No reply is necessary, at least that's what the messenger said to tell you, sir.”

Cort nodded and dismissed her.

“Who is it from?” Wynter glanced at the white parchment as Cort opened it.

A frown marred his forehead and he sighed. “Governor Nicholls wants to see me immediately. There's a person who wants to purchase the
Sea Bride
and won't be put off.”

“But can't such a transaction wait until the weather clears? I don't want you to leave now. St. Nicholas Eve is barely a week away, and this is Lyntje's first Christmas.”

Cort stroked her cheek. “I will endeavor to be back before St. Nicholas arrives. Why the buyer can't wait a few more weeks is beyond me, but apparently he is in a dither to complete the transaction.”

“I didn't know you intended to sell the
Sea Bride.
I shall miss her.”

“I know what you miss.” Cort winked at her as he recalled the passionate moments they'd spent on the ship. “To be honest, Wynter, I don't want to sell the ship. Why Nicholls thinks I do is a mystery to me, but I have to honor his summons. He is the governor now, and I'd like to keep on his good side.”

A delighted laugh escaped Wynter as she eyed him in skepticism. “Are you the same man who hated the English and did your best to collect prize English booty?”

Suddenly Cort pulled her down against his chest, desire flaring in his eyes. “I have my English treasure in my arms. I need no other booty. I think I can put off Nicholls until tomorrow. But tonight I'd like to sample the treasure I captured from the
Mary Jack.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

The next day Cort left Lindenwyck just as the sun was rising above the horizon. Wynter watched him push off in the ice boat. He glanced up to the window where she stood, and she answered his wave with her own. A strange sense of doom clawed at her stomach suddenly, but she told herself she was being silly. All night she'd tossed and turned, dreading Cort's leaving. He's only going to New York and will be back soon, she told herself over and over in an attempt to convince herself that she worried over nothing. But she did worry, and as the boat disappeared from sight, she had to shake herself to drive the dreadful feeling away.

Mary came into the room an hour later and helped her dress. Then Wynter paid a visit to the nursery, where Lyntje delighted her by taking her first steps on her own. Wynter laughed her delight and cuddled the child to her. “When Papa comes home, you walk to him,” she crowed happily to the blond-haired child.

“Lyntje learns fast,” Gerta said and smiled indulgently at her charge.

Wynter saw an uneasiness in Gerta's face, though the woman attempted to hide it. She fleetingly wondered if Gerta was still seeing her mysterious married lover. She opened her mouth to ask her about him but thought better about prying. Instead she went downstairs and joined Lena at breakfast.

Near dusk a freezing north wind buffeted the stone mansion. Wynter and Lena sat in the sitting room with a cozy fire to light their fingers as they worked on a patchwork quilt for Lyntje's crib. A knock sounded on the oak front door, and the serving woman who'd handed the message to Cort the previous day entered the parlor. She curtsied to Wynter.

“Begging your pardon, ma'am, but a man is here who says you should come with him. Your sister has been taken quite ill and is asking for you.”

Wynter was surprised. “Lucy is ill? Goodness, I saw her only two days ago.” She stood up and said to Lena, “I must go to see her. I shall be back as soon as I can.”

Lena bit at her lower lip worriedly. “My dear, do you think you should go out in this weather? Night is falling. Please wait until morning.”

Shaking her head, Wynter was already leaving the room. “Lucy must be quite ill to send for me in this weather. I promise to be careful and not to be overlong.”

She nodded to the man, a servant she presumed from Lucy's, who waited by the door. He wore a large jacket and his face was covered by a plaid muffler that obscured everything but his eyes. Even those were hooded by the cap he wore pulled low on his head. “I shan't be long,” she told him. Going upstairs, she put on her white mink cape, the Christmas gift she'd received from Rolfe the previous year, and a warm pair of gloves. Pulling the hood over her head, she hurried downstairs and told the man she was ready to leave.

Wynter followed him out of the house and down to the river. “Why are we going this way?” she queried. “My sister's home is in the opposite direction.”

“Vrouw Breden is at a friend's house upriver,” he mumbled lowly.

Wynter thought this was strange, especially when she noticed the swanlike sleigh she'd ridden last year, resting on the ice by the shore. Where had this come from? She hadn't seen it since Rolfe had taken her skating on St. Nicholas Eve, the day Cort returned to her.

“Why didn't my brother-in-law come for me? Who are you?”

“I am a servant of Herr Richter's, and your brother-in-law didn't wish to leave his wife.”

The approaching darkness obscured the man's already hidden face. Now she could barely make out his large frame as he waited, she sensed, in impatience for her to board the sleigh.

“This is so unlike Lucy,” Wynter mumbled.

“Please, vrouw,” he said and grabbed her elbow and propelled her into the seat. “Your sister is ill. She needs you,”

Wynter didn't argue further. The man's tone sounded urgent, and though his muffled voice reminded her of someone, she couldn't figure who it might be. She sat down and covered herself with a large blanket. Then the man quickly pulled on skates, situated himself behind the sleigh and pushed off with a slash of his skates on the ice.

She hoped they'd arrive at Herr Richter's soon. From the speed they traveled, she didn't think the journey would take long. Wynter knew that the Richters lived but a few miles up the river, and she remembered that Lucy had been friendly with Katje Richter and her husband. She wondered what had happened to Lucy to make her fall ill. Surely it must be serious to send a servant to fetch her.

They flew past large, shadowy shapes which lined the shore. A moon lit the way, but its light did nothing to dispel Wynter's uneasiness. She hated traveling at night, especially in a sleigh, pushed by a skater, but strangely she wasn't afraid of tipping over. The servant appeared to be in complete command of the sled and was very agile. Like Rolfe, she realized.

The journey ended more quickly than she expected. Suddenly the sleigh slowed down and she heard the skidding of the servant's skates as he came to an abrupt halt. Glancing around, Wynter could not see the Richters' farmhouse. Instead she saw a small wooden building by a dock. She now recalled that Rolfe had shown her this part of the Lindenwyck estate long ago and told her he'd skated here as a boy.

“This isn't Herr Richter's,” she stated.

The servant appeared in front of her. She couldn't see him clearly, but then she recognized his voice. “No, Wynter, it isn't. Don't you remember where you are?”

Wynter blinked in astonishment. “Rolfe?”