“How does it feel to witness this, Tyler?” Sirena asked. “Do you still entertain thoughts of being a lawless seaman?”
“I’d give anything to be one of those pirates!” he exclaimed, his eyes shining brightly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. My father used to read me stories when I was a child and it was just like this, the storm and all,” he said, waving his hand at the flashes of lightning and the thundering sky. “That’s van der Rhys’ ship!” he suddenly exclaimed, recognizing the English brig for the first time. “I can tell by the flag she flies. I only saw it being loaded at the wharf just last month. He’ll have a bloody fit!” Suddenly he caught himself, “Sorry, Sirena, I suppose those are a share of your profits, too.”
Sirena’s eyes flashed suddenly. “Are you certain?” she shouted as a roar of thunder split the air.
“Positive!” Tyler announced, his eyes glued to the attacking pirate brigantine. “If I had that booty from the van der Rhys ship, I’d never have to go to those damnable offices again. I could be free to live as I like! I wouldn’t have to live by rules and convention. I’d be free!”
“Do you want it?” Sirena asked quietly. In the roar of the storm Tyler wasn’t certain he’d heard her or if he’d read her lips. He tore his glance away from hers and riveted his eyes on the pirate ship again.
“I’d give anything in this world for it,” he said huskily.
“Then you will have it!”
Tyler didn’t notice her leave, so intent was he on his objective. When Sirena appeared, she was in her sea costume; the full-sleeved blouse tied snugly beneath her breasts; her tall, wide-topped boots which rose above her knees and accentuated the long length of thigh exposed by her cropped-off trousers. “All hands to the deck,” Sirena shouted, her legs firmly planted on the rolling planks. “We’re going to run. The wind has changed to the south!”
Tyler’s eyes nearly popped from his head as Sirena ordered, “Haul the yards about for the port tack. Move lively, men, there’s not much time!” She looked over her shoulder and grinned at Tyler’s obvious shock. “You wanted it. Station yourself securely or you might go overboard and you’ll not live to enjoy your booty.”
Every crew member knew what lay in store for himself. Each manned his station. The Spirit would maneuver a short round to, and in so doing would pivot on her stern under headsails, piling up great lee waves on her starboard side. Sirena had to heist forward and reply to the ship’s head with helm at the exact moment. She had to push aft at just the right time, when the helm was moved to shift her forward. She would be forced to lay oil from her bows and, most important, before the order to fill headsails, wait for a smooth. If not, she was in deadly peril.
One false move, no matter how minute, and the Spirit would be at the mercy of wind and sea. Sirena took the wheel and it was touch and go. The seamen’s cries rained on the wind. The helm shifted and the jib sails and forestaysail rose, cracked in the wind, ballooned and, with the forward seamen playing tug-of-war on the sheets, the mighty foresail reefed, catching a fill of wind and buoying up the fore. The Spirit began to swing. The arrogant lady dug her nose into the rolling seas and pushed up more starboard. The lady came about in a boil of water and foam, her port side exposed to the full force of the ferocious wind. She shuddered, heeled dangerously in the vise of windward and lee seas, rocking, unsure of herself. Then the helm shifted. To cries aft and forward, the headsails spilled their wind as the aft gave bright sail to bear. Foresail was set on the fore and main, yards readied on the port tack sprouted sail. The helm met the press of canvas. The graceful lady groaned, trembled, heeled and shot forward.
“Smartly done,” Jan yelled from the stern.
“Willem, the wheel,” Sirena called.
“Magnificent,” Willem complimented.
“We must make our guest happy,” Sirena smiled, satisfied with a job well done.
For better than two hours the Sea Spirit pursued the pirate ship. And when they at last had her within reach, Sirena shouted, “Hear this! We take the marauding pirate brig! When we have her, gut her. A pirate on open seas is fair game to any and all. The prize goes to our guest,” she said emphatically.
“Aye, Capitana,” the crew shouted as they readied a grappling hook to board the brig bearing the Jolly Roger. “The fight’s gone out of her and it’s all she can do to stay afloat after that storm. A few of the English trader’s shots were well aimed from the look of her crew. If we don’t take her booty now, it’ll go to the bottom,” Franco yelled.
Sirena searched out Tyler, who was hanging on to the mizzenmast for dear life, his face pale and white. “Poor Tyler, you’re ill.”
Sinclair, his hold on the ropes slipping, eyed the long-legged creature before him with awe. He tried to speak, but words would not come.
Sirena brandished her cutlass in the air and laughed aloud. “I’d take the brig for you but she’s rotten with toredo worms and practically worthless. The cargo is yours and, within the hour, will be secure in the hold of the Sea Spirit. It’s all yours, Tyler, but remember, you said you would do anything for the booty. One day I’ll lay claim to that promise.”
“You must be ... you can’t be! I thought it was a story, a fabrication made for amusement! But you are real!” he exclaimed with excitement. “You are the Sea Siren!”
“Yes, I’m real, not a myth.”
“Sirena, that cargo the pirates took belongs to Regan van der Rhys.”
“Not any longer. Now it belongs to you,” Sirena laughed. “It was fair game. We didn’t take it from Regan’s vessel, the pirates did. There is a difference. I didn’t attack Regan’s ship,” she said firmly.
“He’ll bloody well kill the pair of us,” Tyler laughed nervously.
“Do you plan on advertising the fact that you’re in possession of his cargo?”
“No ... but—”
“Then he will never know who sunk the pirate ship or who has his cargo. Unfortunately for the scurves, they repelled the attack and paid with their lives.”
Some of Tyler’s color was returning. “What should I do with the cargo?”
Sirena shrugged, “You have several alternatives. You can sell it on the black market in Ireland or, if worse comes to worse, you could sell it back to Regan. I should think he’d pay handsomely for its return. Don’t forget I get my finder’s fee if that’s what you do.”
“We could bloody well end up in Newgate or strung from the end of a yardarm for this little stunt,” he said, scowling.
“Only if your mouth begins to flap,” Sirena said coolly. “And before that happens, I’d shut it for you, Tyler. For good, if necessary. Think about it. Right now, you’re as guilty as the rest of us.”
As Sirena strolled back to her cabin, she bubbled over with laughter. Regan’s, cargo. What a stroke of luck! Poor Tyler, he’d never be the same!
Regan was in the taproom of the White Dove when word reached him that his ship had limped back into port after being plundered at sea. He stood still, his eyes shocked, as he listened to the sailor’s report. He tried to clear his rum-filled head. His tongue was thick and his muscular body moved sluggishly as he tried to grasp the seaman by the arm to demand more information. “What pirate? Was it a woman?” he shouted hoarsely, a murderous glint in his eye. The sailor, frightened for his life, jerked his arm free and backed away from the wild Dutchman.
“I only came here to give you the news as I was instructed. What’s this you ask me about a woman pirate? How am I to know if there was a woman,” the sailor shouted belligerently. “Go to the wharf yourself and see with your own eyes. All I know is your cargo is aboard another ship and yours limped into port. Your captain told me to inform you the reason word hasn’t reached you before this is because he took time off the Cornish coast to shore up your ship well enough to sail back to London.”
Regan looked about wildly at the interested, amused faces that surrounded him. It was clear they thought him insane. How could he explain about the notorious S
ea Siren to these grog-soaked individuals. If he wasn’t careful, they’d lock him away in Bedlam. Goddammit, it had been his biggest cargo so far in his fledgling business, and one that would have paid handsomely. Suddenly, his brain cleared and he tore from the room as if the hounds of Hell were on his heels.
He flagged down the first hackney he spotted and told the driver he’d pay double for a quick ride to King Street “I’ll wring her neck, damn her!” he shouted viciously into the clear night air.
The ride through the city of London did little to cool Regan’s temper. Stopping before Sirena’s house, he raced to the wide double doors and kicked at them like a petulant child. Frau Holtz, her hair standing on end, opened the door and immediately backed off when she saw the wild look in Regan’s face.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
The woman blanched and brought her clenched fist to her mouth. Incensed, Regan tore her hand away and demanded an answer. “Answer me or I’ll break your arm and old bones don’t mend quickly. Where is she?”
“In her room. The second door from the top of the landing,” Frau Holtz whispered fearfully.
Sirena had been in the process of reading a note when she looked up and saw Regan framed in the doorway, filling the opening, murder in his eyes. Sirena held a letter opener loosely, wary and angry at this intrusion. “Don’t come any closer,” she said vehemently, brandishing the slim blade.
Regan’s face contorted with rage. He leaped over a low footstool and slapped her, the palm of his hand drawing blood from her lip. Sirena tried to sidestep the blow and lost her balance just as Regan reached for her flowing hair. He grabbed a handful of the ebony tresses and pulled her to him, ignoring her scream.
“Attack my ship and steal my cargo. Oh, no, not again! Never again!” he shouted. “When I’m finished with you you’re going to cry for mercy, beg my forgiveness. In the end you’ll beg me to kill you. I warned you, and this time I mean what I say. I’ve had enough!” he shouted, each word distinct, his voice venomous and full of hate. “You’ve gone too far!” Intent on his own fury, his hold loosened. With one quick motion, Sirena cut up and lashed through her long mane of hair and found herself free.
She backed off and held the knife in front of her. “This,” she said, waving the impromptu weapon, “makes things a little more even between us,” she said coldly. “Why are you here? What’s your problem? Whatever it is, we could have discussed it like civilized human beings. You don’t belong here. I have a paper signed by you that says you are no longer my husband; so get out and take your rage and your stale, sweaty body out of my room. You make me sick!”
“I’ll leave when I’m damn good and ready. First you will tell me where my cargo is and when you plan to pay for damages done to my ship.”
Sirena stepped her way around the room, Regan stalking her like an animal. “Hear this, Regan. I didn’t attack your ship. Pirates hauled your cargo to their brig. Not me, understand? I didn’t plunder your property.”
“You lie!” Regan hissed. “You’d lie to me with a prayer book in one hand and a rosary in the other. Your entire life is one lie after another. Deceit, trickery, killing are the rules you live by.” He pounced on her and she brought up the letter opener in defense. He had her slender wrist in his strong grip as she frantically tried to free herself. He had her trapped. She brought up her knee and thrust it in the direction of his groin. His yell of pain forced him backward as she reached out with the blade and brought it down and around his cheek. She saw the blood spurt from the wound, and Regan doubled over.
“I hope I crippled you,” Sirena spit viciously. “Go back to your delicious peach and let her nurse your injuries. I hope you die,” she cried. “I told you I didn’t attack your ship, and I didn’t. You believe whatever is convenient at the time. Just as you wanted to believe Mikel was Chaezar’s child. Be glad I didn’t kill you because from this moment on you’re fair game. You couldn’t even give me the decency of hearing me out. No, you come to my house and threaten me and expect me to stand meekly by and take your punishment.”
Kicking her way past him, Sirena turned and looked down at him, disgust and loathing written on her features. “You’re smelling up my bedroom,” she sneered. “Now get out of here. If you can’t make it on your own two legs, I’ll have the servants toss you out the window.”
Regan straightened painfully and looked at Sirena. He blinked as he watched her face break into a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Deftly she reached behind her and grasped a small, silver-backed mirror and tossed it to him. “A small memento of this night. A mistake, but then who will ever know.”
Regan’s face drained of all color as he brought up his arm to wipe his cheek with his sleeve. His agate-blue eyes became slits as he looked into the mirror and then at Sirena. “You’ll pay for this,” he shouted hoarsely. “If it’s war you want, then it’s war you’ll get.”
“It would seem I’ve won the first battle. I hope you like the way I’ve carved my initial on your cheek. Think how nice it will feel when your little darling runs her fingers over it so lovingly. Tell her the S stands for seduction ... hers!” Sirena laughed, the familiar tinkle that grated on Regan’s ears and made his teeth rattle.
“I’ll see you dead,” he breathed harshly.
“First, you’ll have to catch me,” Sirena taunted. “And from now on, you’ll be so busy seeing to your cargoes, you’ll have little time for me. Adios, Regan, don’t trip over your own feet on your way out.”
The ache in his groin was intense but he’d never let her know how she hurt him. He’d walk from the room on his own two legs if it killed him. And it probably would, he thought as an ocean began to roar in his ears. His teeth were clenched so hard he thought his jaw would crack as he turned to make his way down the endless staircase. The white line around his grim mouth caused Frau Holtz to catch her breath. She wanted to help him but his forbidding look prevented her from doing so.
Regan had three steps to go before he reached the bottom. Sirena stood at the top of the landing and called his name. She still held the letter opener by its point. The moment Regan turned she threw and the sleek weapon soared through the air and, by some strange fluke, penetrated the toe of his boot. “I did not attack your ship. I sunk the pirate ship that stole your cargo. The rules of salvage make the booty mine.” Sirena leaned over the railing and laughed. “Frau Holtz, help him. The poor man seems to be hurt.”
Regan brought himself under control and stalked from the house, the stiletto bobbing from the thick leather of his boot.
“Insufferable bastard. If you ever allow him into this house again, I’ll send you to sea, Frau Holtz, and you’ll never touch dry land again! Do you hear me?”
Frau Holtz gulped, knowing it was useless to argue. “Ja, I hear, Mevrouw.”
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Sirena made her way to her suite and threw herself on the bed, sobing.
Regan staggered into his room, his eyes burning with rage as he fell across his bed. He slumped down, his hands grasping his midsection. His mouth was a grim, ashen line as he drew deep breaths into his lungs. She was a bitch! He should have grasped her by the neck and squeezed till her eyes bulged from her head and her tongue turned black. He should have taken her and smashed her against the wall till she was a bleeding, pulpy mass.
He remembered the wound on his cheek and slammed his fist into the hard wood of the headboard. A yowl of outrage escaped him and then he nursed his bruised hand. His blood boiled as he tried to get to his feet, only to fall back on the softness of the bed. He closed his eyes as wave after wave of pain washed over him. There was no doubt in his mind that he could have killed her, stopped her in some way. Why did he always stop short of doing her harm? Why did he allow her to taunt and torment him time and again? Was it because she was in his blood? Because he loved her? How much longer was he going to let her have her way? When was he going to put a stop to it once and for all?
He rolled over on the bed as another
wave of pain coursed through him. He had to do something. Make up his mind and stick to a course of action. If only she were more typical, more predictable, then he would feel ... safer.
He ground his teeth together at the thought. He was a man and she was only a woman. A stabbing sensation surged through his groin with such force, he drove his fist into the bed, tearing the sheet. “Bitch! Goddamn murdering bitch!” he groaned.
Hours and half a bottle of rum later, the pain subsided and Regan slept. His dreams were those of a hunted man with a cutlass-wielding Sirena hot on his trail.
When he woke it was with grim determination to do something. She said she loved him, that her life was incomplete without him. Once and for all he would put her in her place and she would never shake loose from it. “I’ve had enough!” he roared. “Two can play this damnable game!”
War, she called it. Men fought wars, men won wars. Women caused wars! This time it would be no different. He would fight her with the one weapon she couldn’t resist, he thought smugly, himself. He would lull her into a false sense of security and then he would strike. Then he would pick up his life and lead it without her interference. He had to do it; she was leaving him no choice. There comes a time in every man’s life, he told himself, when he has to do the impossible. And this was going to be it, he thought morbidly. It was time Sirena learned the hard way who the superior force was.
Chapter Fourteen
Caleb sat with his knees drawn to his chin on the sparkling decks of the Rana as his gaze followed Lord Farrington and the workmen who were busily following the dapper gentleman’s orders. He watched as gaming equipment and box after box of decorations, befitting an exclusive gambling parlor, were brought aboard. There was a wary look in his dark, luminous eyes as he imagined the expression on Sirena’s face should she ever see the way her ship was outfitted. And Caleb was certain that sooner or later she would see it. Lord Farrington had told him, only this morning, that handbills were being printed to be distributed through London.
Captive Embraces Page 20