Captive Embraces

by Fern Michaels

  Regan shrugged. The only thought he could cope with at the moment was if Stephan were dead, Sirena would be a free woman. Now, why in the name of God should that thought enter his head and why should it bother him? He watched as Langdon and the gambler left the ship amid catcalls and raucous shouts of “Cheat!”

  For the first time in his life the urbane Aubrey Farrington was out of his depth as he looked to Caleb to bring order to the salon. Regan was no use; he was following Stephan and the gambler.

  Caleb spoke soothingly as he made a motion with his hand for the music to resume. He winked roguishly at the ladies and grinned at the men as he shrugged helplessly. His attitude clearly said these minor upsets were bound to happen.

  Within moments the room was as before with wine flowing freely, compliments of the house.

  Caleb walked on deck, his hands clenched at his sides, the sweat pouring off his face. If he were a gambling man, he wouldn’t give a farthing for Langdon’s chances of living to see another sunset. What would Sirena say when she found out? How would she hold up her head as the wife of a man caught cheating at cards? Somebody must warn her. He couldn’t leave the ship. Would Langdon himself tell her? Not likely. No man wants to be made a fool in front of his wife. Then who? Regan? No, that would be like pouring salt in an open wound. Sinclair. He was the one to tell Sirena. After all, he was her solicitor.

  Caleb returned to his cabin and scrawled a brief message. He handed it to a cabin boy with instructions to deliver it to Sinclair’s house with all speed. Poor Sirena. Why did she have to be beset by so many traumatic problems? Would she ever attain the normal life everyone else took for granted?

  The water was choppy as it slapped against the sides of the Sea Siren, and the vessel rocked slightly as Caleb stood in the dark at the rail. Whispers reached him and he spun about. There seemed to be an urgent malevolence in the hushed words filtering to him. He strained to hear and, at the same time moved closer to the ladder where he surmised the voices were coming from. Lord Farrington and another man. The second voice was familiar; he had heard it somewhere before. He frowned but was unable to distinguish the words because of the rough slap of water against the hull.

  Something teased at his memory but would not surface. He knew in his gut he had heard that harsh, evil whisper, but where? And why was Lord Farrington hiding in the dark like a criminal? What was the distinguished lord up to? It must be something not quite legal, he thought to himself, otherwise why did he need an out-of-the-way place to discuss his business. He had been jittery of late. Caleb had not failed to see how assiduously he counted the monies at the end of the night and the grim, tight line around his mouth when he pocketed his share. Always the look was in his eyes that it wasn’t enough. Something was wrong. The hackles on the back of Caleb’s neck rose as he heard the words, “kill ... suffered enough ... my right ... you have no other choice if you want to live.”

  Caleb withdrew further into the shadows as the figures emerged from their hiding place. Damn, he could only see the other man’s back. He limped and his arm seemed to hang lamely at his side. Caleb scowled and knew the set of the head and height, as well as the voice, were familiar. Who was he and where had he seen him? Why was he threatening Lord Farrington? This was his ship and he deserved to know what was going on. As soon as the man left, he would go to Aubrey and demand answers. If Aubrey were in trouble, perhaps he could help him.

  On catlike feet Caleb walked to the hatchway and waited for the crippled man to descend the gangplank. He moved and grasped Farrington by the arm. “Who was that?” he demanded harshly. “I want to know what’s going on and I want to know now.”

  Lord Farrington turned, a look of fear on his face. “A small matter, Cal, and one that need not concern you,” he said, trying to force a light note into his voice.

  “I’ve heard that voice and seen that man somewhere and, if I’m not mistaken, he can mean only trouble. Are you in some financial difficulty, Aubrey? Perhaps I can help. We have a good thing going here; we’re both becoming prosperous and I wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize our business venture. Let me help you.”

  Aubrey clapped Caleb on the shoulder, his face all smiles. “Cal, my boy, it’s a matter of personal ... let’s just say it concerns a lady and her good name.”

  “You’re lying, Aubrey. I’m not going to ask you again. If you won’t accept my help, the least you owe me for what we have going together is honesty.”

  “You won’t leave it alone, will you?” Aubrey said coldly. “I told you it’s a personal matter. I wonder how quick you would be to confess to me of your affair with your father’s wife if I were to press for details? Ah, I see that my statement has hit home. I have no wish to discuss your affairs nor mine with you. The matter is ended.”

  Aubrey Farrington watched Caleb walk away, his face stony and hard. His own face wore a hate-filled look at the position he was in. He felt like fiddle strings were being stretched throughout his whole gut.

  When Regan shook the fair-haired Camilla awake, she rolled over and murmured sleepily, “Not to—”

  “—night, I have a raging headache,” Regan finished for her. “It isn’t your body I desire but I must tell you something. Wake up, you must listen to me. Your father was caught cheating tonight on the Sea Siren and one of the gamblers called him out. There’s to be a duel at dawn. Are you listening to me, Camilla? Dawn is just a few hours away. I’m going to be your father’s second. The weapons are pistols and we both know that rapiers are your father’s strong point.”

  Camilla sat up in bed, her hair tousled as though she were having a restless night. The eyes she turned to Regan were deep violet and there was something he had never seen in them before. If he had been forced to put a name to it, he would have to call it maturity. He had expected a tearful scene full of recriminations. Not this quiet, pensive girl.

  Camilla waited for Regan’s words to sink in to her consciousness. She waited to feel the guilt of Stephan’s and her last parting. Her father could be killed and yet the grief and concern would not come.

  “Stephan is a fool,” Regan said as kindly as he could. “This isn’t the first time he was caught cheating on the Sea Siren. He was given a warning and this time it was professional gamblers who caught him at it. Now, every man in London who ever lost a farthing to your father will be certain he was cheated. Even if somehow Stephan manages to come through this duel, which is unlikely, he’s a ruined man.”

  “He has nobody to blame save himself,” Camilla said quietly. “I’ve warned him time and again. When you do something that hurts others, eventually you have to pay for it. Father is just beginning to pay.”

  Was this Camilla speaking? Regan asked himself. Before his eyes she had changed; for the first time Regan found himself liking his bride.

  “I’m only sorry you became involved in this, Regan. I wouldn’t like to see anything happen to you. You’re a good man.” Tears welled up in her large eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Regan traced the path of one salty drop with his fingertip. Yes, Camilla had definitely changed. Before tonight her tears had always been for herself and had taken the form of childish tantrums. These were the tears of a woman. The tears of regret.

  “I’ll have to be leaving, Camilla,” he said softly.

  “Take care of yourself, Regan. Father isn’t worth one drop of your blood.”

  He left the room, closing the door behind him. “I’ll be damned!” he swore lightly, finding his way to the stairs.

  Sirena stirred fitfully in her sleep, dreaming she heard Mikel calling for her. Even in her dreams she knew it couldn’t be Mikel. Her son was dead, his tiny bones rotting in Javanese soil.

  She moved again and curled herself into a tight ball for warmth. It was no use; she was awake so she might as well get up and get another light cover. The moment her bare feet touched the floor, she clearly heard the soft mewing sound. She hadn’t been dreaming! It must be the cook’s cat. She would have to find him and return him to the k
itchen before he woke the whole house.

  Quickly picking up a dressing gown and slipping her feet into her mules, she grasped the lamp firmly and entered the hallway. The lamp cast flickering shadows on the high walls and ceiling. “Here kitty, here kitty,” she called, peering into dark corners. At the top of the stairway she stopped and listened. Cats didn’t hiccough!

  The light held high, the front of her robe clutched in her hand, she raced down the stairs and into the library. She was shocked by the sight that met her eyes. Wren stood with her back to the cold hearth, clutching her nightgown close to her, while Stephan was trying to forcibly strip it from her.

  A bellow of rage burst out of Sirena as she threw the smoking lantern at Stephan and watched it roll into the depths of the fireplace. “Run, Wren!” she screamed as Stephan retreated into a corner near the desk, shock on his face at having been caught in the act. He was stunned by the force of the blow from the lamp as it glanced the side of his head, and he rocked precariously on the balls of his feet as he brought Sirena into his line of vision. Sirena emitted a bloodcurdling call for Frau Holtz, never taking her eyes from the most loathsome creature on the face of the earth.

  His eyes hate-filled, a sneer on his thin lips, Stephan advanced on Sirena, his intent clear. Wren cried a warning as Frau Holtz rushed into the room and took in the scene. She gathered the child to her and, with one swift motion, had one of the crossed rapiers off its wall brackets and tossed it to Sirena. “Do it, Mevrouw. He doesn’t deserve to live,” she menaced viciously. “Do it!”

  Sirena needed no second urging. She hefted the thin blade to test its flexibility and nicked the air. She backed off as Stephan stopped short, an evil smile on his face. Sirena took that moment to shed her negligee and slice at the nightdress till it hung in tatters high above her knees.

  When she next looked at him, Stephan had armed himself with the second rapier. As he sliced the air, Sirena kicked off her slippers and crouched low, flexing her knees. “En garde!” she threatened softly as she advanced, bending her knees, and the tip of her rapier scraped Stephan’s cheek.

  Scarlet beads dripped onto the snowy ruffle at his throat. He blinked, unable to believe his eyes. He had lost the advantage he might have gained when Sirena advanced and parried, her weapon finding its mark time and again. “I’ll kill you for what you tried to do to this child!” she exclaimed, lunging toward him and bringing up the rapier till it cut his upper arm.

  Stephan stepped backward and Sirena lunged again, her aim sure as she brought up the rapier with all possible force, jarring the weapon from Stephan’s grasp. He reached out to grasp the hilt with his left hand. In that moment Sirena knocked the weapon to the floor and drove him to the wall till he cried out, his eyes bulging with fear.

  “Don’t kill me,” he cried brokenly, “don’t kill me!”

  Sirena was beyond hearing, beyond caring as she coldly and mercilessly advanced, one step and then two, till she was inches from him. Her green eyes were glazed and all she could hear were the whimpers of a child. She thrust the blade into her husband’s chest and watched his mouth fall open. Blood and crimson gore gushed forth. Savagely, she pulled the rapier free and wiped it across his shoulder. He reached out for her arm, but fell within inches of her bare legs.

  The deadly implement dropped from Sirena’s hold as she clasped her head, tears welling in her eyes. Frau Holtz gathered her in a comforting embrace. “You could do no less, Mevrouw. Vermin the likes of him deserves to die.”

  Wren came to Sirena and hugged her waist. “Missy-ma’am, he didn’t ... I’m all right now, truly I am, she assured.

  Sirena staggered over to the softness of Stephan’s favorite chair and lowered herself into it. Frau Holtz poured her a tot of rum and Sirena gulped at the liquor as it seared her throat.

  “Did I kill him?” she asked in a quivering voice.

  “Ja. It is finished.”

  “Frau Holtz ... what will happen to me if ... I’ll go to prison for this. I’ll be hanged!” she cried brokenly. “He deserved to die for what he did, but no one will ever believe me.”

  “Nein!” Frau Holtz said harshly. “No one will ever know and neither Wren nor I will ever tell. Is that right, child?”

  Wren inched closer to Sirena. “I love you, Missy-ma’ am. I loved the Sea Siren ever since the day the Frau first told me about her. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll never tell.”

  “We bury him, Mevrouw. Who is to say why or where the likes of him disappeared? Men disappear every day. Doesn’t he haunt those dockside pubs? Who is to say he did not meet his end at the hands of a criminal? Ja, we bury him like the trash he is. I go get Jacobus.”

  “All the blood! There’s too much blood!” Sirena said in a dazed voice. “We can’t have his servants clean it. We have to do it ourselves. Get a pail of water and some soap, Frau Holtz. I’ll clean it myself.”

  “We’re going to need more than one pail of water,” Frau Holtz said grimly as she left the room with a parting shout to Wren to get dressed.

  Wren wrapped her arms about Sirena and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be right back. You sit here and don’t move. We’re going to help you.”

  Sirena nodded, her mind whirling. She couldn’t think. All that blood. It was like a river. She would be executed for this crime. People with Stephan’s standing didn’t do things like he did. They wouldn’t believe her.

  Frau Holtz came back into the room dragging a drunken Jacobus beside her, an empty bucket in her other hand. “Look!” she yelled, “he’s as drunk as sin. He won’t be of any use to us. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”

  “We have to get rid of the body. This fool,” she said, jabbing a finger at Jacobus, “is no good to either of us. We’ll have to bury the body ourselves.”

  “Where? Where will it be safe, Frau Holtz? When Stephan doesn’t make his daily rounds, someone will come looking for him. How long before someone thinks he met with foul play? The first place they’ll come is here. We can’t bury him.”

  “A piece at a time. In different places,” Frau Holtz babbled.

  Sirena blanched and gulped. “For some stray dog to dig up. No, it won’t work.”

  “The ship. Take him to sea and toss him overboard.”

  “Toss who overboard?” Jacobus asked drunkenly

  “First, we have to get him on board. Good thinking, Frau Holtz. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. Think,” she said, pressing her hands to her temples. “A barrel. We’ll have to stuff him in a barrel and load it into the carriage. It’s the only way. Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “The Mynheer. I’ll fetch the Mynheer,” Frau Holtz cried excitedly.

  Sirena’s head jerked upright. “You’ll do no such thing. If Regan were to know about this, he would toss me over the side with his father-in-law. No. Not a soul is to know, save us. We’ll manage, Frau Holtz. Fetch a barrel and see if there isn’t something you can do about sobering up Jacobus. While you’re doing that, I’ll get dressed. When Wren returns, send her to the stables to waken the groom and have him ready the coach. We’re going to have to move quickly as it will be dawn soon. Hurry, Frau Holtz.”

  Within the hour, working fast and furious, Sirena had dressed as had Frau Holtz, and Stephan’s body was tightly fitted into a wooden stave barrel and the lid nailed shut. It was a grisly business but there was no one else to help. Jan and Willem had left the house nearly a fortnight ago to prepare the Sea Spirit for sailing. It was simply thought by Stephan that they had run off for a better position.

  Stephan’s valet, Smythe, and the footman, Rathbone, were still in the household staff. Smythe’s room was at the far end of the house near the garden and Rathbone’s was over the stable. Something would have to be done about them. Although, apparently, neither of them had overheard the commotion because they hadn’t come anywhere near the library.

  The sounds of furious knocking set Sirena’s teeth on edge. Who, in their right mind, would be rapping on the door
at this hour of the night? Cautiously, she walked into the foyer and peeped through the heavy draperies. Her eyes widened. Tyler Sinclair. Something was obviously wrong. Something must have happened to Regan. Quickly, she opened the door and dared him with her facial expression to reveal the bad news, whatever it was.

  “Sirena, what are you doing up at this hour of the night? I fully expected to have to stand here for hours till someone came to let me in. There’s something I must tell you, so, please, sit down and let me get you a drink. You’re going to need it when you hear what I have to say.”

  “Tell me, is it ... is it Regan?”

  “It has nothing to do with him. It’s Stephan. He was caught cheating this evening on the Sea Siren. Caleb sent me a note that I should come and tell you. He was called out and they’re to duel tomorrow at dawn. Actually today, since dawn is but an hour away. Regan is Stephan’s second.”

  “Did you say at dawn?”

  “Yes. Pistols were the gambler’s choice. There’s not much hope for Stephan, Sirena. If it had been rapiers, I would have put my money on Stephan—” Tyler stopped in mid-speech. Sirena had sat down on a seat and was laughing! She laughed until the tears streamed down her cheeks and Tyler thought she would choke to death.

  Frau Holtz ran into the foyer, her eyes frightened and confused. When she saw Tyler she stepped backward, the pails she carried slipping from her hands and falling soundlessly on the thick carpet.

  Sirena managed to gain control of herself and grasped Tyler by the arm. “Come with us, Tyler, there’s something you must see.” She led him into the library and pointed.

  Tyler walked to the container and looked inside, expecting to see it full of jewels and gold; plunder of the Sea Siren. When the enormity of what he beheld hit him, he gulped and swayed dizzily.