“Sara, answer me,” Wren persisted. “Why don’t you like Malcolm?”
“Wren, it’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just that ... how will you explain Malcolm to your ... to Sirena and Regan?”
“Why can’t you ever bring yourself to refer to Sirena and Regan as my parents? They are, you know. They’re the only parents I’ve ever had, and they consider me their very own daughter,” Wren announced defiantly, her amber eyes lighting from within.
“Not in the true sense of the word, Wren,” Sara said falteringly. She recognized that light in Wren’s eyes, and it only meant an ensuing argument for the unfortunate person who dared to cross swords with her. Sara swallowed and pressed onward. “One of these days you’re going to realize that Sirena doesn’t belong on a pedestal and that she’s a human being like the rest of us mortals. And you must stop thinking about the infamous sea witch—you’re always talking about her and making her your idol. For shame, Wren! Here you are, contemplating marriage with old Mally, and it’s time to leave such fantasies behind. Now that you’ve finished school and are ready to meet society, you must put all that nonsense behind you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Sara faced Wren and saw that her ploy had been successful. Once again she had put doubts in Wren’s mind about the relationship between herself and her parents. She was quick to see that the seeds she had sown weeks ago as to Wren’s rightful use of the van der Rhys name had taken root and had begun to flower. Besides, this well-worn path of conversation was a perfect distraction for Wren’s too-personal questions concerning Sara’s opinion of Malcolm.
Outside the door, Tyler massaged his temples. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but hearing that Wren had slipped out of the house for a clandestine meeting with Weatherly had stunned him. He hadn’t realized things had progressed so far. Now he found himself anticipating Wren’s answer. Sara was correct. Wren had been living in a make-believe world, and her fantasies were the prime reason she had fallen prey to Malcolm Weatherly’s charm. The stories about the Sea Siren, infamous piratess, told to Wren when she was a child, were meant to be just that. Stories. Fairy tales for a child to dream about, not a basis on which Wren should build her life.
“Sara Stoneham! There is a person, a real person, who was the Sea Siren! I really don’t care if you believe me or not, but you’re wrong—she doesn’t occupy all my thoughts, and I know you think I’m trying to pattern my life after her, but I’m not! There could never be another Sea Siren.” A wistful note crept into Wren’s voice. “The Siren was the most beautiful creature who ever rode the seas. Long, flowing hair, eyes the color of emeralds and skin like spun honey. She was a master of fencing, and there wasn’t a man who could best her. I could never hope to compete with her, either in looks or in actions. My eyes are the wrong color and my skin is too pale. And I’m too short, much too short. And try as I might, I’ll never equal her skill with the rapier.”
“See? Listen to yourself! Do you hear you compare yourself to that sea witch in such an unfavorable light?” Sara grasped Wren’s wrist and dragged her over to the pier glass. “Look at yourself! Look!” Reluctantly, Wren lifted her eyes to the glass. “Now, tell me that what you see there is not more beautiful than any fantasy about a female pirate! Tell me that just the sight of you doesn’t turn all men’s eyes. I’ve been to the Royal Exchange with you, Wren. I’ve seen the effect you have on the masculine sex. Didn’t Rolland Chalmers send you love notes that nearly singed the fingertips? What did he say to you? That your hair was a cloud of dark night and your eyes were golden embers and your skin—”
“Stop it, Sara!” Wren wrenched herself away. “I never said I was ugly!” she protested.
“True. But you compare yourself to this sea witch and it eats at you. Admit it, Wren. Why can’t you put these thoughts behind you? Take a word of advice from an old friend. You’d better concentrate on the problem at hand. Prepare yourself for what your guardians are going to do when they find out about Malcolm. Somehow I can’t see the van der Rhyses giving their blessings over old Mally, not after what you told me about them.”
“They’d better give it, otherwise I’ll run away,” Wren declared recklessly.
It was time to intervene, Tyler decided. Privacy be damned. He knocked and opened the door at the same time. “It’s late, young ladies, and you need your beauty sleep. Or so my wife has been telling me all these years.” He looked from one girl to the other. Sara was tall and slender, like a yellow tea rose, he told himself. And Wren was like a tapered candle flame. Right now her eyes were like banked fires, ready to flare into flame if the conversation were allowed to continue. The girl had an ungovernable temper where it concerned Sirena and the Sea Siren.
Sara laughed, tossed her white-gold curls and quickly embraced Wren. “Baron Sinclair is right, Wren. We get along so well and we’re best friends. Let’s not spoil it now. Besides,” she added coquettishly, “Baron Sinclair has been so kind in allowing me to spend these few days with you before my parents arrive, I must insist that I am on his side.”
“I didn’t realize we were taking sides,” Wren snapped as she wriggled out of Sara’s embrace. “Tyler is right, though. We do need our beauty sleep—at least I do. Malcolm is taking me to the country tomorrow and I want to look my best. Don’t frown so, Tyler,” she said as she threw her arms about him. “Sirena will love Malcolm just as I do, and believe me when I tell you she won’t hold it against you that I’ve been permitted to see him. She’s going to love him, you’ll see.”
“Somehow, little one, I can’t share your optimism.”
“You’re behaving like the new father you soon will be,” Wren teased, yet there was a ring of steel in her voice that could set Tyler’s teeth rattling. He knew in his gut that Sirena would take one look at the modish Malcolm Weatherly and rip out her rapier and cut him to pieces. Also, Sirena would blame him from start to finish for the relationship between Wren and Weatherly. Sirena van der Rhys never did things in half. No, he would receive full blame, and if she didn’t cut him down, then Regan would. Wren was the apple of Regan’s eye, and no dandy was going to snap up his little girl. Perhaps they would take mercy on Tyler when he told them he was about to become a father. He blanched as he imagined Sirena’s face after she heard the news. How well he knew her. She would say, “Congratulations,” and then cut him down. She had style, he must admit. Camilla would be forced to intervene on his behalf, and he would take the coward’s way out. God, how could he have been so foolish to let Wren get herself tangled up with Weatherly? How could he have foreseen that a mild flirtation would blossom into an engagement? Why didn’t he insist, right now, that she make a quick end of Weatherly? Because the girl could wrap him around her little finger—it was that simple. Women had always been his weakness. Jehovah! He hoped Camilla gave birth to a boy; otherwise he wouldn’t have a chance of living to forty. He had to get himself in hand; he couldn’t let the girls see how upset he was. He forced a smile to his lips, quickly pecked both of them on the cheek and exited the room, his stomach crawling with fear. Sirena would cut him down in his prime.
Sara’s hyacinth eyes were watchful as she and Wren prepared for bed. “Are you really going to take a drive with Mally tomorrow?”
“Sara Ann Stoneham, stop calling Malcolm Mally.
Yes, I’m going for a carriage ride with the man I’m going to marry. Not another word, Sara Ann,” Wren shouted as she dived under the covers, her amber eyes peeping out from behind the satin-edged quilt.
“Very well,” Sara acquiesced. “As your infamous Sea Siren would say, ‘It’s your neck!’”
Photo by M2IFOTO©2006
FERN MICHAELS is the USA Today and
New York Times bestselling author of the Sisterhood
and Godmother series and dozens of other novels
and novellas.There are over seventy five million
copies of her books in print.
Fern Michaels has built and funded several large
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and a resident ghost named Mary Margaret.
Visit her website at fernmichaels.com.
Letting Go Of The Past
With a popular comic strip, card line, and children’s
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Finding Joy In The Present
Then Lucy receives a call that her parents have been
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Callie James learned to survive in the squalid
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But Callie—strong, smart and determined to
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Captive Innocence is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1981 by Roberta Anderson and Mary Kuczkir.
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First Kensington Electronic Edition: May 2014
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3081-4
Captive Innocence Page 35
