Pirate's Golden Promise

by Lynette Vinet

  A part of her ached, would always ache, at his deception, but the more vulnerable side of her, the side that loved him, felt like an open wound.

  Though Mary was sympathetic to her, she didn’t escape the brunt of Wynter’s anger. Hurtful words poured from her, chastising Mary for her part in deceiving her, but after a day’s thought on the matter, Wynter realized that Mary and the crew of the Sea Bride had followed Cort’s wishes and were as much victims of his duplicity as she was herself. To make amends to Mary, Wynter told her she’d give her her freedom.

  “You mean it?” Mary asked, scarcely able to believe her good fortune. When Wynter assured her that she did, Mary’s face glowed with gratitude and excitement. “Now Jan and I can wed!”

  Wynter smiled sadly at Mary as the thought of her own false marriage to Cort gnawed at her. She wished Mary well and told her she’d send a message to Cort by way of Henrik to bring the indenture papers to her.

  “Perhaps you should speak to him yourself,” Mary shyly proposed.

  “Never!” Wynter finished folding her blue calico gown and then put it with Fletcher’s meager possessions which Cort had sent to her from the ship the second day after their explosive argument. Wynter didn’t care to ever talk to Cort Van Linden in her life, not even if he crawled on his hands and knees up the long expanse of stairs which wound along the side of the cliff. Wynter knew that Cort wasn’t the type of man to beg to any woman, so he stayed aboard the ship, and she made plans to vacate the house, much to Saba’s horror.

  “Where will you go? Captain Cort won’t let you leave.”

  “I won’t remain in this house a day longer,” Wynter declared to Saba and gathered a warm blanket in her arms, knowing that Cort would never miss it. She then picked up hers and Fletcher’s belongings. “I’m not the captain’s wife, nor do I wish to be, or pretend to be. If you need me for anything, I’ll be on the beach, living in the hut where I teach the children. At least I still have my classes, something Cort can’t take from me. Heaven knows he’s robbed me of everything else!”

  “Captain Cort loves you.”

  Saba would say that. She was so intrinsically loyal to Cort that she couldn’t see his bad points. Wynter didn’t even bother to respond to that comment. As she walked out of the front door, Saba shook her head and said, “Bad, very bad thing to do.”

  With a determination to put her life in order, a life without Cort, until she could arrange passage to Port Royal, Wynter left the hilltop house and trudged down the long flight of stairs to the beach. The islanders were used to her presence now and everyone smiled and greeted her pleasantly. A few gave her strange looks that evening when she didn’t immediately leave the hut before sunset but stayed on, a forlorn figure sitting on a huge boulder by the shoreline. Her gaze was magnetically drawn to the Sea Bride as it bobbed gently in the ocean. Lights had already been lit in Cort’s cabin, and when she saw a wavering shadow there, she knew it was Cort’s.

  She hated the little jump of surprise in the pit of her stomach and the hammering of her heart. God, if his shadow could do this to her, what might happen if she saw him in the flesh? She knew that if Cort as much as touched her, she’d melt into his arms. But even as she fought the feelings of desire that surged through her, she ached for his embrace and his kisses, which could easily drive her out of her mind with desire.

  She shook her long mane of hair in an attempt to drive his image from her brain. She was no mindless creature who lived only for a man’s caress, she convinced herself. She was Wynter McChesney and possessed the stern mettle of her ancestors. With such blood running through her veins, she could resist anything, stand up to anybody. Even Cort Van Linden. But as she went into the hut and finally lay down on her pallet to claim elusive sleep, she hoped that were true.

  The next day, Cabi taught her how to fish. With the warm water up to her waist, she stood in the flowing current with a net in hand. Cabi’s English had much improved over the last weeks, and he told her to look into the shimmering, clear ocean for a view of fish as they swam by. Then she must throw in the net and claim her prize. This sounded quite simple to Wynter until she tried it. The fish were there, but she was never fast enough to catch one. And though the gown was plastered to her legs, it still hindered her progress. At mid-morning when she still hadn’t caught her breakfast, she gave up and decided that she’d have to eat bananas.

  Cabi had caught some fish, and within an hour he had cooked them and presented them to her. Wynter insisted he join her, and both of them sat in front of the hut, eating in companionable silence. Later that day, Cabi’s mother, Mora, paid a visit to Wynter and handed her a colored sarong in a beautiful flower pattern like the ones the island women wore.

  “This help you when you fish,” Mora told her and smiled.

  The sarong was much shorter than her gown and split halfway up the front to allow freedom of movement. When Wynter first tried it on, she felt scandalous and wouldn’t come out of the hut. But after getting used to its comfortableness and unbinding her long hair until it flowed down her back in a riot of soft curls, she decided to chance it. After all, no one bothered her on this side of the island. She was virtually alone, except when the children came for their lessons, and she didn’t think they’d laugh at her or see her as odd-looking. In fact, except for her fair skin, she now resembled their mothers.

  So armed with her net, another present from Cabi, she went outside and stood waist deep in the ocean. The water was so clear she could see bottom, and when two fish swam past, she threw out the net. To her surprise, she netted both of them. She squealed her delight, looking very much like an enchantress with her hair blowing in the breeze and the waves licking at the next-to-nothing sarong. This was how Cort found her.

  He watched her from 20 feet away. He’d been watching her since she left the hut but was so entranced by the sight of her that he felt unable to move. He had missed her, missed her more than he thought it was possible to miss any woman.

  He’d spent another sleepless night aboard the ship. His thoughts ran constantly to the woman who slept in his house. He was moody, out of sorts, telling himself over and over that no female was worth so much pondering, no matter how beautiful. He knew he was wrong to have deceived her, and now he was paying for his deception. But he thought that once she considered the matter and realized what they had together, she’d send word to him that all was forgiven. When Henrik arrived with a message from Wynter, his hopes rose that she’d forgiven him. Cort was disappointed. All she wanted was Mary’s indenture papers.

  Well, here he was, gawking at her like a lovesick fool. He could have sent the papers via Henrik, but he had to see her again, though he told himself he only wanted to check on the house. To his surprise, Wynter wasn’t at the house. Saba had told him she was living in the hut that served as the school. Mirth overcame Cort’s surprise. Instantly he headed down the stairs to the village. This was one thing he had to see … Wynter McChesney living in a straw hut.

  Well, now he’d seen her. And the poor helpless waif he had expected was nowhere to be found. Instead he watched a happy, excited, and beautiful goddess. And if he lived to be a hundred he’d never forget her laughter ringing through the air when she netted the fish. Was this really the pampered daughter of Walter McChesney?

  Wynter turned and saw him. The gleeful delight rushed from her face, and pain entered her eyes. She felt the rapid beating of her heart and cursed herself for her reaction to Cort. She should hate him, she knew, and she would be cool but polite to him, yet just to look at him caused a melting sensation inside herself.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a strained, distant voice when he came and stood by the shoreline.

  Flashing a dazzling smile almost as if nothing had happened between them, he reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a piece of parchment. “I believe you wanted Mary’s indenture papers.”

  “What are your terms?” she asked him. “How much do you want for her?”

  His sm
ile disappeared. “Nothing, Wynter. Mary is yours to do with as you wish. I want no payment for her.”

  He sounded so hurt that she immediately felt she had misjudged him. But damn! she swore to herself. Cort Van Linden wouldn’t cause her to feel guilty over anything. She wouldn’t allow it.

  “Thank you,” she said curtly.

  “Are you ever going to come out of the water, or will you stand there all day with your net of fish and glare at me?”

  “If I choose to, I shall.”

  “Playing games again, Wynter. Well, I can, too. I’ll just wait here until you decide to come and get the papers. I want to talk to you.”

  “I have nothing else to say to you,” she ground out. “Now put the indenture papers in the hut and be on your way.”

  Cort grinned like a huge cat waiting for the mouse to make the first move. He sat on a large ebony-colored rock. “I’m in no hurry, little one. The sun is warm, the day is clear. I should like to loll under the blue sky all day.” He leaned back on his forearms, watching her with amused tawny eyes.

  He was impossible! She thought he purposely wouldn’t leave because he wanted to see her step from the water in the skin-clinging sarong. She took a quick scan of her lower body and realized that the sarong clung wetly to her thighs and hips, which were bare beneath the thin material. She knew that once she set foot out of the water, Cort would see straight through the wispy creation.

  “Are you afraid to speak with me, Wynter?” he asked her when she didn’t immediately move forward.

  “I’m afraid of nothing and no one,” she countered more bravely than she felt. Her bones felt like disconnected sticks which wobbled and threatened to collapse. She hated for another human being to unnerve her like Cort always could.

  “Then come sit beside me.” He patted the spot next to him, and she noticed the softening in his words, almost like a plea.

  Well, she couldn’t stay in the water all day. Her fingers had already shriveled to a prune-like consistency. And she didn’t want Cort to know how his very presence affected her. So, head held high, Wynter walked out of the water.

  She was very aware of his eyes, moving in rapid-fire fashion over her body. To her chagrin the sarong had been twisted by the waves and bared the left side of her hip and backside to his plundering gaze. She attempted to right it, but since she wasn’t used to the sarong, she found the chore difficult.

  “Let me,” he said. Before she could protest, his hands snaked out and pulled the material around to the front. For a few brief moments his fingers had touched her bare flesh and burned her. She wondered then if the imprint of his fingers would remain forever there, and she felt that old familiar melting sensation begin in her stomach and travel downward to her abdomen, then lower into her loins.

  “I presume you’ve had much experience with female attire,” she said coldly, though she felt far from cold. In fact, she felt so warm that her cheeks and neck were covered with splotches. Cort saw the evidence of her condition and laughed.

  “Aye, I admit I have, but never for any lady who blushes as prettily as you, my love.”

  “Oooh, I hate you,” was all she could think of to say.

  “No, you don’t.” He sounded so sure of himself. “You love me.”

  She couldn’t deny what her heart felt, what her face and actions clearly showed. God help her, she did love him and always would! She knew if he opened his arms to her now she’d willingly go, but she must be brave, strong. Again, as that night on the ship, during the storm, she heard her father’s voice: “Be brave, my pet.” She decided she mustn’t allow Cort to hurt her … ever again, but she couldn’t stop loving him or wishing he’d tell her just once that he loved her.

  Her silver-colored eyes flickered over him, then looked deeply into his tawny ones. “Did you ever love me, Cort, truly love me? You never told me you did.”

  “I’m not here to talk about love,” he said sharply. “I wanted to persuade you to return to the house. You belong there.” He gestured with his arm toward the hut. “Not here.”

  “I belong anywhere I choose to be, and no, I won’t return to the house. Your house,” she reminded him.

  “Yours, too, if you want, Wynter. You should have realized by now how wonderful we were together. Don’t you miss our nights together? Don’t you miss me?”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her unwilling form down beside him. She struggled for an instant to break away, but Cort held her firmly in place. Then without a hint of warning, he kissed her with such ferocity, such pent-up longing which she already felt, that all she could do was respond like the wanton he had made of her.

  “Remember our nights together, love. Think how it felt when time stopped, when we were the only two people in the universe.” He whispered into her ear. “It can be that way again. I’m sorry for what I did, forgive me, Wynter. I need you more than you can imagine.”

  His kiss had left her stunned and taken all the energy from her. Wynter found herself leaning against his chest, her arms around his neck. For a moment it was as if time stood still, and she still thought herself to be his wife. But she realized what he had done, and though he appeared earnest in his apology, she couldn’t forgive him yet. Not until she knew he loved her.

  “I need you, too, Cort. Heaven help me, but I do,” she confessed. “But I want something from you, something you haven’t given me.”

  “Anything.” His voice was a husky whisper. “I’ll give you anything.” Cort pulled her closer to him, smelling the sweet scent of her hair, the female scent of her which nearly drove him crazy with desire.

  Pulling a bit away, Wynter eyed him in all seriousness. “Tell me you love me, Cort. That’s all I want. I want your love.”

  He couldn’t tell her he loved her. That was the one thing she wanted, and the most impossible thing for her to ask of him. He admitted that his passion for Wynter ran deeper than any ocean he’d ever sailed, and if over the past months he had felt a softening in his heart, could he be certain it was love? Years before, he’d given his love to Katrina and she discarded him like an old boot, throwing that love in his face. He knew he could tell Wynter he loved her and from that day forth, she’d belong to him. But he had lied to her and hurt her too much not to be honest with her now. He owed her honesty. At least he could give her that much.

  He held her face in his hands, knowing that this time he’d probably lose her forever. “Wynter, I can’t tell you that I love you, because I don’t know any longer what love is. I feel special things for you, things I’ve never felt with any other woman. Maybe it’s your innocence, your trust, but I hurt you with my lies. I can’t bear to hurt you any more or lie to you, and that’s as close as I believe I can come to love. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to hear. But it is the best I can do.”

  He had expected her to slap him, to flee. Instead she raised her hand and gently stroked his golden hair. “I’m sorry she hurt you so much.”

  “Who?” he asked, dazed.

  “The woman you loved who hurt you so. The woman who has caused you to see every other woman in the same light.”

  Agony ripped through him. “I’m sorry, Wynter.”

  “I know,” she said. “I truly believe you are, but you’ve been honest with me, and I thank you for that, Cort. I admit I hoped you’d come to love me as much as I love you, but who knows? Perhaps one day you’ll love me, too.”

  Wynter’s admission surprised him as well as herself. She hadn’t intended to soften her resistance to him. In fact, she had thought he might admit love just to capture her for the night and all the nights to come. But with his newfound honesty, Wynter saw a side of Cort she never expected to see. Suddenly he looked like a young boy who’d been hurt badly by life and by a woman he loved. She realized that his deception of her hadn’t been deliberately planned but something which had occurred on the whim of a moment. But this realization that he had wanted her so much that he’d lie to have her, and now spill the truth to her, led her to
believe that deep down beneath that granite exterior, beneath the layers of hardened pain, Cort did love her and would one day come to admit it. Still, she couldn’t dismiss easily what he had done. Not even at that moment when he pulled her into his arms and his breath fanned her cheek and sent ripples of desire through her.

  “I knew you loved me, Wynter. We can’t resist one another. Come home with me. Now, love. Please.”

  The touch of his lips against hers left her weak and clinging to his broad shoulders. Oh, she longed to drown in his passion, to be swallowed up like a seashell on the beach in the evening tide. But she drew away from him, and shook her head.

  “I won’t come back with you, Cort. Not yet … maybe not ever.”

  Shock mingled with hurt on his face. “Why not? I thought you said you loved me.”

  “I do love you,” she told him slowly. “I probably always will, but I won’t allow you to rule my life again. From the moment you took me off the Mary Jack, I’ve been under your control. Perhaps even before then, because you’ve been in my thoughts since the night I met you. It was wrong of you to trick me when I didn’t remember. Of course, I had struck a bargain with you to become your mistress, and heaven knows, I’d have loved every minute of it. Still you should have given me the chance to make my own decision about that and not allowed me to believe you were my husband. I know why you did it, out of love for me, though you can’t admit it.

  “Still I refuse to let my love for you sway me into returning to your bed. I’d appreciate a taste of freedom, Cort. Even if the only place I can find it is here on this tiny piece of beach with the children. Here, you can’t rule me or take away my pride in the work I’m doing with them. I’m not a servant, or your mistress to love you at your beck and call. Finally, for the first time in my life, I can say I am a person in my own stead. Not Walter McChesney’s ‘pet,’ not Lucy’s spoiled little sister … and not Cort Van Linden’s woman. I’m Wynter to the children, and I’m enjoying discovering just who this Wynter is.”