Captive Embraces

by Fern Michaels

  Sirena’s eyes betrayed her shock. “Caleb! I’ve never seen you this way! What’s come over you? Regan only wants you to have the benefit of an education. He isn’t punishing you by sending you to school. He sent you here for your own welfare. I don’t want to hear you speak of Regan that way. Now tell me what’s troubling you. Perhaps we can work out a solution.”

  “There is no solution,” Caleb said miserably.

  Sirena’s heart went out to him. For all his size and budding manhood, Caleb was still more of a boy than a man. “Come, little brother, it can’t be as serious as all that Two heads are better than one. Tell me what it is and we’ll find a solution.”

  “You’re too late, Sirena. You came too late,” he said in a thin voice that threatened to break.

  “It’s never too late. I know we’ve lost touch with one another since you’ve been at school, but we’re still every bit the friends we were before.”

  “You don’t understand,” Caleb blurted. “Regan divorced you! That’s why I hate him!”

  Sirena’s face drained of all color and the room seemed to whirl about her. Caleb thought she would faint and he cursed himself for his bluntness as he reached out to support her. He fanned her face with his handkerchief. “Sirena, are you all right? Forgive me. I hadn’t meant to tell you this way. It was all in my letter. Every blasted word of it.” Damn his father, damn his soul to Hell!

  “Sirena, I couldn’t let you go to Regan not knowing.” Sirena’s dark lashes fluttered open, her emerald eyes sick and begging for an explanation. Caleb helped her to her feet and again apologized for being inconsiderate.

  Sirena rubbed her temples and gazed at him, her eyes blank. “I must be certain I understand what you’ve told me. Regan divorced me?”

  Caleb nodded, his eyes guarded.

  “No! It isn’t so! I know Regan went to Spain to take over the Córdez holdings ...” Sirena’s voice was heavy, her eyes pleaded with Caleb to deny what he had told her. Yet, somewhere within her, all hope died. She knew Caleb would never be so callous to say such a thing were it not true. Her eyes widened, the delicate lines of her jaw tightened as did her small clenched fists. “Regan divorced!”

  Caleb again nodded miserably.

  “Why?”

  “Father thought you would never leave Java. That your lives together as man and wife were over,” Caleb whispered.

  “I told him I just needed more time, just a little more time and to please be patient with me. Caleb, did he tell you this himself?” Sirena asked. One small hope which had blossomed died when she saw Caleb avoid her in misery.

  “Yes. He came here to the academy and told me himself. I had already given him my word that I’d stay here until the term was over, otherwise, I would have come to you in Java. I heard it from his own lips that he divorced you.”

  “But how? I don’t understand,” Sirena breathed as she sank down into the same hard-backed chair that Regan had used.

  “Sirena, nothing is impossible for those who have money. Here in Holland divorce is not unusual. A little greasing of the palms to facilitate the necessary paperwork and a handsome stipend to the clergy and a Royal marriage can be nullified.”

  “What else did your father say when you spoke with him?” Sirena’s voice was just a shade above a whisper, her hands rested in her lap, palms up, fingers still, in a humble facsimile of supplication.

  “I’m ashamed to admit it, Sirena, but I behaved like a child. I ran from the room and refused to speak with him again. Sirena, I don’t care what he does any longer. As far as I’m concerned, he has no son. I don’t want him for my father.

  “Sirena,” he asked anxiously. “What are you going to do?” He had noticed her green eyes turn dark and dangerous.

  “How many days until the term is over?”

  “Ten.”

  “Do you want me to remain in port and wait for you and then we’ll look into this matter together?”

  “I’ll leave with you right now.”

  “Perhaps you can. Let us speak to the headmaster and see what he says. If he’s agreeable, then we will leave this place of little sunshine.”

  Caleb noted that each word she spoke was slow and precise, her emotions under control. Only her eyes indicated what was going on inside her and, from the sparks shooting in their depths, her emotions were murderous. Upon confrontation, the headmaster was more than amiable to their plans. Caleb had been a constant source of irritation ever since he had arrived. What could he possibly learn in ten days that would be worth the rascal’s impatience and aggravating manners.

  “I’ll wait outdoors, Caleb. Hurry and pack your belongings.”

  Away from Caleb’s scrutiny, Sirena relaxed, her emerald eyes narrowed in thought. Divorce me! Take my money, will he? Not as long as I live! No, that wasn’t right. Not as long as he lived. Whoring bastard! Soon as her back was turned, he leaps into bed with another. He was no better than a wild, blood sucking pig! Spend my money on some other woman, will he?

  She slammed her fists into her sides. “I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance. Divorce me! Dirty Dutchman!”

  He would pay for this, she thought as she let her gaze focus on the canal and the shimmering water. She would brand him with two large S’s. One on his buttocks and one on his chest. She’d fix him. “You’ll never live to spend money,” she cursed. She’d send his branded body back to those damnable nutmeg trees she had nearly broken her back planting for him. And this was the thanks she received. “I’ll brand an S on his forehead, too,” she said viciously as she kicked out at the iron bench beside her. She winced with pain. Leave me to die on that godforsaken island, will you? Well, I’m here now! And if you’re not ready for me, it would behoove you to get ready. I’m ready to fight! For you, Regan, she sobbed inwardly. I’ll fight for you, to get you back. I won’t let you go, Regan, I can’t! I love you.

  Chapter Five

  The red gold of the setting sun was hidden by the heavy, gray clouds which hung over the wharves. Long shadows were forming into a haze, obscuring the topmost sails of the tall ships which lined the waterfront. Here and there, the yellow gold of a lantern dotted the buildings and illuminated the oily windows of the merchants’ shops crowding the docks.

  Jacobus and the Rana’s crew stood at the rail watching Sirena and Caleb climb from the carriage which had brought them from the academy. Sirena’s green eyes were flashing angrily and the delicate line of her jaw was grim and determined. Even from this distance, Jacobus could see something was wrong.

  Caleb was taking long strides to match her furious pace. Caleb. The boy was now a man, forged in his father’s likeness. The beauty of height was there as was the magnificent breadth of shoulders. There was no doubt he was Regan’s son. Except that the boy’s hair was dark where Regan’s was the color of winter wheat; the seed hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

  Frau Holtz hurried to the rail for a glimpse of Caleb. She, too, saw immediately that Sirena was behaving strangely. The old woman brought her hand to her mouth and shivered inwardly. Sirena was walking as though she were a puppet and invisible strings were attached to her limbs.

  Sirena moved up the gangplank keeping her gaze straight ahead, neither looking right nor left. Jacobus eyed her warily and with a slight motion of his hand warned the others to remain quiet. He knew that burning look, and it struck a chord of warning within him.

  “Hoist anchor,” Sirena said tersely. “We sail for Spain.” With a nod to Caleb, she moved jerkily toward her quarters and a change of garments.

  Caleb, his expression forbidding and unreadable, nodded slightly to the crew and held out his hand to Franco, the second mate.

  “You’ve grown, boy,” Franco said quietly. “School must have agreed with you.”

  “It’s good to have you aboard again, Caleb,” Jan welcomed him softly.

  “The last time these old eyes saw you, you were a mere child. And now you’re a strapping young man. We missed you,” Jacobus grinned.
“It’s good to have another pair of reliable hands aboard. Welcome back.”

  Frau Holtz gathered him to her bosom in a motherly embrace and was momentarily startled that it was her head resting against Caleb’s chest and not the other way around. Standing on tiptoe she whispered, “I must talk with you. Now!” she added urgently.

  The crew busied themselves readying the Rana for departure, having taken on stores as soon as they had made port earlier that day. Soon the frigate’s tightly strung sails billowed and thumped as they caught the early-evening breeze.

  Frau Holtz led Caleb to her cabin. “What is it? What happened back at the school—and don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?” Her voice took on the harsh note it always did when she knew something was troubling her Mevrouw.

  Caleb debated for a moment before speaking. His gut churned as he tried to find the right words to answer the housekeeper. “Sirena ... Sirena, for the first time in her life has ... No, Frau Holtz. It’s not my place to discuss it with anyone. Sirena will have to tell you.”

  The elderly woman looked at Caleb and grimaced. “I see they taught you many things at your fancy academy. I admire your loyalty to the Mevrouw; but, perhaps, if you were to tell me what it is that’s troubling her, the crew and I could help.”

  “Frau Holtz, at this moment there is no one on this earth who can help Sirena. You must believe me when I tell you this. For now, she must work it through in her own mind. Nobody, not even you and least of all me, can help her.”

  “And you learned all this from books?” the housekeeper asked snidely, indignant to be excluded from Sirena’s troubles.

  Caleb grinned. “No, Frau Holtz. Not books. You must remember Sirena was my teacher for a long time. I learned many things from her, things that I ... Never mind. It’s not important for you to know what I learned from Sirena or my books.”

  “You may have been taught many things, but the lesson you have learned best is your father’s arrogance! Be careful, young man. that you’re wise enough to handle this haughtiness. You may look like a man and you may act like a man, but are you a man in here where it counts?” she challenged, jabbing her finger repeatedly into his chest.

  Caleb laughed. “Make no mistake, Frau Holtz. Boyhood is far behind me. And,” he said coolly, “I am my own man. I make my own decisions and I lead my own life.”

  “Brave words,” the Frau noted petulantly, taken aback. Caleb’s smile was so like Regan’s. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you are now a master in the art of self-defense and can handle a weapon as well as the Mevrouw and the Mynheer.”

  “But of course,” Caleb teased, assuming an air of self-importance to irritate her. “I have earned several medals at the academy for fencing. I am considered an expert!” he exclaimed confidently.

  Frau Holtz could feel the iron-gray hairs at the back of her neck stand out with her agitation. These van der Rhys men were all alike, loving the sport of needling her to distraction! Although she knew he had purposely exasperated her, she believed his statement about the medals implicitly. Could Sirena’s pupil and Regan’s son be anything less than an expert with the rapier?

  “May we talk later, Frau Holtz? I could never climb the rigging in these foppish garments.” He smiled as he looked upward to the crow’s nest and the old housekeeper was again struck by his handsomeness. The virile ruggedness of Regan’s features was clearly evident, but Caleb had also inherited dark eyes and hair from his Javanese mother. Along with her exotic coloring, he had received a certain gentleness in the soft tilt near the corners of his eyes and a sensuousness in the pout of his lower lip. Regan’s handsomeness and Tita’s loveliness had spawned in Caleb a refined elegance which, while totally masculine, was still no less than beautiful. Tall and broad-shouldered with the flat stomach and lean haunches of youth; a noble head held proudly by the strong column of his neck and dark hair with warm, golden glints that was thick with a tendency to unruliness. A high, intelligent brow accentuating sensitive eyes. Frau Holtz suffered a twinge of sympathy for the women who would throw themselves at Caleb’s feet. And if he followed in Regan’s footsteps, which Frau Holtz was certain would be the case, it would take the most remarkable of girls to snare that wild heart. As remarkable and magnificent as the Mevrouw, the Frau smiled to herself, and then beware young Caleb. for your fate will be sealed by a pair of honeyed lips and smooth limbs.

  “Frau Holtz,” Caleb’s voice broke her thoughts, “I’m so glad you agreed to accompany Sirena.” His tone was soft and intimate. On a sudden impulse, he leaned down to kiss her warmly on the cheek before going below to change clothes.

  “Young whelp,” the Frau muttered to herself, gently touching the spot where Caleb’s lips had touched her. He has no right to return looking like he does, she grumbled inwardly in the way of the aged when the young are grown, leaving them without a child to nurture and guide. The world wasn’t ready for two van der Rhys men.

  At loose ends, Frau Holtz sought out toothless Jacobus and complained bitterly of her inactivity and fears that something was wrong with the Mevrouw.

  “Aye. I, too, saw the odd expression in the Capitana’s eyes. Agh! It does no good to worry and speculate. All in good time. She’s not so proud that she won’t ask for help if she needs it. She knows we’re here and she has only to ask. Amazing how the boy has grown, eh? He’s a fine figure of a man Resembles his father.”

  “In more ways than you know,” Frau Holtz commented. “I wish I knew why we were going to Spain. I’ve been accustomed to an orderly life, not this seafaring way I’m being forced to cope with. I feel like a water gypsy without a home. I’m too old for this.”

  “We’re all growing old. I never thought I’d live to see the day when I wanted solid ground beneath my feet, but my bones are beginning to ache and my eyesight’s not what it used to be. I’ve been giving serious thought to becoming a landlubber. If you’ve a mind to, we could set up housekeeping on some small island,” Jacobus said wickedly.

  “That will be the day!” Frau Holtz responded haughtily. “What would a fine woman like myself want with a toothless old man?” To add emphasis to her words, she let loose with a high-flying blow in the direction of Jacobus’ ear.

  “Who knows?” Jacobus smiled, dodging her cuff. “If you change your mind, let me know so I can prepare myself for the wedding.”

  “Get your addled mind on sailing this ship,” the housekeeper said tartly as her face flushed a rosy hue. “I’ve no mind to end my life in these waters.”

  “I’m not a sailor, I’m the cook!”

  “Then go and see to your galley,” she answered over her shoulder as she flounced off in the direction of her cabin. Her first marriage proposal—and it had to come from a toothless old man who admitted his eyesight was failing. She sniffed to herself as she looked at her graying hair in her mirror, smoothing the coronet of braids she wore atop her head. A slow smile crept onto her lips. At least she could go to her grave knowing she had received one proposal.

  Alone in her cabin, Sirena refused to allow her mind to dwell on the heart-stopping information she had received this afternoon. She concentrated on the tasks at hand and, for the moment, that consisted of freeing herself from the lengthy row of fabric-covered buttons running down her gown.

  Sirena had taken special care with her toilet earlier that day in her eagerness to appear unchanged to Caleb’s eyes when she went to see him at the school. After a much-needed bath to cleanse her skin of the spindrift, she had taken extra pains with her dress. Frau Holtz had spent hours with a heavy flatiron, pressing the folds from a deep-gold afternoon gown with intricate ruching around the neck and sleeves. Petticoat after petticoat met with the Frau’s sizzling iron and the steam rose from her table and heated her cheeks into a fiery red. While Sirena had dressed her luxurious, ebony hair into a modish style atop her head, leaving a long hank to curl winsomely over her shoulder, the Frau had fussed with the frothy wisp of veiling which decorated the feminine version of the wide-brimmed Cava
lier’s hat Sirena had chosen to wear.

  Now her rakish chapeau was carelessly thrown on her bunk; its crisp veiling had wilted in the dank, moisture-laden air and its curling feather looked as tired as she felt. When she had changed into her abbreviated costume and tied her blouse tightly beneath her voluptuous bosom, she reached for her high-heeled black kid boots and pulled them on over her slim, well-shaped calves up to her long, supple thighs. She would not think about what Caleb had told her. She would concentrate on her ship and her crew. Once the Rana’s wheel was in her hands, her world would be right side up. She clenched and unclenched her hands as she paced the narrow confines of the cabin, her heels beating out a tattoo of emotions.

  How much could one person be expected to bear in this lifetime? How in God’s name had she allowed this to happen to her? Was it her fault? Was Regan to blame? Don’t think about it, she warned herself, as she continued to pace distractedly. Did it matter whose fault it was? All that counted was that Regan no longer loved her and had divorced her.

  Her shoulders shuddered convulsively and tears gathered in her eyes. Didn’t Regan realize how much she loved him? So many times he had told her of his love for her. How could he cast her aside like a stale cigar and leave her to smolder to ashes.

  The quivering shoulders grew still. She relaxed her hands and ceased pacing. Was she or was she not a woman? The taut shoulders relaxed and her hands grew limp. Her emerald eyes sparkled momentarily and then grew misty again. Time. Time was the answer.

  Suddenly her shoulders slumped and tears again threatened to well her eyes. Regan would find another to hold in his strong arms. His soft words of love would be whispered in the ear of some other woman.

  A sob caught in her throat. How could a love like theirs die? A vision of a faceless female in Regan’s embrace swam before her. “No!” she cried in torment. “No, no, no!” The pain in her breast was sharper than any knife wound. “No!” she screamed and her cry held the anguish of all the women who had gone before her when they had lost their lovers.