Captive Embraces

by Fern Michaels

  “I stay home, no. There’s business to take care of and I’ve already sent word to Tyler that I would come to his office.”

  “He can come here. For dinner, ja?”

  “No. I can’t stay about the house.” Then her tone softened. “Good friend, I know you worry for my welfare, but I’m fine. Really. Now, please help me. I promise I won’t be long. What is the difference if I sit at home or in the coach? I won’t be on my feet much; I promise.”

  Realizing it was useless to argue, Frau Holtz sighed loudly and went about helping Sirena dress.

  After a pleasant ride through the city, Sirena’s coach pulled up in front of Tyler Sinclair’s offices. Jacobus climbed down from his perch beside the driver and helped her to the ground, taking care not to hurry her. If Sirena so much as winced with discomfort, the Frau would have his head.

  Sirena mounted the steps to Tyler’s office with care. She hated to admit it, but the bums were bothering her, and she was more than grateful that Frau Holtz had had her way about the stockings.

  When she opened the door, Tyler was having a discussion with Whipple. When he saw her there, delight shone in his eyes. “How wonderful to see you up and about, Sirena. Did your housekeeper tell you I called as soon as I heard of your mishap?”

  “She did, and thank you for the lovely flowers. As for myself, I’m perfectly fine.”

  Tyler strode over to her and grasped her hands. “I’m glad to hear it, Sirena, very glad. Could I offer you coffee, tea?”

  “No, thank you. This isn’t a social call, Tyler, but a professional one.”

  “Sounds serious. Come into my office where we can talk freely.”

  After she had seated herself near his desk, Sirena blurted, “Stephan Langdon has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted his proposal. We’ll be married immediately before Camilla and Regan. Just a small, intimate ceremony. As a matter of fact, we plan on eloping. You’ll be our witness.”

  Tyler’s eyes nearly popped from his head. How in the world had this come about? He had to tell her, warn her of Stephan! Yet, how could he convince her without revealing his circumstances with Camilla?

  “Tyler, you don’t seem very happy about my news.” Sirena studied him for his reaction.

  Tyler smiled, his heart pounding. He had to warn her somehow and let her think it was her own evaluation. Once that jack a napes relative got his hands on her money, it would be the end of Sirena. The stories of Stephan’s unfortunate, dead wife were still vivid in Tyler’s mind even though he was a mere boy when he’d heard them. He could still hear the Baroness’ angry voice when she accused him of gambling away Flora’s money. And when she accused Stephan of squandering his wife’s inheritance and committing the poor woman to Bedlam, the young Tyler had run and hidden beneath his bed. Stephan was a terrifyingly vicious man and he regretted that he hadn’t warned Sirena right from the beginning.

  “Sirena, this is rather sudden, isn’t it? You haven’t known Stephan that long to want to make a permanent tie. Whatever possessed you to consider marriage?”

  “That really isn’t important, Tyler. I came here to have some business contracts drawn before the wedding. First of all, I want three-fourths of my holdings divided between Frau Holtz and Caleb van der Rhys. All holdings and monies are to be in their name. Of course, it’s only to be in trust, they wouldn’t inherit until my death. The balance of my wealth is to be placed in Regan’s name. Should anything unforetold happen to any of these people, the estate would revert to the survivors. Of course, this is to be in a trust whereby I can draw on the principal if need be.”

  Tyler relaxed visibly. So, Sirena was not a fool after all. “Do you realize what you’re doing? You’ll be going into marriage with very little free capital. This could cause a problem,” he said, furrowing his brow.

  “I’m not entirely ignorant of the law, Tyler. If I dispose of my property before my marriage, it’s nobody’s concern save my own. For all I know, Stephan could be contemplating the very same thing himself. Regan was able to take the Córdez inheritance away from me and not anyone will find the Valdez inheritance available to them.”

  “Sirena, I must warn you this is not entirely wise. Have you thought of what Stephan would say? Afterward, when he learns you have only enough to get by on?”

  “If and when the time ever comes I need more than what I have available, then you will liquidate some of the capital. It’s really quite simple, why are you making such ado about it?”

  “Sirena, English law states you are subject to your husband’s rule. You must listen to what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “No. You must listen to me! I’m paying you a handsome sum to handle my affairs. Not to interfere in my personal life. If you interfere again, I’ll be forced to engage another solicitor.”

  “Very well, Sirena, but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you. Please,” he said, holding up his hand for her to stop talking. “I speak as a friend. You can’t possibly love Stephan Langdon; he’s old enough to be your father. Have you thought of the more romantic side of marriage?”

  Sirena gulped. This was a thought she had been pushing away all yesterday, ever since she had embarked on this scheme to marry Stephan.

  “I can see by your face you haven’t considered it. Don’t rush into this, it’s a big step and deserves further consideration.”

  “Tyler, can’t I have a contract drawn up ...” her words faded off, she knew she was trapped. If she married Stephan, she would have to share his bed. For an instant she almost retracted; then she thought of how undemanding Stephan had been in their relationship. More than a kiss on the cheek or a soft pressing on the lips, he had not demanded. He would probably be just as yielding about his marital rights.

  “If you were about to suggest a premarital contract giving you sole rights to your own bed, I must hasten to tell you again English law does not recognize anything of the sort. These things are usually decided upon by the parties involved. Stephan will never submit to any such request. What man would, being married to you? Sirena, when you wed, you lose your voice. Your husband is your lord and you must yield to him in all things. Financial and intimate.”

  Sirena was thoughtful for a moment. “In other words, what he has is his and what I have becomes his also. That leaves me nothing for myself and we don’t share jointly; in fact, we don’t share at all. He will provide for me and, beyond that, his obligations end.”

  “Exactly. At last you understand. Now, perhaps, you will reconsider.”

  “No. But don’t worry, Tyler. Simply arrange things the way I’ve asked. I will manage Stephan, have no fear.”

  But Tyler did worry.

  It was late in the afternoon when Frau Holtz charged into Sirena’s suite, a handbill clutched in her fist. “Mevrouw, Mevrouw, look at this! May the saints preserve us,” she cried dramatically. “It’s Caleb and look what he’s done!”

  Sirena snatched the advertisement from the housekeeper, a puzzled look on her face. “Caleb has outfitted the Rana as a gambling folly?”

  “Not the Rana, Mevrouw, he calls the ship Sea Siren!” the woman exclaimed harshly.

  “I can’t believe he would do this! I wonder if Regan is behind all this. Why would Caleb do such a thing? Is this why he hasn’t paid me a visit, because he can’t face me? Because he’s so guilty over what he was planning to do with the Rana?” She looked at the paper again. “He plans his opening tomorrow night. Gaming till dawn, food fit for kings ... It’s Regan! I know it is. He thinks he can get back at me through Caleb.” Sirena stormed about her room. “He won’t get away with this! He probably shares the profits!”

  “What does it matter now, what can you do?” Frau Holtz asked worriedly. “You gave the boy the ship to do with it as he pleased.”

  “Yes, but to go into the shipping business. Not this ... this ...” words failed her, “. . . this den of iniquity! And,” she shrilled, “you see how he’s named this folly the Sea Siren? Frau Holtz, somehow I must stop him! I’l
l go to see Regan. No, I can’t. He’s a part of this. I have to think. I must decide.” She lowered herself onto the settee, her hands at her temples. “Leave me. I must concentrate without any distraction.”

  “If there is anything—”

  “I’ll call you if I need you, friend.”

  The housekeeper closed the door quietly as Sirena leaned back, her eyes closed. “How could you do this, Caleb? My Rana! A gaming ship!”

  Caleb was so inexperienced. He’d grown up among good, hard-working people. He’d be no match for wicked gamblers and scheming women who would frequent his gaming palace. “Damn you, Regan, you’re responsible for this!”

  Sirena opened the door to call for Frau Holtz. “Tell Jacobus to ready the carriage. I’ll be down as soon as I change my gown.”

  An hour later, dressed in a watered silk of vibrant rose, matching her temper, Sirena thrust open the door to Regan’s house and marched in. Her eyes flashed angrily, the handbill clutched in her fist. “I’ll destroy that ship before I let you get away with this! I’ll sink it there in its berth! I’ll gut it, and when there’s nothing left, I’ll put a torch to it! And if you stand in my way, you’ll go to the bottom with it! The same goes for Caleb. How could you allow him to do this?” she shouted vehemently at the startled Regan. “I should have known—Frau Holtz warned me—but I wouldn’t listen. You couldn’t get to me any other way so you’re using Caleb and the Rana!” she shouted viciously. “How could you allow your son to get involved with something like this?”

  Regan’s jaw tightened as he watched Sirena advance on him, a paper clutched in her hand. “What are you doing here and what are you screaming about? Has something happened to Caleb?” he asked anxiously.

  “That’s right. Play the innocent! Pretend you don’t know what’s going on. Your business is floundering and this was a way for you to make money. On my ship with your son! You’ll stop at nothing to get what you want. I’ll not permit you to do this to Caleb.”

  Regan reached for the paper and his eyes raked the bold lettering. “I know nothing of this. This is the first I’ve heard Caleb was involved with the gaming folly. The only name I’ve heard connected with it was an old reprobate by the name of Farrington.”

  “Liar! Trickery! I don’t believe a word you say.”

  Regan grew amused. “Listen to who speaks of lies and tricks. Oh no, Sirena. It’s the person who stands in your shoes who is those things. I’m telling you, I know nothing of the matter. I haven’t seen Caleb since he first arrived in England.”

  “If you aren’t a party to this, then you put Caleb up to it. Caleb isn’t the type to come up with an idea like this. He’s just a boy.”

  “My dear Sirena, you’d better take another look at him. He’s an adult with a mind of his own. As usual,” Regan drawled, “you only see what you want to. If it’s any consolation, I don’t approve of this either, but he is his own man. He’ll have to learn the hard way if he’s to survive in this world.”

  “The Rana wasn’t intended to be a den of iniquity!”

  “The Rana is a ship. Not a shrine!”

  At that moment Sirena detested Regan more than she had ever dreamed possible. He had come too close to the mark and she knew it. The Rana was a temple of sorts and her immediate wrath was because she felt the frigate which had seen her through some of the worst trials of her life was being defamed.

  “Damn you, Regan. I know what I’m talking about! Stop Caleb, stop him before it’s too late! Gambling is not a trade which prolongs one’s life! Scurrilous gamblers have been known to claim they’re being cheated and someone’s death usually results. In this instance, it could be Caleb.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Regan said conversationally. “I have been remiss in my parental duties. Caleb needs a fatherly hand. I’ll seek him out and take him to the finest brothel in all of England. I’ll see to it that his manly education is complete. And there’s no need for you to worry about some gambler killing him. Caleb has mastered the art of self-defense, thanks to a certain female pirate who took him under her wing.”

  “You’d do that, wouldn’t you? You would take your own son to a whorehouse and stand by while he learns the van der Rhys methods in carnality. I swear if you do, Regan, I will kill you!”

  “So you’ve told me,” he answered harshly. “Do it and get it over with, it has become a source of boredom. But before you do, let me tell you that I think your mothering concern for Caleb is a little late. Motherhood doesn’t become you Sirena.”

  Sirena blinked as though she had been slapped. Scalding tears escaped her eyes as she tried to bring Regan into her line of vision. “Motherhood doesn’t become you!” Did she hear him say those words? Even he couldn’t have said that to her. He couldn’t be so malicious. Crystal tears glistened on her sooty lashes. “Caleb is your son. I was wrong to come here; I see that now. I gave him the Rana and what he does with it is his affair. I will pray with each breath I take that as a parent you will do the wise thing.” Sirena faltered a moment as she wiped at her watery eyes. “I apologize for coming here. Forgive me, Regan,” she said, turning to leave.

  Regan tensed. She was up to something. Sirena never apologized to anyone for anything. Two long strides and he had her arm in a viselike grip. She was really crying! he thought, stunned. A ploy. She was as wily as a lean, hungry fox. In one heartrending second he saw in her eyes what he thought he would never see again. Defeat!

  At his touch, Sirena felt herself stiffen. What was that look in his eyes? Dear God, no, she cried silently as she tried to disengage her arm. Never, never again! Regan would never do that to her! “Take your hands off me!” she cried, her voice tinged with fear. “Leave me be!” she insisted, wrestling loose.

  No sooner had she gained her freedom than she turned to run from the room. Suddenly, Regan’s fierce hold imprisoned her again. “What is this I see here?” he asked mockingly. “Are you afraid of me? The brave and cunning Sea Siren afraid of a mere man?” he smiled churlishly.

  “Let me go, Regan. I don’t like you this way,” she said defiantly.

  “And how is it you like me, Sirena? Do you ever like me? A few moments ago you said you would kill me. You couldn’t have liked me then.” His voice was as smooth as satin and the gleam in his eyes was as glassy as chips of shaved ice.

  “You’re right. I didn’t like you then and I hate you now!” she snarled, baring her teeth like a trapped animal. “God help me, but I wonder what I ever liked about you!”

  “Do you wonder?” Regan smiled, both hands grasping her shoulders, drawing her against him. “Shall I tell you? Don’t you already know?”

  “Regan! Release me!”

  “No, Sirena. You came here to my home. You sought me out. Was it really to tell me about Caleb or did you have another reason?”

  “What other motive could I possibly have?” she spit, her beautiful face contorted into something feral.

  “Perhaps to seduce me again. You have been known to do that, love.” His grip on her became stronger, pressing her against him till she thought it impossible to take another breath. His voice was smooth, yet his tone harbored a seething dislike.

  “Regan, don’t do this.”

  “Do what, love? Take you in my arms? You love the things I do to you, my hands, my mouth. Won’t you sing for me passion’s song? You sang it for me so prettily the last time you were here.”

  “You’re a pig!”

  “Ah, love, those are not the words. Don’t you remember them? Shall I help your memory? Shall I press my lips to that most secret place where your passions are stirred and your melodies evoked?” Not waiting for an answer, Regan wrapped his arms about her, forcing her head to be still, covering her mouth with his.

  Sirena clamped her lips shut, feeling his teeth biting against her mouth, his tongue seeking entrance.

  “Tell me what you like about me, Sirena,” he taunted, forcing her to her knees on the thick carpet, his menacing face only inches away. He pinned her
arms to her sides, knocking her backward, falling heavily atop her. “Tell me, love, let me hear you say the words. Do you like it when I touch your breasts and make them swell?” His hand groped inside the wide neckline of her gown, seeking the firm flesh, questing for the stiffening rosy crests. “What do you like, Sirena? Tell me,” he urged, using a silky, deprecating tone.

  Sirena remained silent, refusing to speak.

  “Do you like it when I cover your skin with my mouth? Do you like the emotions I release in you, Sirena?” His head dropped and his lips were where his hands had been, his tongue teasing her sensitive skin.

  This was not Regan, her heart cried. This was not the man who could bring her to the heights of rapture with his tenderness. These were not the hands that had caressed her flesh, worshiping her, adoring her. These were the hands of a beast, the mouth of a devil. When his hands groped beneath her skirts, Sirena stiffened, abhorring his touch. He was using her—worse, mocking her. There was no pleasure in this for him. He wanted to hurt her, wound her, ultimately destroy her. The hostility was there to be heard in his voice as well. What he was doing was worse than a beating, worse than killing her, and he knew it! That knowledge ate at her soul, chipping away at her heart. This was his revenge, his reprisal, to defame her and denigrate her. His pleasure was not in the act, but a brutal attempt to revile her.

  She had stripped him of all weapons. She had attacked him and threatened to destroy him and forced him to come to this. The ultimate injury a man could inflict upon a woman. Rape.

  She loved Regan too much to allow him to do this. It would destroy both of them. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He would hate himself and her. He would never be able to look her in the face again. Tears stung her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. “Please, Regan,” she cried hoarsely, “don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to yourself. Please.”

  Something in her voice stilled Regan’s movements. The moment seemed like an eternity and she waited with bated breath. Suddenly, Regan seemed to slump. She heard his breath come in ragged gasps as he lifted his weight from her body.