Captive Splendors (26 page)

He wanted her. He needed her. God, how he needed her! Wanting her was selfish; needing her was as necessary as having to draw another breath. Would she listen to him? Not likely. Wren never listened. Then he would have to show her. Regan always said actions proved more than words. Some women liked the words, like Sara. Pretty words, lies really, pleased Sara. But then, Sara was a fool. Wren was not. He could tell her all the pretty lies and she would turn around and match him word for word, lie for lie, and where would he be then? Back where he had started.

He seemed to be having difficulty breathing as he gazed at her from time to time, and his loins took on a suspicious ache that only one thing could relieve, but he would die before he made another advance to Wren. A goddamn pity if he should die at sea within the next few days and go to his watery grave in a semicelibate state.

He forced his mind and eyes back to the endless expanse of water. When Peter relieved him after the noon meal, he would seek out Wren and try to convince her. Convince her of what? his mind shouted. He refused to answer his own question.

When Wren had tripped on the torn hem of her dark gown, Sara had thought to herself, Now, why couldn't she have gone over the side and saved me the trouble of—No, she wouldn't even think about that here in the bright sunshine. That thought was for her dim cabin during the velvety night. She glanced toward the sun and swiftly calculated how much longer Caleb would be on watch. A little more than an hour. By that time she would have contrived a way to meet him and throw herself into his arms for the benefit of Wren's watchful eyes. Her face was almost feral in the golden light, and Lydia nudged Wren, who refused to look in Sara's direction.

From time to time Wren allowed herself to be tortured as she gazed at Caleb's muscular body behind the wheel. How could he prefer Sara to her? She loved him, couldn't he tell? Why was he making a fool of her in front of the crew and everyone else? Because he was a hateful man, and that was what men did. Why did they think women were good for only one thing? And who taught them such things? Another man, of course. If Caleb wanted Sara, he could have her, with Wren's blessing. Never with my blessing, she sobbed inwardly. Oh, God, I love him so, she wanted to cry out for everyone to hear. I can't let him do this to me; I can't show him how he's hurt me. I can't bear it. Tears of anger and frustration gathered in her eyes, and she brushed them away impatiently. She would be damned if she would cry over Caleb van der Rhys. Never! The man hadn't been born who was worth her tears. Her mind refused to listen to her heart, and she closed her eyes wearily, visions of herself lying in Caleb's arms and responding to his tender touches flashing suddenly before her. She leapt off her chair and strode down the deck as if the hounds of Hell were on her heels.

As she passed the wheelhouse she sent Caleb such a scathing, scorching look that he blanched. Now, what in the hell had gotten into her? he wondered. She was just like Sirena—all mouth and legs. His lean jaw hardened as he remembered how she had felt in his arms, how her long legs had pressed against his. Christ, he couldn't think of that now! Yes, he could. He wanted to bury his face in her wealth of dark hair and then twine it through his fingers as he drew her face to his in a long, passionate kiss that she returned with equal ardor. “Peter!” He'd be goddamned if he would wait another minute. He would go to her now, tell her now, and then drag her off to his quarters whether she liked it or not. She would like it! He would make her love it and him at the same time!

Peter loped into the wheelhouse, breathing heavily and wondering why the sound of his name had the ring of iron in it. Seeing the look on Caleb's face, he merely grasped the wheel and thought better of the question he had been about to ask.

Caleb took to the deck at a dead run, his bare feet barely touching the polished planks. He saw a wisp of black round the corner and increased his speed. He was upon her within seconds and had her pinned in his arms. His eyes were closed, his breathing heavy, as he forced her body close to his. She felt different. He had expected her to stiffen at his touch, and here she was, soft and pliant.
Aaah.
He opened his eyes and almost choked on his own saliva. At the moment his stunned eyes accepted that it was Sara in his arms, Wren came into view and saw them locked together. Caleb would have sold his soul to the devil if he could have erased the wounded look from her face. But it was not to be. He knew in his gut that no matter what he said or how he said it, she would look right through him and not hear a word. Wren was lost to him forever. God in His Heaven would never be able to convince him otherwise.

Wren heard Sara say, “Darling Caleb, how wonderful of you to take time away from your watch to be with me,” as she continued on her way. She would bleed later, in the privacy of her bunk, but not here for all to see.

Caleb stared down into Sara's eyes. “What are you doing here?” he demanded harshly, his eyes hard and cold.

“I'm standing here with you, in your arms. What a foolish question,” she purred softly. While her tone was soft, her insides churned. She had seen the look on Wren's face as well as the horror in Caleb's eyes when he had realized just who was in his arms. Her mind raced as she squirmed, rubbing her body against his in an almost sensuous rhythm. She would make him forget Wren. He didn't need Wren; he needed her and their baby. He would be so happy when she told him that soon they would be parents. He would love her then. Caleb was an honorable man, and honorable men always loved their wives and families. Caleb wouldn't be any different. “Darling, shall we go to your quarters?” she asked breathlessly.

Caleb's terse “No,” slashed through her like a whip. She recovered quickly and smiled at him, her eyes lowered demurely. “I understand. Daylight does pose its problems. I'll come to you tonight, after the moon is high. I'll spend the rest of the day thinking of you.”

Before Caleb could reply, she had gone. For a moment he was puzzled. Her eyes had reminded him of something. Or was it someone? He couldn't think now; it would come to him later.

Two days passed with Caleb, according to Aubrey Farrington, acting like the devil himself. He was torn, anguished over the fact that he couldn't get near Wren. Each time he came within eyesight of her, she put as much distance as possible between them, and always her face mirrored that same wounded look and then deep hatred. The situation was eating him alive, and for the first time in his life he didn't know what to do. He was being boxed into a corner with his emotions running high for Wren, and at the same time he was fighting off Sara's bold advances, which were becoming increasingly more blatant. He knew he had always been desirable to women, but Sara was something he had not counted on, unlike any woman he had ever come across. She wanted him, desired him and intended to have him. He would have to tell her, and the sooner the better, that she could never mean anything to him.

Sara had been deliberately stalking Caleb for two days, and was horrified to discover that all her suspicions were correct. Caleb was lost to her. He wanted Wren, desired her and was fighting the way a man fights for a woman. Like a fool, Sara thought angrily. And stupid, silly Wren was playing right into her hands by running from him. Sara was wise to Wren. She knew Wren was running from Caleb in the hope that her unavailability would drive him mad with desire. Now, where had the silly little fool learned
that
trick? It doesn't really matter, Sara told herself calmly. Caleb is falling for it and making an ass of himself in front of his crew and the others. Wren will have Caleb in the palm of her hand in another day. Sara knew that just by looking into Caleb's eyes. Well, Caleb might love Wren, but he would be honorbound to her, Sara, when she told him of “their” baby. Caleb would then fall
out
of love with Wren and fall
in
love with her. She would make him love her. And to insure that happy occurrence, she would do away with the only two people in the world who meant anything to him. In his sorrow and grief he would turn to her and “their” child for comfort. Her eyes were sly as she watched the crew go about its duties. Sly and furtive and not quite seeing.

By noon of the following day Wren felt as though she were possessed by the devil. She wanted to wreak havoc, to kill Sara, to lash out at Caleb for his uncaring attitude toward her and for the humiliation she suffered at his hands. And, God help her, she loved him. Another day or so and they would touch land, and she would put as much distance between her and Caleb van der Rhys as possible. She would cut him out of her heart and make a new life, she and Lydia. She knew she was lying to herself. She could never forget Caleb, not ever. He was in her blood for now and for always. She amended the thought: she would
try
to forget him.

Lydia's heart ached for the sorrowing girl. She wanted to comfort her, but she knew that Wren preferred to be alone with her thoughts. She felt she should say something but didn't know the proper words. When she tried to speak to her, Wren's face closed like a book. She would suggest a stroll around the deck and then, when the moment was right, say something comforting. Wren refused the offer of a walk, pleading fatigue.

“Wren, my dear, has it occurred to you that you may well be doing Caleb an injustice? You haven't given him a chance to explain or to set matters straight. You aren't certain of all the facts. If things are as bad as you seem to think, then why has the captain been trying to talk to you?”

“Talk, my foot,” Wren shrilled. “I know what I saw and heard. He's nothing but a damnable womanizer, and all he wants is another notch in his belt. He's mean and rotten through and through.” Wren kicked out viciously at the bunk.

“No, he isn't, and you know it,” Lydia defended the captain. “He's a fine man who loves you very much. I'm not wise like you, Wren, but I know what I read in his eyes. You are the one who is being mean and rotten. Forgive me for speaking to you like this, but someone must make you understand the man whom you're tormenting.”

“Save your breath, Lydia. I saw him with Sara and heard the words she spoke to him. That meeting was prearranged, and every night she goes to him. She can have him. I wouldn't take him if he were offered to me on a silver platter. And you're wrong, Lydia. If Caleb loved me, as you said, he would keep the greatest distance between Sara and himself. Every time I turn around I see her draped over him in some fashion. I no longer care,” Wren concluded loftily.

Disgusted, Lydia picked up some mending to while away the time. “Since you're an authority on the subject, I refuse to waste my breath, as you put it. However,” she added, striving for the last and final word, “you're wrong about Captain van der Rhys. The day will come when you realize this, and then it will be too late.”

“If that day should ever come, you'll be the first to hear of it, for I won't be around,” Wren said wretchedly. If only what Lydia said were true, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

Why, why,
why
hadn't she proved the full extent of her love for him? Damn herself and her little girl's fears! Caleb had wanted to make love to her, the kind of love a man gives to a woman, and, Heaven knew, she had wanted him to. But after Malcolm and the seamen, she had been afraid. If only she'd been able to conquer her fears and behaved like the woman she longed to be. The kind of woman Caleb wanted and needed.

The afternoon hours crawled on tortoise legs toward evening and darkness. Sara was nervous and irritable, ignoring Lydia's feeble attempts at conversation. She ignored Wren completely. Wren was the root of all her problems. Ever since Wren had spent the entire night with Caleb, Sara had been rebuffed by him, and none too nicely either. This evening might be her last chance to make him want her again. Once she had told him of “their” child, things would be different. Things
had
to be different!

Unable to sit still after dinner, Wren went on deck for a breath of fresh air. As she glanced about her, she realized a storm was brewing from the west; from the looks of things, it was going to be a bad one. Already the crew was busy securing the ship for the onslaught of winds and rain that would pour down on her. She wondered what Caleb was doing and where he was at this exact minute. Had Lydia been right? Did Caleb really love her? Was he simply playing with Sara to make Wren jealous enough to crawl to him, as all his other women had done? If that was so, he was certainly going to have a long wait. She'd crawl for no man, especially Caleb van der Rhys.

What she could do was walk. She didn't have to crawl. Worms crawled. She had pride and Caleb had injured it, either knowingly or unknowingly. She could go to him and at least listen to what he had to say. Listening couldn't hurt anything. She could listen and walk away and ponder the matter, then make a decision later as to what he had had to say. Surely that couldn't hurt, and maybe she would be able to sleep peacefully and not have her dreams tormented by him. But before she did that, she would have to calm herself and collect her wits. She clung to the mizzenmast as her heart began to pound at the thought of being near Caleb again.

While Wren considered her actions, Sara left the cabin and made her way directly to Caleb's quarters. She knew she had picked the right time. For some reason, when a storm was approaching or in progress, a person's emotions ran high. Caleb would be in fine fettle, and so would she. She could barely balance herself as she went along, holding her arms out against the bulkheads. She could almost feel his arms around her in his cabin as the storm raged outside. Caleb would protect her and keep her safe because he was an honorable man.

She reached his cabin, knocked on the door and waited. Realizing he couldn't have heard that feeble little sound with the wind howling the way it was, she opened the door cautiously and was almost blown inside.