Captive Embraces Page 10

  Señor Arroya went about placing chairs near his desk and he gestured for the ladies to make themselves comfortable. “Sit down, child, there is much to speak of. I know little of what you’ve made of your life since your husband has been handling your affairs. Last word I had from you was on the birth of your son, Mikel.”

  Sirena’s eyes glittered with moisture and this did not go unnoticed by the elderly gentleman. “No, no, I did not mean to make you cry. Your husband told me your sad news. Mynheer van der Rhys also told me other things. Odd, scandalous things . . . ,” his eyes twinkled with devilish lights. Glancing toward Frau Holtz, Señor Arroya’s eyes became guarded.

  “Speak freely, Tio, there is little the good Frau does not know about me. As a matter of fact, she proclaims to know me better than I do myself,” she laughed. “Though I hesitate to admit it, there are times when I am certain she is correct. What things did Regan tell you?”

  “Stories of a female pirate! The Sea Siren, men called her,” he whispered conspiratorially. “And he told me that this enchantress had retired from the sea to be his wife! Escandalo! Blasphemy!” he roared, all the while his eyes twinkled proudly.

  “Sí, Tio, a scandal yet most necessary. For the soul, comprende usted? It was for what was done to Tio Juan, Isabella and to myself.”

  Gently, the elderly man patted Sirena’s hand. “Comprendo, niña, Your husband was kind enough to inform me of the details. Sí, much sorrow you have suffered,” he sighed deeply. “The news I have to give you will not lighten your burden.”

  “Tio, don’t feel you must spare me. It is important that you tell me everything.”

  “There was little I could do,” he explained. “The law reads that I must turn over your properties to him. Perdonar, niña, forgive me.”

  “Tio, I do not place any blame on you. Please, you must understand. I know that what happened between my husband and myself was as much my fault as it was his. It is over and done with. Now, I must gather up what remains to me and begin over again.”

  “And still you love him. I see it in your eyes. That, child, is one thing that will give you away. Your eyes, even when you were a child, they were a mirror of your emotions. Tell me, what happened?”

  “It is over, there is nothing to tell. Regan no longer loves me and has divorced me.”

  Rage filtered through the old gentleman’s charming demeanor. Sirena expressed his thoughts verbally. “Sí, bastardo. No more questions, Tio. Tell me, where do I stand with regard to my mother’s inheritance. I would imagine that the circumstances have changed since Isabella’s death. And the house on Via Arpa here in Cádiz?”

  “Sí. It is already in readiness for you. As for your other holdings,” he hesitated, “they have been transferred to Inglaterra.”

  “England! Why England?”

  Tio Esteban’s expression fell into mysterious lines. “Because, Sirena, I felt that is what you would ultimately do, so I saved you the bother. I know you, child, I know you so well I was not even surprised to learn that you had taken to the seas as an avenging angel for the deaths of Juan and Isabella. You always had the fire and fight any man would admire in his son but would mourn to find in his daughter. And then there was a certain look about Mynheer van der Rhys when he spoke of you.”

  “But, Tio—”

  “No, Sirena, allow me to finish,” he brushed off her protests with an extended hand. “I said I knew you and I am glad to see I was not wrong in doing what I did. I knew you would never consent to wed a man you did not love and I knew that love would last a lifetime. You would never toss off something as important to you as your marriage with a shrug and a witty comment that you had made a misalliance. Never you, Sirena. And, apparently, not your Regan. There was a somber tone in his voice. And when I tried to persuade him to breach the differences between you, he became enraged. The anger of a man who thinks himself rejected by the woman he loves.”

  “I don’t wish to hear you continue with this, Tio,” Sirena implored, pain evident in her misty green eyes. “Frau Holtz,” she turned to the formidable woman beside her, “make him stop. Make him stop telling me these things.”

  “Nein, nein, Lieblich,” the Frau soothed. “Señor Arroya is merely telling you what I’ve believed all along. Listen to him. Let him give you his reasons.”

  Sirena brought herself under control. “Perdonar, Tio. I’m sorry. You don’t know all the circumstances. Continue, tell me why you’ve transferred my meager investments to England.”

  “It is really quite simple, Sirena,” Tio Esteban smiled cherubically. “It is simply because that is where your husband—”

  “Ex-husband.”

  “Ex-husband,” the Señor amended, “is going to reside. I believed you would someday make the decision to follow him there and correct this mistake you have both made.”

  “And you are saving me wasted time by forming that decision for me. Is that it?”

  “Sí, and because I am an old man and I knew you would forgive me my whims.”

  Sirena smiled. “And I suppose there is nothing here in Spain for me?”

  “Nothing, Sirena,” Tio Esteban said softly. “That which you seek is waiting for you in England.”

  Turning to Frau Holtz, Sirena sighed, “Then I suppose it’s to England we will go.”

  “Ja, to England,” the Frau confirmed dourly. The prospect of still another sea voyage was not to her liking. Her stomach still grumbled from the last one and her legs could not yet seem to hold her up properly on dry land.

  “And as to your fortunes being meager, Sirena, I’m certain you will be pleasantly surprised. You mustn’t forget that Isabella’s holdings reverted to you and are not a part of the original marriage agreement. Furthermore, they did not come into your title until after your husband obtained his divorce.”

  “You sly fox,” Sirena laughed.

  “A mere technicality but one which would hold up in a court of law, I assure you,” Señor Arroya smiled craftily.

  Sirena hugged him enthusiastically. “Now I know why my father and Tio Juan referred to you as a treasure. When can I book passage to England?”

  “We will come to that. First I wish to discuss your affairs.” Sirena watched as the man shuffled papers on his desk and finally extracted a thick, yellow packet tied with string and sealed with red wax. “Everything is here inside. Read it over carefully and understand what you read. In brief, you are an extremely wealthy woman. I doubt if in your lifetime you will touch the capital. I have sent everything necessary to a distant cousin of your mother’s in England. He has since communicated with me and said that everything is in order. His son, Tyler, is more directly involved with the business as his father grows older. Be assured that both father and son are trustworthy, else I would not have involved them in your affairs. I understand that the son, Tyler, is a bit of a rogue—very dashing, a ladies’ man. You know the sort. However, he is sharp of wit. You could have none better to advise you. There is a letter from him and I included it in the packet I’ve given you. He has offered several plans of investment. I replied that I trusted his judgment and told him to make whatever plans are necessary. I’ve been told he is quite handsome, this Tyler Sinclair, and you may find him to your liking,” the Spaniard said cunningly.

  “No matchmaking, Tio. Regan—what did he say his plans were?”

  “He seemed interested in importing and exporting. A trade he is very well equipped to handle seeing how his background is firmly entrenched in the success of the Dutch East India Company. You will no doubt cross paths sooner or later. He has the bulk of the Córdez fortune at his disposal and, by the time you reach London, he will have established himself. You are entitled to a share of his dividends. I haggled for twenty-five percent but he drove me down to twenty. Monies are to be paid quarterly to Tyler Payne Sinclair. If Señor van der Rhys defaults, the entire business reverts to you.”

  “Tio, how did you manage this?” Sirena asked incredulously.

  “Ah, so you a
ppreciate that your husband is no fool. He is a shrewd businessman. But I remained stubborn and threatened to withhold my cooperation in transferring the Córdez titles. Knowing it would mean a lengthy delay and one in which these corrupt Spanish courts would find a way to line their pockets, he agreed.”

  “Threats have never worked with Regan,” Sirena observed, puzzled.

  “Would it help you to understand that I threatened to shoot him dead with this,” Tio Esteban withdrew a rusty blunderbuss from the depths of his desk drawer. “He knew I meant it. The twenty percent will hamper him in the beginning but, when he starts to show a profit, he will manage very well. I believe he would rather starve than default on his payment. At first, he wanted to pay you three percent,” the old man cackled gleefully.

  “Tio, you are marvelous,” Sirena laughed, throwing her arms around his skinny neck. “So, we will all be in England.”

  “Yes, I am certain that you will be pleasantly met by the arrangements that have been made for your arrival.”

  “My arrival? Tio, how could you have been so sure I would go to England?”

  “As I told you, I felt I know you well enough to predict your actions. I already instructed Señor Sinclair to purchase a home for you. Something befitting a woman of your station and wealth. It was to be furnished and made ready for you whenever you decided to use it. Go to see Señor Sinclair when you make port in London. A new life awaits you. Leave all the unpleasantness behind. Regan was one man, there are others who would fall at your feet in worship of you.”

  “Gracias, Tio, for everything. I’ll do the best I can, more than that I cannot promise.”

  Señor Esteban stood up from his desk and reached for his walking stick and hat. “Oh, yes, I mustn’t forget to tell you, there are stories circulating here in Spain and also in England of a sea witch known also as the Sea Siren. Sailors do have their way of spreading rumors. It seems that Señor Sinclair has heard of this enchantress. If one reads between the lines, he could easily become enamored of such a sultry woman.”

  “Tio, you didn’t tell—”

  “Of course not. My allegiance is to you, Sirena. I would not propagate such gossip,” he said sternly. Then, turning to her again, “Your wicked past is done with. It is over, isn’t it?” he asked fearfully.

  “Certainly, Tio,” Sirena’s laugh tinkled across the room and seemed to brighten the shadows. “Now, let us see about passage to England.”

  “I take it by your sour expression that you don’t care to sail under another captain, Sirena.”

  “This is so, Tio. The last time I sailed with someone else at the wheel besides Regan, the fool had us captured and Tio Juan and Isabella lost their lives.”

  Frau Holtz shuddered visibly.

  “Calm yourself, good woman,” Señor Arroya soothed. “Perhaps, we will find the situation will remedy itself.” Dark eyes dancing, Señor Arroya led the ladies out into the bright sunshine and the waiting carriage. When the coach at last reached the harbor, he directed the driver to the dry docks.

  “Follow me, child. There is something I wish you to see—the last ship your grandfather commissioned. She is almost complete but I want you to see the lady before she receives her final coat of paint.”

  Sirena accompanied the ageing family friend to the fitting berth. She walked along the planks, which were covered with sawdust, and relished the heavy scent of varnish, paint and hewn wood. Familiar sounds of hammering and sawing assaulted her ears and she thrilled to them. She had been brought here many times when still a child and watched amazed as the skillful hands of the artisans created a thing of beauty and purpose.

  Esteban Arroya pointed to the farthest berth and watched for Sirena’s expression as she drew in her breath, amazed. “Tio!” she exclaimed. “He did it! He really did it! Abuelo Córdez made his dream come true!”

  Sirena’s eyes skimmed over the graceful ship, her sharp gaze committing every detail to memory. The sleek vessel seemed to come alive beneath the hands of the artisans. On the bow, men spread shimmering coats of varnish on her deck stanchions and rails while others, with smaller, more delicate brushes, dabbed at the figurehead of a lusty, buxom woman. Awestruck, she watched as men began taking in a main mast, shortening the purchase as it upended. Not daring to speak, Sirena knew that if all wore well, the great spar would drop to keelson. She waited, praying. The masts were the spines of the ship. They were as essential as life and death.

  “Tio, I still can’t believe it! Grandfather said he would do it someday and he has. My hands itch for the wheel. Tell me, what was the reaction of the others in Cádiz when they heard he finally built his dream ship? And see the copper bottom? Just like a petticoat peeking from beneath a lady’s skirt. How did he manage to design her to be so graceful? Look at the way the bowsprit and the jib boom point toward destiny. It’s almost as if she had the confidence instead of her captain. I never thought I would live to see this,” she cried excitedly. “Look, Tio, at the dolphin striker, the blade of her cutwater, the swooping sweep of her cathead.”

  “I see, I see,” the elderly man laughed indulgently. “I wish your grandfather had lived to see this ship.” Then the old eyes clouded over. “No, I’m glad he wasn’t here to listen to the ridicule and the jibes the other builders would have heaped on him. Today, they still claim she’ll never make open water. Your grandfather drew the plans and had her nearly finished when he died. Your own father and Tio Juan were too busy with the business to care much for his dream. So here she stayed in dry dock, nearly completed. I saw to it that monies came out of the business to keep her sheltered and in prime. If your father and uncle ever knew, they never said anything to me and I never pressed them. I had extreme confidence in your grandfather, Sirena, and I knew that his dream only waited for the right captain. I believe that captain is you, and I wish you well with her.”

  “Gracias, Tio, thank you for everything. And you will be there to see this sea spirit skim the waters like the nymph she is. She is years ahead of her time and may the heavens bless my grandfather for having had the courage to build her. He designed my frigate, Tio, and there is no finer ship in water than the Rana.”

  Señor Arroya smiled at the young woman who radiated with delight. Sirena Córdez had loved the shipbuilding industry ever since she was a child and she still retained that joyful ebullience like a child at Christmas. She had come into his offices that afternoon, somber and constrained. The break in her marriage and the loss of her son had taken their toll and there had been a bitterness in the thrust of her lower lip and in the fine lines between her brows. He had been right in ordering the completion of this ship. He had given her back some small happiness, an indefinable part of her beginnings, a glad eye to the future. The elderly gentleman narrowed his eyes and scanned the day and the weather. Aside from the busy carpenters’ pounding, the day was quiet. The gentle lap of the water against the wharf was calming. A flock of gulls screeched and swooped down from the sky and flew off again, leaving behind a stillness. As he looked again at Sirena, he imagined he could hear her heart thumping and her pulses racing as she committed every line and detail of the ship to memory. “She’s a beauty and she’ll sail you true to your course, Sirena. Whatever it may be.”

  “Oh, Tio, I can’t wait to get her into open water,” Sirena laughed, her green eyes flashing. “And yes, Tio, I believe you are right. The Sea Spirit will carry me on whatever course I chart. For now, my bearings lead me to England, to Regan.”

  Her voice became soft, almost a whisper as she murmured Regan’s name and the lawyer muttered a silent prayer that this beautiful woman would find that which she sought.

  Reluctantly, Sirena followed Frau Holtz and Señor Arroya back to the carriage that would take them to the Villa Valdez on Via Arpa. As they settled themselves in the jostling coach, Señor Arroya broached a problem. “Your aptly named Sea Spirit is considered a disaster. I doubt you will find a reliable crew.”

  “No problem, Tio, my own has decided to rema
in with me. Sons of the sea, they’re as reliable as the rising sun.”

  “Your ship is a work of art. Two thousand tons, carved from the finest oak and hard pine, and fitted with wooden nails. She carries miles of canvas on her yards. She’s every captain’s ideal.”

  “No, Tio, the Sea Spirit is this captain’s ideal. She’s mine and only mine. A small wager, Tio. How long do you think it will take me to reach England?”

  “Three weeks, plus a few days,” the gentleman offered, giving Sirena a conservative length of time.

  “Two weeks to the day,” Sirena smiled. “I can see my departure now. When we release her mooring lines and ease away from the wharf, her sails will gleam as the crowds watch. I can see her heel in the wind, just enough to show the unusual. Her hull will pick up reflections of the water, like first morning dew on the petals of a flower. She’s born to the sea. I can feel her pulsate and throb with life. She’s magnificent!”

  The old Spaniard grinned. “Two weeks, eh?”

  Sirena answered, her face wreathed in smiles, “Not a day more.”

  “Then a wager it is,” he laughed again, a sound like the rustling of dry papers. Usually much more conservative in his bets, Señor Arroya glanced at the long-legged creature sitting opposite him. He was a fool to wager with her. If Sirena Córdez said she would dock in London in two weeks, then two weeks it would be.

  The ride to the Villa Valdez was short. “What do you think of Cádiz, Frau Holtz?” Sirena questioned. “You’ve been so silent since leaving Tio Esteban’s office. Perhaps you don’t look forward to another trip, is that it?”

  “Ach! My poor feet are not even accustomed to the feel of land and already you talk of more weeks on water. Also, I am not so impressed with your new ship as you are, Mevrouw.”

  “What troubles you, Frau? Don’t you think the Sea Spirit gorgeous?” Sirena smiled indulgently at the elderly housekeeper, knowing that the woman would never find beauty in a ship. Now a house, that was different!