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  Caleb kept his silence but his eyes accused, judged, and found his father guilty. Without another glance in Regan’s direction, he turned and walked from the room.

  “Caleb, come back here,” Regan shouted. “That part of our life is over! Finished! We have to make a new beginning here!” His eyes searched the long corridor, willing Caleb to return. He went back into the front parlor and sat down heavily, his heart hammering in his chest. Head reeling, he smacked one large, bronze fist into the other. Caleb was gone, just as Mikel was gone. Just as Sirena was gone.

  Caleb would never forgive him, never come back to him. The same woman who had returned Caleb to him was taking his son away. What he had now was a divorce from a woman he loved dearly, and a young woman of excellent breeding who was demanding marriage in exchange for her wealth and virtue. God! What had he done?

  His broad, muscular shoulders slumped as he looked toward the doorway where Caleb had taken his exit. Something churned in the pit of his stomach. Was this what Sirena had felt when he left her? Was this the damnable emptiness she lived with, this total loss?

  Chapter Three

  The Rana berthed in Cádiz, Spain, nine weeks after leaving Batavia. The voyage, usually taking anywhere from twelve weeks to five months, had been speedy owing to excellent weather and a good wind. Since reaching the northern limits of the African continent, Sirena had discontinued wearing her familiar sea garb. Wisely, she realized as they reached the more routinely traveled shipping lanes, her abbreviated costume of slashed short breeches and a blouse tied snugly beneath her full breasts would raise questioning eyes. Worse yet, it was possible her reputation as the Sea Siren might have preceded her arrival into the more civilized reaches of the world and being recognized would make her an easy mark for some adventure-seeking sailors wishing to gain the reputation of having conquered the infamous female pirate.

  Spain’s ancient seaport was buzzing with activity. Longshoremen were loading and unloading cargo and the horizon was impeded by a forest of ship’s masts.

  As Sirena leaned over the quarterdeck rail drinking in the familiar sights about her, a deep anxiety in the pit of her innards began to creep insidiously around her spine. Throughout the voyage, she had convinced herself beyond doubt that she had left Batavia because of Regan’s manipulations and trickery. He couldn’t have gone down with his ship! This was just his way of luring her off Java.

  Yet, throughout the voyage, she had found it more and more difficult to discount the possibility that she might be wrong. Sirena bit into her lower lip, her green eyes narrowed against the fear which kept bobbing to the surface like the cork on the end of a fisherman’s line. Regardless of Regan’s expertise, regardless of anything, she knew that the sea was a powerful mistress and oftentimes did win the battle she waged with the sailing vessels that dared to cross her domain!

  Sirena had been wrestling with this thought ever since Captain Dykstra had brought her the news, even though she had been careful not to admit it to herself. But when they had sighted the tall cliffs of Gibraltar, she would find herself more and more often whispering silent words of prayer that Regan would be found safe and sound. She loved him, God, how she loved him! Please God, let him be well!

  Sirena was broken from her pathetic prayers by a harsh cry from the atracar obreros, those longshoremen who made their livelihood by unloading the wealth of the world from ship’s holds.

  “Hey, Capitán,” one burly, sweat-beaded obrero called to Jan, assuming he was the Captain of the Rana, “what you carry in your hold? Feathers? You ride high on the water.”

  “No cargo, amigo,” Jan answered. “You’ll find no work here!”

  “Where you coming from, Capitán?”

  “Java, the East Indies.”

  “And no cargo?” The burly dock worker shook his head incredulously. He turned to his small contingent of men and tapped a finger to his temple.

  Sirena laughed. Jan turned and looked at her, his face flushed with color. “They think you’re loco, Jan. Who ever heard of traveling halfway around the world without a cargo to make the journey worthwhile?”

  “Perhaps I should have referred him to you, Capitana,” Jan teased. “If he learned that a woman captains this ship, he would forgive the stupidity of sailing without cargo and merely think me crazy for sailing under a female.”

  “A hungry woman!” Sirena laughed. “I wonder if Jacobus has any of those biscuits and hot coffee left. Come, Jan. I’ll need you to run interference for me if Jacobus has already cleaned his galley and stowed away the larder.”

  Over old Jacobus’ protests, Sirena and Jan leaned their elbows on the galley table and sipped at their steaming mugs of coffee. “Tell me, Capitana, how long has it been since you were last in Cádiz?”

  “Tio Juan, my sister Isabella and I sailed from Cádiz just before we. arrived in the Indies. Like all old cities, it hasn’t changed from what I could see of it from the quarterdeck.”

  “Then you are familiar with the city?”

  “Certainly,” Sirena answered. “A grand place it is, too. I always loved it when I was a child. As a matter of fact, my family still owns a magnificent casa not far from the dock area. It sits up on a hill and from there it is possible to see the ships in port. It belonged to Tio Juan, but now it is mine.” Sirena’s eyes turned murky with sorrow. “How I loved to visit my uncle when I was a child, Jan. Isabella and I would race up and down the cobblestoned courtyard and our dueña, Magdelena, would throw up her hands and screech that we were children of the devil. Then, Isabella and I would go somewhere and hide and giggle till our sides hurt. Tio Juan would listen to our dueña’s complaints about our incorrigible behavior and pretend to be angry with us. But all the time he was scolding us for Señora Magdelena’s benefit, we could see his eyes twinkling and a barely concealed smile hiding behind his carefully trimmed mustache.”

  “You loved your Tio Juan very much, Capitana. It is there to be seen in your eyes.”

  “Yes, Jan. Both Isabella and myself cherished him very much. But it was my father who was my hero. He was tall and dashing and always carefully groomed. I thought he was the most magnificent person ever put on earth. He was greatly respected by all and feared by most. But for my sister and me he was the kindest, most loving man. His arms were always open for us to run to and he would swing us up, high above his head. And he loved us to a fault.”

  “And it was from him you learned the ways of the sea?”

  “Yes. Isabella and I were very different in nature.” Sirena’s voice became husky with emotion.

  “If it pains you to speak of her, Capitana, I will understand.”

  “No, Jan. It has been so long since I have spoken of Isabella, though she is never very far from my thoughts. When we became of age, Isabella and I were sent to the convent school. She was the model of decorum while I... I was...”

  Jan smiled. “I can imagine. I can see where the good nuns had their hands full with you.”

  “How right you are,” Sirena laughed, and picked up her mug for another swallow of coffee. “In fact, it reached a point where my father was implored to take me out of the school. Isabella remained behind with the nuns and I traveled the world aboard my father’s ships. It was from him I learned to sail the seas. Tutors were brought aboard to teach me, and my father insisted that I excel in my studies. While he pampered me in almost every way thinkable, he was, nevertheless, a taskmaster. If I did poorly with my studies, I was forbidden my turn at the wheel or my lesson in fencing. These things I savored, so it wasn’t often I gave my tutors any trouble. Summers, Isabella would travel with us. It was she who tried to undo my hellion ways by showing me the manners of a lady. Poor Isabella, how often I would hear her say that I was giving her gray hair at the tender age of twelve! You see, Jan, I was surrounded by gentle, loving people and my early years were very happy.”

  “Aye, I can see that. Was it on a voyage with your father that you came to the Indies?”

  “No.” Sirena’s
eyes became overcast again. “If my father were sailing this ship, the fates wouldn’t have turned against us as they did. Tio Juan was a businessman and knew very little about commanding a crew. My father had already died. It was due to a drunken, stupid captain that the Rana was attacked by pirates and the lives of Tio Juan and Isabella were lost.” Sirena’s last words were whispered, charged with sadness. She would never forget what had happened to them on that cursed day. A happenstance that had changed her life forever.

  Frau Holtz burst into the galley. “Mevrouw, if you are to go ashore, it would be best if you began to dress. You can’t go about the city dressed in the gown you are wearing, it is not befitting someone of your station.”

  Sirena glanced down at the drab, light woolen gown she had hastily donned over her sea costume before they sailed into port. “Yes, I’m coming, Frau Holtz. I was just reminiscing with Jan.” Placing her mug down on the rough-hewn table, Sirena stood up resignedly. “While I am changing, Jan, take a walk on the dock and find out what you can about Regan’s ship. I won’t leave the Rana until you report back.”

  As Sirena pushed her head through the delicate lace camisole which covered her stays, Frau Holtz went about getting her shoes and gossamer stockings. “Do you think Jan will learn anything about the Mynheer’s whereabouts?” the housekeeper asked. Sirena noted that the woman was very careful to omit the very real likelihood that Regan might have gone down with his ship.

  “Fairly certain. I told Jan to check in with the harbormaster. Most assuredly, if anyone knows the circumstances surrounding Regan’s ship, that official does. I imagine it’s only a matter of time now and I’ll come face to face with my husband.” Sirena tried to make her voice as casual as possible but a glimmer of her anxiety came through.

  “Ja, most certainly, the harbor master will know,” the Frau agreed. “Am I to believe you no longer think the Mynheer has tricked you, Mevrouw?”

  “Yes. After thinking many hard hours on it, Regan would never tempt the fates by pretending to have lost the Lady at sea. But I’m certain Regan is safe and sound. He’s much too expert a seaman to become a casualty at sea. Besides, how many times he’s boasted that he has more lives than a cat.”

  “Ja,” Frau Holtz grumbled. Her heavy brows came together in a look of consternation. Even cats only had nine lives and Regan’s colorful and adventurous past would seem to suggest that he already had outdone that number.

  Three days later neither Sirena nor her crew had found any information about Regan. It was only known that the Spanish Lady had gone down off the coast of Spain as she traveled toward Cádiz.

  Each time Sirena had gone in search of details concerning Regan she had started out in high spirits, certain of learning his whereabouts. Each evening she had come back to the Rana more defeated than the day past. Her crew searched earnestly for word of Regan van der Rhys, but they too returned to the ship without news.

  Sirena’s optimism began to flag. She had tried in vain to locate Señor Arroya, Tio Esteban, the Córdez family business manager. She knew without a doubt that if Regan had come into Cádiz, he would have seen Esteban Arroya concerning the takeover of the Córdez fortunes. But Tio Esteban was somewhere in Salamanca and was not expected to return for several months.

  At first Sirena considered going to Salamanca in search of Tio Esteban, but the possibility of missing him somewhere along the way was deterring. She had to be doing something, anything! Besides, no one in his offices could give her assurance that he had not traveled on to Italy to visit with his daughter who had married a banker from Milan. The prospect of sitting in Cádiz awaiting her uncle’s arrival grated on Sirena and all indications pointed to Regan having gone under with his ship.

  Hour by hour Sirena puzzled the problem, becoming more depressed and fearful. Regan! Regan! Her heart cried. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. “Please, God,” she whispered, tears welling behind her lids and gathering on her thick lashes. “Please, God. Give Regan his life, don’t let him be dead. Please, God, please. I was such a fool, I should have listened to him, I should have left Java with him. Forgive me for putting my grief for my dead baby above the love I have for my husband. Above You, God. We’ve all lost so much, suffered so much. Me, Regan, Caleb. Please, don’t let me lose the only love in my life. Please, God, please!”

  On into the night Sirena prayed, and it was morning when Frau Holtz found her slumped beside her narrow bunk, tearstained face at last peaceful in sleep, her sister Isabella’s rosary clutched tightly in her fist.

  Sirena refused to eat her breakfast as well as her lunch. She stayed secluded in her cabin, thoughts of Regan whirling through her head. She remembered how on their last night together, they had battled each trying to impose their will on the other. She shed bitter tears when she recalled how long she had pushed Regan from her. How many nights she had lain in her solitary bed castigating him over and over in her mind, refusing to regard his need for her, refusing to admit that she needed him. And when at last they had found one another again, it had been like a sip of cool water after an interminable dry trek on the desert. They had sipped and then drank deeply, at the well of love and tenderness they were each capable of giving. And after their loving they had lain in each other’s arms, at last finding peace.

  And now this torment. If only she knew for certain whether Regan lived, or had died at sea. She couldn’t go on this way. This not knowing was killing her as surely as an arrow through the heart. And there was no one, nobody to whom she could go! She had rejected not just Regan, but Caleb as well. How unfair she had been, how selfish! Caleb was more than a son to her. He had been her friend, her little brother, and no son of her own flesh could ever take his place in her heart. Yet she had actually hated the fact that it was Caleb who lived and Mikel who had died.

  Caleb! As if seeing the light for the first time, Sirena cried aloud, “Caleb! Regan would have made contact with him! Frau Holtz! Jacobus! Jan!” she called excitedly, flinging open the narrow door of her cabin. “Make ready to sail! To Holland!”

  Chapter Four

  “Mynheer van der Rhys,” the housemaster said imperiously, “I believe you were informed a lady awaits you in the visitor’s room. You will not ignore me as you did our young dormitory messenger,” the elderly scholar warned sternly. “A gentleman never keeps a lady waiting. Be on your way, now, before she thinks you have a sorry lack of manners.”

  Caleb frowned. “I have no wish to see anybody.” Since Regan’s visit weeks ago, Caleb had kept himself apart from the young society which he had learned to enjoy. He supposed his female visitor was still another of his friends’ sisters come to flirt with him and break the heavy black mood that engulfed him.

  “Did I hear you correctly, young man? Ah, I see I did. Of course, I can’t force you to see her, but it is especially awkward since the woman says she has traveled all the way from Java to see you.”

  Caleb’s head jerked upright, his dark eyes alight in wonder. “Did you say Java, sir?” Not waiting for an answer, he took off at a dead run for the parlor.

  “Sirena!” he shouted boisterously. “Is it really you?” He wrapped her in his strong arms and swept her off the floor. “I was leaving as soon as the term was over to come back to Java. The days drag on and on and at times I thought I’d never see you again. You look beautiful. How did you get here? Never mind, I know. The Rana!” Abruptly, his exuberance faded and he put her a little distance from him. “You heard,” he said softly, “that’s why you’ve come. You’ve had word from Father.”

  “Regan! You know where he is?”

  Caleb nodded. Sirena’s joy was so full, so ebullient she threw her slender arms about his neck and hugged him fiercely. “Oh, Caleb, I’m so happy to see you. And Regan, where is he? God, I can’t wait to see him again. To tell him it was all my fault, the doings of a foolish woman who loves him. Is he well, where is he?” she asked anxiously.

  “Father is in England.” What was he going to do? How was he going to tel
l her? He hadn’t seen her this happy in ages. He couldn’t allow her to go to Britain and find Regan without knowing. He must tell her.

  Sirena clung to Caleb, her beautiful face alight and happy. “I’m so happy to see you. Now we can be a family again. I’m sorry it took me so long to get over ... never mind. That’s all behind us now. Just think, Caleb, if I take the Rana I can see Regan in a matter of days. Won’t he be surprised? I can barely wait to see the expression on his face. I know that he’s lost patience with me, but I told him I would be able to leave Java as soon as I had settled things in my own mind. Do you know, Caleb, I was ready to depart with him but his ship had already sailed? I was a fool, but I’ll make it up to him. I swear I will. And to you, Caleb,” Sirena babbled, not noticing the anguish in Caleb’s eyes.

  “Tell me, little brother, have you missed me?” Again, she didn’t wait for a reply. “You’re so grown. You’re an adult!” she said, her voice colored with amazement. “I always knew you’d make a fine man, I just didn’t realize it would be so soon. Frau Holtz is with me, what do you think of that? It was no small feat, I can assure you,” she laughed. For the first time, she noticed Caleb’s silence. “I’m sorry. Just listen to me. I haven’t given you a chance to say a word. Sit down and we’ll talk. It’s just that I’m so excited,” she said, hugging him again. “Tell me about school and how you’re doing. Tell me everything, don’t leave a thing out.”

  “You didn’t receive my letter, did you, Sirena?” Caleb said, licking his dry lips, his dark eyes tormented as he looked at Sirena.

  “Letter? No, I must have left Java before it arrived. No matter. I’m here and you can tell me in person.”

  Caleb began hesitantly. “I hate school. I hate these shoes and I hate Holland,” he said calmly, gathering steam as he spoke the words. “I hate the interminable rain, I hate books! I hate Latin! I hate everything! I Hate My Father!”