Captive Embraces (34 page)

At first, Regan didn't seem to comprehend the message in Stephan's words, then it hit him with full force. His face whitened, a terrible, ghastly hue. His lips compressed and the blue of his eyes became like chips of granite. While everyone gathered about Sirena and Stephan, she lost sight of Regan but could still feel his eyes on her and was aware of the hatred emanating from him.

The long day went on and on; Sirena was oblivious to what was going on around her. The wineglass in her hand always seemed empty and at every opportunity she helped herself to another. Regan kept his distance, dancing with Camilla or joining intimate little groups for conversation. Stephan was the most gracious of hosts, seeing everyone's glass was filled and that each guest had access to the buffet table. Later, when she would think of this day, Sirena would see it as a whirl of activity and grotesque smiles. The details would be hazy and she would never remember what was said either to her or by her, but she would forever remember the misery.

 

The room was dark and still, yet Regan was strangely ill at ease within its confines. It was a small chamber and undeniably girlish in its decor. The furniture was light and feminine; the bed barely large enough to hold the both of them. If he stretched out, his feet would touch the footboard. He realized his error in not insisting they spend their wedding night in his house on Lime Street among his more comfortable belongings. But he had acceded to Camilla's preferences, deciding she longed to take her first step into womanhood surrounded by her childhood possessions.

The strains of music coming from below was distracting as were the raised voices of the departing guests. From behind the discreetly placed screen in one corner of the room, he could hear the rustle of taffeta and the occasional splash of water as Camilla readied herself for bed. Poor child, he thought, she must be terrified. He would be as considerate of her as possible. He would take his time, initiate her into lovemaking as gently as he could. It wouldn't be difficult, he decided. Camilla didn't exactly inspire a heated passion in him.

A shadow appeared on the wall and Regan turned to its source. Camilla stepped from behind the screen. Her hair was free and loose about her shoulders like a silky, golden mantle, falling almost to her waist. It was then he noticed her nightdress. Long and full, sleeves coming to her wrists and neckline nearly up to her ears. Christ! Another inch of fabric and she could pass for a nun!

In spite of himself a vision of Sirena's naked, tawny splendor came to him. He almost had to shake his head to free himself of the haunting memory.

Regan motioned to a place on the bed beside him and Camilla coyly stepped forward, keeping her eyes downcast.

Tenderly, he took her into his arms, kissing her lightly, aware of her fragile framework. Wordlessly, he worked the buttons at the throat of her gown and slipped his hand inside against her warm skin.

Taking her cue from Regan, Camilla shyly undid the row of buttons and allowed the nightdress to slip off her shoulders. And when she came again into his arms, flesh touched flesh and Regan was aware of a building response in his loins.

 

Downstairs, Stephan was bringing Sirena her wrap, placing it around her shoulders and tucking it about her chin. “You mustn't take cold, darling,” he whispered, leading her to the door. “The servants will take care of things here. We've had a long day and it's time we went home.”

Sirena looked up at Stephan and wondered what he was talking about. This was his home! Like a blast of freezing air, she realized that she now shared her home with Stephan, everything she had was Stephan's. He was her husband! The wine she had consumed still made her thinking fuzzy. Just before he led her outside to the waiting carriage, Sirena turned and looked up the stairs. Regan was up there. With Camilla! Her bottle-green eyes flashed dangerously as she thought of what they were doing.

She actually had her foot on the bottom step when Stephan pulled her away. “Where are you going?” he asked harshly, startling her.

Suddenly she realized she had intended to climb the stairs and search out the room where Regan lay with Camilla. In her mind's eye she imagined she could see Regan's broad, muscular back as he leaned over his wife. She could see the back of his head where his light, silvery hair curled at the nape. How often had she tangled those errant curls through her fingers? How familiar the bronze skin was to her.

She would kill him! She would climb those stairs and search him out, and take the life from him as he had done to her.

Slowly, she sunk to the floor, tears streaming down her face, shoulders shuddering violently. Ultimately, she would take her own life because there was no life without Regan.

Someone had grabbed her arm and was dragging her to her feet, “Stand up,” Stephan growled. “You're making a spectacle of yourself before the servants!” When she looked at him, his face was contorted into cruel lines. His lips curled in disgust. “I never knew you were a sot, Sirena. How did you manage to keep it hidden?” His tone was sarcastic and demeaning.

Sirena shrugged her arm out of his grasp. Head high, she walked out the door to the coach. She was silent during the short ride from Drury Lane to King Street. Stephan sat opposite her, glaring at her through the darkness.

Sirena's house was dark save for a few lights which Frau Holtz had left burning. While Stephan turned to lock the door behind them with a proprietary hand, she tripped up the stairs, heading for her room. Just as she was opening the door to her suite, Stephan came silently up behind her, his hand grazing the surface of her arm.

“Your room is next to mine,” Sirena said thickly. “I'm sure you'll find everything you need there.”

“I'll join you shortly.”

“Don't bother, I've a wicked headache. I need my rest. I'll see you in the morning.” She tried to make her voice casual, but her throat was choked with apprehension. From Stephan's surly attitude she doubted he would conform to her wish to be left alone. Tonight and every night, Sirena thought with panic. The very idea of sharing a bed with Stephan was abhorrent to her.

“You won't dispose of me so easily, Sirena,” he said bitterly. “You are
my
wife and this is now
my
house. I am lord here, and it is
my
wishes that will be considered.” Roughly, he pushed her into the room and slammed the door shut.

Sirena turned to him, her fingers curling into talons. He recognized the expression in her eyes. “I wouldn't do anything foolish, like crying out, Sirena. You forget, you are my wife and none of the servants will interfere with our marital . . . harmony!”

“Perhaps your servants, but not mine!” she hissed. “Frau Holtz and Jacobus would run to my defense!”

“And they would lose their positions before morning. Is that what you want, Sirena darling?” His voice was heavy with threat. “Now prepare yourself for bed, I'll be in presently.” With a last backward glance, Stephan walked through the connecting door between their rooms, leaving Sirena in a paralyzing dread.

If only she could think! Do something! How could she allow herself to be cowed by Stephan Langdon? Her head was buzzing loudly, her arms were too heavy to lift and her eyelids felt as though they were lined with gravel. Her mouth was dry and tasted sour. Her gaze fell on a silver tray bearing a decanter of brandy and two glasses. Hands shaking, she poured out two fingers of the amber liquid and sat down near her dressing table. Moments later, when Stephan returned, that was where he found her, asleep in her chair, the last drops of brandy spilling from the glass and down her skirt.

His hand closed fiercely on her arm and dragged her from the chair, flinging her to the floor, bringing her back to awareness. “Why aren't you ready for bed?” he growled.

Gasping for breath, Sirena looked up at him from the floor, her foggy vision and dulled senses rebelling against this assault.

“Get up, you wench! Take off those clothes!” Viciously, his fingers found the delicate fabric near her throat and tore it asunder. Staggering from the impact of his attack, Sirena stumbled backward. “Look at you! Staggering drunk! What do you think my friends will say when they discuss your disgusting behavior at my daughter's wedding? They'll laugh and think me a fool for taking a lush for a wife!”

Her hand lashed out and found his face, leaving a trailing imprint across his cheek. “Shut up, Stephan. You're as hysterical as a fishwife.” Her tone was cold and deadly, causing Stephan to look at her in astonishment. “I don't have to explain my actions to you or anyone else! Now, get out of here and leave me alone. I'd sooner sleep in a nest of vipers than share a bed with you.”

Stephan's eyes blazed, blood rushing to the surface of his face. As quick as thought, his hand flew out, knocking her on the jaw, sending her reeling across the room.

Then he was upon her, tearing away her garments, pinning her beneath his surprisingly strong body, flailing her, hitting, hurting, pulling her to the bed.

Sirena retaliated, punishing him with her fists, yanking at his hair, kicking out with her legs. But her movements were slow, hampered by the amount of wine she had consumed. She felt her energy ebb, knowing she was leaving herself victim to his violence.

And when he had divested her of the last shreds of her attire and her body was revealed to his eyes and his cloying touch, she heard a strange, alien sound floating to her ears. It was remote and distant, and it was with horror and defeat that she realized it was the sound of her own whimpering as Stephan forced himself between her thighs and pummeled her resisting flesh with the staff of his manhood.

Her resistance yielded to subjugation as she lay beneath him, repressing her instincts to fight him, overthrowing her defiance against his victory to become subservient and submissive. She hoped he would finish and be done with her, leaving her in isolation to lick her wounds like the wounded animal she was.

 

Regan turned on his side, away from the sleeping Camilla. His bride was a lovely girl and would have made any man look forward to the prospect of having her warm his bed each night. Any man who had never slept beside Sirena, he thought with chagrin. Camilla could never compete with the warm-skinned, fiery-natured Sirena. Camilla was a delight, a confection, with her bright hair and pink skin, but she definitely bored him. It was Sirena with her cloud of dark hair and wet luscious lips he wanted. He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of Sirena sharing Stephan's bed. The bitch! She had contrived to marry Stephan to prevent him from using the Langdon money to secure his business. Sirena always managed to get the upper hand somehow, regardless of what it cost her.

Unexpectedly, Regan felt the urge to turn over and grab Camilla by her shoulders and shake her till her eyes fell out of her head. She had known Stephan and Sirena were getting married that morning! She knew it and she hadn't told him! For once in her life Camilla had kept a secret, and it had to be the worse luck for him. If only she had told him about Stephan's wedding plans, he would have walked away from his marriage to Camilla, laughing his head off. For once he would have beaten Sirena at her own game! Would have, he thought sourly as Camilla's hand crawled over his shoulder and came to rest against his chest. He looked down at her hands and thought, There's no fool like an old fool! he snorted. “And she wasn't even a virgin.”

“Mevrouw, Mevrouw, come quick! Jacobus is having trouble keeping them out!” Frau Holtz cried hysterically. “Quick, before they break down the door!”

“Before who breaks down the door?” Sirena asked, raising her head from the pillows and then lowering it again as a surge of pain shot through her temples. “Please, Frau Holtz, lower your voice. Ooh, my head!”

“Mevrouw, come instantly, there is a line of creditors in the street. Each is waving a sheaf of bills for which they demand payment. Your husband's bills!” the housekeeper said sharply.

Sirena's sleepy eyes were suddenly wide and alert, the effects of wine and brandy forgotten. “There must be a mistake! Where is Stephan?” she asked, throwing her long lissome legs over the side of the bed.

“He left after he breakfasted. He said something about going to see a boy's school and he wouldn't return until the dinner hour. Hurry, Mevrouw, or they'll kill Jacobus to get into the house!”

“There must be some mistake!” Sirena exclaimed, again as she donned a demure dressing gown. Each time she moved, her muscles ached and she noticed several bruises on her arms. Adjusting the sleeves of her dressing gown so Frau Holtz's quick eye wouldn't notice, she pulled a brush through her long, dark hair, gathering it into a knot at the back of her head. She had some difficulty with the pins and the housekeeper came to her aid. “Frau Holtz, send one of the footmen for Tyler. Have him come here immediately.”

The old housekeeper's all-encompassing eyes had already scanned the bedroom and settled on the torn and shredded gown Sirena had worn the day before. Picking it up, she examined the wide rents in the fabric and then her gaze flew to Sirena.
“Vish!”
she snorted in disgust. “The man is a beast! How badly did he hurt you?” she demanded.

“Don't worry about me, Frau Holtz. Just be assured it will never happen again.”

“Ja,”
the Frau grumbled, “and just how do you think to accomplish that? He is your husband.”

Sirena didn't want to discuss it. It was painful enough to bear this humiliation without having it talked about. “Please, Frau, send someone for Tyler.”

After Frau Holtz had left her alone, Sirena inspected the damage done to her person. Her arms bore faint black-and-blue marks which would deepen in color as the day progressed. Her legs ached, the muscles of her inner thighs twinged each time she took a step.

Stephan had used her roughly and she would never forgive him for it! Had she had him within her sights at this moment, she would gladly run him through. And now these bill collectors.

She splashed water on her face and scrubbed her teeth with the rough side of the washcloth. She didn't ever remember feeling so terrible. The huge quantity of liquor combined with Stephan's treatment had left her sick and sore. No time to think of that at the moment; she dressed hurriedly, donning a day dress of light green with a paler lace edging. Stuffing her feet into slippers, she took a moment to compose herself before facing the growing crowd downstairs. Even from her room which was at the far side of the house, she could hear angry male voices.

Out in the hall, little Wren ran to Sirena and buried her face against her, a wild, frightened look in the child's eyes. “There now, Wren. There's nothing to be frightened of Go back to your room and Frau Holtz will bring up a nice breakfast for you.” In spite of her own apprehensions, Sirena managed to quiet the scared girl before leaving Wren in her room.

Bustling down the stairs, Sirena encountered an ashen-faced Jacobus. “Show the gentlemen into the library, one at a time, and we shall see what this is all about. Don't look so concerned, Jacobus, I'm certain it is a misunderstanding. When Sir Sinclair arrives, show him in to me right away.”

Sirena had no sooner positioned herself behind the desk when the first creditor was admitted. She listened patiently, then slipped into fury as she was presented with a lengthy list of debts.

“Sir Langdon assured us they would be paid immediately upon your marriage.”

Swiftly, she calculated the staggering amount and then leaned back in the chair. “How long have you extended credit to Sir Langdon?”

“It seems like forever, Lady Langdon,” the merchant said sourly. “In truth, these bills are two years in arrears. Occasionally, when the dice are in the lordship's favor, he pays a small amount on the account.”

Puzzled, she pressed her slender fingers to her throbbing temples. “Why was such extended credit allowed?”

The merchant shrugged. “It is usual to extend credit to the nobility. Considering your husband's affiliation with Baron Sinclair, every courtesy was extended him. Neither I, nor the others who are waiting to see you, had any desire to lose the Baron's patronage and, from time to time, the good lord would be generous and pay a grand portion of the account, such as he did last Christmas.”

“I think I understand. I wonder if I might ask you to be patient for a short while longer. My solicitor is on his way here and the matter will be settled to your satisfaction. You have my word on it. If it wouldn't trouble you, would you convey this message to the others waiting outside?”

Sirena went into the kitchen where Frau Holtz was preparing a breakfast tray. Her mind was whirling. And she had thought Regan a bastard! Duped! Sirena Córdez van der Rhys had been duped! She had married a debt-ridden old man. Penniless! What a fool she had been. Regan. If she had married an impoverished nobleman, then Camilla was also without a farthing to her name. She threw her head back and laughed as she pictured an identical gathering of creditors lining Drury Lane outside Regan and Camilla's cozy love nest. They had both been fools, especially herself! There had been no reason to rush into marriage with Stephan to insure that Regan didn't avail himself of the Langdon fortune. Fortune! A fortune in bills!

Standing near the stove, drinking her morning coffee, Sirena could not force herself to meet Frau Holtz's eyes. “Would you care for more coffee, Mev . . . Lady Langdon?” the woman asked. Only the day before yesterday Stephan had asked why the housekeeper used the Dutch form of address. He made it clear he did not approve and cautioned that as soon as the wedding took place Frau Holtz was to use Sirena's correct title.

“No, thank you, Frau. Has Wren had her breakfast yet?” Sirena's eyes were tragic and Frau Holtz wondered what had transpired behind the closed bedroom door last night after she heard Sirena and Stephan return home.

“Nein,
I bring it now. Poor
Liebchen,
terrified out of her wits. And you were going to see to it that she never had reason to be frightened again! Harmph!”

“Sirena! Sirena!” Tyler's anxious voice called her from the front of the house. Rushing through the door, she nearly knocked him over. All she needed to see was the look on his face and she knew it was all true.

“Why didn't you tell me!” she demanded, color suffusing her face.

“I tried to warn you, Sirena. Look, there's no need to go into that now. The first thing you must do is to settle these accounts and plan from there. Come, let's take care of this immediately.”

By the noon hour all the creditors had been paid in full. They left the library, smiles on their faces, exchanging knowing winks over the fact that Sir Langdon had gotten better than he deserved when he married the beautiful Spaniard.

After they had departed, Sirena allowed herself to relax. An expression of rage was evident in her eyes and in the hard, firm line of her jaw.

“How could you allow me to marry Stephan knowing his circumstances?” she demanded of Tyler.

“I tried, Sirena; I really did. You would have no part of what I was trying to tell you. And if I had come right out and proved to you that Stephan was living on credit, would it have made any difference?”

“Yes! You're damn right it would have made a difference. I wouldn't have married him. As it was, I only married him to stop Regan from getting his hands on the Langdon money! If I'd known there wasn't any, I would have warned Regan and the both of us could have avoided a terrible mistake.” She shot her words out at him, her voice seething.

“Would you have? I don't think so, Sirena.” Tyler's voice was calm, unruffled, and Sirena could have slapped him.

“What do you mean? Of course, I would have told him!” She advanced on Tyler. He saw in her the reason she had been named Sea Siren and understood the temper which enabled her to slay men. Sirena lifted her arm to strike him, strike anyone, anything.

He grasped her arm and forced her into a chair. “Listen to me: I don't believe a word you're saying and, if you stop to think on it, you'll realize I'm right. You wouldn't have told Regan! You would have let him marry Camilla and tie himself to her because you know he doesn't love her. Possibly, you even know he could
never
love her. You'd never take the chance he would find someone he could love! Camilla is a nice, safe little girl and no one knows better than you that she could never take your place as Regan's wife. No, Sirena, you wouldn't have told Regan under any circumstances. And as for marrying Stephan, what better way to insure your remaining, in some way, connected with Regan? You would have married Stephan if he'd been a pox-ridden, one-legged beggar. You went into this marriage with your eyes wide open and you can't place the blame on my head.”

Sirena lowered her head in dejection. God help her, Tyler was right. She would have paid any price to insure further relations with Regan. She had to be a part of his life, even if it meant she played the role of his stepmother-in-law.

“I told you English law put the female at a distinct disadvantage. As much as I hate to admit it, you are at your husband's mercy. From the moment you uttered your vows, you became his chattel. I warned you and you thought you could outsmart him. Why else do you think I hurried to place the largest bulk of your inheritance into trusts? It was to keep Stephan's greedy hands off it. You are responsible for his debts and, right now, he is probably sweeping the city running up bills. That is if he isn't on that gambling ship frittering away your money. There is nothing you can do about it.”

“You could have given me something to go on, Tyler. How could you have let this happen to me?” Sirena shouted angrily. “You betrayed me, Tyler, in spite of everything you say, and I mean to find out why!”

“I did try to warn you. You just said to take care of the disposal of your money. If it's any consolation to you, you did make the wise move when you had most of your holdings transferred to Caleb and your housekeeper and, upon your death, to van der Rhys. Stephan cannot touch those.”

“What will happen now?” Sirena asked pathetically. “I hate him, Tyler. I hate him, and we've only been married twenty-four hours. The man is a beast!”

Tyler shrugged, pity welling up in his breast. Somehow, he couldn't tell her what fate the first Lady Langdon met He didn't think she could bear it at this moment.

Sirena lifted her head and looked into Tyler's face. “You know something,” she hissed. “What is it? Tell me, you must!”

“I can only tell you what happened to Camilla's mother.”

“Tell me! Tyler, please, I must know!”

“I don't want to frighten you unnecessarily. It is only conjecture.”

“If you won't tell me, I'll go to your mother, the Baroness, and inform her of the way her son betrayed me.”

“Save your threats, Sirena. I'll tell you so perhaps you can prepare yourself somehow. Remember, I said it was only conjecture.” Tyler's voice was firm and deep.

In the last few moments he had grown in Sirena's esteem. This was a new side to Tyler. It was a forceful character which she could respect. She admitted to herself that all he said about her was true, and he wouldn't be cowed by her threats to go to the Baroness. Now, when he spoke, she listened.

“Stephan Langdon is a very determined man. A man who wears two faces. There are those in my family who call him a cold and dangerous man. When Stephan married my Aunt Flora, his finances bordered on poverty. His own father was afflicted with the gambling vice and what was not lost on the tables he frittered away on get-rich-quick schemes which, I'm sorry to say, were not always on the white side of the law. I've heard she was near out of her mind for loving him, and, against her family's advice, she married him. Since she was of a gentle and sensitive nature, my grandfather feared for her health. It was the only reason he was induced to give his blessing to the marriage. In the end, Stephan had worked his way through my aunt's inheritance as well as Camilla's.”

“It's not a pretty story,” Sirena whispered.

“There's more,” Tyler said sadly. “In the end, Aunt Flora could not bear the disgrace she felt she had brought down on the family. She became . . . ill. She spent her last days at Bedlam.”

“Bedlam!” Sirena was shocked. She had heard of the infamous institution for the insane.

“I don't know if Aunt Flora actually lost her mind or if Stephan contrived to have her committed there. In England all that is necessary is for the husband to swear she is insane, bribe a physician and affix his signature to a document. She died there, Sirena.”

“Good God! If what you say is true, Stephan is demented!”

“I believe so, Sirena. If you cross him, even once, you may find yourself in the same position. Especially when he learns he was outsmarted when you placed the bulk of your holdings into trusts.”

“And Camilla, does she know all this?” Sirena asked, wondering how the girl could be so obviously devoted to a father who had had a hand in destroying her mother.