Chapter Two
The hour was late, the night dark and silent as the hackney carrying Sirena and Regan van der Rhys made its way through the winding, narrow streets devoid of people and noise. As dark and silent as my thoughts, Sirena mused as she peered through the dirty panes of the carriage. The hack was taking the route from the docks to Tyler Sinclair’s house, the same route she had taken with Frau Holtz nearly nine years ago when she had come in search of Regan. Bitter memories stained the joy at seeing Wren again. Whenever she thought about the time she had been forced to live in England, she knew a hatred almost as strong as that which she still harbored for the memory of Stephan Langdon. Pressing her shoulder securely on Regan’s as he rolled against her in sleep, she felt a small knot of something akin to fear weave its way around her stomach. How did Regan feel about returning to England? Returning not only to England, but to the house of his former wife. What would the flowerlike Camilla be like now that she was married to Tyler? By now, with the lapse of time, childlike Camilla would be a woman fully grown, complete with a woman’s wiles. Would she tease and flirt with Regan, and what would be Regan’s reaction? Sirena sighed. She wouldn’t find out this evening, that was for certain. Dawn would soon be approaching. The Sinclair household would be asleep and unprepared for guests. Surely Tyler wouldn’t mind that she and Regan were arriving a week ahead of schedule. Nothing annoyed Tyler.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she recalled their days in Newgate Prison. In truth, that experience was probably the only thing that had ever annoyed good old Tyler. And if the truth were told, he had probably enjoyed every minute of it.
Sirena sighed again, wearily. That had been so long ago. Another time, another life. Unconsciously, she reached out to touch Regan, to reassure herself that he was still there. How wonderful he felt, so hard and firm. And how vulnerable he looked in sleep. Her bottle-green eyes lighted up momentarily as she realized that Regan was not in the least vulnerable. Well, perhaps in one area, where Wren was concerned. How eager he was to see the girl, to wrap her in his arms and make the sounds all fathers make when they look at their beloved daughters. Even though Regan and Sirena had adopted Wren, they couldn’t have loved her more if she had truly been theirs. Was this because they had produced four strapping boys who one day would be like Regan and Caleb? Sirena often wished she had given Regan a daughter of his own. No matter, Wren was their daughter, and that was enough. She carried the van der Rhys name, and Sirena was her mother and Regan was her father. And little Wren had five brothers who loved her dearly. Especially Caleb.
The hackney came to an abrupt halt and Regan was jostled from his comfortable position against her shoulder. “Good God, Sirena, are we finally here?”
Sirena patted his arm. “Now, Regan, remember your promise to me. You won’t demand that Wren be awakened. Morning is soon enough. As a matter of fact, it would be wise to insist that neither Camilla nor Tyler be awakened. Your promise, Regan.”
Regan grinned. “I must have been drunk when I agreed to such a promise, sweetheart.”
“Not drunk, darling, just in a rather compromising position.”
“One of these days I’ll manage to be one step ahead of you, Sea Witch,” he said fondly.
“I miss the children and I want to return to Java as quickly as possible. That was part of the promise.”
“You’re jealous of Camilla. I’ve felt it ever since we approached English waters,” Regan teased.
“You’re a bull, Regan, and I’m not jealous. If she makes one false move in your direction, it’s your eyes I’ll scratch out!”
Regan shuddered. She would do it, too. She might be the mother of four strapping boys and the stepmother of two other children, but she could best him in any way she chose and he knew it, not that he would ever admit it to her. Even now, after all these years, she was still as slim and fast as she had been when he first met her. Little did she know that he was aware that she still practiced daily with her rapier. One day he had by chance overheard her telling Frau Holtz that it was the only way to keep fit. As usual, she was right, he grimaced as his hands found their way to his midsection. Too much good food and rum would ruin the best of men. Not that he overindulged, but it was so easy to throw caution to the winds when a man was happy and contented. Regan was more happy and contented than he had ever been in his life, and now that Wren would be going back to Java with them, his cup would run over. The only thing missing was Caleb. If Cal would only see fit to make his home with them in Java, he swore to all the Gods in Heaven that he would never sin again. What more could a man ask?
“Do try to be quiet, Regan. We don’t want to awaken the entire household.”
“My dear, I will walk on tiptoe, as though I were walking on eggs. You need to have no fear of my awakening your dear friend Tyler.”
“You’re baiting me, Regan. Morning is only a few hours away, and sleep is what you need.”
“If you’re trying to tell me I’m getting old and feeble, you can bite your tongue, young woman. I can still outshine that Sinclair, and well you know it. I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not looking forward to seeing either him or Camilla. I gave you my word that we would leave as soon as it was decently possible. I’ll keep my word. No noise, I’ll sleep in your arms, and you’ll wake me at the first early light. I want to see what manner of young lady our Wren has become.”
Giggling like two small children, Regan and Sirena followed an aging servant up the curving staircase.
“Reminds me of the time I spent three days in Clarice’s brothel.” Regan grinned as he pinched Sirena on the thigh.
“If you think I’m going to ask you to tell me about that little escapade, dear husband, you’re wrong. I’ll take it up with you tomorrow,” she said, her eyes glinting dangerously.
“A slip of the tongue, sweetheart. You know how boastful I am at times. It was Dykstra who spent three days there. I merely stopped by to see how business was doing.”
“You kept that—that—establishment in business all by yourself. Don’t blame Captain Dykstra,” Sirena hissed.
“Well, I do feel a certain responsibility for him. After all, I did take him there, and Clarice . . . what she did . . . actually . . . You’re right, we’ll discuss it tomorrow. Suddenly I feel so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“If I were you, I’d sleep with them open the rest of the night,” Sirena warned ominously.
The moment the door closed behind the servant, Regan gathered Sirena in his arms and kissed her passionately. God, how he loved her. He had baited her on purpose just to see her respond with anger. It was his way of proving to himself that she still loved him. He had to see her anger to know for certain that their love had not banked, that it could be rekindled in a moment with a few choice words. Right or wrong, he had to do it, and Sirena understood and played the game right along with him. God, how he loved her. Even more now than on the day he had married her for the second time.
Tyler Sinclair descended the stairs with the same worried expression on his face as he had worn when he had finally drifted off to sleep. He felt his stomach churn as the housekeeper told him that the van der Rhyses had arrived unexpectedly during the night and insisted that the Baron and the Baroness remain undisturbed.
“Is the Baroness ready for breakfast?” the housekeeper asked.
“The Baroness is feeling under the weather this morning. Have one of the maids bring her some mint tea and a sweet roll in about an hour. She will be down for luncheon with our guests.”
Good Lord, what am I going to say to Sirena? he wondered as he seated himself at the breakfast table. Perhaps he was worrying about nothing. Both of them might really like Malcolm Weatherly. No one likes Malcolm Weatherly except Wren, he answered himself. Camilla had said that Malcolm could pass muster in a dark room, but this was the bright light of day, and both Sirena and Regan were clear-eyed and as sharp as axes.
Tyler bit into a sweet roll and chewed with a vengeance. Two more rolls and two more cups of coffee laced with rum—or was it three cups of rum laced with coffee?—and he was ready to meet any and all challengers, providing they didn’t carry a rapier or a cutlass. Damn it, he was feeling the edges of drunkenness and it was still breakfast time. To be cut down in his prime! “Never mind the coffee, just give me the bottle,” he demanded of the cook.
“But, Baron Sinclair, your kippers are ready, and Cook prepared them especially for you.”
“Kip, kip, kip,” Tyler hiccuped drunkenly. “The child is nothing more than a little kipper, that’s what she is.”
“Do my eyes deceive me, or are you drunk?” Sirena’s melodious voice called out from the doorway. “Two hours past dawn and you’re in your cups.” Camilla must be up to some of her old tricks to make Tyler resort to spirits so early in the morning, Sirena mused. Tyler was no sot; at least he had never been one before. On the other hand, being married to Camilla should be reason enough to turn to drink. Hadn’t Regan tipped the bottle more than usual during his short-lived marriage to that fair petal of flowerhood? A wide smile broke across Sirena’s face as she patted a perspiring Tyler on his head. “I can forgive you anything, Tyler, since you’ve been so generous to give our Wren a home and take care of her.”
Tyler extended a shaking hand to grasp Regan’s and finally conceded failure when he couldn’t establish contact.
“You resemble a fish out of water, Sinclair,” Regan said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. No self-respecting man drank at dawn, or what passed for dawn in this damnable country. Camilla was undoubtedly leading Tyler a merry chase. Suddenly Regan grinned as the thought struck him that, but for the grace of God, he could be walking in Sinclair’s boots. Mercifully there was a God, and every day he thanked Him for his good fortune.
Tyler thought the van der Rhyses a striking pair. Regan looked as fit and agile as a man twenty years his junior. Only a slight salting of gray at the temples hinted that it was almost nine years since Tyler had last seen him. He noted happily that Sirena had been treated well by the passage of time. A vague aura of maturity about her belied the sparkle in her extraordinary green eyes, and she wore her hair in a more sedate style, rather than loose and flowing. But her figure was still trim and girlish. Tyler had a vision of Sirena as she had looked aboard her ship, her long, tawny legs revealed by tatter-edged breeches cut up to her curvaceous hips, the salt spray glistening on her skin, her dark hair free to blow in the wind. He knew that beneath her wide skirts and decorous manner still lived the beautiful Sea Siren.
“Tell me, Tyler, how is your business thriving?” Sirena asked.
Tyler flinched. Damn her, she knew something was troubling him, and she hadn’t changed a bit. She knew it had something to do with Wren; he could feel it in his bones and see it in her sea-green eyes. There was nothing for him to do but tell both of them the straight of it. With any luck, they would listen with open minds and hear him through. Mentally he squared his shoulders and stood up, his back to the seated couple. He fixed his gaze out the window, on a tree swaying in the early-morning breeze, and watched a sparrow take wing.
Sirena and Regan exchanged glances and waited patiently for him to speak.
“You were never one of my favorite people, van der Rhys,” Tyler began, “but you, Sirena, were always like a sister to me. I agreed to look out for Wren and act as her guardian while she was here at the academy. I’ve done the best I could, but you, Sirena, filled her head with so many tales of the Sea Siren and all that rubbish that there was little I could do when it came to things of that nature. She’s devious, something I found very hard to accept. Camilla tells me that all young girls are impressionable and devious; she calls it women’s wiles. What I’m trying to say to you is that Wren fancies she is in love with and wants to marry a man named Malcolm Weatherly. She plans to have him ask for her hand. The young man is a dandy, a fop of the worst sort.”
“What’s this tale you’re peddling, Sinclair?” Regan demanded, leaping from his chair. His intentions were clear to Sirena, who reached out for his arm.
“Regan, hear him out,” she pleaded.
“Thank you, Sirena,” Tyler said quietly, grateful for her interference. All signs of inebriation gone, he proceeded to tell them what he knew. “You see, I was unaware of this affair until very recently, and then I learned about it quite by accident From what I’ve been able to gather, Wren met this Weatherly while at the academy. She was shopping in town when she happened to make his acquaintance. She continued to see him without the knowledge of her teachers or the headmistress. This is what I meant about her being devious, or wily, if you prefer. Now that I have the straight of it, I can tell you the whole story. After the nightly bed check made by the dormitory housemother, Wren would slip out and meet Weatherly somewhere on the grounds. It seems that one night the headmistress couldn’t sleep and decided to go to the library for a book. It was there that she discovered the two lovers in what she termed a ‘shocking embrace.’ The headmistress then questioned Wren, who had the good sense to tell the truth. In turn, the matter was brought to my attention with the request to remove Wren from her classes. She came here with a friend of hers, Sara Stoneham, who was a party to the affair. Sara would let Wren back into the dormitory at night after the lovers’ tryst. Her parents are due to arrive in London within the next few days to take her home. I’m afraid they’re quite shocked by the whole matter. They’re Puritans,” he added, as if that explained everything.
“Your Wren is a very determined young lady,” he went on, “and we’ve had to allow Weatherly admittance to see her. If we didn’t, Wren announced that she would run off with him. What would you have had me do, Sirena? Right or wrong, I thought it best to keep her here till you arrived and took matters in your own . . . capable hands. God only knows what would become of her if she ran off with that fop. That’s it,” he concluded, turning about, a high flush on his cheeks.
“Damn your eyes, Sinclair!” Regan roared. “I trust you with my daughter and look what happens! One small favor, that was all we asked, and you couldn’t handle it! It’s a damn good thing you aren’t a parent!”
Tyler’s eyes were tortured. “I know,” he said morosely, “but now I find that in a few short months I will be. All I can say is I’m sorry for this other news.”
Sirena leaned back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful. “It’s not your fault, Tyler. I see how it happened, and you’re right. Wren is an impressionable child—at least she was when she left us. I had hoped she would outgrow that quality as time passed. And it wasn’t only I who filled her with tales of the Sea Siren. Frau Holtz allowed the child to cut her teeth on the tales of my derring-do. I place no blame on your shoulders, old friend, nor does Regan. Right now he’s a trifle upset, but when he has time to think on the matter, he’ll realize you are not responsible. We’re at fault. It was a mistake to have sent her here at such an early age. She needed more guidance, more parental love. No, it is Regan and I who are to blame. What we have to do is to look at the matter calmly and arrive at some sort of solution. We cannot alienate Wren; we love her too much. A talk with the man of her choice will be in order, of course. Also a talk with her friend’s parents. It is well that we arrived early to put all these matters straight, don’t you agree, Regan?” Sirena touched him lightly on the hand.
Her light touch and calm voice worked their soothing magic on the irate Dutchman.
Regan’s tone was brisk when he addressed Tyler. “A drink, Sinclair, to show that neither my wife nor I hold you responsible. We both know that Wren is capable of being wily. She’s manipulated me on more than one occasion, and she was still a child at the time. I’m afraid that when it comes to women, we men are at their mercy.”
“That’s damn white of you, van der Rhys,” Tyler said in a relieved tone. “If we put our heads together and really talk this out, we should be able to come up with a solution. She can’t be permitted to marry that ass. If we start from there, we’ll think of something. For now, why don’t we enjoy our kippers?”
While Sirena and Regan breakfasted, Wren was getting dressed, her eyes wary as she watched Sara go about her morning ablutions. Sooner or later the articulate Sara would start to chastise her. The sooner she got on with it, the sooner she would be finished. Why did everyone think he or she had to expound on her affairs? The only one who seemed to be on her side was Camilla. Camilla said there was nothing more beautiful than young love. Camilla should know. Hadn’t she loved Tyler from the time she was sixteen years old?
“Are you ready, Sara?” Wren asked quietly.
“Yes, and I’m famished. I hope Cook has prepared something extra special this morning.”
Evidently the voluble Sara wasn’t going to say anything. Wren shrugged. Maybe Sara had finally realized that Wren wasn’t going to pay any attention to her vicious comments about Malcolm. What could a straight-laced Puritan know about love anyway?
The two girls descended the wide, circular staircase, which was thickly carpeted in a deep burgundy and muffled their footsteps. Suddenly Wren put a finger to her lips to warn the other girl to be quiet. She frowned. The voices she heard sounded like Regan’s and Sirena’s. It couldn’t be! They weren’t due for another week . . . It was! With a sound akin to a war whoop, she raced down the remaining stairs, leaving a wide-eyed Sara behind. Catapulting into the dining room, she threw herself into Sirena’s arms and hugged her with all her might. Satisfied that the living, breathing Sirena was no mirage, she extricated herself and turned to Regan.
His anguish of moments ago forgotten, Regan felt his face split into a grin as he clasped the laughing, happy girl to him.
Sirena watched the display of emotion between the two and felt sentimental tears smear her eyes.
“When did you get here? Why didn’t you wake me? How long can you stay? Did Tyler tell you about Sara? It’s so good to see you! I’m so happy,” Wren squealed delightedly. “Look, here is my friend Sara. Come.” She beckoned to the girl standing in the doorway.
The introductions completed and the girls seated with plates of food in front of them, Regan leaned back and lighted one of his cheroots, apologizing for smoking at the table. He wanted his cigar, and he didn’t want to go into Tyler’s library for fear he would miss something.
It was Sirena who took the initiative and spoke first. “Well, little one, it seems that Tyler’s duties are coming to an end. Are you ready to return to the Spice Islands and make your home with us again? We’ve missed you.”
“Darling Sirena, do we have to discuss that now? I’m so happy just seeing the two of you that I don’t want to talk about anything except the two of you. Tell me, how are the boys, and have you heard from Caleb?” If Wren noticed the tightness around Regan’s mouth, she gave no sign as she filled her mouth with kippers.
“You won’t recognize the boys,” he said. “They’ve grown so, I barely recognize them myself. Each is as fair as a staff of wheat, but with their mother’s green eyes. Caleb is still shipping cargo for the Dutch East India Company and making a thriving show for his efforts. We have no complaints other than we’ve all missed our little girl and want her home with us so we can be a family again.”
Now, say it now, Wren, Sirena pleaded silently. Don’t make it harder for Regan, for if you do, he may never forgive you. Be honest, little one. Do it now; say what has to be said now. Surely you must know that Tyler has told us of your plans.
Wren carefully avoided Sirena’s eyes. “You’ve told me of everyone but Frau Holtz and Jacobus. How are they? How I’ve missed the Frau,” Wren sighed, smiling at Regan.
“You know that the Frau married Jacobus and made an honest man of the old sea salt. They’re both well and send their regards and can barely contain themselves till your arrival.”
Say it, Sirena continued to beg silently. Wren continued to ignore her mother’s silent thoughts.
It was obvious that Sara was embarrassed for her friend. She placed her napkin on the table and directed a pleading look at Tyler. Interpreting her gaze correctly, he rose and held out his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, I promised to show Sara a book I purchased yesterday. She wants it as a gift for her father.”
Regan rose politely, and Sirena smiled at the departing girl. Wren was on her own, it appeared and would get no help from her friend, which was as it should be.
Silence. Each was waiting for the other to say something. The girl should know that Regan could outwait a tropical storm. Much squirming and downcast eyes did nothing for his disposition. He waited. Sirena waited. Wren swallowed hard and looked squarely at Regan. “Im sure that Tyler has told you. . .”
“Sirena and I would prefer that you tell us,” Regan said quietly. “Both of us are disappointed that you didn’t see fit to write of your coming plans.”
“A letter wouldn’t have reached you in time,” Wren cried miserably. “I know that you both must be disappointed, but sometimes these things happen. A woman meets a man and they fall in love. Isn’t that what happened between you and Sirena? I can’t help how I feel. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did. I’m certain you’ll both like Malcolm and that he will like you. He loves me dearly, and I think he will make me a fine husband. With your approval, of course,” she added hastily.
Sirena sat back and let Regan do the talking. He was so much better at handling Wren than she was. “First of all, young lady, Sirena and I were not boy and girl; we were man and woman. You’re but a child compared with Sirena at your age. We sent you here for an education, not to have you fall head over heels for the first dandy who pays you any mind. The world is full of men like Malcolm Weatherly. We had hoped that an education would help you acquire a little judgment. Now we learn the headmistress expelled not only you but also your friend. Tell me, Wren, was it showing good judgment when you involved another in your escapades? Think of how Sara’s parents must feel. By helping you, her friend, she earned a black mark against her reputation. It was thoughtless of you. A woman wouldn’t do something so foolish, and that’s why Sirena and I question your emotions concerning Malcolm Weatherly. It seems that you have more growing up to do. If your swain is bent on asking me for your hand, I am afraid I must deny it.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed and then flamed. “Sirena was one year older than I when she married you,” she said coolly. “And, Regan, you’re not my father, so if you do deny my hand to Malcolm, I’ll run off with him.”
If she had shot him a blow to the heart, she couldn’t have wounded Regan more. Sirena wanted to reach out and slap the defiant pout on Wren’s mouth. How could she have spoken in that way?
“Regan is the only father you’ve ever known. How dare you speak to him in such a manner! Apologize this instant!” Sirena demanded furiously.
“And you’re not my mother!” Wren cried suddenly as the enormity of what she had said struck her. Never one to back off, she lashed out again. “I never asked you to pick me up off the street. I never asked you for anything. I worked for you and Frau Holtz. I did my share and wanted to do more, but you wouldn’t let me. I never wanted to come here and go to that fancy school. You forced me to! I pleaded with you, begged you, and all either of you could say was that it was for my own good. Now you tell me it isn’t. Don’t I deserve the right to be happy? How can you deny me the one thing I’m asking of you? The one thing I’m asking in all the years you’ve cared for me. Tell me, Sirena. Can you tell me, Regan?” she all but shouted. “No, I see you can’t!” Tears streaming down her cheeks, she ran from the room and made for the front door, almost upsetting a maid carrying a heavy tray.
Sirena’s own eyes were as moist as Regan’s as they rose to look out the window at Wren’s retreating back. Sirena tugged at Regan’s arm. “She didn’t mean it, I’m sure she didn’t. Girls say things they don’t mean when they’re upset. Right now she thinks she’s in love. We have to be patient and let her know we understand, that we pray things will work out for the best. We can’t allow ourselves to become angry and say things we don’t mean. We’re the adults, and we must act like parents. Please don’t be hurt, Regan. I couldn’t bear it.”
Regan gathered her in his arms. “As usual, you’re right. We’ll do our best to make the right decisions for Wren.” His voice faltered.
Tyler, drawn by the commotion, bounded into the room. His heart felt as if it would break when he saw the expressions on Regan’s and Sirena’s faces. He was powerless to offer words of encouragement; instead, he offered another cup of coffee.
Sirena’s eyes went to Regan’s granite face, then to Tyler’s helpless-looking countenance, and from there to the shimmering silver and crystal on the breakfast table. She knew she should say something to make Regan’s sorrow lift. Wren in love! Beautiful, childlike little Wren in love! Impossible! And, according to Tyler, with a bounder, no less!
Her long, slender fingers toyed with an ornate silver spoon as her mind raced. Womanly instinct warned her to be silent, but how could she bear the stricken look on Regan’s face? He was wounded to the quick. She was not fooled; in her heart she knew he had harbored a secret hope, a desire actually, that Wren and Caleb would one day find each other. Gossamer dreams. Yet she, too, had hoped for the same thing.
Tyler broke the silence, his voice measured and quiet. “Time. Perhaps time is the answer. When she goes back to Java with you, things will mend.”
“Tell me, Tyler, how does one mend a broken heart?” Sirena asked coolly. Regan’s eyes remained inscrutable.
“Absence makes the heart . . .”
“Grow fonder,” Sirena finished the sentence.
“In her own way Wren is as spirited as Sirena,” Regan declared. “If she fancies herself in love, no amount of talking or cajoling is going to change anything. We have to come up with some sort of . . . plan to make her see this oaf for what he is. Between the three of us, we should be able to think of something. What does Camilla have to say about all this?” Regan demanded of Tyler.
“In all honesty, I don’t know, and I haven’t had the heart to concern her with the problem. Wait till you see her, Sirena. She’s come a far way from the girl you once knew.” Tyler’s eyes shone as his face split into a proud grin. “However, not to digress. When Camilla’s pregnancy became apparent to Weatherly, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable in her presence. In fact, the way his eyes avoided her, it was almost as though he were loath to look at her. At one point I found myself itching to punch his face to a bloody pulp. The only thing that held me back was my affection for Wren. But I tell you, I sensed he thought Camilla an obscenity and he didn’t want to sully himself by being in the same room with her. I’m not being dramatic. I observed this for myself. Camilla, on the other hand, blithely happy because of our coming child, was oblivious to his reaction. Her only comment was that Weatherly seemed to behave decidedly coolly to her.”
Regan’s spine stiffened as he heard Sirena inhale an almost imperceptible breath. He didn’t fail to see the narrowing of her bottle-green eyes. If there was one thing that could stir Sirena into action, it was an attack on motherhood. How any man could regard pregnancy as a disfigurement was totally beyond Regan. To him Sirena had never looked more beautiful than when she had carried their children. Even near the end of each term, when she had been heavy and ungainly, the serenity and glow from within had given her the aura of a madonna. Regan’s eyes met Sirena’s across the table, and he wasn’t surprised when he saw hers light like shards of emeralds and burn with warmth. How well they understood each other.
Tyler saw the look that passed between them, and suddenly he felt himself an intruder. Clearing his throat in embarrassment, he pushed his chair back from the table. “There are matters which are clamoring for my attention. Stay and enjoy your breakfast. Perhaps, Regan, you’d like to take Sirena for a walk through the gardens. We try to keep it the way my mother used to. Though she did much of the work herself, Camilla and I rely upon the gardeners.”
Sirena smiled. “Tyler, you mustn’t feel as though Regan and I require entertaining. Naturally, we can’t impose ourselves on you. Besides, we have quite a lot of thinking to do about Wren. We’ll excuse you, Tyler. Won’t we, Regan?” she asked her husband, kicking him under the table to prompt his response.
Regan wanted to groan aloud from the pressure of her shoe against his shin, but he forced himself to smile. “Of course we will, Sinclair. And you must erase that look of concern from your face. Wren is our daughter, and we’ll do the best we can for her. Sirena and I appreciate all you’ve done for the girl these past three years. We’re only sorry that she’s caused you and Camilla any worry. We’ll take up the reins now and only hope we can do as well as you have.”
Sirena beamed approval. She couldn’t have said it better. Regan’s shins were tender of late, and poor Tyler looked so tortured. Things would work out; she would see to it. And if Weatherly pressed matters for the worse, she would simply cut him down and that would be the end of it. Then Regan’s world would be right side up again. No one was going to make Regan look as he had moments after Wren’s outburst. And that included her own children. She resolved to do all in her power to prevent that look from ever crossing his face again. Regan belonged to her. No one, save herself, would ever hold the power to make him suffer. She smiled, her face radiant as she gazed deeply into Regan’s eyes, hers full of promise and his full of trust.
Their stroll through the baronial garden was aimless, Sirena touching a blossom here and there, basking in Regan’s nearness. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, Regan,” she said. “Actually, it’s a surprise I’ve been saving for the right moment. Perhaps it will erase that pained expression from your eyes, and the only person who can do that right now is Caleb. He’s here, Regan! He’s been here and waiting for us for over a fortnight. He had a cargo to be delivered to England, and he promised to wait for us. Now, tell me I’ve made you happy with my little surprise!”
Regan grinned. “Of course it makes me happy, but I was saving the same surprise for you. Farrington wrote me that Cal would be stopping to check on his investments, and I was saving his appearance for just the right moment.” He gathered her in his arms. “Already I know the way your mind is working. Caleb will arrive on the scene, sweep our little Wren off her feet, and everyone will live happily ever after. Cal may have other plans, sweetheart. I know, I know,” he said as she began to protest, “that Cal would do anything you asked, and he probably will do as you want, but remember that you are holding two lives in your hands. You can manipulate to a point; then you must back off and let Heaven take over. Only too well do I recall your words the last time Wren and Caleb were together. You said she was Caleb’s destiny. I felt that, too, but Cal is a man now, not a boy.”
“And Wren is a young woman now. A beautiful young woman who can turn a man’s head with a toss of her curls,” Sirena murmured. “She is his destiny. I feel it here,” she said, placing her hand over Regan’s heart. “At times Heaven needs a gentle nudge.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Regan laughed.
“Then it’s settled. We’ll turn Wren over to Caleb and see how matters progress. And if for some reason things don’t go the way we want, we’ll draw straws to see which of us cuts down that bounder Weatherly.” Sirena giggled girlishly.
“I’ll say one thing for you, Sirena van der Rhys. Living with you has never, ever been dull,” Regan whispered, drawing her close and lifting her off the ground. He kissed her soundly and set her down firmly, his arm around her slim shoulders.
Sirena laughed. “Come, kind sir, we have some planning to do in regard to young Wren and Caleb.”