Sirena was fully aware of the effect she was having on Regan. She had utilized the hours before dinner in a hot bath, scrubbing the imaginary vestiges of Chaezar’s blood from her body. She had dressed her long, dark hair in soft, wide waves with the heavy curling ends caught up in a shell comb at the top of her head; so different from the severe, slick knot at the nape of her neck he was used to seeing.

  Chaezar had filled her clothes presses with gowns of indescribable beauty. Light silks, heavy brocades, cloth of silver and cloth of gold. Gossamer gauze creations to adorn a goddess and beaded satins fit for a queen…

  “You’re to wear these,” Chaezar had proclaimed while Sirena was still heavy with child. “After the birth, of course, to celebrate the birth of my son,” he added confidently.

  “Then I shall never wear them,” Sirena spat in retort, “for there’s nothing to celebrate. This child is Regan’s!”

  “… nothing to celebrate,” she had told. Chaezar. But she had decided to wear one of his lavish offerings this evening to impress Regan who, aside from seeing her near-naked in her Sea Siren costume, had never seen her dressed in anything but the black dresses of mourning and heavy, concealing mantilla.

  Seizing a gown of rich, vibrant topaz from the clothes press, she had muttered angrily, “You were right, Chaezar. The gowns are to celebrate … your death!”

  Now, when Regan looked at her, she knew he was excited by what he saw. The jewel-toned topaz brought yellow cat-like glints out in her green eyes. Her skin paled against the vibrant color to the hue of buffed ivory, set off by her shimmering dark hair. Her breasts, always high and full, blossomed over the top of the trim-fitting bodice with a new voluptuousness.

  “They! Who is they? I asked you if you were packed? You speak in riddles,” he said, drunkenly eyeing her cleavage. She didn’t fail to see him wet his dry lips as he forced his eyes to look into hers.

  “They. Frau Holtz and the baby. I assume Caleb can take care of his own needs.”

  “Are you packed?” he thundered as he brought the wine bottle crashing against the side of the table.

  “There’s no reason for me to pack. I’m not going with you. You have the right to claim the child. I, too, know the laws. Frau Holtz is this minute securing a wet nurse for Mikel. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, rising from the table. God in Heaven, if she didn’t get away from him she would be blubbering like a baby. Baby. She was giving up her baby to Regan and would never see him again. What kind of God are you, she implored silently, to force me to make still another decision that will haunt me for the rest of my life?

  “What do you mean you aren’t coming?” Regan shouted, all signs of drunkenness gone.

  Sirena was halfway around the table and blinking rapidly to hold her tears in check. A glistening drop lay on her cheek as others formed in the emerald eyes. Regan looked at her in awe, his heart thundering in his chest. He had never seen her cry. The effect was devastating! He felt deeply ashamed and guilty. He weakened in the face of her tears. “The child needs you, Caleb needs you,” he said huskily. “Won’t you reconsider and come with us?”

  Another tear fell to her cheeks and her shimmering eyes pleaded with him, as her heart leaped in her chest. Say it, Regan, say you need me, she silently implored. That’s all you have to say and I would follow you to the ends of the earth. But you must say the words! Her lips trembling, she bit back the words. She waited a moment and then, blinded with tears, she raced from the room.

  Regan slumped in his chair and cursed loudly and clearly. What did she want from him? If she had told him to crawl to her he would have, didn’t she know that? God, what did she want? Those tears! His heart ached with the thought that he had caused them. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he say the words?

  Sirena raced to her room, racking sobs making her body shake from head to toe. She flung herself on the bed and howled like a banshee. She knew in her heart that he would never be able to forget that she had been ravished by pirates and, he suspected—correctly —by Chaezar. He wouldn’t allow himself to love her. She had always known that her past would come between them. Their loving time on the Sea Siren and the time in her room were just accidents—animalistic actions. There was no love involved, just lust. On his part, she sobbed to herself. “I love him!” she cried into the softness beneath her. “I love him!”

  Frau Holtz entered the room quietly and heard her Mevrouw’s words. Her own words caught in her throat. So, Sirena did love Regan after all. Frau Holtz hadn’t been sure for the past several hours. Gently, she brought the crying woman to her chest and cradled her much the way she held the small baby who lay in his cradle.

  “Cry, Mevrouw, don’t hold it in any longer.” Sirena cried and cried as the old housekeeper stroked her dark head. Finally, she could cry no more and raised her face to meet the old woman’s. “Tell me,” she said shakily, “have you found a wet nurse for Mikel?”

  Frau Holtz chose her words carefully lest the woman next to her find out she was lying. “There was no one. I couldn’t get my idea across. Anyone capable of nursing Mikel has a family of their own and does not wish to leave Africa. I did the best I could, Mevrouw. I’m afraid that you’ll have to go with the baby; otherwise, he’ll surely die,” she said ominously.

  “How can that be, Frau Holtz? Did you offer money? Isn’t there one among the natives who would make the trip? Are you sure you did everything you could?”

  “Everything, Mevrouw. I did everything, Mevrouw,” she said piteously. “You must go back to Batavia.”

  “I can’t go, don’t you understand? The longer I stay with the baby the harder it will be for me to leave in the end. Already my heart is in shreds. Every day will make it that much worse.”

  “You can do it,” the housekeeper said sharply. “You have done harder things in this life than this. It is your child we speak of, you must do it. There’s no other way!”

  Sirena failed to see the old eyes dance with delight as she nodded. She would go with the baby. When he was old enough to be weaned she would leave him in Regan’s and Caleb’s capable hands. Nothing mattered anymore. Life was over for her.

  It was nearing dawn as Sirena sat by the window nursing the baby. She let her eyes go to the window and was not surprised to see a roaring fire rip across the fields of nutmegs. So, Regan would burn Chaezar’s magnificent kingdom and it would be no more. If the wind shifted the house would go also. Perhaps it was best. Another hour and she’d have to be ready to leave. Sorrow cloaked her body and tears again welled in her emerald eyes. Dear God, help me! she cried silently. I’m tired, help me, there’s nothing more I can do. A glistening tear fell on the small golden head and the baby sighed contentedly. Was she carrying some invisible cross that said she was to go through life in torment? Was she never to find happiness? Wearily, she placed the small bundle in his bed and went about the business of preparing to leave.

  Dawn had barely come when Sirena walked through the door of Chaezar’s palace without a backward glance. She avoided looking at the scorched fields and the heavy smoke that lay to the west of her. Caleb trotted next to her like a happy puppy. He didn’t know what made her change her mind. All that was important was that she was sailing with them to Batavia. He sighed in relief because now he was spared from making a hateful decision. From time to time he had pestered Frau Holtz for “just one more look” and constantly asked to hold his brother. He had known he could never leave Sirena or Mikel.

  Regan’s face, too, wore a look of sublime relief. He had sent for Frau Holtz and his new son, Mikel, hoping against hope for a last look at Sirena. He prayed that she would at least come downstairs to say good-bye to Caleb. It was almost beyond his belief when Sirena announced she was returning to Java with her son. Regan’s eyes lighted and a smile spread across his face. Sirena’s face wore a chisled look as she carefully picked her way over the cobblestones. There was no way she would acknowledge Regan’s smile.

  Sunlit days and star-filled nights aboard Regan’s brig were almost a balm to Sirena’s spirits.

  The three-month voyage was uneventful as far as Sirena was concerned. She spent long sunny days on deck with Mikel in his small cradle. He grew by leaps and bounds in the warm, salt air. In his spare time, Caleb would look at the baby fondly and make inane sounds in an attempt to make him laugh. Mikel would oblige and Caleb would rock on his heels in delight. Regan himself made daily morning pilgrimages to her quarters to play with his son and eye him adoringly. From time to time he would pick the baby up and make faces at him. Mikel would regard him solemnly and at times his face would pucker up and lusty yowls would be forthcoming. When this happened Regan would rapidly hand him over to Sirena, a sheepish look on his face. No words passed between them at these times. It was enough that she was aboard ship and Regan seemed content to leave things as they were.

  Only once, when a particularly heavy fog rolled in, did Regan search her out at the rail and help her back to the cabin. The touch of his hard callused hand on her arm sent her to trembling and she was not oblivious to his heavy breathing. He explained away his concern for her by saying he didn’t want her to get disoriented and fall overboard thus depriving his son of his nourishment. Sirena grimaced at his words and cursed the Dutchman under her breath.

  His grip on her arm became more secure as he led her to the steep ladder below. His touch was fire on her cold, damp flesh. Her foot betrayed her on the flimsy ladder and she fell against Regan, crying out in alarm. Regan himself emitted a small groan as she fell against him. Suddenly his hands were in her hair, his lips crushing hers. He wanted her as never before and she was responding in a like manner. Moans of ecstasy escaped her parted lips as Regan’s mouth sought her throat, her breasts. Her senses whirled, her passion bordered on wanton lust. Sirena arched her back and opened her eyes to look at Regan and noted that the fog had shrouded everything in its gray, ghostly pallor. They seemed abstracted from their surroundings. Two lovers lost in a moment of time, isolated in a magical cloud of mist that seeped and swirled around them as their arms entwined around each other. Scorching lips met hers in a desire so fierce Sirena became dizzy. She felt her gown being ripped at the throat and immediately felt the mist wrap itself around her nakedness. Regan ground his lips against hers as his hands caressed the tautness of her breasts. His lips left hers for a moment, and he moaned huskily, “I have decided to overlook your affair with Alvarez. I knew that your passion would never be cooled by any other than me.”

  Regan’s hands cradled her head gently as he again brought his mouth crashing down on hers. From some deep recess in her mind she heard his statement, but she was drowning in a pool of her own passion, her animal lust drawing her further and further: Decided … overlook … affair … only he could … All he had to do was wait…

  “Bastard!” she shrieked, dragging herself from his arms and tumbling down the ladder. “Lusting bastard animal!” she shrieked. “Pig fodder and dung are only equal to your rottenness! Whoring bastard!” she continued her tirade. Regan stood with his arms extended and a stunned look on his face. “I’ll slice that manly organ from your body when you sleep! I’ll kill you yet, you whoring bastard pig, may vermin nest in that white thatch you call hair!”

  “What … I don’t—”

  “Animal! You think of nothing save that which rests between your legs, bastard. You’ll not use me again to salve your lust. I’ll pray that dry rot settles on your organs,” she spat.

  Regan blinked. What had happened to her? One minute she was a passionate, lusting woman and the next she threatened to slice his manhood from his body. What did he do, what did he say?

  Caleb said she never lied and she never broke a promise. He would secure his door at night. Visions of Chaezar laying dead, his manhood severed from his body, set Regan’s teeth to a near-rattle.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The orange ball of sun was just dipping into the cool waters of the horizon when Regan brought the rig into Port Batavia. He let his eyes scan the new wood at the wharf. His captains must have returned unharmed and started the business of rebuilding. Most of the trees were gone. Those that remained resembled ghostly specters in the deepening twilight. The office buildings were being rebuilt or repaired. Many strong backs would be needed before the harbors and wharves would be ready for the everyday life the islanders were used to.

  Vaguely, he wondered how many of his good friends had gotten away safely and how many would never return to feel the warm easterly breezes and watch the graceful breadfruit trees as they dipped and swayed. He was saddened by his thoughts until a lusty yowl broke his mood. He looked toward the stern and saw Sirena holding the baby. He had no time for sadness. He had much to be thankful for. Two sons! Who could ask for more? He would do his share of rebuilding the island and hope that his sons would come to love it as he did.

  Sirena walked to the bow, the baby secure in her arms. He bobbed his head trying to see everything. A motherly smile on her face, Sirena cooed gentle words to him. Seeing Regan advance on her, the smile left her face and she clutched the baby tighter. Not a word had passed between them since the fog-shrouded night on the ladder. Regan had avoided her deliberately. And just as deliberately she had sought him out time and time again. She would stand and stare at him with a strange look on her face. She smirked to herself as she watched him betray himself in many small ways. A forgotten word to the crew, a sharp tone with Caleb, a nervous jerk of his usually steady hand, a telltale twitch of his cheek. There were more ways than one to skin a cat, and when she was finished with this cat he would not only be minus his fur but his tail as well.

  A rich bubble of laughter wafted across the deck and Regan bristled. She was always either laughing or smiling and there was never anything for her to smile about. Was she trying to drive him out of his mind? If indeed that was her purpose, she was almost succeeding. Not for the world would he admit, even to Caleb, that he slept with a bolt on his door. Many times he had caught her eyes on his lower regions and a strange smile on her lips, and then all through the night, visions of Chaezar would haunt his dreams.

  “We’re home,” Regan said curtly. Sirena ignored him completely as she let her gaze travel over the wharf and the various stages of rebuilding. She wondered how much damage was done to the house and if it was habitable. She would sleep under a tree if necessary. Once inside Regan’s house, she would be at his mercy. The rules would be his and she would have to abide by them. Or else, she thought. coldly, she would kill him. She looked fondly at the baby in her arms and sighed. A few more months and he would be weaned. A sob caught in her throat as she watched Caleb lower the jolly which would take them to the wharf. A few months would pass in the blink of an eye. She had to decide on a course of action and make the most of it. She would live one day at a time and then she would be ready when Mikel was weaned. She would walk to the wharf, not look back, and cut the island of Batavia and all its inhabitants from her heart.

  Standing on the wharf, dry land beneath her, she decided she hadn’t missed solid ground at all. The hot dusty streets were busy with men and children. Everywhere there was noise of hammering and construction. These people were rebuilding not only their town, but their lives. New, raw wood glistened in the still twilight. Torches were being lit so the men could continue to work in the cool of the evening. At this rate they would have the island to its former condition before long.

  “Regan! I thought you would never get here,” Captain Dykstra shouted to be heard above the hammering. “We’ve been busy, as you can see. Your house is habitable but needs repairs. We’ve been doing one house at a time. The offices are intact and ready to be opened for business.” He lowered his voice slightly. “There’s a message for you from the Grand Pensioner himself. Your personal presence is requested in Holland. Wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t become the next governor,” he said jovially.

  Regan nodded. “How many were … ?”

  “Too many. The Medrics, both of them. Helga Kloss, Gretchen Lindenreich, scores of others. Mevrouw Kloss died helping the children get away. With Gretchen, no one seems to know what happened. And you know the Spaniard left before the holocaust.”

  “He’s dead,” Regan said coldly. “Fetch me a wagon, Daan, so I can take my family home.”

  Sirena’s heart leaped at the mention of Gretchen’s death. Foolish woman, she chided herself, there would always be another whore to take Gretchen’s place.

  Within a week of settling in, Regan announced at the evening meal that he would be leaving for Holland the following morning. Caleb was to stay behind and look after his little brother. Regan said he would return as soon as he could, but he expected to be gone for five or six months. Sirena blanched at his cold, impersonal tone and managed to finish her dinner somehow. Caleb seemed oblivious of the undercurrents that passed between them. Frau Holtz hovered near the double doors leading to the kitchen, a sour look on her face. For a bridegroom, her employer left much to be desired: at times the temptation to let him feel the toe of her stout boot was almost more than she could bear. Couldn’t he see the haunted look in the Mevrouw’s eyes. Was he blind?

  “I wish a discussion with you, in private,” Regan said coolly as he rose from the table. Sirena nodded and followed him to the cool, dim library he called his home office. He motioned for her to sit down and offered her a glass of wine. She declined both, her eyes roaming around the room and coming to rest insidiously on his lower regions. Regan faltered a moment and gained control of himself. She would no longer make a fool of him.

  “I want your promise that you will not leave this island until I return. If you fail to give me your word I shall have a guard posted at the front entrance and one at the back.” The green eyes were the color of a grassy meadow, quiet and tranquil. She uttered not a word as she waited for his next demand. She knew there would be others, there were always more demands.