“When I return you will have settled yourself in my chambers. Mikel will be in Frau Holtz’s care. I plan to exercise my rights as a husband. I don’t wish to hear yea, or nay, at this time. You will do it, understood?” Sirena smiled again and let her eyes travel to the window and the lushness outside. She couldn’t care less about his demands. Let him demand till the end of time and then some.

  “Caleb tells me you never lie or break a promise. It would be a shame for the boy’s idol to have feet of clay. Your promise, Sirena.”

  Caleb would have to learn sooner or later that she wasn’t perfect. How could she have let him build such a perfect image of her in his mind? “I’ll make no promises to you, Mynheer. The boy is just that, a boy. He has no right to expect me to be perfect, I’m human. No promises. You have the right to Mikel, I recognize the law. But, you don’t own me and I shall do as I please.”

  “We’re married,” Regan said harshly.

  “Bah, a piece of paper that says we’re man and wife. Fool! Look at your paper again. It says Isabel is married to you. The contracts were signed by Isabel and you. The wedding is a farce. I’m a fallen woman, a disgrace. I am like your whore, Gretchen. Don’t talk to me of marriage rights and what you expect, for if you do, then you may get more than you bargain for. If I wanted I could take the child and leave here, now this minute. Prove that you are married to me! Prove that Mikel is your child!” The green eyes were murderous as she spoke in a dangerously controlled tone. “I also know that one way or another I would lose. I have no desire to do battle again. Mikel is yours. But not me. Never me. I won’t be owned, not now, not ever. And even if I were married to you I wouldn’t allow you to own me. I’m not some object that you can boast about. If you have nothing further to say then I’ll get back to my child—excuse me, your child, the one I’m caring for. I’m only his mother. I don’t count for anything. Good-bye, Regan, and don’t do me any favors by hurrying back.”

  Rage boiled in Regan as he watched her turn her back on him. With a long arm he spun her about. His eyes were vicious as he clasped her arm.

  “This has gone on long enough! You come into my house full of lies and deceit and make a fool out of me in front of my friends and business associates. You wreak havoc on my ships and send my cargos to the bottom of the sea. You marry me under the name of your sister and have the gall to continue to live the lie. You carry on a blatant affair with my rival under my nose and go off to Africa with him and when you tire of him you kill him! Is that what you have in store for me? Dead men lie at the bottom of the sea because of you. Yon bewitched my son till he thinks you are a goddess and then you birth my son. Not my son, you conceived him alone! You can do anything, or so Caleb says. You allowed me to make love to you aboard your ship and then again here in my house. Ah, I see that you are about to protest. Think, lovely lady, you laid willingly in my arms and enjoyed our union as much as I. What do you want from me?” he asked brokenly. “Tell me, do you want me to crawl across this room and hang on your skirt, to grovel for your attention? Tell me, what is it you want from me?” The agony in his tone ripped at Sirena’s heart. Even if she told him how much she loved him he would never believe her.

  “Love is giving entirely of oneself,” Sirena said quietly. “It’s true I allowed you to make love to me and it’s also true that I enjoyed it as much as you. I gave of myself entirely. Something I never thought I could do, not after … not after …” a lump rose in her throat as she tried to find the words.

  “What can I do? What can I say? There must be some way to reach you. Just tell me. What do you want from me?”

  “My son. Will you give me my son?” Sirena asked, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

  Regan eyed the woman in front of him. “And if I were to give you your son, then you would share my bed, is that it?”

  Sirena smiled. “Believe what you will,” she said lightly, “I can always kill you when I’m ready. I’ll stalk you at night the way a wild animal stalks its prey. I’ll tell the child you died, glorious in battle—if he should ask, that is.” Her tinkling laughter bounced off the walls and Regan felt a shudder ride up and then course down his spine. He raised his hand, gave her a stinging blow to the side of the head. Sirena saw the blow coming, but stood still, taking the attack fully on the side of her head. She reeled, stunned with the force of the blow. He had actually hit her! She staggered away from him and shook her head. Deliberately, she let her eyes narrow and then lower to a spot six inches below his belt. She forced her eyes to remain open for a full minute and then she knew nothing more.

  When she woke she was alone in her room and the baby was wailing his head off. Dazed, Sirena climbed from the bed and picked up the crying baby. Gradually, she relaxed as her mind quieted. This was all she needed, this small warm bundle, her son. She wouldn’t think about the past hour and what had transpired downstairs. It didn’t matter. Regan would leave in the morning and she would never see him again.

  Tears glistened in the sea-green eyes as she laid the baby in its wicker cradle. Time would heal her wounds. Time had a way of taking care of everything. Why should she care? Why should she feel sorrow? Time and time again Regan had flaunted his lust with Gretchen and every available female on the island. That was the worst humiliation of all. Sex! Was there anything in the world besides sex as far as men were concerned?

  Storm clouds gathered in the green eyes as she walked to the small balcony and watched Regan stride around the courtyard, a cigar clenched in his strong, white teeth. He looked murderous. Would he trust her alone on the island now that he was leaving? While Mikel was his son, he had no right to Regan’s name. Regan had no legal claim. Mikel was hers. In her heart she knew that there would be some way for the Dutchman to force his will. He would have the guards posted around his house and she would never be allowed to leave. He didn’t care, all he wanted was his child. Would Caleb help her? Whether he would or wouldn’t, she couldn’t ask him. Those days were gone forever. This was a new time and a new place.

  Regan stopped his long-legged strides and looked up at her balcony. He stood for a moment and slowly and deliberately brought the cigar to his lips. She watched his eyes narrow as he squinted at her through a haze of blue-gray smoke. Angrily, she walked back into her room and lay down on the bed. She was so tired. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been so bone tired. All she wanted was to sleep. Sleep, the great escape. Her eyelids became heavier and heavier as she let thoughts of Regan float away on the warm gentle breeze that wafted through the wide windows. Sleep was an escape, a balm to the soul.

  Frau Holtz woke her shortly after sundown and brought the baby to her. As the infant nursed at her breast, Frau Holtz casually mentioned that the Mynheer had left the house a short while ago. “He went to his ship and he’ll sail at dawn. He was in a killing mood! He goes to Holland!” Still she received no reaction from Sirena, and she frowned. “He left instructions a mile long,” Frau Holtz said sourly. “There are guards positioned around the house and around your frigate, and if you attempt to sail her Mynheer’s orders were to gut the ship.”

  Carefully, Sirena lowered the sleeping baby to the cradle. Here at last was the reaction Frau Holtz was waiting for. “Are you sure of what you say? You didn’t make a mistake?”

  “No, Mevrouw, no mistake. In fact, I think the Mynheer wanted me to hear his orders to Captain Dykstra. You’re his prisoner!”

  Sirena nibbled on her full lower lip, her thoughts racing. One day the guards would grow weary. Sooner or later they would become lax and then she would do as she pleased. She would not be held prisoner, not ever again. Regan should know that.

  With Regan gone, the house took on a new emptiness. Caleb was quiet and a wary look had come into his eyes. Mikel seemed more fretful in the late morning, the usual time of Regan’s daily visits. Frau Holtz grumbled constantly, trivial things rattled her as never before. She also took on a wary look as she went about her household chores. It seemed to Sirena that all eyes were upon her.

  There were men, strong, forceful men, who worked outside, supposedly making needed repairs. She wasn’t fooled. As soon as she set foot out the garden doors all work stopped and she could feel their eyes watching her every move.

  Several weeks after Regan’s departure, Sirena walked to the stable, her intention to ride as far as the eye could see. She wasn’t sleeping well and she had to do something to tire herself. She would ride to the Rana and let her eyes feast on the sleek lines of the frigate. While she saw no one following her, she could hear distant hoofbeats behind her. Regan’s men would follow her to the ends of the earth if they had to.

  She reined in her horse and sat quietly drinking in the sight of the freshly painted frigate. She looked to the bow and was pleased to see the name Rana painted in bold white letters. It looked ghostly in the gathering dusk. When would the frigate travel the seas again? Would she be taken care of and careened and who would see to it, surely not Regan—or would he? He did appreciate the maneuverability of the frigate, perhaps he would lay claim to the ship and hold it for the boy. Sirena became saddened as she thought of her ship laying dormant in the bright blue waters. At the moment, it looked as dead as she felt. It needed a hand on its wheel and someone to hoist the sail just as she needed the caress of Regan’s hand and a kind, loving word to make her whole again.

  A group of men came out onto the Rana’s decks and stood watching Sirena. So, Regan was as good as his word. He had posted guards everywhere.

  Willem stood on the deck, Regan’s men behind him as he watched the slim figure astride the tall horse. Somehow he had thought she would return before this. He watched her, a knot in his throat. How could the Dutchman do this to her? He had heard Regan give the orders to his burly men. He had said in clear, cold tones that his wife was not to set foot on the ship while he was away. If she did then they would be dead, even if he had to search the world over for them.

  Regan had looked at Willem and old Jacobus and had lowered his tone. “My wife wishes you to see about careening this ship and putting her back into shape. If you obey my orders, you can continue to stay aboard. One false move and your death will be fast and fierce!” The Dutchman had then lowered himself into the jolly-boat and headed back for the wharf.

  Willem had whispered to old Jacobus and then laughed. They knew in their hearts when their capitana was ready, those burly men of Regan’s were as good as dead. They placed a small wager between themselves and settled back to wait. The day would come soon, they were sure of it.

  Sirena shielded her eyes from the low-lying sun and frowned. Was that Willem and Jacobus on deck? The reins in her capable hands, she felt the horse rear backwards, but still she didn’t take her eyes from the tiny figures on the quarterdeck. She had to know! She brought her gloved hand to her forehead in a jaunty salute and was rewarded with a greeting of waving hands. A smile touched her lips as she spurred the horse beneath her. They had seen her and that was all that was necessary.

  The blood raced in her veins as she rode the horse at a fast gallop. Regan had been wise in not forcing her men from her ship. At last he was beginning to understand. It was her ship and her men. It was well he hadn’t tampered with either. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. She knew now that she had to do something. She had to fill her days with something meaningful. She had started to wean the baby gradually and now she had more time to herself. One couldn’t just idle days and weeks away foolishly when there was so much to do. Tomorrow would be the first day of a new life, a new life that she would have to fashion for herself.

  Sirena greeted the faint pink dawn fully dressed, a pail of soapy water in her hands. To Frau Holtz’s horror, she worked till noon and then stopped to feed her squawling baby. She then had some breadfruit and marched out to the gardens where she hoed and weeded. When she finished, she picked baskets of fruit and vegetables and carried them into the massive kitchens. Frau Holtz rushed to her, but when she saw the determined look in her mistress’s eyes she continued with what she was doing. She fed the wailing baby his evening meal and then rode out of the clearing, her destination, the quay where she could gaze out on the Rana.

  Day after weary day passed with Sirena working tirelessly. She knew that her child’s destiny could only lie with Regan and she felt she must do her share to help build that destiny before she left for the last time. She worked in the house, getting it back into shape for the Mynheer’s return, she worked in the gardens and the fields carrying rubble to the big drainage ditches to spare the men for more important work. Literally falling asleep on her feet, she would feed her baby in a trance-like state and only come alive when it was time to take her daily ride to the quay where she could look down at her Rana. She would then ride back to the house and fall into bed and sleep like the dead. Frau Holtz grew more concerned as the days wore on. The Mevrouw was too thin and her milk was fast drying. There were deep hollows in her cheeks and dark smudges under her lusterless eyes.

  Sirena was walking through the courtyard to the house when the groom met her and explained that her horse had lost a shoe and advised her against riding it. Sirena agreed and decided to walk through the gardens. The beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers that she had tended annoyed her, the graceful breadfruit trees grated on her nerves. She closed the iron gate of the garden and started out across the fields. Here her footstep quickened and her eyes lit up in speculation. She let her foot scuff the dry gray ash. In a moment she was on her knees and digging with her bare hands—down, down through the ash. Was it possible? Could it be? Again she dug frantically, her mind racing with her discovery. She moved further on and once more dug with her hands. Her eyes were shining as she stood and looked around her. She, and she alone, had the power to secure Mikel’s future. Swiftly her mind calculated the time Regan had been gone and the time left before he would return. There would be time she decided, time for her to secure her son’s destiny. Could she do it? She had to do it!

  Racing back to the house she sought out Frau Holtz and explained her plan. The old housekeeper looked at her in amazement. “But Mevrouw, you are only a woman, how can you do it? You will drop dead in your tracks. Will you, at least, allow me to help you? We can leave Mikel with Caleb and work from sunup to sundown. I’ll be at your side. It is time these men on this island looked at us with something besides …”

  Sirena laughed. “Were you about to use word lust?”

  “Ja, but it was you I was thinking of, not myself. It has been many years since I saw lust in a man’s eyes for me.”

  Sirena clapped her hands in glee. “Arrange for the flat wagon to be in the courtyard at dawn tomorrow. We’ll ride out and be back by late afternoon. On second thought, we’ll need two wagons. You, Frau Holtz, must drive one of them.” The old housekeeper nodded, a look of battle in her eyes. Sirena wasn’t sure who she was going to do battle with, but never had she seen the old woman so animated. Together they would arrange Mikel’s and Caleb’s future! She thought with irony that Chaezar’s treachery would aid her. Perhaps they would think kindly of her in the future when the nutmeg trees were thriving and their harvest was rich. It was something she had to do. She knew she couldn’t let the ground lay fallow, not when she had it in her power to make it rich again. Regan’s heart must have been near to breaking when he had to set fire to the groves of nutmeg trees in Africa.

  Late that night when she went to bed at last, she fell asleep almost instantly. Visions of Regan, riding through the rows and rows of nutmeg trees that she and Frau Holtz had planted, plagued her dreams. He rode endlessly, calling her name over and over again. She woke in the morning with tears in her eyes and a salty taste in her mouth.

  She dressed comfortably, it would be a back-breaking day for her. She hoped fervently that Frau Holtz was up to the hard labor.

  Hot, sweat-filled days passed, each more tiring than the one before. They were clumsy at first, these two women filled with one purpose, but gradually they managed to get into the rhythm of their task and worked without wasted motion. They started at sunup and worked till dusk was low over the hills. They trudged home in clouds of gray dust with only one thought in mind: tomorrow was one day closer to finishing the task they had started.

  “There’s one barrel of nutmegs left,” the housekeeper said tiredly. “We should finish by dusk.”

  “I think, Frau Holtz, that we should be proud of ourselves, we have accomplished a tremendous job. There were days when I thought my back would break, and my arms fall off. And you are more tired than I am, I can see it in your eyes. It was foolish of me to allow you to do such hard labor. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”

  “There is no need for worry, Mevrouw, I did what I did for you and the child. If I had to do it again, I would. A few days of rest and I’ll be fine. What of you? You’re thin, the sparkle of life is gone from your eyes.”

  “I’ll survive, Frau Holtz, I think I’ll bathe and go riding.”

  “You torture yourself!” Frau Holtz said sternly. “Why do you ride to the quay every day and look upon your ship? You plan to leave when the baby is weaned? I read the decision in your eyes many days ago. The days are numbered,” she said sadly.

  Sirena had to continue her evening rides to the quay regardless of how tired she was. She knew Willem and the others well. Each night they waited to salute her. Each night she returned their greeting. It had become a ritual. One night soon she would not appear on the quay and her men would deduce that they should make ready to sail, for the next time they would see her would be when she had made her escape.

  More days passed and Sirena lapsed into a state bordering insanity as the fruits of her labor failed to make a showing. Was the ground ruined forever? Had all the back-breaking plowing been in vain? Day after day, she rode out to the fields to oversee the cultivation. The men Captain Dykstra had been able to secure for her were practiced plantation hands. Had she been insane when she turned over the earth in the hopes the nutmegs would grow once more? They should have sprouted by now.