Pirate's Golden Promise (20 page)

“What do you want?” she asked in a strained, distant voice when he came and stood by the shoreline.

Flashing a dazzling smile almost as if nothing had happened between them, he reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a piece of parchment. “I believe you wanted Mary's indenture papers.”

“What are your terms?” she asked him. “How much do you want for her?”

His smile disappeared. “Nothing, Wynter. Mary is yours to do with as you wish. I want no payment for her.”

He sounded so hurt that she immediately felt she had misjudged him. But damn! she swore to herself. Cort Van Linden wouldn't cause her to feel guilty over anything. She wouldn't allow it.

“Thank you,” she said curtly.

“Are you ever going to come out of the water, or will you stand there all day with your net of fish and glare at me?”

“If I choose to, I shall.”

“Playing games again, Wynter. Well, I can, too. I'll just wait here until you decide to come and get the papers. I want to talk to you.”

“I have nothing else to say to you,” she ground out. “Now put the indenture papers in the hut and be on your way.”

Cort grinned like a huge cat waiting for the mouse to make the first move. He sat on a large ebony-colored rock. “I'm in no hurry, little one. The sun is warm, the day is clear. I should like to loll under the blue sky all day.” He leaned back on his forearms, watching her with amused tawny eyes.

He was impossible! She thought he purposely wouldn't leave because he wanted to see her step from the water in the skin-clinging sarong. She took a quick scan of her lower body and realized that the sarong clung wetly to her thighs and hips, which were bare beneath the thin material. She knew that once she set foot out of the water, Cort would see straight through the wispy creation.

“Are you afraid to speak with me, Wynter?” he asked her when she didn't immediately move forward.

“I'm afraid of nothing and no one,” she countered more bravely than she felt. Her bones felt like disconnected sticks which wobbled and threatened to collapse. She hated for another human being to unnerve her like Cort always could.

“Then come sit beside me.” He patted the spot next to him, and she noticed the softening in his words, almost like a plea.

Well, she couldn't stay in the water all day. Her fingers had already shriveled to a prune-like consistency. And she didn't want Cort to know how his very presence affected her. So, head held high, Wynter walked out of the water.

She was very aware of his eyes, moving in rapid-fire fashion over her body. To her chagrin the sarong had been twisted by the waves and bared the left side of her hip and backside to his plundering gaze. She attempted to right it, but since she wasn't used to the sarong, she found the chore difficult.

“Let me,” he said. Before she could protest, his hands snaked out and pulled the material around to the front. For a few brief moments his fingers had touched her bare flesh and burned her. She wondered then if the imprint of his fingers would remain forever there, and she felt that old familiar melting sensation begin in her stomach and travel downward to her abdomen, then lower into her loins.

“I presume you've had much experience with female attire,” she said coldly, though she felt far from cold. In fact, she felt so warm that her cheeks and neck were covered with splotches. Cort saw the evidence of her condition and laughed.

“Aye, I admit I have, but never for any lady who blushes as prettily as you, my love.”

“Oooh, I hate you,” was all she could think of to say.

“No, you don't.” He sounded so sure of himself. “You love me.”

She couldn't deny what her heart felt, what her face and actions clearly showed. God help her, she did love him and always would! She knew if he opened his arms to her now she'd willingly go, but she must be brave, strong. Again, as that night on the ship, during the storm, she heard her father's voice: “Be brave, my pet.” She decided she mustn't allow Cort to hurt her … ever again, but she couldn't stop loving him or wishing he'd tell her just once that he loved her.

Her silver-colored eyes flickered over him, then looked deeply into his tawny ones. “Did you ever love me, Cort, truly love me? You never told me you did.”

“I'm not here to talk about love,” he said sharply. “I wanted to persuade you to return to the house. You belong there.” He gestured with his arm toward the hut. “Not here.”

“I belong anywhere I choose to be, and no, I won't return to the house. Your house,” she reminded him.

“Yours, too, if you want, Wynter. You should have realized by now how wonderful we were together. Don't you miss our nights together? Don't you miss me?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her unwilling form down beside him. She struggled for an instant to break away, but Cort held her firmly in place. Then without a hint of warning, he kissed her with such ferocity, such pent-up longing which she already felt, that all she could do was respond like the wanton he had made of her.

“Remember our nights together, love. Think how it felt when time stopped, when we were the only two people in the universe.” He whispered into her ear. “It can be that way again. I'm sorry for what I did, forgive me, Wynter. I need you more than you can imagine.”

His kiss had left her stunned and taken all the energy from her. Wynter found herself leaning against his chest, her arms around his neck. For a moment it was as if time stood still, and she still thought herself to be his wife. But she realized what he had done, and though he appeared earnest in his apology, she couldn't forgive him yet. Not until she knew he loved her.

“I need you, too, Cort. Heaven help me, but I do,” she confessed. “But I want something from you, something you haven't given me.”

“Anything.” His voice was a husky whisper. “I'll give you anything.” Cort pulled her closer to him, smelling the sweet scent of her hair, the female scent of her which nearly drove him crazy with desire.

Pulling a bit away, Wynter eyed him in all seriousness. “Tell me you love me, Cort. That's all I want. I want your love.”

He couldn't tell her he loved her. That was the one thing she wanted, and the most impossible thing for her to ask of him. He admitted that his passion for Wynter ran deeper than any ocean he'd ever sailed, and if over the past months he had felt a softening in his heart, could he be certain it was love? Years before, he'd given his love to Katrina and she discarded him like an old boot, throwing that love in his face. He knew he could tell Wynter he loved her and from that day forth, she'd belong to him. But he had lied to her and hurt her too much not to be honest with her now. He owed her honesty. At least he could give her that much.

He held her face in his hands, knowing that this time he'd probably lose her forever. “Wynter, I can't tell you that I love you, because I don't know any longer what love is. I feel special things for you, things I've never felt with any other woman. Maybe it's your innocence, your trust, but I hurt you with my lies. I can't bear to hurt you any more or lie to you, and that's as close as I believe I can come to love. I'm sorry if this isn't what you want to hear. But it is the best I can do.”

He had expected her to slap him, to flee. Instead she raised her hand and gently stroked his golden hair. “I'm sorry she hurt you so much.”

“Who?” he asked, dazed.

“The woman you loved who hurt you so. The woman who has caused you to see every other woman in the same light.”

Agony ripped through him. “I'm sorry, Wynter.”

“I know,” she said. “I truly believe you are, but you've been honest with me, and I thank you for that, Cort. I admit I hoped you'd come to love me as much as I love you, but who knows? Perhaps one day you'll love me, too.”

Wynter's admission surprised him as well as herself. She hadn't intended to soften her resistance to him. In fact, she had thought he might admit love just to capture her for the night and all the nights to come. But with his newfound honesty, Wynter saw a side of Cort she never expected to see. Suddenly he looked like a young boy who'd been hurt badly by life and by a woman he loved. She realized that his deception of her hadn't been deliberately planned but something which had occurred on the whim of a moment. But this realization that he had wanted her so much that he'd lie to have her, and now spill the truth to her, led her to believe that deep down beneath that granite exterior, beneath the layers of hardened pain, Cort did love her and would one day come to admit it. Still, she couldn't dismiss easily what he had done. Not even at that moment when he pulled her into his arms and his breath fanned her cheek and sent ripples of desire through her.

“I knew you loved me, Wynter. We can't resist one another. Come home with me. Now, love. Please.”

The touch of his lips against hers left her weak and clinging to his broad shoulders. Oh, she longed to drown in his passion, to be swallowed up like a seashell on the beach in the evening tide. But she drew away from him, and shook her head.

“I won't come back with you, Cort. Not yet … maybe not ever.”

Shock mingled with hurt on his face. “Why not? I thought you said you loved me.”

“I do love you,” she told him slowly. “I probably always will, but I won't allow you to rule my life again. From the moment you took me off the
Mary Jack,
I've been under your control. Perhaps even before then, because you've been in my thoughts since the night I met you. It was wrong of you to trick me when I didn't remember. Of course, I had struck a bargain with you to become your mistress, and heaven knows, I'd have loved every minute of it. Still you should have given me the chance to make my own decision about that and not allowed me to believe you were my husband. I know why you did it, out of love for me, though you can't admit it.

“Still I refuse to let my love for you sway me into returning to your bed. I'd appreciate a taste of freedom, Cort. Even if the only place I can find it is here on this tiny piece of beach with the children. Here, you can't rule me or take away my pride in the work I'm doing with them. I'm not a servant, or your mistress to love you at your beck and call. Finally, for the first time in my life, I can say I am a person in my own stead. Not Walter McChesney's ‘pet,' not Lucy's spoiled little sister … and not Cort Van Linden's woman. I'm Wynter to the children, and I'm enjoying discovering just who this Wynter is.”

Cort didn't listen to anything else she would have said. He didn't wait to hear her tell him that one day, as soon as he came to terms with his past and admitted he loved her, she would go willingly to him. Instead he thrust her from him, and for a split second he saw not Wynter, but Katrina's sly face before him.

Old wounds reopened in him, and he felt as he had that evening on the bluff above the North River when Katrina told him she planned to marry his cousin. But now the woman rebuffing him was Wynter, a woman he had come to love as no other person in his life before or after Katrina. And this time the sting of what he perceived as rejection hurt twentyfold.

More calmly than he felt, he stood up and looked into Wynter's upturned eyes. He stroked her cheek with a tanned index finger and shook his head sadly. “To think what we could have had, little one. But I know now that our time has passed and cannot be recaptured. You must find yourself, and I have been too long away from the sea.” His gaze shifted to the indigo ocean, spotted with crests of white foam. “My mind has been on domestic affairs and not privateering. A pirate is only as good as his booty, my sweet, and my men grow restless to move on. I must move on to other places, other women.”

“Cort!” Wynter breathed his name in shock.

“Sorry to be so cavalier, love, but I was a fool to expect to live happily with one woman; and I was foolish to expect someone so young and untried to stay by my side. Wynter, you and I have nothing in common. We're totally different and want quite different things out of life. So, if you wish, I'll take you wherever you want to go.”

Was this the end of everything, of all they had shared together? Could Cort really mean he'd take her wherever she deemed and then dump her there like so much baggage? But she knew he meant it by the cold glint in his eyes. Cort Van Linden didn't want her, had probably never cared for her at all. She'd been a fool, a wretched fool!

Her voice shook when she spoke, but she steadied it. “I'd appreciate it if I could stay on here for a few weeks more. My pupils have need of me.”

“If that's your wish. I'll have someone come for you later.”

“You won't return to Santa Margarita?” she asked.

“No. Not as long as you're here.” Cort made a long, sweeping bow and grabbed her hand. He kissed her suddenly cold flesh. “I bid you adieu, little one.”

He turned and strode down the beach and yelled to Dirk to prepare to set sail. Within the hour, Cort and the crew of the
Sea Bride
were gone.

Much to Mary's joy, Jan stayed behind. Wynter wasn't certain if the man stayed because of Mary or if Cort had given him orders to remain on the island. But Wynter didn't bother to decipher Cort's reasoning. Her love for him had caused her hours of weeping onto her pallet every night, and each morning she searched the sea for a hint that Cort may have changed his mind and returned.

On the fourth day after Cort's absence, Saba joined Wynter on the beach. The daily class had just disbanded, and though Wynter put on a smiling face for the children, Saba could see the pain in her eyes. She patted the girl's shoulder while Wynter sat on a rock and looked out to the sea.

“Captain Cort is foolish,” Saba told her. “But he return for you. He will.”

“No, Saba. Cort is gone for good. I think I drove him away, but God help me, I never meant to. I love him so!”