Captive Embraces by Fern Michaels Page A

Sirena’s next move. Jan stood ready to intervene, knowing Sirena’s mood had become lethal, waiting to step in to Caleb’s defense if necessary.
    â€œPick up your weapon,” she ordered in a tightly controlled voice. “This contest is not over.”
    Caleb stepped across the deck, the hackles raising on his neck as he reached for his rapier. He had sensed a change in her since the contest began. This was the old Sirena—as she had been. when she met with her enemies. But he wasn’t her enemy! He was Caleb! Astounded that her feelings toward him had changed so radically, Caleb moved mechanically back to the opposing position.
    Horrified, he and the crew watched Sirena pointedly remove the protective tip from her blade. Glaring at him through half-lowered lids, she warned, “You see what I have done. Protect yourself, remove the tip from your weapon!”
    The crew was aghast. Frau Holtz held her breath, disbelieving what she had just heard. The old woman’s hand groped the air in horror. “No! No!” she heard herself cry out. Had Sirena gone mad?
    Caleb watched Sirena as she advanced. Her eyes penetrated his being and held him locked in a stare. Again her blade flashed, and she lunged, aiming for his heart. Tears of rage blinded her as she thrust again, this time with frenzy.
    Caleb’s gaze darkened as he effectively parried the offensive thrusts. She had backed him across the deck again. Soon he would be off balance if he couldn’t distract her long enough to turn around. “Kill me if you must, Sirena. I’ll fight no more!” he breathed, dropping his weapon defenselessly to his side.
    Something in his words, in his voice disarmed her. She had heard those words before, but where? Who had said them to her in that same deep, gentle voice. Regan! Regan had said those words to her in the heat of a duel. The night had been dark as it was now. She had found the pirate Blackheart aboard his ship and she had met the swarthy Englishman at swords’ point. Then she had killed him. How many men had she killed? Oh God, is this the divine retribution You have sent me?
    Dick Blackheart, the worst scurve ever to ride the seas! He had murdered Tio Juan, seen Isabella slain, raped Sirena, then offered her to his filthy crew. The night she had killed Blackheart, Regan had said those very words to her. “Kill me,” he had said softly. “I’ll fight no more ... You can’t win, lovely Sea Siren. You may have pinned me halward but you still have to kill me ... Can you do it?” His eyes had darkened and glints of admiration shone as he had gazed at Sirena.
    But she hadn’t killed him, although there were times afterward when she almost wished she had. That night of bloodshed had ended in incomparable passion.
    They had slipped aboard the deserted Rana, previously named Sea Siren, to bind one another’s wounds. The cabin was dim, the oil from the lamps gone, the globe shattered. Regan had noticed a telltale stain on the back of her blouse.
    â€œYou could do with a bit of ointment. Come here!” he had commanded.
    Sirena had bristled at his tone and was ready to turn on him and loose her wrath. But she had been tired, every nerve within her clamored for relief. Wearily, she had joined Regan on the bunk, allowing him to bathe the backs of her hands with water from the ewer and apply the salve.
    His attitude had been so intent as he went about the business of dressing her wounds. Gruffly, he had ordered her to turn around and Sirena had surprised herself by obeying. Roughly, he pushed her down on the bedding and, before she could protest, ripped the bloody, tattered shirt from her back.
    â€œHold still, Sea Witch, I don’t mean to hurt you.” Pressing her against the mattress, Regan had bathed away the blood, gently cleansing and tending the cut.
    Slowly, Sirena had felt the tension of the fight drain out of her. The feel of his fingers