Free Captive Splendors by Fern Michaels

Malcolm is the man of your dreams. Caleb, now, seems like a lusty, seafaring man, the kind your infamous Sea Siren would have gone after. He’s not your real brother, Wren,” she remarked distinctly, to make sure her friend understood what she was saying.
    Wren’s heart thumped. She herself had thought the same thing the moment she had set eyes on Caleb. He looked just like Regan, except for his dark hair and eyes. Sara was right. Caleb was the kind of man the Sea Siren would want for a lover. Wren sighed. Malcolm was the man she wanted. He was the man she wanted to marry.
    â€œCaleb is a philanderer, Sara. He loves women. All women. I think his sole mission in life is to see how many young virgins he can bed before he takes a wife, if he should ever decide to take a wife, that is. I’m certain he’s left a trail of swooning women from one port to the next. Caleb is not the marrying kind, and I want to get married and have children. With Malcolm,” she added coolly, her youthful expression composed.
    Sara’s stomach churned at Wren’s words. Not if I can help it, my friend, she thought viciously. She had to do something, anything, to make Malcolm aware of the mistake he was embarking on. Perhaps her first idea was best. She had seen the way Caleb had looked at her in the garden. And hadn’t Wren said he was interested in women? It wouldn’t hurt to turn her wiles on him and see what effect that had on Malcolm. If Malcolm realized a man such as Caleb van der Rhys was interested in her, he would give up his mad idea of marrying Wren. Sweet, innocent, puritanical Wren. No, that was wrong. She, Sara, was the Puritan. A fallen Puritan. Yes, she would flirt with Caleb, and she would do it as soon as they sat down at the luncheon table.
    â€œAre you ready, Sara? You know how fussy Camilla can be when her meals are late. If we delay any longer, we’ll be the last into the dining room, and I want to be the one to introduce Malcolm to Sirena and Regan.”
    â€œI’m ready now,” Sara said, patting a stray lock of hair into place. She looked every bit as beautiful as Wren, with her delicate good looks and in her pale blue, clinging gown. She would endeavor to stand next to the dashing Caleb so that Malcolm could see how well they looked together. Just like honey and cream, she thought, and smiled secretly.
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    Regan took one look at Malcolm Weatherly and almost exploded in anger. Sirena laid a gentle hand on his arm to quiet him as she, too, appraised the dandy through narrowed eyes. Then her glance shifted to the tall, dark giant of a man who entered the room. “Caleb!” she cried, rushing to him and throwing her arms about him. “How wonderful to see you!” Suddenly she found herself being lifted from the floor and swung around in a circle.
    Caleb laughed. “You’re more beautiful than ever, Sirena.” He set her down gently, his arm protectively cradling her shoulders as he extended his free arm to his father. “It’s good to see you, Father. You look as if the burdens of parenthood haven’t been too taxing. Tell me, how are my four brothers?”
    â€œHale and hearty and looking forward to the day they see you again. When are you coming back to Java? Where are you bound now?” Regan asked, clapping his son on the back.
    â€œWherever the sea takes me. The affairs of the Dutch East India Company are in capable hands. I told them not to expect me for at least a year.”
    A momentary twinge tugged at Regan. The boy was free to do what he wanted whenever he wanted to. His own carefree days were long behind him. He felt Sirena grow still beside him. How well she knew him. She, too, had sensed his brief, restless urge. He smiled down into her eyes, all thoughts of envy and freedom forgotten. She was all the pleasure he would ever need.
    â€œSo,” Regan said jovially to his oldest son, “you haven’t cut a wide