Table of Contents
~~ Prologue ~~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Epilogue
Titles by Donna Fletcher
About the Author
The Buccaneer
Donna Fletcher
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Buccaneer
All rights reserved.
Copyright©1995 by Donna Fletcher
Printing History
Jove edition/July 1995
Visit Donna’s Web site
www.donnafletcher.com
Become a fan on Facebook
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For my son Matthew
For always being there, for always caring,
For always loving… you’re a true hero
~~ Prologue ~~
“Lucifer!”
The man standing ankle deep at the ocean’s edge wearing only white, wet breeches turned slowly though his name had been called in haste. “What is so important, Santos, that you see fit to disturb my late morning swim?”
Another man would have immediately retreated with a hasty and sincere apology for Lucifer’s commanding tone would have set the fear of the devil himself in him. Not Santos. He had been friends too long with the infamous pirate Lucifer. “The letter you’ve been waiting for.” Santos held the sealed paper out to him.
Lucifer wasted not a minute. He approached Santos with sure and steady strides, his hand reaching out and snatching the letter. He broke the wax seal and scanned more than once, the contents.
“She’s agreed.”
This time Santos shivered, whenever Lucifer spoke so calmly and so in control, it presaged trouble, serious trouble. “My friend, think – “
“Think?” Lucifer’s soft but powerful tone interrupted. “That’s all I do, Santos. I think of the hell that bastard put me through, and I think of the revenge that will be mine.”
Santos tried unsuccessfully to stop his knees from trembling. Lucifer’s anger once unleashed was an uncontrollable force, not easy to harness, and Santos could tell he was close to losing the slender grip he still held on it.
“I have waited too many years,” Lucifer whispered harshly. “I finally hold the key to retribution in my hand. He raised the letter, crumpling it.”
Santos cringed as the paper crinkled loudly in protest. He stared at his friend’s arresting features, his long blood red hair, the taut, heavy muscles in his arms and chest and the sheer overall size of him. It was easy to understand why men quaked in his presence and women trembled with desire for him. “Are you certain this is what you want, Lucifer?”
Lucifer stared at Santos for a full minute before he turned and walked to the water’s edge.
Santos read his silent command correctly and followed him.
“Do you know how much I hated the sea at one time?”
Santos simply nodded.
Lucifer continued, not taking his intent glare off the deep blue water. “I sometimes prayed to die, but then—”
Santos remained silent having lived through the same hell as Lucifer and understanding his pain.
Lucifer laughed briefly. “The Lord saw fit to send me a reason to live. He sent me the name of the man responsible for condemning me to a living hell. Now it is his turn to suffer.”
“But she is —”
Lucifer turned to Santos, the anger so visible in his eyes that it forced Santos to retreat a step. “She belongs to me.”
Santos once again chose silence.
“Ready the ship. We sail tomorrow,” Lucifer ordered, and dropped the crumpled letter into the sea. He walked farther out, the strength of his body easily pushing through the water. He stopped and the sea rushed around his waist like a greedy woman happy at his return.
He turned, the sun’s rays directly behind him and lapping at him like the fires of Hades. He looked at Santos and spoke in a tone of a man who would not be denied. “Catherine Abelard is mine.”
Chapter One
“You sold yourself,” Charles Darcmoor, Earl of Brynwood said, dabbing furiously at his perspiring brow.
“You’re standing too near the hearth, Charles,” Catherine Abelard cautioned.
Charles stepped away from the flames and continued to dab at his brow. “I must voice my protest over this mater most vehemently.”
“So you’ve told me on several occasions. I clearly understand your position. Now you must understand mine.”
Charles’s tall and lean body stiffened at her demand and his face plainly registered disdain. “You should leave such matters to those who know better.”
Catherine resented the same old argument, fearful that there might be some validity to his words. But what else was she to do? There had been no avenue of help she had not sought, nor offer of help she had refused. “You mean to the barristers in all their learned wisdom who assured me my father’s innocence could easily be proven. That the charges of treason brought against him were preposterous and could never be corroborated.”
“Really, Lady Catherine, the gentlemen did their utmost to help the marquis. Your obviously disparaging opinion is uncalled for.”
“Uncalled for?” Catherine said, attempting to retain her anger. “These same men who filled my hopes with such promise now cry for my father’s neck at Charing Crossing.”
“The evidence —”
“The evidence was obviously planted by someone filled with deep hatred for my father, and God only knows for what reason.”
“So you turn to a pirate for help?”
“Must I remind you that it was he who offered it, and at a most opportune time. When the officials were pounding on the door, demanding Father’s immediate imprisonment, and he upstairs in bed barely recovered from his first heart seizure. Where were my father’s so-called friends then?” The remainder of that day, a few short weeks ago, brought a chill of fear to her. If it had not been for the papers the captain had sent, her father would now be languishing in the Tower of London, an almost certain death sentence, given his fragile health.
“There are some —”
“There are none who feel the Marquis of Devonshire innocent of treason. They all ran like cowards, deserting him at a time when he needed their friendship and support the most.”
“I stayed and offered my help,” Charles said patiently.
“Yes, Charles, you did and I’m grateful.” A soft smile demonstrated her sincerity for his dauntless, though recent, friendship. He had only been in residence at Brynwood estate, the neighboring manor, for a few years. “If t wasn�
�t for you, I don’t know how I would have made it through these trying times.”
Charles walked over to her, sitting beside her on the white brocade settee. “I never doubted his lordship’s innocence.”
“I never thought you did,” Catherine said with a reassuring pat to his hand.
He took her hand in his and squeezed. “Catherine, I fear for your safety.”
“I have no choice. There are no options left to me. Captain Lucifer offered evidence. Something no one else has been able to do.”
“I still don’t like it. Even his name disturbs me.”
Catherine tried to soothe his doubts as well as her own, for in fact his name caused her to tremble. “I doubt his given name is Lucifer.”
“Granted, I think some of the pirates choose names they feel will most frighten people, but it doesn’t matter since their barbaric actions alone cause fear. Please, Catherine, rethink this.”
She couldn’t give herself the luxury of thought. The doubt she harbored would only grow stronger. “I have given my word. I cannot go back on it.”
Charles sprang to his feet, raking his hand furiously through his brown hair. “My God, Catherine, how can you worry about giving your word when the man you gave it to has no morals or convictions?”
Catherine suppressed the flutter of fear that his words had caused. She calmly stood. “Do you have evidence that presented to the Crown would clear father’s name?”
Charles’s mouth dropped open prepared to speak then snapped shut. He sadly shook his head.
Catherine appreciated his concern and support. He had proved a true friend, and she had admired his courage in standing by her father when so many friends had abandoned him. Her father had often commented on his intelligence, handsome features and charm. Attributes, he reminded her, to consider when searching for a husband. She had to admit he was attractive in a common way and his temper was even and controlled. She supposed he would prove a kind husband, but she wasn’t interested.
“I insist you allow me to send someone along, presumably a large man, to protect you, just in case…”
She didn’t care for the way he purposely let his words trail off. “You know the terms he insisted upon. I was to come alone. He promised my safety.”
“He’s a pirate! The scourge of the sea,” Charles shouted. “His word means nothing.”
Catherine wasn’t able to control the shudder of fear that raced through her.
Charles was instantly contrite. “Forgive me, Catherine. It was unkind of me to speak so.”
“I have no choice. No choice,” she repeated as if convincing herself. “I must do this.” Tears filled her eyes and she fought gallantly to control them.
Charles slipped a comforting arm around her shoulder and drew her against him. “When you reach his island you will post a letter to me on the first vessel sailing.”
She agreed with a nod.
“If I do not hear from you soon— I shall sail after you myself.”
And he would, Catherine thought.
“Understood?” he asked, releasing her and standing.
“Understood, but I’ll be fine,” she assured him as well as attempting to assure herself. “I’ll write immediately.”
“Good,” he said, sounding relieved.
“You will make certain father doesn’t learn of any of this until the appropriate time, as we discussed.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of everything.”
“The only thing that matters right now is his health. The physician says that he is making a remarkable recovery and that his heart is growing stronger every day. I want him to continue to improve.”
“I agree, Catherine. It would do his health little good if he learned of this.”
“As soon as Captain Lucifer and I marry, he promised he’d give me the remaining proof of father’s innocence. I will send the papers to you immediately.”
“And what then?”
“Then all will be settled, and I’ll hear no more. I have but two hours time before my coach leaves. I have much to do.” She did not want to think beyond the wedding. The prospect was too frightening.”
Charles nodded reluctantly. “As you say.”
Catherine walked over to him and kissed him lightly on his cheek. “Thank you for being such a good friend. I feel safe knowing you will be here to protect father.”
“Do not worry about your father. He’ll be fine. He’s a fighter, a survivor.”
Catherine smiled and patted his arm. “So am I.”
She remained in the small sitting room after Charles left. The fire toasted the room to simmering warmth and the heavy green velvet drapes, though drawn back, kept the chill of winter at bay. She felt safe and secure as she had upon first arriving here fifteen years ago at the tender age of four.
Her mother having been a widow for two years had found herself in an arranged marriage with the Marquis of Devonshire. Catherine had been nervous about meeting her new father and her mother had warned her repeatedly to be on her best behavior. But she needn’t have worried. It was love at first sight for the little girl, who had been scooped up into the marquis’s strong arms and hugged and kissed. At that moment Randolph Abelard had become her knight in shining armor and her love and admiration for him had grown over the years.
Especially when she had found her lessons difficult and her tutor had brazenly informed the marquis that his stepdaughter was stupid and unable to learn. The tutor was dismissed immediately with no letter of recommendation. It was then that Randolph Abelard had begun to teach Catherine himself.
It had been hard for her to learn. The letters never looked the same to her and the numbers confused her, but Randolph Abelard would not give up nor would he allow her to give up. He repeatedly, and with great patience, explained to her that she should take her time and think things through. Great minds, he had informed her, never hurried.
To this day she was forever grateful for the world of knowledge Randolph Abelard had opened for her. And to her he would always be her real father. She often found herself still listening to his advice to “think things through.” This is precisely what she had done when the letter with the offer of help had arrived from Captain Lucifer.
She had thought, debated and considered her options. There had been none. She had had no choice. Three weeks after receiving the captain’s letter she had sent one of her own, simply stating that she agreed to his terms.
Catherine stood and reprimanded herself for reminiscing. “Enough. You have much to do before you leave.”
Dulcie, her personal servant, was busy filling Catherine’s traveling case with her toiletries as she entered her room on the second floor. Short and plump, Dulcie was a ball of energy and gossip. Her hands worked as fast as she spoke. And her face, though full, was pretty, with thick dark lashes, rosy cheeks and a saucy smile. Dulcie had her fair share of male admirers and though the same age as Catherine, she was wise far beyond her nineteen years. Dulcie’s present companion Henry routinely followed her around like a love-starved puppy.
Catherine found her actions and stories entertaining and she was going to sorely miss Dulcie. “Everything packed?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady. M'lady?” The servant’s tone was shaky and reluctant as though nervous to speak.
“Yes, Dulcie.” Catherine turned to face her.
“I fear for you, my lady.” Dulcie began to cry. “I know I’ve only been working here two years, but I like you. You’ve been the kindest lady to me. And I kept my word and didn’t tell anyone about where you’re going, but I’ve heard stories. Horrible stories.”
Catherine took her hand, noticing both their palms were clammy. “What stories?”
“They ain’t fit for a lady’s ears,” Dulcie insisted in protection of her mistress’s virginal sensibilities.
“But you heard them,” Catherine argued, tired of always being treated like a lady who would learn nothing of intimacy until her wedding night.
“I
ain’t a lady highborn like you.”
“Please, Dulcie. Tell me, or I will leave on this trip ever fearful.”
Dulcie looked at her mistress, nodded and then anxiously glanced about the room. Seeing the door open she rushed over, closed it, and bolted the lock. She hurried back.
Catherine sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her, impatient to hear all. “Sit and tell me.”
Dulcie sat and lifted the cross, hanging on a chain around her neck, to her mouth. She kissed it and mumbled a quick prayer for protection before she began. “It ain’t right that you have to do this. Pirates are evil beings, especially Lucifer. He ain’t named after the devil himself for nothing.”
“Many of them are poor unfortunate souls who had no choice in the matter of becoming a pirate,” Catherine said, seeking to believe her own assumption.
Dulcie slowly shook her head. “Pirates ain’t got souls.”
Catherine was stunned. “Nonsense, everyone has a soul.”
“No, m'lady, evil beings don’t have souls and them pirates are evil. I hear tell—” Dulcie stopped, covered her mouth and widened her eyes fearfully as though if she spoke the words an avenging demon would strike her dead.
“Tell me, Dulcie, nothing can harm you here,” Catherine said, though oddly enough sensing a tingle of fear.
Dulcie’s voice was soft and her tone low as she began. “I heard tell that a man captured by a pirate had his ear nailed to the mast because the captain wanted to make certain he’d stay put. And another had a man buried alive up to his neck near the water’s edge so when the tide rolled in the man would drown.” She crossed herself and shook her head. “Only the crabs got to him first.”
“These are just stories probably made up by bragging men to entertain each other at the local public house,” Catherine said with more conviction than she felt.
“No, my lady, these stories have been told by men who’ve seen it with their own eyes. And they say Lucifer’s the worst. He was so angered by one of his prisoners for talking too much that he had the man’s lips sewn shut and left him on a deserted island. He died, mum.”
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