With his explanation delivered he walked out the door, locking it behind him.
Catherine lowered herself slowly to the floor and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. What made no sense before made even less now. Why was he using her as the instrument of punishment? What sins did he think her father had committed against him? She knew her father to be a fair man. What fool’s thought drove Captain Lucifer to such heinous actions.
Think, Catherine, think.
Her thoughts were jumbled and confused. Her mind refused to think rationally. Fear. It was the fear that caused the confusion. Fear of what Captain Lucifer had planned for her and fear of how his actions would destroy her father, perhaps cause his death.
Put them aside, Catherine, and think.
Captain Lucifer felt by dishonoring her he would hurt her father. And of course that was true. Society wasn’t tolerant or forgiving when a young woman made an error in judgment, even if it had been forced upon her. It was still her fault. Of course the married or widowed women had their little dalliances and they were acceptable although not spoken of openly.
So the price Captain Lucifer sought was her virginity. But what if she had already given it away? The notion intrigued her and gave her pause to ponder on it.
If he thought her used goods already, what then? Would he be so fast to make her share his bed? Or would he find her an obstacle in his path of punishment? And what of the evidence proving her father’s innocence? She would take one step at a time. The first was to convince him she was soiled goods, so to speak.
Of course she would still need to undress, appear naked before him, and she must convince him that it didn’t disturb her in the least. That she had shared many a bed with men and quite enjoyed it.
“Naked,” she whispered. How in heaven’s name was she going to be able to appear before him without a stitch of clothing on her? Those cold eyes of his would scrutinize her. Would they see her deception?
What was it her Aunt Lilith had so often told her?
Something about a lady always being dressed if she wore— what?
Catherine suddenly grabbed the hem of her dress and tore at it. “Please, oh please, let this be the dress.” Her fingers tugged frantically at the material until…
“Yes!” she said triumphantly as she pulled a long strand of white pearls from the torn hem. “A lady wasn’t completely dressed unless she wore her pearls. Thank you, Aunt Lilith, for never letting me forget that bit of advice.”
The pearl necklace would save her from feeling naked in front of Captain Lucifer. It was the last item she always put on after she dressed. Therefore when she undressed and placed the pearls around her neck he wouldn’t feel so naked. She would feel fully clothed.
Thank God the pearls were sewn, for safekeeping, in the hem of this particular dress. It was fate. Fate was on her side. Her pearls were there for a definite reason — to protect her.
Catherine’s hands shook as she stood and unfastened the ties to her dress that would be replaced by what—a single strand of pearls.
She giggled. She couldn’t help it. She was nervous and somewhat doubtful that her plan would work.
Catherine removed her garments and carefully folded them on the top of the chest near the window. The sunlight streamed through the window warming her skin and she hugged herself, realizing just how vulnerable she was without clothing. She hurried and slipped the strand of pearls around her neck. Cool and virginal white, they fell just below her navel.
“My cloak of protection,” she whispered, and fussed with the pearls, as if they were a dress needing preening.
She then gave her hair attention. The silver strands were in tangles and she combed through them with her fingers until the soft locks fell over her shoulders and down her back in natural waves.
“All ready,” she announced to herself, and walked to the bed.
She stopped near the side a bit dubious of the prospect of climbing in it. This was it, her one and only chance. She had to convince him. She had to make him think she looked forward to his lips upon hers, his hands intimately touching her, their bodies uniting. She shivered at the thought of his large body smothering hers.
“Stop, Catherine,” she warned in a soft whisper.
She climbed into the bed. The blankets were toasty warm and welcoming. She snuggled her backside into them and braced her back against the pillow. But she didn’t feel comfortable.
She felt stiff and unnatural. A woman waiting for her lover wouldn’t lie so. She would strive for a seductive pose.
But what was seductive?
Perhaps not showing too much, lying to the side, one leg up and across the other, only allowing a small amount of the blond hair to peek from between her legs in temptation.
Catherine blushed terribly. Dear God, what was she thinking? Temptation? She didn’t want to tempt him. But she did. She must. She must make him believe her capable of tempting him, wanting him.
She tried again, positioning herself just so, to the side, her leg up slightly and lying across the other one. Her hand was splayed on her hip, her full breasts peeked through the strands of her silver hair, and the pearls were draped over the side of her waist, brushing across her firm backside like a gentle kiss.
She was ready, or at least she hoped she was.
Chapter Three
“Move your useless asses!” Captain Lucifer bellowed, stomping across the deck.
The men scurried like frightened rats to get out of his way. Having sampled his wrath on more than one occasion, they wanted no part of it.
“Bones!’
A skinny man long in limbs and short on teeth, tripped over his own feet rushing to the captain’s side. “Aye, Captain, what is it you be wanting?”
“Your hide!” he yelled, the strength of his voice sending the fellow stumbling backward, “if those men aren’t off that ship in five minutes.”
“Aye, captain, aye,” Bones said.
“And this vessel better be underway as soon as the last man’s foot touches the deck.”
“Last foot, under way,” Bones repeated. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“Don’t ‘aye, sir’ me, get it done, now!”
Bones turned and collided with a fellow pirate. “Move, you brainless bastard. There’s work to be done.”
The captain left Bones screaming at the top of his lungs and men scurrying about, preparing the ship to cast off. He secured the fastenings on his breeches, fitting the material snugly to his hips as he walked toward Santos.
“Don’t say a word,” the captain warned, then turned to the barrel filled with rainwater next to the main mast and dunked his head in it down to his shoulders.
Santos smiled.
The captain lifted his head, snapping it back and shaking the water off. He ran his large hands through his wet hair and over his face ridding himself of the stench of battle as best he could.
“She’s beautiful,” Santos said.
“She’s his.”
“But beautiful.”
“She’s here for a purpose and shall serve that purpose well.”
“At least the task won’t prove difficult. Young, beautiful, untouched. You should enjoy bedding her over and over. Of course it would be wise to go slow at first. It will take her time to grow accustomed to your size and – “
“Enough!” the captain bellowed. “You think because she is young and innocent that I should spare her?”
“Lucian,” Santos said.
The captain turned angry eyes on him. Santos never referred to him by his given name except in private. “I was young and innocent once—before her father so carelessly took it from me.”
“So robbing her of what he robbed you of will right the situation?”
“We’ve been through this before, Santos. You are opposed to my decision, but nonetheless, it will stand. I will have my revenge.”
“At what cost?”
Lucian glared at the short, stout man who had been his friend for the las
t eight years. “You forget what we have been through together?”
Santos shook his head. “Never, my friend, never do I forget that. We both have the scars to remind us. But I need no reminder.”
“And revenge? Do you still wish this?”
“Yes, Lucian, I will want revenge against the man who made us suffer far more than the torments of hell.”
“But?” Lucian asked, knowing all too well something disturbed him. His dark eyes and thick bushy brows always narrowed when troubled.
“But dishonoring the young lady is no way to settle this matter.”
“Why? Because she is a woman of pure virtue and noble breeding? Her delicate senses would not take kindly to such treatment?”
“She will hurt—”
“I hurt, Santos. Every time I felt the sting of the lash tear my flesh. Every time I ate the food laced with weevils. Every time I smelled my own stink. Every time I remember it was the Marquis of Devonshire’s signature that had condemned me to rot in hell.”
Santos made no move to interrupt his tirade of pain. His friend’s suffering had been too great. Revenge was the catalyst that would heal his wounds, or so Lucian thought.
“Taking Catherine Abelard’s innocence will not cease your nightmare.”
“No, it won’t, but it will be the start of nightmares for the marquis.”
“If he is the monster you think he is, why would he care what you do to his stepdaughter? Why not just let the damaging evidence you planted against him send him to rot away in the Tower, or better yet meet his fate at Charing Crossing?”
Lucian leaned against the mast, folding his arms across his bare chest. “That would be too easy, my friend. I want him to taste humiliation as I did.”
“But he has,” Santos insisted. “These past months he has lost many friends and colleagues. He has been tried and convicted by his own peers. Isn’t that enough?”
The defined features of Lucian’s face hardened. “No. Now his suffering will begin. It is well known he holds a special spot in his heart for his stepdaughter. He cares deeply for her and would never see any harm come to her. How do you think he will feel when she returns to him in disgrace? How do you think he will feel when he learns that she was the infamous pirate Lucifer’s whore? Do you think he will hurt? Do you think his heart will break?” As mine once did.
Santos’s displeasure was apparent on his grim face.
Lucian moved away from the mast and placed his hand on Santos’s shoulder. He towered over his friend. But there was no fear in the short man’s eyes, only concern.
“I know you do not approve of this, but I must repay him for the torment he had made me suffer. I cannot let go of the anger and hate. It feeds within me and grows. Perhaps this will be its final meal and I shall then, finally be free.”
“I hope so, Lucian. I hope so,” Santos said, and turned to command the crew. “Mind those ropes, you bloody idiots. We’re underway!”
Lucian’s feet held firm to the deck as the ship pitched away from the merchant ship lying still in the water. He turned away from it and looked on the opposite side out over the clear horizon.
Lucian Darcmoor existed no more. He had been an arrogant young, fool; the son of an earl, pampered by wealth and social status until…
His eyes squeezed shit against the hurtful memories as he recalled the feel of the lash upon his back the first time. The thin leather lashes had struck him again and again and again, until he had lost count.
After being tied to the mast for several hours, an example to others who disobeyed, he was cut down and cold seawater thrown on his raw open wounds. His screams were loud—the first time – but after repeated abuses he learned to hold back the cries and disengage himself from the ordeal.
Inner strength and mastery over his emotions were the two major lessons he had learned from the beatings.
Finally, the lashes ceased to threaten, but the captain, whose thirst for another man’s blood and pain was unquenchable, devised other ways of torture. Lucian had learned by then to hold his tongue, especially when one sailor lost his over a minor infraction.
He walked to the balustrade, gripping the wood. His eyes watched the sea but instead saw his first battle with pirates. He was actually relieved to see the bloodthirsty crew attack the merchant ship he was on. Desperately wanting freedom, he had fought with the pirates. Before the captain took his last breath Lucian demanded a name, the name of the man responsible for his being sold into the captain’s servitude for so-called debts.
The captain, his life slipping away, breathed the name Abelard.
Lucian burned the name into his memory and a day didn’t go by that he didn’t think of the marquis. He was given the choice of joining the pirates, or death. Death wasn’t an alternative to him, although some chose it, having lost the will to survive.
Five long years of filth and more suffering followed until he was skilled enough to seize his own ship, and begin the destruction of the Marques of Devonshire.
“Excuse me, Captain,” Bones said hesitantly.
Lucian turned his head slowly to the side to look at Bones.
The skinny man’s knees began to quake. “Where would you be wanting the lady’s trunks?”
“Ship’s storage, she won’t need them,” he answered and turned his attention back to the sea.
Bones snickered as he walked away, his smile showing the gaping hole where his two front teeth should have been.
“What are you smiling at, Bones?” a man as fat as Bones was skinny and with a thatch of bright red hair asked.
The captain wants the lady’s trunks in storage. She won’t be needing them,” he said, poking Jolly in his protruding belly.
Jolly scratched at the stubble on his chin. “She don’t look the captain’s type.”
“The captain don’t have a type. If he wants a woman, he takes her.”
Jolly shook a chubby finger in Bones’ face. “You know damn well the captain don’t force no women.”
“He don’t have to,” Bones said proudly of his captain’s prowess with the ladies.
“Yeah, they all fall under his spell sooner or later,” Jolly agreed.
Bones looked about him, checking to see if anyone could overhear their conversation. “It’s his eyes,” he whispered.
Jolly stared at him as if he were daft. “His eyes?”
“He’s got that look that’s real evil. That’s why he’s called Lucifer. But the look affects the women differently. They get captured by it and soon they’re wanting him like mad.”
Jolly leaned closer to Bones. “Do you think we could learn to give that look? To women, I mean.”
Bones thought for only a moment. “It’s sure worth a try. Especially if it works and women start falling all over us.”
“That would be a welcome change,” Jolly said with a hearty laugh.
“We’ll watch his eyes and practice,” Bones suggested, trying to squint his wide eyes into the evil look he so often saw the captain wear.
Jolly followed his lead, squinting his eyes and causing his full cheeks to bulge.
“Problem, men?”
Bones and Jolly jumped, startled by the captain’s stern voice behind them. Both turned at the same time, a definite mistake since Jolly’s belly bumped Bones and knocked him on his backside.
“Get to work,” the captain ordered. “And save the nonsense for later.”
Both men stared at him as he walked away and shivered at the sight of the thin pale, crisscrossed scars that marred his entire back.
Jolly held his hand out to Bones to help him up. “I think we should forget the look.”
Bones agreed with a nod. “Evil, ain’t it?”
“Worse than evil,” Jolly whispered. “He’s got demons inside him, he does.”
Bones and Jolly watched Lucifer walk toward the quarterdeck. They then looked at each other, nodded and walked in opposite direction.
Lucian stood outside his cabin door. All his hard work, hi
s carefully laid plans, had finally brought him to this. He would have his revenge though it would not be through rape that he achieved it.
Matching her innocence with his experience in pleasure would be all that was necessary to reach his objective. In her naiveté she would hand his father to him on a silver platter.
His hand reached out, grabbed the latch and without hesitation he walked into the cabin.
The sunlight played off her pale skin, pure white and blemish free. Lucian stopped in his tracks at the end of the bed, his breath caught in his throat. She was gorgeous. Her five foot four height complimented her every shape and curve. And her hair. . .
God, he thought only angels possessed hair of that shimmering moonbeam color. Long and silky, it fell over her shoulders, allowing just so much of her breasts to peek through. And they were perfect in size, the type a man could cup gently in his hand and feast upon.
A narrow waist gave way to round hips and a firm backside that molded into shapely limbs. He couldn’t help but smile, wicked though it was, at the pearls that lay across her firm derriere tantalizing her delicate skin.
His eyes hastily made their way to her face and he was captured by it. Her wintergreen eyes were warm and sensuously stunning, especially framed by brows arched like raven wings, yet so extreme in color. Her soft cheeks were flushed pink and her lips were tinged with moisture. Lucian felt a shiver run down his spine as he thought of her small tongue that had probably only moments before slipped across them, staining them with a glistening wetness.
“I’m ready, Captain. Don’t be naughty and keep me waiting.”
Lucian wasn’t certain he heard her correctly.
“Well, do hurry, sir. It has been a week since I’ve last had a man fill me and I find myself. . . aching.”
His look grew menacing, but Catherine continued the charade. She sat up, the pearls rolling down to lie over her breasts and stomach shielding her. “Are you having a problem?”
Catherine didn’t understand the implication of her question. She only knew it made him angrier, his eyes darkening to a dangerous gray.
The Buccaneer Page 4
