Catherine watched in amazement. At first glance she hadn’t thought too highly of a man’s anatomy. She had actually thought the male physique odd. The odd part being the one that jutted out like a prideful peacock. Naturally the intimate act required such a protrusion, from what she had heard.
But at the moment he didn’t protrude and he reminded her of a sleek muscled panther, long in limbs, graceful in movement and confident in his abilities. He could stalk, he could capture, and he could devour with ease. Her thoughts chilled her, but she hid the shiver that ran up her spine and warned herself to remember well the predator she had so richly compared him to.
Lucian took a smaller towel from the stack of towels that sat on a narrow cabinet next to the washstand and vigorously dried his hair. Satisfied that only dampness remained; he tossed the towel to the floor to join his wet clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. He focused his eyes on Catherine. Surprisingly, she was staring right back at him and with the most enthralled look.
She spoke honestly and without forethought, a habit her father often warned her needed correcting. “You are quite a specimen of a man.
“A compliment?”
“A fact.”
Lucian finished combing his hair with his fingers as he spoke. “Then I assume you are comparing me to your previous lovers and find them sadly lacking in manly attributes.”
Catherine smiled. “And I thought women were vain with their constant need for attention. Is it a compliment you are fishing for, Captain? Do you wish to hear that I find you more appealing than any man I have ever known? That you and you alone send my heart to fluttering? Easy enough words to utter.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me, Lucian. Tell me what you want to hear.”
Damn, but she made him sound like a petulant little boy needing praise and stroking and her seductive whisper promised just that.
Catherine tempted fate further by stretching her arms out to him. “Come, Captain, come to me.”
Lucian advanced on her in quick strides.
Catherine froze and attempted not to show her fear. Had she gone too far this time? Why in heaven’s name had she so blatantly summoned him? Her breath caught in her throat as he neared her.
Lucian stopped short of her and casually walked around the table until he was close enough to reach out for the bottle of wine. He picked it up and poured himself and Catherine a glass.
“I’m curious, Catherine,” he said, handing her a glass of red wine. “Who introduced you to sex?”
His obtrusive question startled her. Sex was never mentioned, much less discussed with the opposite sex. Ladies followed their husband’s dictates where the primal act was concerned and never questioned the matter.
Time had rapidly caught up with her and she had barely the slightest notion about sex. She was aware that she shouldn’t be discussing the subject with the infamous Captain Lucifer, but then he didn’t consider her a lady. And she intended to see that his opinion of her remained so.
“Have there been so many lovers since your first that you can’t recall the man, or was it a disappointing experience you prefer to forget?” Lucian asked, having taken the seat opposite her at the table.
“I was thinking of the pleasant memories,” she said, and sipped at her wine, hoping the soft dry flavor would help relax her.
“Pleasant, not memorable?”
Catherine took another sip of wine. A tiny drop of wine lingered on her bottom lip and she hastily licked the drop away with the tip of her small tongue before she spoke. “Pleasantly memorable,” she corrected.
Memorable. Lord, but he’d have a hard time chasing away the memory of her narrow tongue skillfully scooping up that drop of wine. He wondered what other tantalizing feats her tongue could perform.
He reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. “Tell me about him.”
Catherine looked puzzled. “Who?”
Lucian raised his glass in a salute to the unknown man. “Your first lover.”
“Benjamin,” she said with such a genuinely happy smile that it irritated Lucian so much that he fussed in his seat as though pricked by a thousand pins.
“I was positively mad about him,” she continued, her eyes sparking with delight as she called to mind Benjamin Bristle, Earl of Combstock. He had been a friend of her father’s and she had been all of fourteen and in the throes of a hopeless crush. He had been a perfect gentleman, never once hurting her feelings by reminding her of their considerable age difference. He had been tolerant and patient with her youth and therefore received even more of her adoration. “He was several years my senior.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Lucian muttered and swallowed a generous portion of wine.
She hadn’t quite heard his remark. “What was that you said, Captain?”
“Why, I wondered what qualities endeared him to you.”
The truth spilled from Catherine’s lips. “He thought me intelligent.”
Lucian almost choked on his wine. He sprang forward in his chair and glared at her. “I never thought of intelligence as a requisite to sex.”
Catherine didn’t falter in her response; her knowledge had been too hard gained to brush it off in amusement. “You do yourself an injustice if you feel sex involves no intelligence.”
Lucian relaxed back in his chair. “Explain your theory.”
Catherine held her empty wineglass out to him. She spoke while he filled it. “It isn’t a theory. It’s a logical, intelligent conclusion.”
“Go on.”
She paused to sip her wine and gather her thoughts. She had never made love, so she had to go on the assumption of what she would expect from a man before, during and after such an intimate act. And she called to mind how Benjamin had made her feel so special simply by listening and sharing in conversation with her. Wouldn’t an act so intimate require the same details, to listen to each other and share, for one to give as much as the other, to equally satisfy and please simply because one cared or perhaps loved enough to do so?
“When two intelligent people make love they take into consideration each other’s feelings. They share in the act without dominating it. So together they can both find satisfaction and pleasure.”
“Benjamin taught you this?”
She nodded. “He treated me with respect.”
Lucian’s look was caustic. “He took your virginity, but treated you with respect?”
Catherine didn’t hesitate to correct him. “I gave him my virginity. He never would have taken it otherwise. He taught me what to expect from a relationship and to accept nothing less.”
“So it is respect you demand from your lovers.”
“Mutual respect.”
“Then I take it you don’t like to be fu —”
Catherine’s angry glare cut him off. I don’t like verbal vulgarity.”
“Or physical vulgarity?”
“No!” she said, color rising to stain her cheeks. “I don’t —don’t—”
“Rut,” he said with a laugh.
“Rutting is for animals,” she snapped.
He sent her a carnal grin. “Rutting can have its moments.”
“I’m sure you would know about that.”
“I suppose only the less intelligent rut, while the aristocrat makes love.”
“You twist my words, Captain. One doesn’t require wealth to possess intelligence. And if more women used their intelligence they would find themselves not having to rut.”
Lucian’s expression grew dark. “Some women have no choice. It’s called survival, not intelligence.”
Catherine sighed and nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that. Too many women have no choice.”
“And then there are women like you who do.” He once again raised his glass in a salute, only this time it was to Catherine.
At the moment Catherine felt like a whore. His remarks set in and she realized the significance of his statement. The women of the street didn’t choose to bec
ome whores, she had.
How ironic, she chose to portray a harlot to survive, just like the women of the streets. Despair washed over her thinking how those women must feel, thinking how she felt at this very moment.
She chose her words carefully feeling as though she defended more than just herself. “We all make choices for a reason, Captain, the most basic being survival.”
“Excuse my laughter,” he said with what sounded more like a sardonic growl than a laugh. “Are you telling me that you chose to have a multitude of lovers because it was necessary to your survival?”
The truth of his statement stung her nerves and she felt a tremor rush up her spine. “With knowledge comes a degree of protection. I chose to seek that protection.”
Lucian shook his head wondering if it was the wine that befuddled his brain or if Catherine actually was more intelligent than him. “Protection from whom?”
“Men,” came her sharp retort.
“Ahh,” he said with an understanding shake of his head. “Now I see. You’re one of those women who prefer to control.”
Catherine considered his remark. “Do you like to be controlled, Lucian?”
His expression darkened, his finely shaped brows arching and his eyes narrowing as they concentrated on her face. “No one will ever control me again, Catherine.”
“Then we understand each other.”
“Was he a good lover?”
She looked at him oddly, the change of subject confusing her.
“Benjamin,” he said, his stare steadfast on her as he waited for an answer.
Her answer expressed her hopes and dreams for the future. “He was kind and gentle and concerned for my feelings. He made our time together a memory I shall cherish forever.”
“Benjamin sounds like a real gentleman. And you do prefer gentle men, don’t you, Catherine?”
Catherine didn’t care for his emphatic tone. The captain was far from a gentle man. She had experienced that firsthand. He was a man bent on revenge and she was the instrument of his revenge. If there ever was gentleness to his soul, it was probably whipped out of him with each strike of the lash he had suffered.
She studied his hardened stare, ignoring his question. His eyes looked weary and strangely enough lonely. She experienced an overwhelming sense of loneliness looking into their depths. He almost seemed to drown in it, fighting against it, tearing at it like a frightened child needing to be loved. Her heart went out to his suffering and she wished at that moment that she could put her arms around him and chase his loneliness away if only for a short time.
“Do you often get lost in your thoughts, Catherine, or is it a ruse so you don’t have to answer a question you don’t wish to?”
Catherine was saved from answering once again by a knock at the door.
“Supper, Captain,” Bones called out.
“Come in,” he ordered.
“Right fine supper tonight,” Bones commented, his skinny frame struggling with the heavily laden silver tray.
“Don’t dare drop that, Bones,” Lucian warned.
“Don’t you worry, Captain, I have everything under control.”
“Good, because you’re in a room with people who respect control.” He shot Catherine a sharp glare.
“Let me help you,” Catherine offered, rising and ignoring Lucian’s intimidating tactic.
“Sit down!” Lucian bellowed, causing Bones to jump and the dishes to rattle on the swaying tray. “Don’t dare touch that tray, Catherine.”
“I’ve got it. Everything’s fine, just fine,” Bones said, lowering the tray to the table with shaking hands. “Cook outdid himself,” Bones rattled on nervously. “Fresh-caught fish, potatoes, biscuits and cheese.”
“That will be all, Bones,” Lucian said, his eyes focused on Catherine as she returned to her seat.
“Sure thing, Captain. Enjoy the meal,” the skinny man said, bobbing his head, his toothless grin wide as he backed out of the cabin.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Lady Catherine,” Lucian said as the door clicked shut. “I’m in control here and you will obey me.”
“Or?” She heard her own audacity and couldn’t believe her own ears.
“Or you’ll suffer the punishment,” he said calmly, too calmly to her way of thinking.
“And the punishment?” My lord, but she was being willful tonight. She wondered where the devil it came from.
“I’ll think of something appropriate. After all,” he said with a nasty grin, “I’m a pirate.”
Chapter Nine
A pirate. She was sharing a bed with a pirate. The evening meal had been partaken in relative silence. His casual remark had reminded her of his felonious trade and had stirred uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Afterward she had quietly taken herself off to bed without so much as a by-your-leave.
Now she lay on her back, her arms crossed, hugging her middle with her eyes opened wide staring at the planked ceiling. The gentle sway of the ship and the soft steady rhythm of the rain against the windows provided little help in her quest for a blissful sleep.
Her thoughts ran rampant. Mental images of Dulcie’s pirate tales danced in her head. And the questions tormented her to the brink of insomnia — were they truths or tales?
The only way for her to have peace of mind and blessed sleep was to ask the captain himself.
A soft, almost undetectable, sigh slipped from her lips and she hugged her middle more tightly.
Courage. It would take a strong amount of courage to even discover if he was still awake. It had been at least thirty minutes or more since he had climbed into bed. And she mustn’t forget that he lay completely naked next to her. If she probed for answers now while in such close proximity to his nakedness would she find herself in a precarious situation?
But if she didn’t at least attempt to settle her concerns they would grow out of control. Then of course there was that chance that the answer she received might prove more upsetting than settling.
You’re wasting your time, Catherine, she silently warned herself. Either ask or spend the remainder of the night listening to the rain and the creaks of the ship.
She took courage in hand, squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, then opened them wide as she softly said, “Lucian.”
His sharp response attested to his alertness. “I’m not in the mood, madam.”
Her thoughts centered on her immediate concerns, leaving her confused by his statement. “In the mood for what?”
Lucian reluctantly admitted she was talented, always playing the innocent while she spun her seductive web drawing her victim in closer and closer. Like a spider she waited patiently to snag her prize. Waited until he was so caught up in her sweet web he had no alternative but to surrender.
His anger got the better of him. “To ravish you,” he shouted.
Startled by his unexpected outburst Catherine spoke candidly. “I’m not interested in your body tonight, Captain.”
“Then why disturb me at this hour and while in my bed?”
She took objection to his reply. “I have no choice in my sleeping arrangements, but —” She took a deep, fortifying breath and surged on. “I was thinking that since I shared my exploits with you, it is only fair that you share yours with me.”
“You wish me to detail my sexual exploits?” he asked incredulously
Catherine almost choked on her quick response. “Good heavens, no. Your pirate tales are what strike my fancy.”
Lucian turned, bracing his head on his hand to stare down at her in the dark. Her eyes were open wide, their dark green color sparkling like emeralds. “You fancy pirate tales?”
“Yes,” she answered with the excitement of a little girl impatient to hear a bedtime story.
He gave his head a quick shake. “Such stories aren’t fit for your ears.”
Catherine decided to remind him of their unusual topic of conversation just before supper. “Really, Captain, earlier this evening we discussed sex. Sur
ely a few plundering tales wouldn’t be improper.”
“Make up your mind, Catherine,” he said irritably. Her remarks were well aimed and, he was certain, intentional. “Is it plundering or pirating tales you wish to hear?”
His response confused her. Evidently she had spoken out of turn and her wisest choice was to return a simple answer. “Pirating.”
Lucian dropped onto his back, the feather pillow cushioning his head. If he didn’t keep his wits about him she would drive him insane. One minute her voice was sultry and full of confidence, the next it was soft and accented with a slight tremor. Sometimes he wondered if his own mind was playing games on him. He had to keep his mind focused on the fact that she was his instrument of revenge and that he would use her to achieve his goal. How, he wasn’t certain, but in the end he would succeed.
Perhaps a pirate tale or two was just what she needed to hear at the moment. His tone was brisk while the darkness concealed his smile. “Remind yourself, madam, you asked to hear these tales.”
“I’m most anxious to hear them,” she assured him, and folded her hands on her stomach
and closed her eyes ready to pay close attention to every detail of his stories.
“I’ll start with Dirty Dunbar —”
“Dirty Dunbar, my, what an interesting name,” Catherine commented as she attempted to visualize a man tagged with such a name.
“Madame, do you intend to frequently interrupt me?”
“Certainly not.”
“Then kindly keep your remarks to yourself until the conclusion of my story, then and only then may you comment.”
“It was because I found his name amusing that I related my opinion.”
“The reason he was given such a name is far from amusing.”
The Buccaneer Page 9
