Anxious for Lucian to continue his tale, Catherine turned on her side to face him. “You mean Dirty Dunbar was actually dirty.”
“Filthy. So filthy that neither man nor beast could stand next to him.”
“He was a pirate?”
“I thought you weren’t going to interrupt,” he said, amused by her eager question.
“But I needed to know if he was a pirate or a captive.”
“This tale is about a pirate. I will tell you a captive tale next.”
“All right,” she agreed quickly, wanting to hear more.
“Now, where was I? Yes, I was telling you about filthy Dunbar —”
“Dirty Dunbar,” Catherine corrected hastily.
Lucian turned on her in a flash, the tip of his nose coming to rest against her own.
“Madam, if you don’t cease interrupting me I shall sew your lips shut.”
Catherine felt her breath catch in her throat and there it stayed locked in fear. She recalled the story Dulcie had told her about a pirate captive having his prisoner’s lips sewn shut and here she was rattling off at her mouth without thought to the consequences.
Lucian instantly regretted his idle threat, though it had served its purpose. It had silenced her, but at a price. Her childish enthusiasm had vanished instantly, replaced in a flash by fear. Her eyes had widened, her lower lip trembled, and she fought to control the breath that appeared caught in her throat.
He could have booted himself for his rash threat. Though he had seen such cruelty performed on captives by other pirates he himself would never inflict such a harsh and barbaric punishment.
Frightened that she would faint from holding her breath, he tugged at her chin, forcing her mouth to open. Her breath whooshed out, the faint scent of wine fanning his face.
Feeling his senseless remark was best laid to rest, he asked, “Do you wish me to continue?”
She nodded, her eyes not quite so wide as they were only moments ago.
His hand fell away from her chin to rest near her cheek. “Do you know why he was called Dirty Dunbar?” he asked in a considerably gentler tone, hoping she would respond.
Again she shook her head.
He certainly had silenced her, which hadn’t been his intention. Strangely enough he had found their conversation intriguing and oddly entertaining. He couldn’t fathom the idea that he
wouldn’t hear her lively tales or soft quivering replies. The notion disturbed him. “Aren’t you going to cast your opinion?”
Catherine shook her head again.
“Why not?”
She shrugged.
He’d had enough. “Are you afraid of me?”
Catherine was about to shake her head, though her answer demanded a nod, when his hands grasped hold of the sides of her face and prevented her response.
“You will give me a verbal answer, madam.”
Catherine’s long eyelashes fluttered several times as her eyes drifted open with a look of uncertainty. His hands covered her cheeks and locked under her chin. Her foremost thought was that he could squash her easily.
“I’m waiting,” he reminded her.
She cast him a doubtful look.
“I haven’t sewn your lips shut yet, Catherine, you can still speak.”
She spoke with a more steady voice than she thought possible. “Would you?”
It was his turn to look at her doubtfully. “Would I what?”
Catherine whispered her answer. “Sew my lips shut.”
His thoughtless remark had disturbed her. He released her face and tenderly ran his finger over her velvety lips. “Though you sorely tempt me at times I would never inflict such a barbaric punishment on you.”
“You would on others?” She surprised herself with her question and how easily she had asked him.
His finger continued to caress her lips while he spoke. “No, Catherine, I would never deliver such brutal treatment to a captive.”
Her inquisitiveness wasn’t satisfied. “But such treatment has been utilized by other pirates?”
“The more demented ones.”
Catherine attempted another question but Lucian pressed his finger to her lips forcing her silence. “Enough. I would much rather discuss Dirty Dunbar.”
Catherine smiled and Lucian reluctantly dropped his finger from her lips.
“He smelled?” she asked, anxious to hear the tale.
“Atrocious.”
“He never bathed?”
“Not since the day he was born.”
Catherine laughed at his answer. “You’re fibbing.”
“I’m relating the tale as it was told to me.”
“Many an old tale has been embellished.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a liar?” he asked with a sly smile.
“No,” she laughed softly, “though you are a gifted tale teller.”
“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Now if I may, I’d like to finish this tale before dawn breaks.”
“By all means,” Catherine agreed and snuggled her head into her pillow to comfortably listen to the story.
“Dirty Dunbar was short, round and possessed a robust aroma.”
Catherine giggled and kept her excited stare on Lucian.
He could almost feel the intensity of her deep green eyes; feel her thrill, her passion to hear his every word. And he gladly fulfilled her whim. “Men gave Dirty Dunbar a wide berth when he walked the streets and when he entered a room.” Lucian shook his head, adding a grave expression to dramatize the tale. “The men scurried out like panicked rats.”
Catherine was captivated by his every word.
“Dirty Dunbar took to the sea and was captured by pirates. He was given the choice of joining the motley crew or death. He chose to join the pirates. The pirates, none too familiar with soap and water themselves, gave Dirty Dunbar a warning. ‘Wash up or else.’ Dunbar didn’t heed their caution. The grumbling crew issued him another warning and another and another until—”
Catherine waited anxiously to hear the man’s fate.
“The sky was on the verge of a storm that fateful morning the crew took matters into their own hands. They pounced on him as soon as he showed himself on deck. It took ten men to hold him down and ten men to tie him up.”
Catherine was beginning to feel sorry for Dirty Dunbar.
“And each of those men had plugged up their noses just so they could get near him.”
Catherine laughed and her sympathy swayed to the crew.
“Once they had him all tied up tightly they took him to the plank stretched out from the deck of the ship over the sea. They told him to walk the plank or be pushed.”
Catherine gulped, having heard of captives being forced to walk the plank and wondered now if those had been true.
“Dirty Dunbar chose to be a man about it and walked to the end of the plank, turned and smiled at the crew, then jumped. The men ran to the balustrades and peered over whooping and yelling in satisfaction. Then it happened.” Lucian said quietly, almost in a whisper, as though he shouldn’t have uttered a word.
“What happened?” Catherine asked just as softly.
“The sea churned and roared and rocked the ship until suddenly the water heaved like a sickened belly and in one loud belch it spit Dirty Dunbar right back on the deck of the ship.”
Catherine burst out laughing and playfully poked Lucian’s bare chest. “You’re teasing me.”
Lucian grabbed hold of her finger. “Madam, you asked for a tale and I related one to you. And might I add a favorite tale among pirates.”
“And why would that be their favorite tale?”
He gently turned her own finger on her, giving her chest a poke before releasing it. “Any pirate that accuses his fellow mate of smelling is put to the test.”
“What test?”
“The accused must jump into the sea and if the sea doesn’t spit him back then he doesn’t smell bad enough that the crew can’t live w
ith him.”
Catherine stared at him wide-eyed. “You are fooling with me, aren’t you?”
“No, Catherine, I’m not,” he assured her, though his eyes danced with merriment in recalling the tale he had heard often enough himself.
She shook her head and laughed.
Lucian responded to the pleasurable sound. His flesh tingled and his loins hardened. His unexpected reaction annoyed the devil out of him. And set the devil inside him to work.
“Now that I’ve told you a tale, answer me a question.”
“But I’ve answered questions. This tale was to reciprocate for our earlier exchange. And besides, you promised me a captive tale next.” She had grown tired and sleep was tempting her eyes and jumbling her thoughts.
He didn’t ask again. He demanded. “You’ll answer my question.”
Catherine felt too wearing to argue. “As you wish.”
“Did you like the way Ben kissed you?”
Catherine had to think a minute before she recalled what she had told him about Ben earlier. “Yes. He was most skillful.”
“And gentle?”
Catherine gave pause before answering. She had described his kissing as gentle if she remembered correctly. “Yes, and gentle.”
“Ben never took you beyond gentle?” he asked, annoyed that he found the uncontrollable need to question her on the matter.
She wasn’t even aware there was a step beyond gentle. Her experience with kissing had been a few pecks on the cheek and a brush across the lips. And then there were Lucian’s kisses, delivered with an edge of anger and revenge, not desire or love. “He was my first and most gentle lover.”
“You’ve had ones that demanded more?” The thought infuriated him for it reminded him of her many lovers.
“I gave only what I wish to give, Captain,” she said, and rolled on her back with a yawn.
Lucian felt like a small child being chastised by a tutor for not having learned his lessons properly and then dismissed without consideration. It was his turn to teach her a lesson.
“Demonstrate this gentleness Ben taught you.”
Catherine felt a jolt to her stomach and suddenly sleep was the furthest thought from her mind. She decided to pretend otherwise, not having the slightest idea how to handle the situation except to run, and being on a ship in the middle of the sea vastly limited her possibility of escape.
She yawned extra widely, covering her mouth to hide her pretense. “Another time, Captain, I’m so very tired.”
Lucian rolled over next to her, grabbed her hand that lay on her stomach and her hand that covered her mouth and held them, locked by her wrists, above her head. “Catherine, you must listen and learn.”
She stared at him, a sense of captivity descending over her as he continued to hold her imprisoned. Her fear escalating, she studied the perfectly formed lines and angles of his face.
Lord, but he was handsome. Too handsome. Handsome as Lucifer himself and just as dangerous.
“Are you listening, Catherine?”
His voice was strong and even in tone just like his hold on her. His hand held her firmly, the forceful pressure evenly distributed, not hurting her, but reminding her of her capture. CCatherine responded with a nod, too fearful to speak.
“Now for your first lesson, Catherine.” He paused a moment, stared down at her and then lowered his face to hers with each word spoken. “I never make a request twice. I’m always obeyed the first time.”
His lips were suspended a mere breath away from hers waiting. He intended for her to demonstrate the kiss Ben and she had supposedly shared. He had no intention of repeating himself and this she would understand if she had learned her lesson. She had learned her lesson, all right. She had learned it was best to keep quiet upon entering his bed and not ask any stupid questions.
Now she had to kiss him. Kiss him as she had convinced him Ben had kissed her. Gentle. A gentle kiss should be easy to give. She could close her eyes, pretend it was Ben, and give him a simple kiss.
He breathed not a word; he just hovered over her waiting.
She lifted her head a fraction preparing to hastily deposit a kiss on his lips when her senses were assaulted. He smelled of the sea, fresh and salty and temptingly lickable. His long hair hung down around his face, tickling her bare shoulders, and the warmth of his flesh penetrated her cotton shift until his heat actually caused the shivers to race through her.
Without thought or reason she slowly lifted her head and captured his frowning lips. Gently, almost worshipfully she brushed across them, testing, feeling their velvet smoothness.
She instantly became addicted and drew her lips back and forth, slowly, sensually, and succulently. Wanting to savor more of his exotic taste, her small tongue sneaked out and stole a hasty lick of his lips. Her sigh confirmed her satisfaction.
Lucian hadn’t expected this slow and tortuous assault on his senses. His passion flared like a roaring fire. Heat cursed through his veins, his blood boiled, his body soared to life.
He had intended to teach her a lesson and she had taught him one. She had taught him just how erotic a gentle kiss could be. If he didn’t bring a halt to it soon, he’d find himself added to her string of lovers and his plans for revenge destroyed.
He snatched his mouth away from hers, released her arms, and jumped from the bed, grabbing his clothes as he walked toward the door. Without a word, and stark naked, he stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
Catherine collected her rapid breath while she rubbed her tingling lips with her fingers. She hadn’t expected to feel so highly sensitive, so completely alive.
She felt edgy, highly agitated, and her eyes immediately looked to the closed door. Had she overstepped her boundaries and teetered on the threshold of unbridled passion? Had she actually lost control of her emotions? Had she wanted Captain Lucifer to kiss her?
Catherine shivered at the disturbing thought and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Searching for a sensible reason for her odd actions she decided after several minutes of deliberation that sleepiness had been the culprit that had caused her momentary lack of control.
She would need to be more vigilant, more aware of her predicament, and tread wisely. But most of all she had better make certain that she never, ever, kissed Captain Lucifer again.
Chapter Ten
“She needs some sunshine,” Santos insisted, standing beside Lucian on the quarterdeck of the ship.
Lucian appeared not to have heard. His eyes were focused on the endless sea, his hands clasped behind his back, and his legs spread just enough distance to allow him a steady stance.
Santos persisted, “I said she —”
I heard you the first time,” he said curtly.
“Then give me an answer.”
Only Santos was allowed to speak to him with such bluntness and he had paid a high price for that privilege. “You didn’t ask a question.”
“Don’t play games with me, Lucian. You know what I’m suggesting. You’re annoyed with yourself so you punish others with your black mood.”
“I have a right to my moods,” he snapped.
“You have a right to feel the pain of the past, but you should have the wisdom to bury it.”
Lucian turned his head to look down at Santos. His eyes snapped with fury, though he contained his hostility when he responded. “Your tongue is sharp today, Santos. Beware.”
“I speak the truth, my friend,” he said with a sad smile.
Lucian shut his eyes against a look he had become all too familiar with. He had seen that expression many times over the last few years and every time he had, it had been when Santos had shared Lucian’s pain and sorrow. Let me be today, Santos. I have much on my mind.”
“She still needs—”
“Why does Catherine need the damn sunshine? She gets plenty of it through the windows.”
Santos shook his head in disgust. “It’s not the same. She needs the sun on her skin, the fresh air to f
ill her lungs. She needs to get out of that cabin if only for a short time.”
“Fine,” Lucian begrudgingly agreed. “Have it your way. Allow her out for thirty minutes and no more. And you’re responsible for her.”
“Fine with me,” Santos said with a nod. “She’ll give me no trouble. We get along just fine.”
Lucian grumbled beneath his breath and turned his attention back to the sea. “She gets along with all men. She has you wrapped around her finger. Bones can’t do enough for her, bringing her this and that from her stored trunks. And Jolly? He’s so besotted by her that all he does is smile when her name is mentioned.”
“You forgot Gumble, the cook.”
Lucian turned a quick glance on Santos. “Gumble?”
“Makes her something special every day.”
o0o
Lucian cast his eyes to the heavens. “Give me strength with this motley crew.”
Santos laughed. “You wouldn’t trade us for anything.”
“No, but I would her, if I could get the price I wanted.” Lucian felt a catch in his belly. An ache that gave him pause. Why should his own words disturb him?
“Revenge has a high price and is not always as rewarding as one thinks.”
“You begin to philosophize like Zeena.”
“Zeena is a wise woman; if I sound like her then you should heed my words.”
Lucian’s stare once again took on a faraway look. “I heed my own words. No others. Go and see to Catherine and remember, she is your responsibility while out on deck.”
“I’ll take good care of her,” Santos said before walking off.
“See that you do.” Lucian’s words followed him and sounded more like a stern warning than an order.
Lucian’s glance returned to the vast sea stretched out endlessly before him. His thoughts returned to matters at hand. His plans for revenge had been completely destroyed. He could think of no way possible that Catherine’ capture could benefit him. He had given serious consideration to allowing the evidence against the Marquis of Devonshire to stand and watch him hanged for treason. But then Abelard would not suffer the endless pain and sorrow that he had. And he wanted Abelard to suffer.
He had thought of returning Catherine home, but decided against such action. He had not questioned her about her father, had not sought to use her knowledge of him— against him. Tonight he would seek information and find another way to have his revenge.
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