The Buccaneer

by Donna Fletcher

  He pressed the point. “This island is like no place you have ever been. Men are shot dead in the street. Women ply their trade wherever they wish. Liquor flows like water. Weapons are carried by everyone.”

  “May I carry a weapon?” she asked, the thought thrilling her.

  “No, you may not,” he answered sternly, annoyed that she had not paid attention to his all-too-accurate description of Tortuga.

  Catherine stuck her chest out proudly. “I know how to shoot a pistol.”

  Lucian fixed his gaze directly on her. “You know how to shoot a pistol at a target set up at an appropriate distance for practice. But have you ever shot at a moving target?”

  Catherine answered honestly. “No.”

  Lucian admired her forthright manner and strangely enough he sensed he could trust her. An odd feeling for him to accept since he rarely trusted anyone.

  He raised his leg and brought his boot down to rest on the edge of the barrel next to Catherine. He reached down inside his boot and withdrew a small knife sheathed in a leather pouch.

  “For you,” he said, handing it to Catherine.

  She accepted it with surprise.

  He answered the question that he assumed was on her lips. “You may need to protect yourself.

  Catherine looked perplexed. “You’ll be with me.”

  Pleased by her confidence in him to protect her, he explained, “Always be prepared, Catherine. You never know what dangers may befall you.”

  Catherine nodded, agreeing with his remark, and proceeded to unwrap the strings from around the pouch. “Where do I fasten it?”

  Lucian moved his boot off the barrel and with a gracious wave of his hand extended an invitation. “Your leg, madam.”

  Excitement raced through her and she hoisted her skirt and plopped her foot down on the barrel’s edge.

  Lucian pushed her skirt back, but as he raised it clear to her thigh, her hand shot out stopping him.

  He looked at her questioningly. “I’ve seen every inch of you.”

  Catherine felt her cheeks heat up. “But your crew hasn’t, nor do I wish them to.”

  Lucian thought it odd that a woman who had known so many men should be embarrassed by the show of her limb. But catching the crew’s sudden interest in their actions, he bowed to her wish.

  “Then allow me to secure it for you,” he offered, slipping his hands out from under her petticoats and taking the pouch from her.

  His hands once again disappeared beneath her skirt, his fingers riding intimately up her leg to the inside of her thigh.

  She shuddered against his gentle touch. It flamed her belly and tingled her flesh.

  “A sensitive spot. I must remember that,” he teased, feeling gooseflesh ripple beneath his hand. He caressed her thigh more thoroughly, relishing her response.

  “I would enjoy your lips much better there, Captain. Perhaps tonight when we’re alone?” she said, realizing that only an outrageous remark would make him stop.

  He looked up at her, a dangerous smile curling his lips. “Hold your lustful tongue once on the island, madam, or you may get more than you bargained for. The men of Totuga are far from mannered or gentle.”

  His fingers deftly secured the leather ties to her thigh before roughly pulling her petticoats and skirt completely down over her leg.

  Catherine detested the charade she played. The character she portrayed was foreign to her, her morals alien. The idea that he thought her capable of seducing a stranger on an island known for its sinful pursuits disturbed her. She was a lady, and Lord, how she wished she could behave like one.

  Instead, she yanked her foot off the barrel, shook out her skirt, fluffing it as if concerned with how it looked, and raised her chin up. “I have no intentions of searching for a –“

  She interrupted herself with a pause, hastily exploring her thoughts for the right phrase.

  “A quick toss of the skirt?” Lucian finished her curtly.

  She turned her head to the gentle breeze that billowed the lowering sails, begging for the fresh wind to cool her heated cheeks. He could embarrass her so easily with his crude remarks.

  And only a lady would blush appropriately. She couldn’t have her secret discovered for he would make certain she didn’t remain a lady for long.

  She turned her head back, her eyes narrowing as her scrabbling thoughts provided her with a fitting response. “I hoped for an hour of exotic lovemaking.”

  Lucian grabbed her in a flash, flattening her up against him. She bent her head back to look in his face and guarded her gaze and tongue well against the angry blackness she saw boiling in the depths of his blue eyes.

  His every word was punctuated with contained fury. “You, madam, will keep your skirt down and your legs closed. I’ll not have you bringing back a disease from a flea-ridden, stinking pirate.”

  His hands squeezed urgently at her arms, hurting her delicate skin. His expression glowered with repressed rage, highlighting every handsome feature. In an instant she understood why he had been given the name of Lucifer, the handsomest of angels and the most sinful. Wisdom born of instinct warned her to tread lightly. “As you wish.”

  His hand squeezed her arms harder. “This is no jest Catherine. I mean every word.”

  Her breath caught for a moment in her throat and she cleared it quickly not wanting him to see her fear. “I understand. I will obey you.”

  He shoved her away from him. “See that you do.”

  He strode away, the sheer size and strength of him sending the shivers through her. Catherine shook her head and rubbed her arms. She watched him give orders to the crew and saw the men scurry to obey.

  A fleeting thought flashed through her mind. How would he treat a wife? Would he order her about? Would he expect obedience of his every command? Would his powerful hands bring pleasure or pain?

  She blushed and turned away embarrassed by her own wonderings. She had on one or two occasions glimpsed a thoughtful side of him, though he hid it well. Was the title Captain Lucifer a protective mask for Lucian Darcmoor? Perhaps he wasn’t what he appeared to be at all.

  “Catherine!”

  His shout startled her and she swerved around. He stood steady on the deck, the ship rocking beneath him, his hand thrust out to her. He spoke not a word, but commanded her with a fierce look.

  She went to him without hesitation. Why shouldn’t she? She thought, rushing up to take his outstretched hand. If she didn’t, he would just come after her, swing her over his shoulder, and cart her off.

  “Remember my warning, madam,” he said curtly, and took her hand in his.

  She nodded with a smile.

  He walked to the ship’s railing with her in tow and tossed one leg over to straddle it. “You will follow me over the side. I will stay beneath you guiding your step. The rope ladder can be tricky, be careful.”

  “I’ll manage,” she assured him.

  He released her hand and went over the side with ease. He waited a few rungs down, his one hand hooked to the ladder, the other outstretched to assist her.

  “I can manage,” she insisted, casting a glance over the side past Lucian to the waiting longboat below. Santos stood in the middle looking up at her with a smile while Bones and Jolly occupied opposite ends of the boat and were busy keeping the slim vessel steady.

  Catherine with only a modicum of difficulty and no assistance from Lucian made it over the railing and onto the rope ladder.

  “Take easy steps,” Lucian warned her, and descended down the ladder to give her room.

  A sense of exhilaration filled Catherine and she took each rung with renewed confidence. She had learned much and conquered many fears in the last several weeks. She had survived this hardship and she would succeed in her mission of proving her father’s innocence.

  With a broad smile she cast her foot to the next rung just as the rope steadying the ladder to the longboat snapped from Bones’s hand. The ladder broke free and smacked the side of the ship
, causing Catherine to lose her balance.

  Lucian had only set foot in the longboat when he felt the jerk beneath his feet. Years of sailing temperamental vessels and coping with unexpected storms allowed him to keep his footing steady. He looked up at Catherine and his stomach knotted as her small hands grasped tightly to the ladder and her dangling feet frantically searched for a rung. One slip of her hands and she would come crashing down.

  “Secure that blasted rope, Bones, or I’ll have your miserable hide,” he shouted, reaching for the swaying rope ladder.

  Santos aided him, holding it steady as Lucian easily raced up the ladder to Catherine.

  His body braced hers from behind in an instant. His one arm circled her waist, his other hand slipped over hers. “Steady, angel, you’re all right.”

  She sagged against him, though she retained her grip on the rung. His large body offered safety, his formidable strength security from harm. He wouldn’t let any harm befall her. She knew it as certainly as she knew she would breathe her next breath.

  “Lucian,” she whispered with relief.

  His arm tightened around her waist more firmly and he felt the last tremor of fear race through her before she completely relaxed against him. “Are you in any pain?” he asked, recalling the way the ladder had collided with the side of the ship.

  Surprisingly she realized her knee pained her, but not unbearably. “My knee hurts a little.”

  “Nothing else pains you?”

  She laughed, a surprising response to Lucian. “Only my pride.”

  He smiled at her ability to find humor in an accident that most certainly could have been fatal. “Fear not, madam, your pride is intact. You did a most splendid job of saving yourself from an accident that was by no means your fault.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, “my confidence is restored.”

  “Enough to finish the climb down the ladder?”

  A nervous flutter attacked Catherine’s stomach. “With your assistance?”

  “Most definitely,” he assured her.

  “Then I’m ready,” she said, her quivering voice betraying her fear.

  “Put your arms around my neck and trust me. I’ll not let any harm come to you, angel,” he whispered near her ear.

  A shiver raced through her and not from fear. He spoke with gentle concern. He had even called her angel. Was it possible that Captain Lucifer did possess a soul? And had she touched it?

  She carefully transferred her grip from the rung to around Lucian’s neck and with it went her trust. She buried her head against his chest and closed her eyes, willing herself not to foolishly believe that the captain actually cared about her. She was still his instrument of revenge and therefore extremely valuable to him. How could he let anything happen to her?

  “Good, Catherine,” he praised. “Now hold on tight.”

  She did and he took the rungs slowly so as not to frighten her. He deposited her on a seat in the longboat, leaning over her as she dropped her arms from around his neck.

  He caught her chin and raised her face to him. “You’re full of spirit, Catherine.” And with that he kissed her. It was meant as a light congratulatory kiss, but once their lips touched—

  His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his tongue delved into her mouth. He tasted her, shared her breath, her fresh scent, and then as quickly as he had plundered her mouth, he released her.

  He stood straight, towering over her, his voice echoing on the warm sea air. “Get this boat under way, Bones, and one more accident and you’ll find yourself accidentally swimming to Tortuga.”

  Lucian stared at her, looking oddly confused, and then turned, retreating to the bow of the boat.

  Catherine felt quite drained by the incident and her rambling thoughts ignored his strange reaction and attended to her injured knee.

  Lucian glared out at the island in the near distance. He focused on it and the business he needed to attend to while there. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.

  Bones, taking note of his captain’s mounting anger, leaned to the side and out of his range of fire if one of his fists should shoot out.

  Lucian called himself a million kinds of fools. What in the bloody hell had come over him? He had tasted fear and near death in battle, yet when he had witnessed Catherine precariously dangling above him, he had known such deep-rooted fear it had frightened him to his very bones.

  Had she slipped beneath his skin to prick him without his realizing it? Had she woven her wanton web so skillfully around him that he had lost control of his senses?

  It was a willing woman he needed naked beneath him to appease the ache Catherine Abelard had inflicted upon him. He would find one in Tortuga. He would fill himself to bursting with her ten times over and be done with it.

  He grimaced.

  “You all right, Cap?” Bones asked, never having seen the captain display such emotions.

  “Shut up, Bones,” Lucian snapped.

  Bones inched a bit further away from the captain’s still-balled fists.

  Lucian admonished himself for his foolishness, this time calling himself names not fit for any but a pirate’s ears. How could he? How could he call Catherine Abelard an angel? How victorious she must feel at this moment.

  He turned expecting to see her gloating but instead he caught her wincing against the pain as she probed the large bruise on her knee.

  “God’s blood,” he groaned, and headed straight for her, forgetful of his own warnings.

  Catherine counted herself lucky for only receiving the bruise to her knee. She could have suffered much more severe injuries if Lucian hadn’t come so quickly to her aid. The bruise would fade as would her fear of the incident, but Lucian calling her angel would remain forever inscribed in her thoughts.

  A shadow fell over her and she looked up.

  “Does it pain you?” Lucian asked.

  Her knee barely caused her discomfort. The pain that filled her was from Lucian’s sharp tone. Captain Lucifer had returned.

  “Answer me, madam,” he snapped, annoyed with her brief hesitation and annoyed with himself for needing to hear from her own lips that she did not suffer.

  Catherine tossed her petticoats and skirt over her injury. “I’ve suffered worse.”

  “That’s not what I asked you. Do you suffer now?”

  A sigh proceeded Catherine’s response. “No, Captain. I suffer no pain, only a mere discomfort.” She had thought to argue with him, but that would only spoil the rest of her day and she refused to allow him to ruin her adventure.

  “If it should bother you—”

  She finished for him. “I shall most certainly tell you immediately.”

  “Landin’ ahead. Landin’ ahead.” Bones called out.

  “Remember,” Lucian warned. “You stay by my side and obey my every command.

  She nodded, attempting to peek around him at the island’s approach.

  “Believe me, Catherine,” he said with a dangerous smile. “It’s not what you expect.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Catherine choked on the stench. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand while rushing to keep up with Lucian’s powerful gait.

  He had been right. Tortuga was like nothing she had ever expected. Men lay in a stupor in the street and in doorways. Women bartered their bodies for naught but a few pence, brazenly displaying a breast or hoisting a skirt to show the buyer her wares.

  And smells? Catherine pressed her hand closer to her nose, sniffing the salty sea scent of her palm. She couldn't determine if it was rotting fish, days-old body odor, or the garbage cast along the dirt streets that stunk the worst. Moreover it was probably a combination of all three and then some.

  What shocked her the most, though insignificant in contrast, was the lush foliage and beautiful flowers that flourished amongst the filth and rabble of the island. It stunned the eye and presumably favored the nose.

  "A short distance and
you'll find a marked change." Lucian said, grabbing hold of her arm as they moved along past two burly and exceptionally drunk men.

  "She for sale, Captain Lucifer?" one man daringly called out.

  To Catherine's surprise Lucian stopped right in front of the large man. His hands were meaty, his girth equally so, and his head as bald as a baby's bottom. And the smell?

  Catherine stepped behind Lucian and planted her face against his shirt. Fresh sea air, warm sun, and Lucian's own distinctly pleasant odor rewarded her nostrils. She breathed deeply relishing his rich and breathable scent.

  An icy tone marked Lucian's every word. "Big John, have you ever known me to sell a woman?"

  Catherine peeked around Lucian's arm, her nose still plastered to his shirt. The heavy man rubbed his bald head and attempted to take a step back away from the feared Captain Lucifer. But he had difficulty performing two tasks at once. So he stopped rubbing his head and took a stumbling step back.

  He looked at Lucian for a mere second, rubbing his bulbous nose, and then casting his glance down at his scuffed boots. "Nope. Sorry, Captain Lucifer."

  "Go sleep off your stupor before you find yourself gutted and left for dead," Lucian warned.

  Big John's eyes widened three-fold. He dropped his whiskey bottle and hurried off in a stumble. The smaller man beside him stared at Lucian briefly, threw his bottle down and ran after Big John.

  Catherine giggled as Lucian reached behind himself and yanked her around in front of him.

  "You find my shirt comforting, madam?"

  She smiled, and surprising herself and Lucian, she buried her face against his shirt at his chest. "I love the scent of you," she whispered, and snuggled her nose against the white linen.

  Lucian yanked her away. "Behave," he warned with a shake. "I want no man knowing you a harlot."

  Catherine stiffened and retaliated so incensed was she by his crude remark. "I do not give myself to just any man."

  His lips curled in a sardonic smile. "Only the gentry?"

  Catherine returned his smile with a disdainful one of her own. "Only a man of my choosing, Captain. Or did you forget the stable boy?"

  Lucian roughly dragged her alongside him as he moved on and beneath his breath, barely audible to Catherine's ears he said, "Thank you for reminding me that you're a whore."