The Buccaneer

by Donna Fletcher

  How could she have possibly thought that the infamous Captain Lucifer would love her? She was, after all, the stepdaughter of the Marquis of Devonshire, the man he had sworn revenge against.

  After an hour of senseless and warring thoughts she returned to the house. Lucian was still no place to be seen. Weary and heartbroken, she climbed the stairs, having refused any supper.

  She entered the bedroom she and Lucian shared. She took one glance around the familiar room, so barren now with the removal of her personal articles. She turned around, walked out, and closed the door behind her.

  She found a guest bedroom down the corridor on the right. She closed the door quietly, slipped out of her dress, and climbed naked between the covers of the bed.

  Peaceful sleep was what she prayed for, her thoughts having pained her far too long. She only wanted tomorrow to hurry and arrive so she could sail away, so afraid that when it was time to say good-bye to Lucian she would break down and cry and beg him to let her stay.

  o0o

  Lucian stood on the veranda outside his study. The late-night air had dropped the temperature to a comfortable level and the cool breeze caressed his warm skin.

  He had thought of drowning his pain in liquor, but had decided against it. He wanted a clear head when he bid Catherine good-bye in the morning. He wanted to remember her face, her expression, and her words when she said her good-bye.

  He had purposely avoided her all day. He hadn't wanted to hear her excuses, her defense of her father, attempting to reason with him that Abelard was a good man.

  Abelard was far from good and it was time Catherine realized that people weren't always what they seemed to be, like her. She had claimed she loved him, yet she had defended her father against him when he was the one who had been wronged and hurt.

  He hadn't expected to feel such a strong emotional reaction to his decisions. The idea that she would sail tomorrow and he would never see her again weighed heavily on his mind. The thought of her not sharing his bed, of swimming alone, of never hunting for shells again, of never seeing her smile, of —"

  "Stop!" he cried out to the emptiness of the night. Stop tormenting yourself, he silently warned.

  He ran his hand through his hair. It fell over his shoulders onto his chest. He recalled how Catherine would sometimes wrap her hand in the long strands and tug at it when they made love.

  His thoughts strayed to her naked in the bed upstairs. She never wore nightclothes, simply because he had removed them every time she had climbed into bed. He enjoyed her sleeping beside him. She cuddled against him nightly, often initiating foreplay with her innocent touches and soft words.

  He thought of her penchant for wrapping her leg around his and lightly rubbing herself against him. She thought nothing of it, she teased him with sexual innocence and it drove him absolutely crazy.

  With a quick step back and a sudden turn he headed toward the door. He had one last night with her. One night that he had planned to spend alone, but now —

  Lucian headed up the staircase, taking two steps at a time. He hurried down the hall, paused briefly; debating the wisdom of his decision, then opened the door and walked in.

  The room lay bathed in heavy silence, candles flickered from the gentle breeze drifting through the window and the bed lay ready, waiting . . . and empty.

  Lucian panicked at first, thinking something had happened to her. Then he realized she purposely had not come to his bed tonight. His eyes widened. His hand clamped into tight fists. His nostrils flared and he whirled around as if a mighty gale had spun him about and he left the room.

  o0o

  In the distance Catherine heard her name screamed, followed by several loud crashing sounds. She drifted slowly out of her heavy sleep, opening her eyes just as the door crashed against the wall and sent the room atremble.

  She pulled herself up, grabbing the sheet to cover her naked breasts and he stormed over to the bed.

  He stood with his hands on his hips, his chest naked, his hair wild, his eyes wide and menacing as though having found his intended prey and ready for the capture.

  He spoke not a word. He reached down, tore the cover from her hands, slipped his arms beneath her, and lifted her up against his chest.

  "Will you deny me, angel?"

  Though his tone was stern Catherine heard an unbearable ache beneath the surface and her heart went out to him.

  "Never," she whispered, needing him to love her one last time.

  She laid her head on his chest, listening to the thunderous beating of his heart, relishing the warmth of his hard flesh, smelling the sea and fresh air that was so much a part of him. All these things she stored away in her memory for lonely winter nights and endless days to come.

  He carried her to his bedroom and gently deposited her in the middle of his bed. He stepped back, stripped what clothes he wore, and returned to her.

  He covered her with the length of him. He needed to feel all of her, every inch of her naked flesh stretched out beneath him. He needed to know she belonged to him this one last time.

  Her green eyes betrayed her hurt and pain and he ached for her. He hadn't wanted to hurt her and he hadn't wanted to be hurt. He had wanted to love her and have her love him, only him.

  But inside where his hurt ran deep, where scars still lay open and sore, he yearned for relief. Relief from the pain of the past and the fear of the future.

  When he had landed on this island, he had finally been free. He had found Heaven and he had hoped against hope that someday he would find an angel to make this home complete.

  Catherine had entered his life, an angel with a strand of pearls. An angel with the name Abelard. How could he trust the very daughter of the man who had sentenced him to hell? How could he love her as much as he did? How could he let her go?

  "Lucian," she whispered in a soft plea.

  He understood her need. He had satisfied her and himself night after night. He brushed his lips across hers, tasted her passion, her fire.

  "Love me, angel. Love me," he murmured, and captured her mouth, but not before she answered.

  "Always."

  Catherine reached out to him with the same hunger, the same need to share, to become one.

  His hand roamed her body, familiar with every valley and mound, aware of every erotic spot she possessed and creating new ones with his masterful touch.

  Breathless and seeking air, she pulled away from his mouth. His lips sought her nipple, still hungry for her taste. While he teased her unmercifully, flicking his tongue across her hard little orb and taking playful bites, his hand roamed.

  He nestled his fingers in the valley between her legs, cupping her mound with the palm of his hand and gently massaging her.

  She moaned, feeling the tingling sensation run to the tips of her toes. Her second moan sounded his name, though incoherently. And her third was a simple plea for him to ease her torment.

  "I can't get enough of you," he whispered between bites to her nipple. "You're a fire in my soul and an ach in my heart. And still I —"

  He stopped himself and looked into her passion-filled eyes. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. He couldn't tell her he loved her. But slowly and thoroughly he demonstrated the strength of his love.

  She moaned and writhed under his touch, begged him for release, begged him to love her. And he did. He took her beyond reality, beyond madness. He took her to the realm of pure ecstasy. She cried out, trembled, and nearly fainted from the exquisite pleasure.

  He followed along with her, climaxing with a strength he had never thought possible.

  They lay quiet and still, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. When he finally eased off her, he pulled her into his arms and held her.

  After several silent minutes passed he spoke, his voice strong and determined. "I'm going to make love to you all night, angel."

  She blinked away a tear and prayed that morning would never come.

  o0o

&n
bsp; Catherine woke alone in bed. She hurried to wash and dress and find Lucian. Surely after last night and the closeness they had shared he had second thoughts as to his decision on her return to England.

  She hastily tied her hair in a lavender ribbon to match the lavender traveling dress she wore, though she assured herself that in no time she would change into her sarong as soon as Lucian and she had settled things.

  Her slippered feet took her quickly down the staircase only to stop short when she caught sight of Santos. His expression looked grave and he appeared upset.

  "Are you ready, Catherine?" he asked.

  Her heart caught in her throat, her flesh turned hot, her stomach quivered. He wouldn't. He couldn't return her, not after last night.

  "Lucian?" She almost choked on his name.

  Santos answered gruffly. "He's on the beach, by the longboat, waiting for you."

  She reached out for the banister, feeling faint.

  Santos hurried to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Easy, Catherine, it will be over soon."

  "It will never be over," she cried, and wrenched herself free to run upstairs.

  o0o

  Catherine held her head up high as Santos escorted her along the beach to the longboat. The sand seeped into her slippers, but she continued walking, holding her dress above her ankles so it wouldn't trail in the sand.

  Lucian stood beside the boat with his back to her. He wore his breeches, his boots, and his shirt. He was dressed entirely in black, an appropriate color for the infamous Lucifer.

  He turned at her approach and as she drew closer he held out rolled papers tied with a purple ribbon.

  "Your payment, madam."

  Catherine felt as if he had struck her in the face. She almost raised her hand to her chest in search of her pearls and the feeling of protection they had offered her. But she had no protection, only herself to rely on. She raised her hand and took the papers from him.

  Not a spark of regret, not a quiver of emotion. Nothing. He planned to send her off without a word.

  Anger and hurt warred within her and she turned to go, then stopped, recalling the courage and determination of the young woman she had become when held captive on his ship.

  She turned around with a smile and a flourish, walked up to him, leaned on her toes, kissed his cheek, and said, "Thank you. You have taught me much and I will put it to good use."

  His eyes and nostrils flared suddenly, but his lips remained stubbornly locked.

  She drank in one last look at him and hurried off. Santos helped her into the longboat and she sat watching Lucian grow smaller and smaller as the boat rowed out to the ship.

  Shortly, she stood on the deck of the ship, the crew weighing anchor, the sails unfurling, the ship swaying, and still Lucian stood in the distance.

  She had hoped, prayed, begged the Lord above to let her stay in Heaven with Lucian. But he hadn't answered her prayer.

  Don't give up!

  "Never," she whispered, needing to hold on to her courage and strength. She sent the Lord a silent prayer that one day she would return to Heaven and all would be different.

  She repeated the prayer over and over, blinking back her tears as she watched Lucian standing on the shore while the ship sailed farther and farther from him.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  "Love me, angel," Lucian demanded staunchly, and kissed her with a hot, sweet passion that sent the shivers racing through her. She returned his kiss, ached for it, hungered over it. It had been too long, much too long, since she had tasted his lips, felt his naked flesh against hers, felt his hands roam over her and ignite her flesh with passion.

  Lord, but she needed him.

  "You belong to me, angel," he said, lowering her to the bed in his cabin and covering her with his fevered flesh.

  "Yes, Lucian," she cried softly.

  "Love me," he repeated, kissing her with a fierce frenzy.

  She threw her arms around him holding tight, returning his kisses. "I love you." She cried through her tears.

  "Never stop. Never give up loving me. Never," he urged as he faded from her arms.

  "Lucian!" Her scream filled the darkness of her bedroom as she bolted up in bed crying his name repeatedly.

  Her door burst open and her father, oil lamp in hand, hurried into her room. He rushed to her side, placing the lamp on the bedside table before joining her on the bed and taking her in his arms.

  "Another dream?" he asked, cradling her against him as he had often done when she was a small child and needed comforting.

  "Yes," she sobbed, relieved that he held her, relieved that his health had returned and he was once again the strong, imposing man she remembered. His hair was completely white now, but he had gained back the lost weight. His features marked by age and stress, were as handsome as ever. This ordeal had at least been kind and aged him gracefully.

  "I thought by now —" His words faded and he shook his head. "You've been back two months. I thought time would heal your hurt."

  "I'll never forget him. I can't," she said softly. "But it would help if you —"

  Her father released her abruptly and stood. "We've been through this before. I will not discuss it."

  Catherine had seen her father adamant about an issue before, but this stern refusal to speak to her about the papers he had signed condemning Lucian to servitude was unlike him and gave her cause to wonder what he had to hide. "Your explanation of your signature —"

  He interrupted her again. "Would serve no purpose. It was many years ago and there is no point in going into the details. You only need to know I made the wisest choice possible then."

  Catherine slipped to the end of the bed, holding her hand out to her father for her rose-colored robe that lay across her vanity bench. "I don't understand why the choice was necessary and perhaps giving me the reason for your choice would make a difference."

  He handed her the robe. "Catherine, dredging up the past will do no good."

  Catherine hurried into it, tying the belt around her waist and slipping her feet into the slippers beside the bed. "I need to know. For myself, if for nothing else. I need to know."

  Her father shook his head sadly. "You have been through a tragic ordeal. It is over. Why Captain Lucifer is disturbed about papers I signed concerning another man doesn't matter. Forget it and go on with your life. You will never see this Captain Lucifer again. I made certain he will never privateer for England again. He will never cross your path, or hurt you again. I will not allow it!"

  Catherine felt her breath catch. Her father's words had hurt her more than he could ever understand. The thought of never seeing Lucian again hit her full force and she collapsed to the bed.

  "Catherine," Randolph Abelard cried, and hurried to his daughter's side.

  She once again accepted the comfort of his embrace. She purposely hadn't informed him that Captain Lucifer was Lucian Darcmoor. Santos had requested on her return voyage home that she keep that information to herself. He had explained that Lucian sought to reclaim his father's estate and if it was known that he was the pirate Lucifer his lands would never be returned to him.

  Catherine honored his request, having had no intention of telling anyone of his true identity, not even her father.

  "You must put these memories behind you and get on with your life," her father urged. "It is time we found you a husband."

  "No, Papa," she said, and pulled out of his embrace with a sigh.

  "Now, Catherine, I am your father and if I feel it is time that you marry then you must trust my judgment."

  Catherine stood, shaking her head while running her fingers through her tangled hair. "Will you buy me a husband, Papa?"

  Her father grew cross over her question. "I will offer a generous dowry, which is normal with your social status."

  "The dowry would indeed need to be generous, or no man would accept it."

  Her father attempted to argue, but she again shook her head. "It is time we both
faced the facts, Papa. My reputation is ruined. As hard as you tried to keep my capture silent, it just didn't work. Gossip spread like wildfire upon my return. Men have propositioned me —"

  Her father jumped to his feet. "Who?" Who dared to insult you so?"

  "Papa, don't," she said sadly, recalling the few men who had brazenly told her they wanted to taste a sample of Lucifer's private stock. "Don't make this any more difficult than it already is. I am being openly gossiped about by men and women alike. No respectable man would accept me in marriage and I refuse to create even more gossip. It is time I go home."

  "You can't run away," he insisted. "We must stay here in London and fight this injustice."

  Injustice. Lucian had often spoken of the injustice he had suffered. Now she suffered along with her father. She wondered if Lucian's revenge tasted sweet to him.

  "I want to go home to Yorkshire where I belong."

  "You're going home to hide," he argued. "You must stay and fight back. In time the gossip will wane. The social set will find fresh gossip to entertain them and yours will have been forgotten. But if you run off and hide, they will forever hound you with their spiteful tongues."

  "I'm going home," she said. "Tomorrow I will attend the Trenton's' dinner party with Aunt Lilith. I promised her I would go and I don't wish to disappoint her since Gwen Trenton is her close friend. Naturally the two have been scheming in hopes that this small intimate gathering might help my social status."

  "It might," her father added optimistically. "Lilith tells me Gwen has invited a few recent visitors from outside London to attend."

  Catherine shook her head. "I have no doubt that by tomorrow evening the new arrivals will have heard all about me. And besides, it doesn't matter; I leave for Yorkshire at the end of the week."

  "You can't. I forbid it," her father said sternly.

  Catherine sighed and dropped down on the vanity bench. "Oh, Papa, you don't understand. I must go home."

  "You are strong and courageous, stay and battle for your future. I will help you. We will face these fiends together," he offered.