She turned to her side, the pearls rolling off her flesh to rest comfortably beside her. She caressed the shining beads, relaxing in the solace they brought her. They were her armor, her protection, her symbol of faith in herself. Wearing the pearls she would never feel naked no matter the circumstances. She had to hold on to that belief, her survival depended on it.
She returned her thoughts to her present and foremost problem. Captain Lucifer had to be constantly reminded of her intimate dalliances so he’d refrain from touching her. She in turn would need to search for the documents that would prove her father’s innocence.
The pain in her temple was like a thousand drums beating an horrendous cadence. She applied pressure to the pulsating veins, her fingers attempting to force the pain away. Her rhythmic suffering continued and with difficulty she focused on her ultimate goal, finding the documents that would prove her father’s innocence. She prayed that the papers were somewhere on this ship, preferably in this very cabin and not in the captain’s island home.
She feared that if she set foot on his island, she would never leave it.
The dreadful pain in her head lulled her into a fitful slumber. Her dreams vividly reminded her of the bargain Captain Lucifer and she had struck. She tossed and turned and whimpered as she found herself becoming the devil’s own bride.
o0o
Lucian entered the cabin reluctantly. He would have much preferred to remain topside with the heat of the afternoon sun beating down upon him and the sea breeze refreshing his heated skin.
He wondered whether, if he viewed Catherine Abelard spread out so invitingly for him, he would either strangle her or ravish her, he just wasn’t certain which.
God’s blood, but he wouldn’t mind having a taste of her. She was truly a tempting morsel. Who had been sampled by many. He could not—would not—give her the satisfaction of adding him to her list of conquests.
Besides he intended to learn more about Randolph Abelard from his daughter’s own lips and in so doing discover an alternate way of bringing about the man’s destruction.
A strange whimper caught his attention and he walked further into the room after shutting the door behind him. He approached the bed with hesitation, hearing her soft sensuous whimper. He didn’t care to admit just how much her passionate moans affected him, though his breeches strained with the proof of his response.
He stopped near the side of the bed and cast a curious and reluctant glance down at Catherine.
Passion, hot and ardent, filled her dreams. Her hands fondled her bare breasts frantically, her breathing was heavy, her body thrashed about the bed and her legs locked tightly together as though capturing her dream lover solidly within her.
“Please, oh, please,” she begged softly and with just the right amount of proper reluctance for enjoying herself while innocently enticing her lover.
Lucian found the heat rushing to his loins and his hand racing out, without thought of consequence, to touch her. With a sudden and anxious roughness, he cupped her breast. Her intake of breath was sharp, the moan that followed seductive.
“Please,” she whispered again with barely a quiver, almost as though she feared instead of desired her lover.
His fingers complied playing with her rosy nipple, exciting it to hardness while his hand squeezed the fullness of her. His lips ached to take the pebble-hard orb into his mouth and suckle its sweet taste.
She doesn’t dream of you, his thoughts reminded him. An angry smile curved his lips. “Which lover do you dream of?”
A whisperingly sensuous plea tumbled almost incoherently from her lips, but her pleasing words were enough to send Lucian near to bursting. He released her with the suddenness of one who had just been burned by a red-hot flame.
Abruptly, he turned away from her and stormed out of the room, shutting the door violently and hastily throwing the latch that locked Catherine Abelard in and locked him out.
Chapter Five
“Lady Catherine, put some clothes on!” Lucian demanded forcefully, rising from the large chair behind an equally large desk that sat before the row of windows in the cabin.
Catherine slowly uncrossed her legs and retreated from her perch on the bed to a chair by the unlit stove near a corner of the room. Her innocent expression and casual tone bespoke confidence though heat prickled her fair skin. “Sir, I have clothes on.”
Lucian’s voice rose in agitation. “You have my linen shirt on and nothing else.”
Her head went up defiantly. “I have my pearls.”
“Excuse me,” he said sarcastically, and executed a hasty bow. “A lady must wear her pearls.”
For a brief second Catherine felt exposed. She had thought he understood the significance of her pearls and that her armor would be breached. But over the past two days she had become aware of the fact that the longer he remained in the cabin with her and the more she elaborated on her intimate exploits, the more sharp and biting were his barbs. Equally surprising was her discovery that if her verbal defense was casual it raised his ire even more and caused him to storm from the room not to return for hours or until morning.