It was during her first exploration that she had decided to wear one of the captain’s shirts. Her decision was actually a pragmatic one. It had nothing to do with her charade. The hem on her dress was torn and she didn’t possess the needle and thread to repair it, and she didn’t want the captain even remotely aware of the fact that she had purposely removed her pearls from her dress to wear. So she had grabbed his shirt from the chair and slipped into it. She had worn it ever since. She had even slept in it.
It had taken time to grow accustomed to his smell on her. The mixture of fresh sea air, gunpowder, and male flesh was potent—as potent as the man who had worn it.
She chased her strange thoughts away and hurried over to the desk. In the captain’s haste he may have forgotten to lock it and she would have a chance to search it and hopefully find the papers.
Charts, maps, and other sailing papers occupied the drawer. She shut it in disappointment and pulled open the one beneath. Her eyes scanned the writing quickly and she shook her head. She was reading too fast and not comprehending the words.
She leaned back on her haunches and slowly read over the document. She frowned, shook her head, and read the paper again.
On the last paper she studied the official seal in the lower right corner and the royal signature. If she understood this document correctly Captain Lucifer was a privateer for England. If that was the case then he would have had knowledge of her father’ merchant ship routes, to make certain he didn’t attack English ships, and he would have known full well those ships carried only cargo for the Crown and not supplies for the enemy.
She shook her head again. This didn’t make sense, unless—
The chilling realization that rushed over Catherine sent shivers through her. Captain Lucifer himself had fabricated the evidence of her father’s guilt. And he alone held the key to freeing him. Catherine shut her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. Why? Why did the captain hate her father with so much vengeance that he would go to such lengths to see him destroyed?
A scurry of feet outside the cabin door sent her into action. She returned the papers to where they belonged and rushed over to the bed. Her bottom hit the middle of the wide bed as the door opened and Santos stumbled in, attempting to balance the tray he held in his hands.
Catherine smiled. She liked the short, robust man. He spoke kindly to her and brought her water to wash with and food to fill her belly as he declared each time he brought her a meal.
“I brought you extra wine and cheese tonight to fill your belly,” he said setting the tray on the bed. “You don’t eat enough.”
“I don’t always have an appetite.”
Santos handed her a large chunk of cheese. “Tonight you eat.”
Catherine took the offered cheese and nibbled at it, though her churning stomach protested. Jokingly she asked, “Does everyone on this ship give orders?”
Santos shook his head while he filled her tankard with wine. “Only Captain Lucifer.”
She swallowed, with difficulty, the small piece of cheese in her mouth. “Then it is his order that I eat?”
“He sees your tray returned to the galley with barely a nibble taken from it. He tells me to make certain you eat tonight or else.”
“Or else what?” Catherine attempted to keep the tremor from her voice.
Santos caught her nervousness but showed no signs of his detection. “There’s no telling what he would do.”
Unpredictable. That was one frightening aspect of the captain’s manner. She couldn’t judge with accuracy his reaction to any given situation.
Her father’s involvement in politics had afforded her the privilege of meeting all manner and types of men. Her father would caution her to study the men and watch their reactions to various situations. He had explained that within a short time one could predict one’s opponent’s reaction to any given situation.
Captain Lucifer defied this principle, but then so did her father.
Even now she continued to worry that the captain would find a reason to return to the cabin and decide he no longer wished to reject her advances. Then what?
The piece of cheese suddenly felt heavy in her hand. “I find myself hungry tonight, Santos.”
“This is good,” he said, and walked to the door. “I will return for the empty tray later.”
She smiled, nodded and wondered how she would dispose of the food since her stomach revolted at the mere thought of swallowing it.
o0o
Lucian gripped the mighty ship’s wheel firmly. He lifted his face to the warm night breeze and drank deeply of the rich salty air. He felt in command when he was at the wheel and free. Free to travel what course he chose, free of restraints, and almost free of the past.