“Lucian killed him?” She used the captain’s name without thought.
“Lucian does what is necessary to survive,” Santos returned. “And how is it that you know his name?”
“Whose name?” Catherine asked.
“The captain. You called him Lucian.”
“That’s his name?”
“I called him by his name.” Santos shook his head answering his own question. “He’s going to have my flogged.”
“He’d never do that!” Catherine said stunned.
Santos glared at her oddly. “How do you know Lucian never flogs his men?”
“Simple,” Catherine said. “The barbaric punishment was inflicted on him repeatedly. He wouldn’t make another suffer such abuse.”
“You begin to understand him.”
She hoped to understand Lucian even better thanks to Santos. “Those forced years on the merchant ship must have been difficult.”
Santos’s attention drifted far away, though his eyes remained on her. “I still can hear his screams, though he learned quickly enough that the captain enjoyed when the men screamed. Then he silenced his pain even when the salty seawater hit his open wounds. He didn’t respond. He remained silent. Dead silent. Then there were his recoveries when the insects would swarm around his festering wounds. I spent many sleepless nights keeping the bugs form feasting on his raw flesh.”
Catherine shuddered. The horrible picture Santos painted turned her stomach. Her father would never have employed such a sadistic captain. Never. The cruelty Lucian had endured was inconceivable. No wonder he hated her father. But how did he come to think her father responsible for his plight? Who had provided him with false information and why?
“Our situation didn’t improve much when our ship was captured by pirates,” Santos said and waved his hand in disgust. “But those tales are best left untold.”
“You spent many years with him?”
“Over ten, and it wasn’t until Lucian took command of the pirate ship did our lot improve. “Santos moved toward the door.
Catherine wished to hear more, but Santos had his way about him. He spoke in bits and pieces and with each piece Catherine planned on solving her puzzle.
“He’s not what he appears,” Santos said softly. So softly that Catherine barely heard him.
Her response was just as soft and spoken as the cabin door closed. “Neither am I.”
Chapter Eight
The rain began early in the afternoon. It was a steady and heavy downpour, but lacked the strong wind that would have made it a raging storm.
Surprisingly, Catherine hadn’t noticed when the rain had begun. She had been too occupied rummaging through her trunk and reflecting on her situation to take note.
She considered dressing, but after examining her wardrobe she felt the garments were too cumbersome for her confined quarters. She required light, unrestricting clothing so she could move about quickly and quietly. She decided upon her pale pink linen shift trimmed at the low neckline with a row of embroidered roses. It was one of her favorite garments and she wore it often beneath her dresses. It was sleeveless and fell down along her body, curving slightly over her hips to rest at her ankles.
She draped her pearls over the shift, breathing easier when they fell protectively against her. She spied the captain’s white silk shirt on the bed where she had discarded it.
With a spark of delightful mischief in her eyes, she reached for the garment. “I shall continue to wear your shirt, Lucian.”
Her use of his given name startled her and she hesitated a moment in picking up his shirt.
“Lucian,” she whispered, testing the name once again on her lips. She slipped his shirt on, rubbing the soft material against her cheek.
“Who are you, Lucian?” That question had plagued her often of late. His speech was refined as were his manners when he ate. He kept himself clean-shaven and his body was always damp at night when he returned to the cabin as though he had just washed. And his long dark red hair always shone and smelled of the sun and sea.
He was not, Catherine decided, a commoner. Could he be of noble birth? But that didn’t make sense. A nobleman would never be sold into service to a merchant ship. Perhaps he was an illegitimate offspring of a nobleman who didn’t wish his secret known. She shook her head. She would talk with Santos more and learn what she could. Eventually all the pieces would fit.
She liked talking with Santos. He treated her not only like a lady, but like a friend. And she got the distinct feeling that although he would follow Lucian’s dictates, he did not always agree with him.
Catherine yawned and looked to the windows. The rain pounded against the glass. The sky was dreary gray and would darken early tonight because of the foul weather.