She closed the lid on her trunk and looked around her on the floor. Several of her personal articles surrounded her and she smiled. She planned on accenting the cabin with her own things to irritate Lucian all the more and hopefully force him to flee the cabin as often as possible. She would then be free to safely search for the documents and also be safe from scrutiny.
She placed her sliver comb set on the small chest next to the side of the bed where Lucian slept. She added her bottle of rose water and her skin lotion, specially blended for her by a local herbalist.
She draped her assortment of silk ribbons over the brass bar on the washstand and placed her blue and white china soap dish on the shelf beneath the brass bar, adding a bar of rose-scented soap to it.
A rumble in her stomach alerted her to her hunger and the fact that supper would soon be arriving. She decided to arrange the table a bit more formally this evening. Lucian had joined her for the evening meal these last couple of nights and she had felt intimidated by his presence and silence. Not tonight. Tonight she would play the harlot so well; he would storm from the room never to return.
She laughed at her own daydreams and set about to work. She took a white lace scarf from her trunk and arranged it to run down the middle of the scarred table. She fetched the crystal goblets and mother-of-pearl handled utensils from the cabinet that housed Lucian’s liquor and placed them appropriately on the table. She chose a bottle of red wine from the lower shelf of the cabinet and moved the oil lamp to the center of the table.
The flickering light reflected off the crystal and the setting for only two suggested that it was an intimate interlude for lovers.
Catherine smiled, slipped out of Lucian’s shirt and sat at the table to wait.
o0o
The rain had soaked Lucian. His clothes clung to him, his hair dripped with water. He could have retreated below, his men wouldn’t have minded. But he would have. He had promised himself when he took over the ship that he wouldn’t expect his crew to do anything he wouldn’t do himself. He had earned their respect and their faithfulness and he had no intentions of abusing those privileges.
He took the steps down to his cabin, tired and worn out from the physical duties he had performed. He was in no mood to spar with Catherine this evening. It was the comfort of his cabin, a good meal and his bed that he sought and no more.
He reluctantly opened the door and entered. He stopped abruptly only a few feet into the cabin.
“Good evening, Lucian, Catherine said, attempting to hide her nervous tremble. The sight of him glistening wet caused her heart to thunder. His features appeared more handsome, his body more powerful. He gave the appearance of a mighty god who had just risen from the sea. “Santos promised our meal would be here soon. Are you hungry?”
He was hungry all right. But it was all lusty hunger that gripped him seeing her standing there with her body so exquisitely outlined in that pale pink shift. The garment hinted at what lay beneath and knowing what it concealed only heightened his passion.
“I’m hungry and tired,” he snapped, “and in no mood to be seduced.”
Catherine couldn’t hide her smile. She was becoming talented at playing the harlot and with so little experience. She felt proud of herself.
“I was thinking only of your comfort, Lucian,” she said sweetly.
“I’m sure you were, Cath —” His eyes suddenly grew heated with anger. “Blast it all, woman, how did you find out my name?”
Catherine was about to answer him when he waved her response away with his hand. “Forget it. Santos could have been the only one to tell you.”
“Completely by accident,” she said, defending Santos.
“It was no accident,” Lucian said, walking over to the washstand to grab a towel. His glance took in the colorful ribbons and the soap, its rose scent drifting up to tempt his nostrils.
He was about to bellow in rage when he realized her intentions. She planned to torment him into making love to her. She’d be relentless in her pursuit of him. He would be her prize, her trophy to discreetly display before her intimate friends upon her return. Whispered gossip would spread like wildfire and soon her string of lovers would grow and multiply.
But not if he had his way. He’d give her a sample, a small taste of what she ached for, but she would never know fulfillment in his arms. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Lucian stripped out of his wet clothes, discarding them to lie in a heap at his feet. He snapped the towel off the brass bar and roughly dried himself. He took his time, running the white towel over his chest and down around his flat belly.
He turned, offering Catherine a better view, and propped his foot up on the nearby chair while he vigorously dried his leg. He treated his other leg likewise and then dropped the towel down over his back, grabbing the other end at his waist and running it back and forth diagonally across his back. With that finished he tossed it aside, stretched his arms up to relieve his sore muscles and give Catherine more time to devour him with her eyes. He then stepped behind the washstand and reached for dark velvet robe, tying the belt loosely around his waist.