He grabbed the door latch, swinging it open and turned, pointing a finger directly at Catherine. “He is as innocent as you are a virgin.”
The door slammed so hard behind him that the metal hinges squeaked and the frame trembled.
Catherine sank to the floor where she stood, her legs too weak to hold her up any longer. She sat on the cabin floor hugging her pearls tightly and sadly shook her head. “He finally speaks the truth and doesn’t know it.”
o0o
The day drifted lazily into evening. Lucian kept his distance from everyone, his black mood growing darker. He sat on the quarterdeck, his back braced against a rain barrel, his legs stretched out before him. He discarded his shirt, his skin still thirsty for the warmth of the sun.
He stared out at the endless seascape. Once, not long ago, he had hated the sea. It had represented a prison that held him captive. Escape was impossible. Existence was intolerable.
Now after years of struggle, the never-ending sea meant freedom. He could sail forever
and never feel imprisoned. He had one last shackle to free himself of and then he would finally, truly feel free.
Lucian ran his hands through his dark red hair drawing every strand back tightly into his hand at the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and gave into his thoughts.
Abelard. Somehow he had to destroy Abelard. He couldn’t let Catherine interfere with his plan. If he must he would destroy her too. She was no different from her father. Where her father used his ships to get what he wanted, Catherine used her body. She was no innocent and he had better remember that or else he’d be taken in by her honeyed tongue and curvaceous body.
Lucian gave the matter further consideration. His plan had been waylaid; therefore an alternative one was necessary. Where, he thought, was the best area to attack one’s opponent?
His eyes drifted open and he looked to the sea for strength and wisdom. A seabird squawked and swooped down on the surface of the sea several times before capturing his meal.
Lucian watched the bird’s actions intently and smiled at his victory. “From within,” he whispered. “From within your own home, Abelard. And Catherine, your own sweet stepdaughter, shall be the pawn in your downfall.”
He stood, stretched slowly, easing his shoulder muscles back. He felt better, but then decisiveness always lightened his sour moods. Discovering Catherine’s promiscuous nature had hindered his plans, but since he couldn’t use her that way, he would use her another.
Catherine loved her father, believed in his innocence. What would she do when she discovered the truth? What would she do when he showed her the documents that proved Abelard sold him into servitude? She would turn against him, the stepdaughter he loved beyond reason would detest him. She would choose not to return to him. He would suffer humiliation and pain. Then he would go after Abelard’s business ventures until he had nothing, absolutely nothing, left.
A smile as wicked as the devil’s own crossed his face as he headed to his cabin.
o0o
Catherine sat with her legs crossed in the middle of the bed chewing on a piece of sweet plump date she held between two fingers. Her other hand turned the pages of a book full of charted maps. The charts appeared specific with odd markings on each one and written in different languages. She was familiar with Spanish and understood those charts.
She had decided a couple of hours ago that her time was best spent searching for the documents proving her father’s innocence rather than trembling like a frightened child. The maps had been left on his desk and hoping they would provide useful information she had gathered them up to carefully decipher them.
She took another bite of the date and continued to view the Spanish chart when the cabin door opened. She remained with her legs crossed, bent over, her finger running along the lines, her heart racing as Lucian walked into the room.
“Entertaining yourself with drawings?” he asked, stopping at the foot of the bed.
She raised her head, smiled and popped the last of the date into her mouth before nodding.
“If they entertain you by all means look at as many as you like. There is a whole chest of them,” he said, and pointed to a medium-sized brass chest beside his desk. “I’ll leave it unlocked for you.”
She smiled like a child delighted with a gift. “Thank you. I love to follow all the lines with my finger and see where they take me.”
“Where they take you?”
“Of course,” she said excitedly. “Sometimes they take me to other lines and then on to another and another while other lines end abruptly.”
Lucian shook his head. “If you enjoy tracing lines with your finger I see no harm in your viewing my charts. But be careful of your sticky fingers. I don’t want my charts ruined.”