“Lucian,” she whispered with relief.
His arm tightened around her waist more firmly and he felt the last tremor of fear race through her before she completely relaxed against him. “Are you in any pain?” he asked, recalling the way the ladder had collided with the side of the ship.
Surprisingly she realized her knee pained her, but not unbearably. “My knee hurts a little.”
“Nothing else pains you?”
She laughed, a surprising response to Lucian. “Only my pride.”
He smiled at her ability to find humor in an accident that most certainly could have been fatal. “Fear not, madam, your pride is intact. You did a most splendid job of saving yourself from an accident that was by no means your fault.”
“Wonderful,” she said, “my confidence is restored.”
“Enough to finish the climb down the ladder?”
A nervous flutter attacked Catherine’s stomach. “With your assistance?”
“Most definitely,” he assured her.
“Then I’m ready,” she said, her quivering voice betraying her fear.
“Put your arms around my neck and trust me. I’ll not let any harm come to you, angel,” he whispered near her ear.
A shiver raced through her and not from fear. He spoke with gentle concern. He had even called her angel. Was it possible that Captain Lucifer did possess a soul? And had she touched it?
She carefully transferred her grip from the rung to around Lucian’s neck and with it went her trust. She buried her head against his chest and closed her eyes, willing herself not to foolishly believe that the captain actually cared about her. She was still his instrument of revenge and therefore extremely valuable to him. How could he let anything happen to her?
“Good, Catherine,” he praised. “Now hold on tight.”
She did and he took the rungs slowly so as not to frighten her. He deposited her on a seat in the longboat, leaning over her as she dropped her arms from around his neck.
He caught her chin and raised her face to him. “You’re full of spirit, Catherine.” And with that he kissed her. It was meant as a light congratulatory kiss, but once their lips touched—
His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his tongue delved into her mouth. He tasted her, shared her breath, her fresh scent, and then as quickly as he had plundered her mouth, he released her.
He stood straight, towering over her, his voice echoing on the warm sea air. “Get this boat under way, Bones, and one more accident and you’ll find yourself accidentally swimming to Tortuga.”
Lucian stared at her, looking oddly confused, and then turned, retreating to the bow of the boat.
Catherine felt quite drained by the incident and her rambling thoughts ignored his strange reaction and attended to her injured knee.
Lucian glared out at the island in the near distance. He focused on it and the business he needed to attend to while there. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
Bones, taking note of his captain’s mounting anger, leaned to the side and out of his range of fire if one of his fists should shoot out.
Lucian called himself a million kinds of fools. What in the bloody hell had come over him? He had tasted fear and near death in battle, yet when he had witnessed Catherine precariously dangling above him, he had known such deep-rooted fear it had frightened him to his very bones.
Had she slipped beneath his skin to prick him without his realizing it? Had she woven her wanton web so skillfully around him that he had lost control of his senses?
It was a willing woman he needed naked beneath him to appease the ache Catherine Abelard had inflicted upon him. He would find one in Tortuga. He would fill himself to bursting with her ten times over and be done with it.
He grimaced.
“You all right, Cap?” Bones asked, never having seen the captain display such emotions.
“Shut up, Bones,” Lucian snapped.
Bones inched a bit further away from the captain’s still-balled fists.
Lucian admonished himself for his foolishness, this time calling himself names not fit for any but a pirate’s ears. How could he? How could he call Catherine Abelard an angel? How victorious she must feel at this moment.
He turned expecting to see her gloating but instead he caught her wincing against the pain as she probed the large bruise on her knee.
“God’s blood,” he groaned, and headed straight for her, forgetful of his own warnings.
Catherine counted herself lucky for only receiving the bruise to her knee. She could have suffered much more severe injuries if Lucian hadn’t come so quickly to her aid. The bruise would fade as would her fear of the incident, but Lucian calling her angel would remain forever inscribed in her thoughts.