The Buccaneer(57)

She glanced about the room, stopping briefly to make certain Lucian was asleep. He didn't stir and his breathing seemed steady. She continued on until she spotted an inkwell and pen on top of the chest on the far wall.

She slipped off the wide sill and quietly hurried over to the chest. Stepping on tiptoes, she reached up and grabbed the inkwell and pen, and finding a sheet of parchment paper, she took that as well, returning to her perch by the window.

Rain fell heavily outside sending the inhabitants of Tortuga indoors. Gone was the raucous laughter, singing of songs, and argumentative exchanges. Silence filled the night, to Catherine's relief.

She placed the items she had collected on the sill and carefully moved the oil lamp from the bureau to the small narrow table next to the sill, providing her with sufficient light to write.

She climbed back on her perch, brought her knees up to rest the parchment on, and dipped the pen in the inkwell; slowly she began to write her name.

Tired from the long eventful day Catherine had difficulty concentrating. Her vision blurred. Every attempt at completing her name failed and she grew more frustrated and doubtful. If she couldn't write her name, a simple enough task, how could she hope to succeed in clearing her father's name?

She bit at her lower lip and concentrated. She had to write her name correctly, she just had to. She tried again and then again, but each time the letters appeared more scrambled. Finally she began to cry in frustration softly and steadily while her hand fought to write her name correctly.

Lucian stirred in his sleep, a sense that something was amiss rousing him. He heard Catherine's soft whimpers as his eyes drifted open. He wasted no time. He climbed from the bed and went to her, his heart racing in concern.

She looked up at him, her eyes red and filled with tears. He looked down at her and the paper resting against her bent legs. His look appeared puzzled and he reached for the paper.

"Bloody hell, Catherine, weren't you properly taught how to read and write. Look at the mess you've made."

All the years of struggling to learn, all the years of keeping it a secret, all her fears surfaced at once. And she lashed out at him, grabbing back the paper. "I was taught to read and write."

She put her pen to paper and once again attempted her name, slowly, carefully, concentrating on every line and curve of the letters. Her fingers grasped the pen tightly as she worked diligently on proving her intelligence. But her mind had suffered enough badgering for one day and failed to cooperate.

She cried out in frustration when she made an error and sought to correct her mistake.

Lucian stood beside her stunned. Obviously she had been tutored in reading and writing, but perhaps the lessons were never finished. Even if that was so, she had learned remarkable well for a woman. She was far more intelligent than he had given her credit for. And he respected and admired her determination and her courage.

He bent down beside her and slipped his hand over hers. "Let me help you."

Catherine froze in shock, her tears running down her cheeks.

He smiled at her, a soft, encouraging smile and Catherine's fear suddenly melted away. His large hand covered hers and together they wrote Catherine's name perfectly.

"Thank you," she whispered, and smiled. "You truly are a gentleman."

Lucian stared at her. She looked vulnerable and innocent with her silver blond hair tumbling wildly over her shoulders and around her pale face. And her green eyes had grown deep in color from her crying, her cheeks flushed pink and her bottom lip reddened from her biting nervously at it. She resembled a little girl, innocent of life.

But she was no innocent and he was no gentleman. He was a pirate, the infamous pirate Lucifer, with tales of his plunder and savage escapades crossing oceans and continents. And she was Randolph Abelard’s daughter and a harlot.

He ran his finger down the side of her cheek tenderly as if touching her for the first time. "If only," he whispered, then stood and took himself off to bed, turning his back on her and his emotions once again.





Chapter Fifteen



Catherine gripped the wooden rail and watched Tortuga fade in the distance. Where would Lucian take her now? What were his intentions? How long would she remain his prisoner? How long could she continue this charade?

A shudder ran through her and arms wrapped around her.

"Have you a chill?" Lucian asked, drawing her back against him and crossing his arms to rest beneath her breasts.

Catherine released the railing along with a soft sigh. She ran her hands over his large ones, her tension fading as she felt his strength locked around her. He was offering her protection, comfort. For how long? She didn't know and she didn't care. She gratefully accepted his offer of peace.