The Buccaneer(59)

"The viscount bored me," she said, having entertained Lucian with tales of her sexual exploits since he had entered the cabin an hour ago. She intended that he keep his distance and she could almost guarantee he would if she constantly chattered about her naughty liaisons.

Lucian sat in bed, his expression blank, his hands clenched at his sides. The white sheet rode low across his flat hard belly and his long red hair fell over his shoulders still damp from the washing he had given it before retiring to his cabin.

Catherine kept her eyes averted from him, looking at him could prove fatal. He reminded her of a mighty warrior, strikingly handsome and ready for battle. His opponent didn't stand a chance, especially a woman.

She hung her head down between her legs and repeatedly combed her hair over her head.

"Are you going to tell me why the viscount bored you," Lucian asked irritably. Annoyed with himself for having asked the question and even more annoyed that he found an answer necessary.

Grateful that her long hair hid her blush she continued. "He always wanted me beneath him. He had no adventure in his soul. It was always the same position. He completely bored me."

Catherine blessed Bonnie every time she fabricated a story. She had had no idea that men found different positions exciting or that there even were different positions to enjoy when making love.

Lucian's question startled her. "Which position do you prefer?"

She brushed her hair harder. Recalling Bonnie's favorite she chose it as her own as well. "I prefer being on top. I can feel so much more and move more freely."

Lucian cursed his curiosity. Now all he could think of was her riding some damn viscount, her head tossed back, her breasts pushed out, and her moans of pleasure filling the room.

"Blast all, woman, you're going to comb every hair out of your head. Put the damn comb down and come to bed."

Catherine tossed her head back; her silver blond hair flying around her, her cheeks flushed a vivid pink and her eyes aglow with surprise. "My hair tending annoys you?"

"Yes," he snapped, though in truth he found pleasure in watching her comb her silky mane. He loved the strange blond color of her hair and often itched to run his fingers through it. He just couldn't stand hearing another lover's tale. He had had enough.

Not wishing for an argument Catherine put her comb away and climbed into bed. "Lucian—"

He turned, capturing her chin harshly between his fingers, "No more. I will hear no more about favorite positions, boring positions, and any positions except the one you intend to fall asleep in."

"My side," she said with difficulty, his fingers still gripping her face.

He released her. "Good, go to sleep on your side."

"I will, but, Lucian?"

"Yes," he said, settling himself against his pillows.

"I've never made love side by side. I've heard it is possible, but I have never known a man skilled at that position." Why she continued to chatter on about sexual positions, she couldn't say. Unless it was Lucian's skills that interested her.

"Go to sleep," he shouted angrily, and reached out to extinguish the lamp on the table beside the bed.

Quiet descended on the cabin. The sea could be heard slapping the sides of the ship while it rocked it gently. Catherine found peace in the simple sound and motion and listened allowing the sway to ease her into sleep.

"Catherine," Lucian called softly.

"Mmmm," she answered, too tired for words.

"Side by side is indeed pleasurable."

Catherine's eyes burst wide open.

"Perhaps one day I shall show you."

It was an hour before Catherine was able to sleep or breathe easily.



o0o





The lash struck his back over and over and over. The leather thongs tore at his flesh, ripping it apart. The pain was excruciating, blinding him, tearing at him, searing his very soul.

He pressed his cheek against the mast he was strapped to, willing himself to block out the pain, to survive, to have his revenge.

The lash struck him again, his back feeling like the fires of Hades. Then the voice followed.

"How dare you touch my daughter? How dare you defile her innocence? How dare you steal her love from me?"

Lucian turned his head, looking over his shoulder, fighting the pain it caused him until his eyes connected with his abuser — Randolph Abelard.

He stood holding Catherine in his arms. She cried on his shoulder. He shook his head sadly.

"You fool," he whispered, and turned away, taking Catherine with him.

He tried desperately to see who swung the lash, he craned his neck stretching, looking, searching and then he saw him —

Lucian almost jumped from the bed screaming. Sweat poured from his brow and his breath was short and rapid. His eyes bulged wide, afraid to close, afraid of what he might see.