The Buccaneer(78)

"Lucian," Santos attempted, but Lucian ranted on, ignoring his friend.

"Abelard is a fool if he thinks I'll return her to him. He's a bigger fool for not attending to his fatherly duties and seeing that his daughter was protected and safe from harm." He stopped his pacing and shook a finger at Santos. "Well, she's safe here and here is where she will stay until I say otherwise."

"Is she safe here?" Santos asked.

Lucian threw his hands up in the air. "You sound like Zeena. Her questions always have an underlying meaning. Say what you will, Santos."

Santos glanced about, intending his question for no one but Lucian. "Catherine is no longer innocent, is she?"

Lucian dropped into a nearby chair, the soft cushion collapsing from the weight of him. "I should tell you to mind your own damn business."

"But you won't," Santos said, sitting in the chair next to him.

"You were right," Lucian said, turning to look him directly in the eye and admit his mistake. "She was a virgin."

"So your plan is in motion. You will destroy Abelard emotionally, politically, and then financially."

"Perhaps, I'm not certain, though one decision is clear."

"What's that?"

"Catherine will remain here with me — indefinitely."

"Abelard will never agree to that."

"I don't recall seeking his permission on the matter."

"He will protest."

"It will do no good."

"Will you inform Catherine of her father's demand?" Santos asked, although the answer appeared clear.

"No." Lucian stood and leaned his hand on the white veranda railing, looking out across his land that seemed to stretch on forever. "Catherine and I have matters to settle."

"Be careful, Lucian," Santos warned.

"Don't worry, my friend, I will not be as foolish as Abelard and allow my emotions to rule."

Santos shook his head as he walked to the open door. "What I worry is that you will foolishly not listen to your emotions and instead allow revenge to guide you."

Lucian swerved around, holding his hand out. "I have waited years to have Abelard in the palm of my hand."

"You have something much more fragile and important in the palm of your hand. Be careful you don't crush it."

Lucian turned his back on the sound of the door closing. He held his hand out over the railing and stared down into his empty palm.

Catherine fit comfortably in his palm, her breast full and heavy to his touch. He loved the feel of her, so warm and responsive. Her nipple would pucker, she would moan and arch against him and beg to be stroked.

And he would stroke her. Bloody hell, how he stroked her silky flesh, every blasted inch of her. He charted her body as he did the sea, noting every welcoming channel and depth and the extent to which he could sail her.

"Lucian."

His name anxiously spoken brought a smile to his lips and he turned, holding his hand out to Catherine.

She took it, fitting perfectly in his palm, and Santos's warning rang clearly in his thoughts.

"What is it you want, angel?" he asked, drawing her up against him, needing her body pressed to his. She looked exotic in the pink-and-red sarong that wrapped snugly around her body, outlining every curve and mound. The simple garment excited him beyond control.

Catherine blushed, making her response unnecessary.

He laughed low and wickedly. "I did not fill you enough this morning?"

"You cannot ask me what I want," she said, her face buried in his shirt, hiding from him.

"Why?" he asked, attempting to catch her chin and force her to look at him, but she eluded his grasp, burying herself against him.

Her reply muffled, he grew irritated and gripped her shoulders, pulling her back away from him. "What the devil did you say?"

Her blush barely faded before another tinge painted her cheeks.

Lucian held her firmly. "You may turn as many shades of red as you wish, but you will answer me."

Catherine bravely raised her head and blurted out, "I always want you."

"Always?" he asked, wanting to hear her say it again.

"Always," she agreed softly, and reaffirmed it with a nod.

"Does your body ache now for me?" He needed to hear that she did, for he bloody well ached and throbbed and hungered for her.

"As soon as you turned and smiled at me, I ached for you."

"And you searched me out?"

She smiled and he released her, taking her hand in his but keeping a safe distance between them.

"I searched you out," she agreed, "but it was to see that you kept your promise to me."

"Promise?"

She nodded. "You said you would teach me to swim and I have decided I would like to learn."