The Buccaneer(82)

Damn it, but she belonged to him. Love or no love, she was his.

"Catherine!" he yelled, tossing the shells back into the sea.

She jumped, startled, and looked at him with wide, questioning eyes.

"Come here," he said, holding out his hand to her.

Deny him. Her voice warned. Turn and run. Save yourself from the pain and hurt he surely will cause you. Run, Catherine, run.

She did — right into his arms.





Chapter Twenty-two



Catherine rushed down the staircase, her hand sliding along the polished teakwood banister. She cast a hasty glance about the entrance foyer. Spying no one about, she hurried down the last few steps and peered into the large receiving room to her right.

Heavenly blues and lush tropical greens blended perfectly to fill the airy room with the sense of the outdoors. Satisfied the room was empty she gave a quick look across the foyer into the dining room, shook her head at the huge dining table, wondering when Lucian would have the opportunity to entertain so many people, and hurried along down the wide hall.

She stopped near the end on the right in front of a closed door. She cast another curious glance to both sides of her. When she was certain no one watched her she turned the handle gently, nudged it open, and slipped inside, carefully shutting the door behind her.

"I've waited far too long. I must find those documents," she murmured to herself. She had allowed Lucian to consume her days and nights. It had been close to a month since they had arrived on Lucian's island. And a good part of each of those days had been spent with Lucian. The nights as well, but then the nights always belonged to him. They never retired without each other. Always they made love in his large bed upstairs and always they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Catherine had guarded her feelings and words carefully since that day on the beach when she had declared her love for him. They had swum often after that day, her skill improving and every inch of her body tanning gradually from the combination of wet, salty sea and hot sun that beat down on her daily.

She had laughed with him, picked fruit with him, hunted shells with him, and made love repeatedly with him. But she never again mentioned her love for him.

Now the time had come for her to face reality and recall why she was here, a prisoner on his island. She had come to save her father's life.

Undoubtedly her father or Charles had been in contact with Lucian, though he refused to speak of it to her. No matter how many times she questioned him, almost begged him, he denied her all information.

Her choice was obvious. Search for the papers herself. Then what? She wasn't certain. She only knew she could no longer sit by and do nothing. She would search and when she found them? Their relationship would be sorely tested.

Catherine had investigated Lucian's office once before, but she had been interrupted and had never found another opportunity to continue her hunt. Today Lucian and Santos had gone off to see to matters concerning the Black Skull. He had informed her he would be gone most of the morning. And with Zeena off to the market square that gave her a few hours and she planned on using every precious minute.

His study reflected him. Solid, strong, and massive in size from desk, to chairs, to tables, to paintings. But the colors, gentle blues and soft whites, reflected that part of him that he attempted to keep hidden. The part of him that cared... cared more deeply about others than he would ever admit.

Catherine shook her straying thoughts aside. She had work to do and little time to squander. She advanced on his desk, hurrying around its bulky size to squat down in front of three rows of drawers.

The bottom, she decided, eyeing the three drawers decisively. She eased it open, her arms straining against its weight.

Papers stacked to the top occupied the entire drawer. She sighed. This was going to take time. And it did.

A full hour later she laid the last paper aside and gazed out the window. She failed to notice the clouds that hovered outside promising an afternoon rain. She was steeped in thought.

Lucian privateered for England and had provided handsomely for the Crown. He had been supplied with maps and charts of every English ship that left English shores and foreign ports. He would know her father's shipping routes and the cargo they carried. He would have no trouble falsifying documents to show that the Marquis Randolph Abelard had traded with the enemy. Lucian had skillfully fashioned documentation that proved her father guilty of treason.

Catherine sighed heavily and shook her head. Bitterness consumed him like a starving animal scavenging for food. Until he quenched that insatiable hunger he would not rest.

She replaced the papers as she had found them. If there were false papers proving her father's guilt, then there were also papers proving his innocence. Lucian had said that he intended to present the papers to Catherine when he returned her to her father, so that proved their existence. But where would he hide such important documents?