She shook her head, confused. Where would she more than likely find the answer?
Your father.
The thought prickled her skin. Could her father put an end to Lucian's torment?
"Lost in your thoughts, madam?"
Catherine swerved around at the sound of Lucian's voice. He resembled a sun-drenched god standing there in nothing but his breeches. And the beauty of the roses that surrounded him warred for attention with his stunning red hair, silky and shining in the afternoon sunlight.
Your father, her silent voice warned.
She guiltily cast her glance away from him. The issue of the documents, her reason for being here, must be addressed. She could no longer ignore it, pretend it didn't exist.
"Something weighs heavy on your mind," Lucian said, approaching her from behind to gently span her waist with his hands and turn her to face him.
She took courage in hand and lifted her chin. "We must talk."
"I had a different purpose in following you here."
There was no mistaking the sensuality in his voice. And suddenly she recalled her fantasy of rose petals on bare flesh when making love. The notion of velvet-soft petals teasing her skin sent gooseflesh running up her arms and a flutter to her stomach.
"Please, Lucian," she whispered, the strength of denying him and herself such pleasure fading with a glance at the flaming roses surrounding them.
"This is important to you?" he asked, stroking her slim neck.
"Extremely," she managed to answer.
His hand dropped away. "Then we will talk, but —" His words drifted off and his lips found hers. He stole a breathless kiss. "It will be a short discussion."
Her breath quickened even more, and not from passion. She feared his reaction to her questions, she feared his unwillingness to cooperate, and inevitably, if the conflict was not resolved, her father's demise.
She took a step away from him, needing distance between them. "My father," she said, not certain where to start.
He stiffened, his shoulders appearing broader, his chest wider.
She continued. "My father is in grave danger, as you well know."
His hands tightened into fists but he remained silent.
Tears threatened, but she held firm to her emotions. She loved Lucian. Loved him more deeply then she had thought possible. But his bitterness and anger consumed him beyond reason. She had no choice. She had to confront him.
"You falsified documents that ensured my father would be accused of treason."
Fury swept across his face and he took a step toward her.
She backed away from him, his anger tangible and frightening.
He stopped. "You searched my desk?"
Her hand instinctively flew to her chest, protectively reaching for her pearls. She felt only the simple white cotton dress she wore. "You gave me no choice."
"I gave you much more," he said gravely.
It wasn't necessary for her to gather her thoughts to answer him. She smiled sadly and shook her head. "You gave me your protection, kept me from harm, but in turn —"
She paused and took a deep breath. "In turn you have made me your prisoner, kept me as your mistress, and refused me any information concerning my father's dire situation."
He took another step toward her. "Your father's situation is not as yet critical. I supplied documentation that has eased his problems for the moment. And only because you kept your word and came to me."
A wave of relief settled over Catherine. Her father, though momentarily, was safe. "He has been in touch with you."
"Repeatedly he has demanded your return."
"And you have denied him."
Lucian advanced on her again, his steps sure and steady, almost like that of a mighty predator playing cat-and-mouse with his prey. "I will not bargain for your return. You are mine until I decide otherwise."
"My father —"
His hand shot up in an angry wave cutting her off. "Will find no peace from the problems that plague him as of yet."
"He is not well," Catherine implored.
"I do not care if he suffers."
"I care, and that is the reason that brought me to you."
Another step brought Lucian to stand directly in front of her. Behind her spread several rows of fiery rosebushes, their blooms open wide, their thorns thick and sharp.
"What do you want from me, Catherine?"
His voice was emotionless, but his eyes —
They were cold, as cold as the ice that covered the pond back home in winter. She shivered even though the hot island sun drenched her with its heat.
Courage, Catherine, courage.
She addressed him with the emotions of a woman deeply in love. "I want happiness for us, but I want my father's safety secured. Please, send the documents clearing his name."