He lovingly ran the back of his hand along her cheek. "I understand this is a shock for you and in time —"
She brushed his hand away. "No, you misunderstand. My father couldn't have signed these papers."
He stiffened hearing her defend Abelard. "You have the indisputable evidence in your hand."
She vehemently denied the obvious, shaking the papers in his face. "My father would never do this."
Lucian felt his temper mounting. She actually stood in front of him, papers in hand, denying her father had signed the documents. Documents that carried his neatly scripted signature.
"You are holding the proof of your father's guilt." His voice rang with cold malice.
She spoke with conviction. "If my father truly signed these papers then he must have had good cause."
Her words struck him like a harsh blow to the face. If she loved him as she had claimed that day on the beach, how could she stand here and hurt him so?
"You must understand my —"
His sharp words cut her off. "You defend him even with such blatant evidence?"
"You don't know my father. He could never condemn a man to suffer as you did."
"But he did."
Still she argued. "No, Lucian. Something is wrong, terribly wrong. My father is a good man."
He stood stunned, not believing the tenaciousness with which she defended Abelard. Her love for her father far outweighed her hastily expressed love for him. And he wanted her to love him with that unwavering tenacity.
"You still believe your father innocent?"
"I believe this matter needs further investigation."
"That isn't what I asked," he said curtly, and repeated his question. "Do you believe your father innocent?"
"Yes."
Simple and direct. She had announced exactly how she felt and sealed her fate.
Lucian walked around his desk and reached beneath the desktop.
Catherine heard a click. Her heart caught in her throat.
Lucian drew his hand out from beneath the desk and dropped several papers to scatter over the top. "Your freedom, madam."
Catherine understood the papers that lay in front of her proved her father innocent of treason. She didn't understand what he meant by her freedom.
"You gave me what I sought. Now take what I promised in return."
An icy chill ran up Catherine's spine and a shiver touched her soul. "Lucian." His name ran like a gentle plea from her lips.
He stood tall, his shoulders back, his demeanor that of the pirate Lucifer and not Lucian Darcmoor the man she had come to know and love.
"You will sail the day after tomorrow for England."
"Lucian," she cried, feeling her heart painfully break.
He ignored her as if he hadn't heard her plea or cared. He walked around the desk and straight out the door without a backward glance. Catherine clutched the papers to her chest and sank to the floor. Her father's freedom had cost her dearly. She had lost Lucian forever.
Chapter Twenty-four
Catherine hadn't seen Lucian since the night before in his study. After having cried for an hour she had returned to their room. He hadn't been there, nor had he been at breakfast this morning. He had purposely kept his distance from her.
He had left orders for her to pack and ready herself for her return to England on the morrow. A ship was being prepared for her journey, not the Black Skull, but one that could take her directly to English shores.
She dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily while staring down at the sarong she held in her hand. The meager garment would be considered scandalous back in England. But not here in Heaven.
A regretful frown marred her lovely features as she cast a sorrowful glance around the bedroom. She would miss this house, this island, and the friends she had made. She had come to think of it as her home. She had come to believe that in time Lucian would grow to love her as much as she loved him. She had convinced herself that fairy tales did indeed come true.
She had been a fool.
A single tear spilled from her eye and fell on her cheek. She roughly brushed it away. What good would tears do her? Lucian was determined to have his revenge. He would let nothing stop him. Not even love.
"He is a fool." Santos said, standing in the open doorway.
Catherine wiped at her teary eyes and forced a smile. "His hurt won't allow him to forget or forgive."
"Do not make excuses for his poor behavior," Santos ordered, entering the room. "He is a grown man and should behave like one. Not like some little boy who pouts over ridiculous things."
Catherine looked up at Santos when he stopped in front of her. She nervously twisted the sarong in her hand and her lips quivered, fading her smile to a mournful frown. "I never knew love could hurt so much," she admitted, and began to cry.