The Buccaneer(89)

Santos opened his arms and heart to her.

She tossed the wrinkled sarong to the side and hurried into his arms.

"Cry," he told her, and wrapped her snugly in his fatherly embrace.

"I can't bear the hurt," she cried, her voice barely coherent with her face buried in his chest.

"He doesn't deserve you. You are much too good for him," Santos defended. "He is ten times a fool. No, a hundred times a fool to treat you so."

Catherine eased away from him and looked up into his eyes. "Then why do I hurt for him as much as for myself?"

Santos smiled sadly. "Because you love without restrictions."

"And he can't?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not yet. He must free himself of his past before he can look to his future.”

"Then it is too late for us." Catherine stepped out of his arms.

"No," Santos insisted strongly. "It is never too late. Don't give up. Don't ever give up."

"But isn't that what Lucian is doing? Never giving up. Never forgetting the past. Seeking his revenge at all cost."

"It is what one seeks and the reason for it that matters. Follow your instincts and your heart."

Catherine's lip quivered. "I have, and love hurts. It hurts badly."

Santos offered her his comforting arms once again and Catherine gratefully drifted into them.



By late afternoon Lucian still hadn't returned to the house. Catherine had finished packing her things and Santos had secured her traveling cases and had them sent on to the ship. She had kept one small traveling case for herself as she had done when leaving England over four months ago.

She had attempted to eat the noon meal, but her stomach had protested and she had only been able to eat a few slices of melon.

Afternoon had drifted into early evening and Catherine found herself wandering from room to room lost in her thoughts and her sorrows.

Her heart ached unbearably. She thought of seeking Lucian out and begging him to reconsider his hasty decision. But she recalled last night and his expression when he had dumped the proof of her father's innocence on his desk. At that moment he had resembled the pirate Lucifer when he had stepped through the shattered cabin door on the ship and so calmly ordered her to drop the pistol she held.

His threatening stare had frightened her then and that same stare had managed to frighten the devil out of her last night, but this time for a different reason. The first time she had feared for her life, his look had been so fierce and menacing. Last evening his look was just as fierce and menacing — and determined. Nothing would stop him from seeking his revenge, not even love.

A teardrop spilled on her cheek and she brushed it away while walking toward the rear of the house. She abhorred her penchant of late for tears. She had never taken to crying easily. She had learned when young to hide her hurt feelings, so these frequent tears annoyed her.

When a problem needed facing, tears only blinded one's vision and emotions. She needed clarity of thought, her emotions —

Were totally out of control.

She wandered out the back of the house, past the cookhouse and toward the garden, deciding to take one last glance at the lush flowers and plants, embedding them in her memory to retrieve on a cold winter's night in England.

"Love is painful."

Zeena’s familiar voice caused Catherine to turn around. "No one ever warned me of that."

Zeena walked toward Catherine after issuing orders to the young girl beside her at the entrance to the cookhouse. "Would it have made a difference?"

Catherine pondered her question briefly and shook her head. "No. I wouldn't trade this love I feel for Lucian for anything in the world. And I will never regret the time I spent with him."

Zeena raised her brow and smiled strangely as if just receiving news that left her wondering. "You truly love him."

"Of course," Catherine said, stunned. "Did you doubt that I did?"

She shrugged. "I thought perhaps your suffered a young girl's whimsy. And that the island and its beauty would soon weigh on your nerves. I assumed you would miss England and your grand parties and the life you are accustomed to."

Catherine signed. "I miss my father. I never cared for the lavish parties and balls, or the manner of people. I lived a quiet and partially secluded life, and I preferred it that way. I will miss Heaven."

Zeena held out her hand to Catherine. "And Heaven will miss you."

Catherine took her offered hand, squeezing it. "Your friendship means much to me. I wish — " Tears filled her eyes and her throat tightened. "I wish I —" She couldn't finish. She couldn't openly admit that she was leaving Heaven never to return.