She lifted her head up, throwing it back against his chest. Before she could answer another wave of nausea attacked her and she once again dropped her head over the side of the boat.
Lucian held her firmly but carefully around her protruding waist. When she finished, he dipped the end of his sash in the sea, rinsed it, and gently wiped her face.
"Easy, angel," he cajoled. "We'll be at the ship soon and you can rest."
She was sick twice more and by the time her stomach finished protesting she lay exhausted against Lucian's chest.
The boat pulled up alongside the ship and Catherine ran her glance slowly up the rope ladder, past the balustrade to the tall masts. She moaned.
Lucian pressed his hand to her stomach. "Feeling ill again?""
"No," she sighed, "But much too tired to climb that rope ladder."
He kissed her temple and caressed her round belly. "I'll get you up the ladder and to the cabin. Where you'll rest. Then, Catherine," he warned sternly, "we will talk."
She remained silent, being in no condition to argue. When she regained her strength, then she would have her say.
"Bones, bring the boat about as easy as you can," he ordered," and hold her steady so I can get Catherine up the ladder. She's in no condition to climb on her own."
"Aye, Captain," Bones said, and added with a shake of his head, "Jolly and I tried to warn you of her delicate condition back at the beach."
"You knew?" he shouted, turning an angry glare on them both.
Bones and Jolly shivered in their boots.
Catherine placed her hand over his hand that rested protectively on her stomach. "Lucian, please, they tried so hard to help me. Don't be angry."
He heard the weariness in her voice, felt how she lay limply against him, felt the dampness of her chilled hand through his silk shirt and he worried that in his haste and anger he had caused her and his unborn child harm.
He commanded when he spoke but not with irritation. "Secure the ladder as steady as possible while I carry Catherine up it."
"You can't," she said as he helped her to stand.
He laughed with a shake of his head. "Angel, you constantly underestimate me."
A rough dip of the boat caused her to sway, moan, and fall against his chest. "Lucian, I feel horrible."
"The baby?" he asked anxiously, wrapping his arm around her.
"Does not take kindly to the sea," she said. "Please get me to the cabin and your bed."
"What I longed to hear," he teased. "You begging me to take you to my bed."
She smiled, rubbing her face against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent of sea, fresh air and male, feeling as if she had come home and was once again safe.
With a firm arm around her waist, he lifted her against him. "Put your arms around my neck and hold on tightly."
She did as he directed, settling her face in the crook of his neck and closing her eyes.
He grasped the ladder with his one hand while he held her easily against him with his other. He made the climb in minutes, taking the rope rungs with sure and experienced steps.
Santos waited on deck to offer assistance. Lucian required none. He was over the railing and on deck lifting Catherine up into his arms in minutes.
"Weigh anchor as soon as the men are on deck and get us the bloody hell out of here," Lucian ordered before walking off with Catherine to his cabin.
He gently lowered her to stand in the middle of the room, his arm remaining around her. "You need to get out of these damp clothes." His hand moved from around her waist to the ties of her pink linen smock.
She looked up at him as he worked the strings free. She thought to say something, to brush his hands away, but she remained silent.
He watched her eyes study him with uncertainty. His fingers worked steadily until finally each enclosure had been freed. He spread the smock open.
"Thank you for the pearls," she said as he stared down at the strand of pearls that rested just above her rounded stomach.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Lucian hooked the strand of pearls on his finger. "Do you seek protection against me?"
She grabbed the necklace away from him, hugging it to her chest. "I seek peace for myself and my family."
Lucian turned away from her, roughly discarding his damp shirt. "I regret my decision in returning you to your father."
Catherine made no move to shed her damp shift though she shivered from the chill of it. "Why?" Your plan was extremely successful. My father suffered numerous remarks attacking my virtue and I suffered countless propositions."
Lucian turned, having pulled off his boots and stockings and tossed his sash to the floor. "Your father deserved what he suffered, but not at your expense."
"If my father suffers, I suffer. Can't you understand that?"
She looked on the verge of tears and she shivered. Immediately his concern turned to her condition and that of his unborn child. "Take that shift off now."
"No!"
He growled an oath beneath his breath as he walked over to her. "You're chilled. It's no good for you or the child. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Until this rift between you and my father is settled I have nothing more to say to you."
"I have nothing to say to your father, madam, but I have plenty to say to you. And we'll begin with my child nestled so comfortably in your belly."
She took a step back and toyed with the pearls, her emotions too near the surface to control. "What of the child?" she demanded defensively.
"Why didn't you tell me of him?" He stepped closer.
She backed up again. "I saw no reason. You made your intentions clear. You wanted revenge. What difference would it have made if I carried your child?"
He moved up beside her, "I no longer want revenge." His hands rode low on her hips slowly inching up her damp shift. "I only want you and our child."
"Lucian." She whispered his name on a shaky breath.
"I've missed you, angel. Bloody hell, but I've missed you. That's why I came for you. I can't live without you." He eased her shift up and over her head, dropping it in a heap on the floor.
He stripped himself of his breeches and eased her down on the bed, following her. He slipped them both beneath the quilt, his muscular leg wrapping around her slender one and his hand caressing the swell of her belly. "Let me warm you, angel."
Tired and weary from her long night, and astonished that he had admitted that he missed her, she snuggled against him, surrendering to his superior strength and his familiar protection. "I'm so tired, Lucian."
He ached to make love to her, throbbing in a readiness he had not experienced since he had last been with her. Surprisingly her figure so ripe with his child had fueled his desire beyond reason. But her fatigue was all too evident and she obviously required rest.
"Sleep," he whispered against her temple, cradling her safely against him. Tomorrow would be time enough to tell her he loved her. Time enough to lay the past to rest. Time enough to speak of marriage and eternity together. Time enough to make love to her.
o0o
"Two damn bloody weeks since we returned and she's been an obstinate little bit —"
Santos shrugged. "What did you expect? You sent her away and then you decided you wanted her back. Now you think she should fall willingly into your arms."
Lucian watched Catherine from the veranda on the side of the house. She sat contentedly reading beneath an age-old shade tree. She wore a simple cotton dress, her hair braided to lie over her shoulder, and her skin had warmed to a golden honey from her constant days in the sun. She looked healthy, vibrant, and tempting.
"I wanted her back the moment the ship sailed away from the island. My foolish pride disrupted my senses, blinded me to the obvious."
"And what was the obvious?" Santos asked, leaning back in his chair, waiting to hear what most on the island knew.
"That I love her beyond reason." He stared with concern as she stirred restlessly, seeming to sudd
enly find herself uncomfortable.
"Well?" Santos waited for him to continue.
"Well what?" Lucian asked, watching her shut her book and lean her head back against the tree. Something was disturbing her.
"Well, what do you plan to do about it?"
His eyes still on Catherine, he answered Santos. "I plan on marrying the stubborn woman one way or another."
Santos grinned widely. "I take it you've proposed to her and she rejected you."
"She has rejected every attempt I've made to solidify our relationship. She insists that until I speak with her father, our relationship will remain in limbo."
And it had. She had managed to avoid him day and night, feigning fatigue more often than not. They hadn't been intimate since her return and the tension their celibacy had caused crackled like thick ice suddenly beginning to crack.
"Odd, don't you think?" Santos remarked. "She knows your dislike for her father and yet she insists that you speak with him. Why would she do that?"
"Probably some wild notion that if we talk I may find it within me to forgive the man. An impossibility that she obviously refuses to accept."
"What will you do?"
Lucian moved toward the veranda steps when he noticed her hand stroke her belly slowly and her eyes flutter shut as though warding off a discomfort. "I intend to propose to her again, and this time I refuse to take no for an answer. Heaven will celebrate a wedding soon."
He almost vaulted off the steps, but controlled his haste and concern, walking over to her casually. He leaned down in front of her, his hand reaching out to cover hers as she stroked her well-rounded stomach. "Does the baby cause you discomfort?"
She smiled, taking his hand to rest it along the lower right side of her tummy. "He's a little devil. He's curled himself up into a tight little ball right there and refused to move. I've massaged him and explained politely that it is most uncomfortable for me, but still he persists in having his own way. He is much like his father."
Lucian smiled proudly. "I will teach him there is a time and place to demonstrate his willfulness. And inside his mother's womb is not one of those times."
Unhurriedly he eased her into his arms, adjusting her to fit snugly in his lap. With one supportive arm around her, his hand sought her discomfort. His finger dug gently into her belly, tenderly massaging the small ball that had tightened stubbornly. Skillfully and with quiet strength he eased his child to stretch and rest comfortably in his warm nest.
Catherine rested her head in the crook of his neck, her lips a mere breathe away from the pulsing vein that raced with his life's blood. She hungered to place her lips against it, to taste the familiar flavor of him, to surrender to her outrageous need to feel him part of her once again.
But she successfully restrained herself. She had staunchly refused to continue their relationship as it had been before he had sent her away. She stubbornly maintained her position that he must speak with her father. This matter required an immediate settlement. Lucian not only needed, but was entitled to learn the truth.
"Does that feel better, Catherine?" he asked, his hand resting lightly just beneath her breast.
"Much," she sighed.
"Good. I want you content and happy here." His hand drifted up, cupping her milk-filled breast in his hand, his finger deliberately skimming her nipple.
"Why?" she asked, the heat of his touch, too long absent, raced to fire tingling warmth between her legs.
"This is your home. Here we will live out our lives as husband and wife, raise our children, grow old and die together, being buried on the small rise beyond the garden, joined together for eternity."
Catherine almost cried for she felt as he did, that death could not separate them. She loved him well beyond this earthly plane.
His hand wandered up to lift her face to his. He kissed her as though it were their first joining. Tenderness and warmth embraced her lips and tears blurred her eyes as his gentle kiss turned persuasive. "Marry me, Catherine. I love you."
His declaration so simple, yet so fiercely issued, rushed the tears from her eyes.
"No, angel, don't," he whispered, kissing away her tears. "My heart breaks when you cry. And surely you don't wish me to suffer a broken heart."
She shook her head, not trusting her voice. She couldn't bear having him suffer the heartache she had suffered when he had sent her away and yet she could not surrender yet, not when there were things he must learn.
"I cannot marry you, Lucian."
He had expected her denial, though he had hoped. "Once you declared your love for me and I foolishly ignored it. Do you still love me, Catherine?"
Her lips trembled with her answer. "My love for you grows in strength with each day. I will always love you, Lucian."
Her words reassured him. He had known, known deep inside, that she still loved him, but he had needed desperately to hear her admit her love.
"Then why refuse my offer of marriage?"
"I wish I could make you understand the importance of your speaking with my father."
"Enough about your father," he said, raising his voice in annoyance.
"I cannot. You cannot. You must settle this matter or it will forever linger between us and one day rise up and tear us apart as it once did. You will never forget I am Abelard's daughter."
He grabbed her shoulders tightly and gave her a gentle shake. "Who you are matters not to me any longer. I will never, never send you away from me again. I was foolish, blind to my own emotions. I love you, Catherine. You are my life and we will never be separated again. Now, damn it, marry me!"
She forced herself to focus on the importance of what she was about to do. Her decision had been made solely with Lucian in mind. As she had sought to help her father, she now sought to help Lucian.
Bravely she raised her chin. "You must speak with my father first."
He set her aside and stood, so irritated by her continued stubbornness that he feared if he kept her beside him he'd throttle her out of anger. "I have heard all I intend to hear about your father."
Catherine petulantly raised her chin higher and crossed her arms over her breasts.
Her silence and surly actions annoyed him all the more. "You had the proof of your father's guilt in your hands. His signature proved him a monster. What more did you need?"
"I needed my father to admit his guilt, for without his words I would believe no paper."
"Bloody hell, Catherine, did you bother to ask him when you returned to England?"
Her answer surprised him. "I did."
"And?" He waited, hands on his hips, anger in his eyes.
She struggled to stand. He offered no help, knowing she would refuse him. When she was finally upright, her hands braced on her hips, mimicking him, her head tilted high, she answered him. "You will need to ask him yourself as I did."
Fury raced through him. He glared at her and Catherine thought in that one moment that he might just raise his hand to her. She winced, expecting his attack.
His eyes narrowed and his tone turned icy. "Never, ever think that I would dare to raise a hand to you. I am not the monster your father is."
With that he stormed off toward the stables.
Catherine sighed and her eyes teared. Weariness seeped through her and she shivered. She'd had enough of this bickering over the past. If only her father would come after her.
She drew her head up abruptly, her thoughts racing. The idea, taking form, developed immediately into a full-blown plan. She smiled and giggled with the delight of a schoolchild and hurried off to the house.
"Zeena," she called with excitement, running inside and peering into each room she passed.
She rushed up the steps and down the hall, as fast as her condition would allow, finding Zeena in the second floor sewing room.
"Zeena, I need your help," she cried, collapsing into the chair beside the startled woman.
"The baby?" she questioned anxiously, and stood.
Catheri
ne waved her concern away. "No, the baby is fine and not due for a few months yet. I need your help in getting a letter to my father."
Zeena raised a brow. "I cannot betray Lucian's trust, especially where the marquis is concerned."
"Not even if Lucian will benefit from my intentions?"
"Do not play games with me, Catherine. If you wish my help, then honesty is the only way you shall receive it."
Catherine debated entrusting Zeena with the information she had learned, worried that she would relate it to Lucian.
As if reading her thoughts, Zeena spoke. "We do not know each other long, but trust is something we share. Trust me, Catherine, before more people suffer needlessly."
o0o
Lucian sat in the metal tub, the hot water easing his sore muscles after the exhausting ride he had taken earlier in the afternoon. He rested his head back on the rim, watching the sunset through the open louvered doors of his bedroom.
His hard ride had tired his body, but not his mind. In the last seven years he had established a reputation for striking fear and obedience in the hearts of man. His name was synonymous with evil. Though the tales it generated were exaggerated, they were not entirely unfounded. He had done what was necessary to survive and he would do what was necessary to make Catherine his wife.
He sat up, grasping the sides of the tub and easing his large body up and out, his feet resting on the braided cotton rug. He reached for the towel on the small nearby table and drew it around his waist, ignoring the rivulets of water that ran like glistening tears down his chest.
Catherine found him standing in the middle of the room nearly naked, the water running off him like a mighty god whose ominous presence had just emerged from beneath the dark depths of the sea.
Lucifer.
Gooseflesh raced over her, stinging her flesh, reminding her just how vulnerable she was around him. Unconsciously her fingers moved to her pearls, twisting the strand nervously around her finger.
Lucian kept a penetrating gaze on her. He unhooked the towel at his waist. It dropped to his feet and he casually stepped over it, walking toward Catherine.
The Buccaneer Page 29