The Captain of All Pleasures (15 page)

“Signal. We might yet get out a signal.” He hauled himself up and hobbled to the stern of the ship.

She lay there, stupefied. She wasn't sure she could get up again. Chancey would send up a flare. If Sutherland hadn't gotten too far, they might be saved….

Suddenly, he stomped his foot and clapped his large hands in a mystifying display of energy. “Nic, buck up,” he called out drunkenly. “Yer captain has come to save ye.” His voice was thick as obvious relief infused him. “It's not what I'd have ordered up, but considerin' the other choices…”

She turned slowly, not believing, too afraid to hope.

And there he was. Lord, he was beautiful.

She'd never seen a more welcome sight than Sutherland standing on the deck as his ship slipped in beside them. She thought she'd remember forever the way his thick black hair ruffled in the wind, the way he nonchalantly rested a boot on the bottom rail with his muscular arms crossed over his wide chest. She smiled at him like a simpleton. Although her head hadn't cleared as it should have, pure pleasure thrummed through her, as strong as the despair it replaced. Not only did she know he was safe, he would save them….

Grappling hooks bounced over the
Bella Nicola
's deck.

Nicole watched in horror as they were snatched in, scraping along her already splintered deck before violently catching her recently whitewashed railing. Grappling hooks? The abuse of her ship, even though it was dying, chilled her. Why would he…Did Sutherland think they would fight him? She needed to think. Why couldn't she think?

Nicole stared, not comprehending, when his men skulked aboard, armed as if they were taking a resisting crew. Her head snapped up to meet Sutherland's chilling gaze. Her heart slammed in her chest. Only this time it was not from the thrill and excitement she'd experienced on seeing him a few moments before. This time it was fear.

Because Captain Sutherland looked like he wanted her dead.

 

Now that he was finally close enough to see Nicole, he wanted to see the guilt on her face. No, damn it, he wanted to see regret.

So he was not just surprised but startled when he looked down to find her gazing up at him with a blinding smile, as though a shutter had opened on some intrinsic light. Derek couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from the smile that used to have such an effect on him. Still had—damn her.

She seemed not to notice his intent look, and she was so pleased about…well, he had no idea why she would be so happy to see him. Yes, he would save her hide, but surely she must know he would have determined who'd poisoned his men. She had to know that he would exact revenge. Yet she looked up at him with her eyes shining, as if he were a hero of old come to save her.

It was unnerving.

Her gaze locked on another sight, and as the expression on her face changed, a strange feeling of disappointment passed through him. When his men threw the hooks to secure her ship, that beautiful smile guttered out, fading to a look of incomprehension.

He couldn't be sorry. He told himself it was with satisfaction that he watched her eyes follow his men. When she realized they were armed, the little fool turned to him, her chin lower than usual, her shoulders slumped. She was afraid. He'd known she would quake before him—beg him. But her next action stopped that thought cold.

Jumping up and planting her boots on the deck, her hair whipping across her face in dark, wet streams, she shook off any trace of fear. And replaced it with what could only be called rage. Then she bellowed at him. That little thing
bellowed
.

“What in the hell do you mean by this, Sutherland?”

His reply was calm even as his deep voice carried. “I mean to confiscate what's left of your supplies and impress all of your crew.”

Her mouth flew open, then closed wordlessly.

He had to conceal his surprise over her reaction. Glaring down at her, he drawled, “You seem to be surprised that I am pillaging your ship and taking your crew captive”—he paused—“although we both know you shouldn't be.”

She stood staring at him, bringing her hands up to her temples. She looked shaky and confused, but then it was as if a sudden realization crumpled her composure. Her face fell.

He had to strain to hear her next soft words. “You…all along.” What did that mean?

She took a deep, ragged breath, and then louder she said, “You're right, I know exactly why you've taken us.”

She wasn't even going to deny what she'd done. Had some part of him wanted her to deny it, and deny it so convincingly that he would believe her? Instead, she only looked lost and beaten. As she sank down and huddled on the deck, he couldn't help but notice how very small and fragile she appeared in her oilskins.

He involuntarily winced when one of his men hauled her to her feet again, sending her reeling. With what looked to be one last burst of energy, she turned on the man and kicked him so hard he released her. Derek watched as she unsteadily swung her head back and forth, surveying the scene to come up with some means to fight.

He knew she was a fighter. What he didn't know was why he caught himself almost pulling for her.

 

There was nothing Nicole could do. Nothing but become Sutherland's prisoner. Her ship lay so low, her deck nearly met the
Southern Cross
's waterline. The…the end was close. Chancey and most of her crew, many of whom were still unconscious, had already been taken aboard his ship and bound. She shook free of the sailor's hand that had once again pinned her. If she had to surrender, then she would do it
her
way.

She walked with shoulders jammed back, her pride keeping her battered body ramrod straight as she marched to the steep gangway.

Sutherland had the gall to smile. He was enjoying this.

He hadn't come to rescue her.
Foolish girl
. No, she'd been right about him after all. He was behind all the accidents. And it wasn't enough to harm his competitors' ships. He had to crush them completely.

The pain in her head raced from severe to splitting, and her thoughts made it ache even more. No wonder his ship hadn't been moving; he'd simply been waiting for his sabotage to cripple her ship in the storm. And it was sabotage. He and his lackeys hadn't been in Recife by mere coincidence.

She had to swallow hard to keep from screaming. For two days, she and the crew had known they would die. They hadn't eaten, slept, or drunk. Then to be taken prisoner by the man who was responsible for their sinking ship…. The realization strangled her, made her feel as though she were falling.

Yet, when forced to walk past him, she kept her head high and her gaze straight ahead.

“Look at me, damn you,” he demanded in a low voice. When she didn't, he dragged her around to face him. He looked surprised by her appearance, and she hoped he could
feel
her hatred blazing out at him. When she looked at that face, still so cruelly handsome to her, she didn't know if she wanted to sink down and weep, or kill him.

When his initial surprise turned into a smug glower, she knew she certainly wouldn't sink down and weep.

 

The intensity of his reaction to Nicole never failed to amaze Derek. When he grabbed her arms and yanked her toward him, he had to guard himself so he wouldn't give away too much of his feeling. He hadn't seen her for weeks, and now to see her like this…. Her eyes drew him, with their obvious hurt and pupils black from shock. Her skin was unnatural in its paleness, giving her a translucent look. Salt had collected on her brows, lashes, and hair and glittered all around her face in the fading red sunlight.
She's still beautiful to me
.

Astonishing. With everything he'd learned about her, he still responded to her. Not in a completely sexual way, although that was unquestionably present, but he felt a tremendous pull to her just the same. Obviously, some part of him didn't care that she was a malicious little bitch.

At the memory of his suffering men, his hands shot to her upper arms. “Why?” he demanded harshly. “Why did you do it?” When she stared past him as if unseeing, he shook her. “Did someone put you up to it? Did someone make you do it?”

He dimly heard her crew protesting, and realized the men wanted to distract him from her. She stood as if mute, refusing to look at him. He gripped her arms more tightly and ground out, “Who told you to do it?” Finally, she glanced up, but she frowned as if the question had confused her.

Shaking Nicole had enraged the few conscious captive sailors, and they strained to break away from their bonds and the men who held them. They could struggle all they wanted. No one would ever get in the way of his revenge. As far as he was concerned, she'd transgressed on what was his so much that he could do what he wanted with her now.

She'd
toyed
with him. She'd definitely outwitted him. He'd believed she'd come to him about her father when in reality she was callously ensuring a win. Worse, much worse, she'd harmed his men.

Now that she was on his ship, he might as well own her. He turned to Lassiter's sailors, and his sneer told them as much. When they fought even harder to get to her, he laughed a humorless laugh before returning his attention to Nicole.

He had to know why she'd done it. He squeezed his fists around her thin arms, until she answered in a biting voice, “No one has made me do anything—I do as I will!”

Telling himself he wouldn't beat her there on the deck, he took her shoulders and shook her.

Until, with a strangled cry, she collapsed in his arms.

Fear crept up his spine when Nicole's body went boneless. He could do nothing else but catch her and scoop her up. When he looked up, the man called Chancey caught his eyes and gave him a stabbing look that said,
What did you expect?
Derek's face flushed. He hadn't meant to hurt the girl. Damn it! He'd never been angrier with another person. Even Lydia.

Guilt assailed him, and he wanted to get her away from him at once. He strode over and handed the unconscious Nicole to Chancey. The man easily grabbed her and cradled her protectively in his long arms even though his hands were bound.

Derek turned to the edge of the ship and jumped down to the
Bella Nicola
to join his men in ransacking for supplies. Replaying the scene on deck again, cringing from his own actions, he paid little attention as he made his way, though it was hard to miss that his men had stripped anything not bolted down. Except in the officers' and captain's quarters in the afterhouse, which he'd ordered were not to be searched by anyone but himself.

When he rammed a shoulder against the lodged door to the largest cabin, water sloshed out around his knees. The smell of oil from a broken lamp overpowered. From the desk and the closet full of men's clothing, he determined it was Lassiter's. It was austere with no sign of luxuries.

He strode through water to the next cabin, his legs making wakes. As he scanned the room, obviously Nicole's, he took in the polished desk and the carved mahogany bed with its gilt and satin wood trimmings. Several compasses, broken barometers, and thermometers floated just above the floor. A pair of extraordinary painted landscapes and pastoral scenes attached to the panels struck him in particular.

Where Lassiter's cabin was bare, extravagances filled hers. Lassiter had spared no expense on the decor, Derek thought, taking in the rich lace on her window. He wasn't unfamiliar with the expense of the items, nor with the cost of the landscapes. No wonder Lassiter was in financial straits.

Maps floated everywhere. He didn't know if even he owned that many maps. She had a spare sail in the corner and probably made herself useful occasionally by sewing. He walked over to her sea chests, somehow feminine, and began rifling through them.

What he found in the first one surprised him. Lacy, silky underthings filled it. Womanly underthings. He'd never seen her dressed in anything other than men's clothes. But if he'd paid more attention when he hurriedly snatched her clothes off that night, would he have noticed what lay underneath? Maybe he should bring her clothes for the long journey. He remembered her skin was unusually soft and fine. What if regular cloth was too rough on her?

That was what he wanted—to punish her—wasn't it? But he'd be enjoying that skin shortly and didn't see any reason to mar something he found so attractive. At the door, he called to two nearby sailors and ordered them to unbolt the trunks and haul them to his ship.

“Cap'n, it won't be long now afore the ole girl goes down,” one of his crewmen yelled.

“Make sure all the men are off this ship—I'm right behind you.” A heaving motion churned beneath his feet, skidding him sideways. The death roll of the ship. He shook his head sadly and ran across the deck.

Back on the
Southern Cross,
he found Chancey and, with the help of two others, tore the seemingly lifeless girl from him. Derek considered himself a brave man, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up when he heard Chancey's inhuman growl. Derek turned with the girl in his arms to look at him, but immediately regretted it.