The Captain of All Pleasures (21 page)

Derek made a low growling sound as he stood. “If you are worried about your crew, I left orders for them to be freed a week after we sailed.”

Her eyes opened wide, then narrowed in disbelief. “You ordered them…released?”

“I did.” He saw her indecision. “I would've done it sooner, but I didn't want them to come after you.” When her look of indecision began to fade, he said, “I swear to—” He didn't get a chance to finish because she was on him, stretching up to him, standing on her toes to get her arms around him. When he reached down to her, she grasped his head in both hands and planted smiling kisses all over his face and neck.

She drew back. “My crew's safe? They were released?”

He nodded. “Have you thought this whole time that I would have them tried for mutiny?”

She closed her eyes briefly.

“My God, you must have thought I was a monster,” he said as he ran a hand over her hair. “I guess I didn't give you much reason to think otherwise.”

“I do now,” she said softly. “I can understand why you were so angry with me. It didn't look good. But, honestly, I was only back at the casks because I'd never seen iron drums up close.”

He groaned and said in a low, chiding voice, “I can't believe you were spying in the first place.”

“Well, there was that.” She blushed. “But I never would have come if I didn't feel so attracted to you.” She stood on her toes again to wind her hands in the hair on his nape. “And I've never regretted that night.”

His brows drew together. He couldn't believe what he heard; he'd always wondered if she, like him, revisited that night. The knowledge that she did made him hunger even more for her, and he crushed her to him. Unlacing her thick braids, he threaded his fingers through her hair while running his lips down her neck. She gasped, then inhaled sharply.

Strangely, she went still, then backed away, grimacing at his chest. Absently raising a finger, she said simply, “Fish.”

He glanced down at his own clothing to find transferred fish slime. With raised eyebrows, he looked up, and was answered with an endearing, sheepish smile.

He couldn't help but smile in return. “So there is. No harm done.” He strode over to get fresh clothing. When he'd finished peeling off his outer layer and changing, he turned and caught her nibbling her bottom lip, hastily plucking scales from his sweater.

Grinning, he threw her a clean one. “We'll finish this tonight, sweet.”

 

Nicole couldn't sleep with the stillness on the ocean this night. The fog, thick over the lifeless water, amplified every sound. It was that eerie stillness so absolute it presaged only the most violent weather. She dreaded another big storm, but to be honest, her anxiety tonight came not from the coming gale but from Sutherland.

He'd gone back topside today leaving her confused and wanting to sort out her powerful feelings. When he'd revealed he hadn't hurt her crew, she'd been floundering from her first glimpse of Sutherland's unreserved smile. Her flustered brain could formulate only one word.
Devastating.

She thought he would make love to her tonight. While she was nervous about the actual act, she was calm about the ramifications of it. She'd realized today that her feelings for him went deeper than mere lust. She didn't know if she could call it love, but whatever gripped her was boundless in its strength.

The door opened and creaked closed. When Sutherland began undressing, even the mundane sounds of his disrobing made her skin tighten and heat pool between her legs. She couldn't stand another night of this; something had to give.

He'd taught her months ago what it was she desired, and now the craving, the wanting, wouldn't recede, only kept building. When he sank down next to her and put his arms around her, it took every ounce of will not to turn and place her lips and tongue against his skin.

He pulled her closer, and she worked to slow her breathing, but when his stiff arousal pulsed against her back, her breaths hitched in and panted out.

Tonight was different for him as well. Instead of lying tense beside her for half the night before exhaustion finally claimed him, he moved over her, and with a tiny flick of his tongue kissed the sensitive skin of her ear. She stifled a moan as her body trembled, quivered even more when he skimmed his lips down to where her shoulder met her neck.

What did it matter if he knew she was awake and wanted him? She couldn't hate him any longer. And without that barrier, she found her feelings rushing in a completely opposite direction. She couldn't stop this and didn't want to.

When he grazed the backs of his fingers over the night-shirt covering her nipple, she gasped with pleasure, but the sound made him take his hand away. She wanted to cry in frustration. So many nights like this, so much passion.
Not another wasted second.

She grasped his arm behind her and brushed her fingers down it until she found his hand. Before she could lose her nerve, she placed it back on her breast. He sucked in a breath and groaned as he cupped her and thumbed her nipple.

She rubbed up against his front, gladdened by the hard feel of him, aroused by his manhood, impossibly still growing as it pressed against her. She moaned low in her throat. At once, he turned her on her back, covering her mouth and body with his own, moving his hips. When he raised himself on his arms, she looked down and saw his manhood thrust against her and then land over her belly again and again. The sculpted muscles above his groin and banded over his chest and shoulders strained, bulging under her grasping hands.

He dipped his head and ran his lips over her aching nipples, first one, then the other, wetting the cloth that covered them. It was too much. She couldn't stop her hips from rising to him. She even thought she might find that overwhelming pleasure at that second—she was so close.

“Nicole, I won't be able to stop after much longer. Tell me now, or I swear I'll take you,” he bit out. This time instead of rubbing sinuously over her, his straining flesh caught against the juncture of her thighs, pushing into the cloth covering her, demanding entrance.

She shook her head back and forth. “No, I want you…. I want to finally feel you inside me.”

He hissed in a breath at her words. “There's no turning back from this.” He lowered his head again to her tight nipples.

“I feel like I'll die. Please…” she breathed as she undulated beneath him, opening her legs wide for him.

Whatever tenuous restraint he possessed snapped. He groaned, a brutal masculine sound, and ripped apart her shirt. She shook.
Lord, his strength, his size
—she responded to that latent power emanating from his body even as she feared it. If he was losing control as she was…

He teased her with his finger.

Lightly caressing her at first, then gradually stroking her inside, with one finger, then two, and nothing else mattered. Each time he drove into her with his fingers, his whole body rose up over her, his stiff manhood probing against her thigh, as if preparing her for what he was about to do.

But her body couldn't wait. That delicious pressure gathered within her until she went senseless, sobbing out his name, head thrashing…eventually feeling nothing but the cold air on her tight nipples and the powerful squeezing around his relentless fingers.

“Ah, God, Nicole, I feel you—I can't stop now,” he said, his voice pained as he put a hand on each thigh and opened her legs wider to him. Her eyes soaked up his every movement. His neck, his arms, even the muscles in his jaw were set with tension. He fought so hard not to hurt her that he punished himself.

“Don't hold back, don't…” She raised her hands to his chest and drew her nails down his rock-hard torso. He shuddered. She boldly rose up and grasped his manhood, fascinated fingers smoothing over the taut velvet heat of his skin.

“Nicole, don't…”

He sounded in pain, but then he made the smallest thrusting movement against her palm and she continued exploring him. She thumbed the slit at the top, and his body jerked. Her eyes widened when the thick tip grew moist against the pad of her finger, and she moaned even before he did. He threw his head back as she continued to run curious fingers over him, running his length, cupping the heavy sack beneath, until he lowered his chin, his eyes coming back to bore into her own.

He pushed her down into the mattress, brushed her fingers away, and gripped himself. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he positioned his rod, running it up and down her flesh, making her even wetter. Hot with embarrassment, she turned her face from him.

“No, Nicole. You're perfect.” He kneaded her thighs. “Tonight, I'll kiss you there and show you how much I love your response.”

Her mouth opened wordlessly. Kiss her there…? She had only a second to wonder; then he pushed into her. The unyielding head was inside her, stretching her, coming to fulfill her. He withdrew and slowly pushed in farther.

“Oh, God. Please! Sutherland.
More.”
How many times he did this she couldn't know, because the quickening pleasure gathered again….

But there was a sound from outside their cabin, dimly heard by her, a knocking, then a frantic hammering on the door. She didn't know how long someone had been outside and didn't care. Her mind was focused on the feelings cascading through her body. The tight feel of him just inside her. The coil in her belly, the beginning tremors inside…

Just when she thought he would give her all of himself, he pulled away and rose out of bed. He left her feeling empty, bereft, her body quaking.

“What the bloody hell is it?”
he yelled—she had never heard him so angry. When he came back to her, he scooped up her unresisting body to enfold her on his lap. Beneath her bottom, he was hard, and she became confused, not understanding why he hadn't taken his pleasure with her.

He bent down and dropped a kiss in her hair before setting her on the side of the bed and standing. “Get your clothes on, love, and quickly.” He ran his gaze down her flushed body and bit out a curse. “We've got trouble.”

T
he battered
Southern Cross
limped its way toward Sydney. Split ribbons waved in the wind where sails had once been. A bystander would swear dead men littered the deck, so dazed was the crew by the events spanning the last interminable hours.

Derek thought of all the times he'd wished for a storm, a true test of him and his crew, and shook his head. If not for this last storm, he'd already have made Nicole his. He tried not to think of how close he'd been or how unimaginably perfect she'd felt. He'd managed for most of the storm, since he'd never had time to think of anything but survival.

The life or death of the
Southern Cross
had been down to the wire. He'd fought and had made his crew fight harder than he'd ever seen men struggle to stay alive. No one slept; it was a constant, grueling vigil. He looked down at his sliced palms and was sure he had lacerations over most of his body. Strange, he didn't feel the pain.

He knew and his men had no doubt as to what had possessed him during the storm. He'd been a madman, making them struggle like animals for each quarter they could get from the waves and wind.

In the beginning, part of him had believed he'd lose his ship, and he'd labored instinctively out of the fear of death. Then he'd glanced down at Nicole. Down to where she'd disobeyed him to stand on deck. He'd seen such a blind trust in her eyes, a trust in him written everywhere in her pale face, that he'd been rocked by the force of it. She was telling him that she knew he'd protect her.

Now, he looked over to the bow where she strained to see Sydney, the hair outside her cap flowing behind her. He remembered how brave she'd been, and he recalled that he'd been proud of her. Wasn't that an emotion you saved for your family, pride in another? Yet when she'd pitched in and helped everyone, oftentimes pulling on the rigging right beside another sailor, he'd felt his chest swell. His memories were foggy after that. Hadn't his crew looked at her in wonder? Hadn't they secretly made sure some part of her was secured to the ship at all times?

“Ahoy there!” Jeb called out to an approaching fisherman, interrupting Derek's thoughts. “Any news of the Great Circle?”

“Aye,” a sun-scalded man in the small dinghy answered. He pointed a finger toward Derek. “You Sutherland?”

Derek nodded, and the man called out, “Hate like hell to be the one to tell you this. The
Desirade
arrived here yesterday.”

His jaw clenched. The
Desirade
was Tallywood's ship, and if he had to lose, he didn't want it to be to that worthless scrap of a man. Especially not when he suspected Tallywood of sabotage. Though he wanted to smash something, he forced himself to thank the fisherman.

He hadn't really cared about this race, but he'd found he wanted to impress Nicole by winning. He wanted to share the victory since she couldn't have it on her own.

He felt her place her hand on his arm. It was comforting to him that she understood his frustration. His voice was toneless even to his own ears as he said, “I thought I had him.”

She uttered a quick, humorless laugh. “So did I.”

Her comment put things into perspective. She'd lost everything, while he'd only lost a race. He vowed then that it wouldn't matter, because he'd build Peregrine back with or without the win. She squeezed the hand he'd wrapped around her own. “We're closing in on the harbor. We don't have much time.”

He frowned and turned to her.

She looked as though she was swaying a bit, but she answered his questioning look in a steady voice. “We'll start meeting more ships soon. They can't see us like this.” Her eyes dropped to the deck. “I'm sorry. They can't see your crew and ship like this.”

“This is exactly what they'll see. In case you didn't just hear—Tallywood won.” His tone was annoyed, and she removed her hand from his.

A strand of her hair teased her lip and she brushed it away. “I heard. But you aren't sailing into Sydney like this? With your sails in tatters and rigging strewn about?”

“That's just what I planned to do.” He turned from her and strode to his cabin, immediately pouring a drink.

She was right behind him. “You order the crew to trim this ship!”

He took a large swig and ran a hand down his face. “My men are exhausted. I'm exhausted. We've lost.”

“So that's it?” she asked in amazement.

“I'm turning in. Do you want to join me?” he added with a leer.

She opened her mouth, and he braced himself for a blistering reply. Instead, a sad emotion flickered in her eyes. “I would have expected this of you,” she quietly replied, “in the past.”

When she walked out of the cabin, he followed. “Nicole, wait.”

She didn't acknowledge him.

“Nicole.”

When they were topside, she started hauling coarse, wet ropes to coil them neatly on a belaying pin. Slowly, one man got up and began helping her, then another, and another. He watched as Jeb purposefully looked from Nicole to him. Then, with a flippant grin, he belted out a chantey with surprising force in his scratchy old voice. Before long the rest of the crew was singing and working beside her.

A battle lost. With a loud exhaled breath, Derek handed his glass to Jimmy and began assessing their sail situation.

An hour later a spotless
Southern Cross,
with all her remaining sail out, entered Sydney's harbor. The ship looked immaculate, and even though his men were flagging, morale was higher.

Nicole avoided him and, if she glanced at him at all, it was with an undecided look on her face.

When he was better able to see Tallywood's ship in the harbor, he experienced a deep measure of disappointment. Even though he'd known the man had defeated him, seeing the bastard's ship docked there, before his own, was still a blow.

But on the heels of that emotion, he was glad that they'd scoured the ship. The
Desirade
lay haggard and unkempt, her deck cluttered with refuse, the rigging hanging limply. The fact that a fellow countryman had arrived in front of all the crowds to claim a victory in that sad vessel embarrassed him.

Hell, people were even now lining the docks for their own arrival. The
Southern Cross
might not have won, but they would at least make it look as though they'd just completed a leisurely cruise. Thanks to Nicole.

When the ship was docked and inspected and most of the commotion of their arrival had died down, Derek scanned the decks to find her.

“In your cabin,” Jeb related with a sly look in his eyes. He almost asked what the old man was talking about but decided not to bother. He was just too damn tired. And perhaps he was just too damn obvious.

When he entered his cabin, he found her in the wing chair bolted down in front of his desk. She didn't even acknowledge him.
So she's pouting?
He didn't need this right now.

“Listen, if this is about this morning, I admit I was an ass. I didn't react well to the word of our loss.”

That sounded weak as soon as he'd said it. The resilience she'd shown in the last few days dwarfed his own. “Forget I said that. I know my flaws. But you don't have to hold a grudge.”

When she said nothing, he grated, “Damn it, Nicole, I apologized. What else can I do? When I'm around you, I want to be a better man. Does that count for anything?”

She remained silent, and resentment sniped at him. He wanted to storm out. Instead, he strode across the cabin to face her.

And found her sleeping, her head on her balled hands against the side of the chair. He had to grin. She didn't even know they'd just fought.

She'd bathed and dressed in one of her own wrappers. Seeing her sleeping, so completely unaware of everything, made his exhaustion more acute. Although he'd planned to make love to her at last, he wanted to ensure it would be good for her first time. He didn't think his passing out on her directly after would be ideal.

He removed his clothes, then gently lifted her out of the chair, inhaling the soft scent of her skin. He cradled her into his bed and slipped in next to her. As soon as he closed his eyes, he slept.

Sometime near sunset, he awoke to the sound of her moving about the cabin.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he asked in amazement as he swiped at his eyes.

She stated the obvious, he knew, just to frustrate him. “I'm packing.”

“I can see that. What I want to know is why.”

“I think I've overstayed my welcome. And I have business in town.”

He was on his feet immediately. She blushed and turned her head from his naked body—though not as quickly as she had in the past. He yanked on his trousers.

“What kind of business could you have?” Then a look of realization colored his face. “Tallywood. You're going after him.”

“That's not it.”

“What else could it be? Nicole, I have two crewmen following Tallywood everywhere he goes. The rest of the crew is out gathering information in the taverns and sailors' haunts.”

“I'm telling you, that's not it!”

“You plan to ‘investigate' him just as you did me? If Tallywood did this to us, he'll pay.” His voice was harsh. This was what he'd feared. He'd known she would want to leave as soon as they landed. At least now he had an excuse to keep her. He grasped her arm. “I'm not letting you go get yourself hurt.”

“Not letting me go?” Anger pitched her voice higher. “You haven't even asked me to stay.”

“You're staying.” He was being irrational, treating her unfairly, but worry made his words sharp.

She wrenched her arm away from him. “What does that mean? Are you keeping me prisoner again?”

He began pacing, rubbing the back of his neck. When he stood in front of her, he said, “It means I'm not letting you go.”

She was silent for many moments. “Then I am a prisoner.”

“I guess you are.” He didn't want to keep her against her will, but he didn't want her in danger, either. Plus, he wanted something cemented between them, something binding that would make her want to return to him. “Nicole, you're not leaving this cabin until you admit you want me as much as I want you.”

 

Though Sutherland watched her with that dark, hungry look that made her body go liquid, she refused to succumb. She knew she needed to get off this ship. Last night in her bath, when she'd finally had time to think about all that had happened, her circumstances had become clearer in her mind.

It had occurred to her that although she trusted this man with her life, she couldn't trust him with her crew's. Every now and then, like today, like right now, she could see traces of that selfish wretch she'd met in London. She believed him when he said he'd made sure they'd be released, but could she stake their lives on it? And what if something had gone wrong?

Sutherland thought she wanted to go after Tallywood when, in fact, she wasn't planning on it. Yet. She needed to get a bank draft to a contact in Cape Town in case the crew remained jailed and the officials in charge could be bribed. Although her instincts told her to trust Sutherland, she couldn't let him know what she had planned.

For one thing, she didn't think he'd give her the substantial amount of money she planned to steal from him. She would get away from him and then handle it alone.

Even now she would have been tempted to stay if only he'd asked her to, instead of ordering her. In fact, she'd thought he would and had doubted she could resist him, which was why she'd decided to sneak out while he slept. Now, his condescension and high-handedness infuriated her.

She wasn't a woman to be bullied, she assured herself, but as Sutherland pulled her to his chest, lifting her chin to kiss her, pressing those warm, firm lips on her own, her determination wavered. She desperately wished they'd finished what they'd started the night of the storm.

She had to know what awaited her. She'd started down the path, and not knowing the destination was driving her mad. Mad enough to stay. Until he moved her against the cabin wall, pressing her lower back into the full bottle of brandy she held behind her.

“Don't…” she breathed. Surprisingly, he stopped.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I want you. You're staying here with me.”

“What if I don't want you?”

He growled, “You'll learn to want me!”

Selfish.
“I'm giving you one last chance. If I promise to come back, will you let me leave?”

“You're giving me one last chance?” he scoffed.

Memories of her time locked in this cabin surfaced, and she felt the old resentment rekindling. “You can't force me to stay here.”