The Captain of All Pleasures (8 page)

She tried to reason with the stubborn man, but Chancey held up his large, scarred hand to silence her. “Ye've grown into a lady now. Ye can't be alone with a man like that.” He hesitated, looking her over once, then stammered on, “Ye're comely, and a man like him wouldn't think twice about beddin' ye.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows and snorted. She wasn't comely. She had awkward features, and no matter how many times her father insisted on charitably calling her “willowy,” she was much too thin. “You'll have to do better than that,” she said in a derisive tone.

He frowned at her comment as if it confused him. “Listen, Nic, I don't like the man—don't like any man that gives in to his demons,” he added to himself, “but whoever is keepin' Jason in jail is a cheat, and I can't see Sutherland wantin' to win like this.”

She wanted to tell him that even if he didn't think the man would stoop to this, she couldn't ignore the hatred between him and her father. But she was running out of time. Instead, she backed down from the argument, resolving to attack the problem from another angle. With a staged sigh and dejectedly slumped shoulders, she said, “I'm just anxious about Father. I'm sure you're right.”

She would act as if she were convinced by his logic for the rest of the day, so he wouldn't watch her too closely when she was ready to leave for the
Southern Cross
. Her heart told her it wasn't Sutherland, but she had to be certain. More was riding on his information than they imagined.

Nicole had felt as though she had an invisible noose roped around her neck when the bail was denied. After the news of Clankson's threat, it'd been raised and tightened. Without her father, there'd be no win. Without the win, there'd be no accounts. No accounts in this vulnerable time, and the line would have to be liquidated to pay off their creditors.

She would go to Sutherland, hear what he had to say, then plead their case to see if she could maneuver him into helping her. If talk wouldn't achieve the goal, then she'd manipulate him. That idea was ambitious—he didn't exactly strike her as highly manipulable. But she was adept at getting people to do what she wanted. And if that didn't work…well, she wouldn't think about that now.

If she was honest with herself, she'd admit that she was shamefully attracted to the man, had been since she first saw him, more so after he kissed her. He'd told her she'd be curious. Oh, she was curious, all right.

When the clock struck ten, she'd just managed to get rid of Chancey for the night. She hated lying to him repeatedly, since he truly trusted her to be as honest as he was, but it was done now.

She'd take the window left by his absence and use it to…simply know.

I
'm expecting a visitor tonight,” Derek informed Jebediah Grolly, his bosun and the man who kept his ship running smoothly. “When she arrives, put her in the salon.” In a sterner voice, he added, “And make sure she stays there.”

“Aye, Cap'n,” the aging seaman replied evenly, though his salt-and-pepper eyebrows were raised in question.

Derek understood why. A woman was coming to the ship for the second time in…well, ever.

“Do you think I can get a bit of shore leave after that?”

He didn't doubt how badly Jeb and the rest of his crew wanted to leave now that night was coming—though during the day they certainly had no problem staying aboard. They were always visible on the ship even after they finished their duties, lingering so everyone on the quay could see that they were about to sail the greatest race of the century. But at night they were treated as celebrities in the waterfront taverns, with race followers and sailing enthusiasts buying pint after pint for them.

“That's fine,” he said vacantly. Jeb walked out of the cabin with a bounce in his step and a large smile cracking his old, bewhiskered face.

Derek had never shared the consuming excitement his sailors enjoyed when about to set sail on a long route. He always thought the long trips a lesser evil for a man who belonged nowhere.

He'd at least been more involved in the past. Now all he could think of was Nicole. Even knowing she was Lassiter's daughter hadn't diminished his want of her.

He took a book down from a glassed-in shelf while he waited impatiently, but after rereading the same page four times, he tossed it aside. Just as he thought she might not show, Jeb knocked on the door.

“Cap'n! The visitor's 'ere.”

He called permission to enter, and Jeb bustled in. “You didn't tell me it's the girl that strolled outta 'ere the other mornin' bold as she pleased,” he chided with a sly smile. “I put her inside and ordered 'er to stay put.” His brows drawn together, he admitted, “She got a bit sassy with me.” Derek could only imagine how Nicole had reacted to that command.

When he entered the room, he saw she hadn't taken a seat. Instead, she was inspecting the seascapes attached to the walls.

He walked toward her, and when he was directly behind her, she said, “These are excellent, Captain Sutherland.”

“I didn't know you were a lover of art.”

She turned to him with a curiously self-deprecating expression. It vanished as her hand shot up to his bruised face, which had colored more deeply since the morning. She feathered the tips of her fingers over his bruised jaw, and he just managed to prevent himself from closing his eyes. Uneasy, he stiffened. At once, she pulled her hand away.

“It's nothing,” he said in a gruff voice. “I assure you I've had worse.”

She blushed furiously. Her touching him had been impulsive. “I'm sorry you two fought,” she said in a crisper tone as she stepped back from him.

“It would've happened sooner or later.” His words were tight as he watched her nonchalantly remove her cloak to reveal her unconventional attire—trousers and a fitted blouse that did nothing to hide her attributes.

It appeared to him that she had taken extra care with that splendid hair of hers. It was twisted in an elaborate style, and he could more easily see the golden strands threaded throughout. Piled atop her head, it made the rest of her form seem fragile and small.

Though she seemed so slight, she'd been soft. Soft when he'd come across what had to be the most beautifully shaped breast he'd ever held in his life. Shrugging away that too-appealing memory, he asked in a voice gone husky, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I'm not supposed to—” She stopped, then said, “Yes, I think I would like one—whatever you're having, please.”

He was having whiskey—neat—but he didn't think that'd do for the slight girl, so he added water to hers before handing it to her. “I have some questions for you.”

“And I for you,” she replied. “But I'd like to hear yours first.”

“Very well.” He moved to a chair and motioned for her to sit. She tucked a leg under as she sank into the plush settee facing him.

She took a drink, not a dainty sip but a good draw. He nearly chuckled at her watering eyes and convulsive swallowing. It was strong liquor, and since she was obviously a novice drinker, he was impressed she'd kept from gasping aloud or coughing.

When she recovered a bit, he asked, “Who were those men following you?”

As she recalled that night, her face turned fierce. Not afraid any longer, just very angry. “They'd broken aboard the ship. I stumbled onto them,” she replied with a sharp look in her eyes. He thought she studied him, as if trying to see how her words affected him.

When she gathered he wasn't satisfied with her abrupt answer, she added, “That's all I can say.”

He sensed that was all he'd get on the subject, so he asked, “Why were you in the Mermaid the other night?”

She brought the glass to her lips to drink again, then said, “I heard my father was going there to get some information.”

“Nice way to put it.”

She looked surprised before bowing her head as if hiding a grin. But when she looked up, her brows were knitted, and she appeared annoyed. “Then weren't you there for
information
also, Captain Sutherland?”

He almost grinned, but admitted, “I was there because I was too drunk to know better.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn't expected that answer.

“I hadn't realized what kind of place it was either,” she commented with a bright blush.

He liked the way she blushed. She had such vivid coloring, he wouldn't expect her to blush prettily, but she did. He found himself asking in an admiring tone, “Why haven't I seen you before?”

She stared at her glass and answered, “I've been away.”

“Away?”

She raised her face again. “Oh, here and there.”

Derek's lips tilted in a hint of a smile, but he knew it wasn't a pleasant sight. So she guarded her past? Smart girl. “Why didn't you tell me who you were?”

She took another deep pull from her glass. “I didn't know what kind of man you were. You might have hurt me just to spite my father—I couldn't be sure.”

“Yet you came here tonight?”

She nodded while pushing a stray curl behind her ear. “I need to hear what you have to say. I want Father released…. I didn't feel I had much choice.”

He knew little, and certainly not anything that could overtly benefit her. He'd just wanted her to come tonight.

He sat back and said, “I will tell you what I know. I did drop the charges against your father. In fact, I went to the constabulary personally to make sure he was released. The constable told me he had evidence of other crimes on Lassiter—”

“That's not—”

“I thought the man was lying,” he said. “I don't believe there are other crimes.”

She looked relieved, which was strange. Why would she care what he thought?

“I was…uncomfortable with the fact that your father wouldn't race because of my…night with you. I tried several methods to get him released,” he explained vaguely. “I will say that from the way I was turned down, the person who is responsible is in a position of power or threw a considerable amount of money at this problem.”

After a pause, she said, “Say you were in my position, and desperately wanted someone you cared about released. Who would
you
target for this? And what would
you
do?”

Two thoughts came to Derek at once. One, he didn't have someone he cared about. Two, she was asking his advice, and he liked that she hung on to his words.

“If I had to, I'd say it would be a peer, someone of my rank or higher. Someone with a great deal of money, who has a stake in this race.”

“Why shouldn't I think you did it?”

He found her openness refreshing. “Because I will beat your father regardless. I
want
to defeat your father,” he explained simply.

She nibbled the corner of her lower lip and looked lost in thought. “I don't know if I believe you. But if you've told me all you know…” She stood to go, taking one last large swallow of whiskey before setting the glass down.

Derek wasn't about to let her leave yet. Though he admired her strong will, when she'd touched his face tonight her aloof facade wavered, her defenses breached, if only for a second. But it was at that instant that she became irresistible to him.

 

This was not going at all as planned. She was insane to think she could handle this man. Nicole wasn't daft—she'd known she could only have a measure of success in managing him if he was intoxicated, and she'd definitely not foreseen any problem in the “Sutherland gets drunk” variable. Yet here he was, facing her without a hint of a slur or any dimness in those piercing eyes. He looked as if he could see right through her and tell all her secrets.

If he was telling the truth, then she hadn't received much of a lead. Worse, it would mean he'd already done what she'd come to ask for. She didn't believe he was deceiving her; he
would
want to defeat her father.

Given the circumstances, she thought a retreat would be best. As she walked past him to her cloak, she took a last look at his face, a face so striking even with the angry mask he always wore. He looked like a fallen angel, cold and cruel, but with a lingering shadow of what he'd once been. The shadow was what was driving her crazy….

Stop gaping at his face. Thank him and leave.
“Sutherland, I—”

“There's more…,” he promised in a lower, rumbling tone. She tried to convince herself that he meant more information, but failed. When he reached out and gently ran the backs of his fingers down her face much as she had done to him, she didn't turn away.

He was about to say something, but scuffling noises and a woman's raised voice sounded from the deck. She could sense tension radiating from him, and he turned abruptly to the door. He halted before he left. “Nicole,” he said as he pinned her with those silvery eyes, “do not think of leaving this room.”

When the door closed, her legs went shaky. She'd been a coil of nerves, craving to be kissed again so much that she'd forgotten her true purpose for coming here.

Wait, what was my true purpose?
To manipulate and spy. Oh, yes.

She hadn't expected such an opportunity to move about his ship, and she knew she should take advantage of it. Normally she wouldn't even pause to think, but the warning in his eyes bore some weight in her decision. When he'd looked at her and commanded her, he'd had no inkling of doubt that she'd do as he told her. Otherwise he would never have left her alone.

His mistake. And one she'd capitalize on. She cracked open the door to reconnoiter, but then she glimpsed the face that matched the woman's voice, and her heart inexplicably sank.

The creature heatedly gesturing in front of Sutherland was…exquisite. Flawless features, dressed like a fashion plate. Nicole fought the urge to look down at her own clothes, knowing she'd find thin legs encased in worn-out breeches. Strangely, her throat grew tight as she watched them, knowing he had some kind of history with that beautiful woman.

Why was she surprised? This was Sutherland, the rake who probably had a bevy of women admirers. As she took in the jet hair and voluptuous figure of the woman, she knew he'd easily choose that vision over her. Although some strange emotion stabbed at her, she steeled herself. Exhaling a loud breath, she peeked out one last time before sprinting on the balls of her feet to his cabin down the companionway.

Entering his room, she averted her eyes from the bed and rushed to his desk. She rifled through the drawers and found everything she'd expected, but nothing to help her. Then she spotted an unmarked file wedged in the back of a drawer. As she delved into its contents, her expression of excited anticipation disappeared, and her face darkened. The file contained lists of goods he'd ordered to be donated on Boxing Day to the Families of Lost Sailors Charity and to the handful of orphanages in the waterfront area.

Charities and Sutherland? The donations were staggering. If he were in straits, the last thing he'd do would be give to charity, and not even the fashionable ones at that. She knew that Chancey, curse that blasted Irishman, was right about Sutherland.

Nevertheless, she was on this ship, and she would search every inch she could. Nicole didn't know what she would be looking for—she'd know it when she found it, she reasoned in a cavalier manner. Apparently, the liquor was beginning to hit her.

From the deck, Sutherland's scathing tone with the woman trailed down to Nicole, and a small smile broke across her face. That he didn't seem to like the woman took some of the sting out of seeing her.