by Kresley Cole
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 easi
ly 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 after house, 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.
Because, before he could be restrained again, the man yanked his bound arm away from one sailor’s grasp. Running a finger across his throat, he glared at Derek with a killing promise in his eyes.
In answer, Derek smiled, more a baring of his teeth, until like a shot, a splintering sound exploded from the dying ship.
Both men turned to watch the Bella Nicola rupture into huge sections as she finally broke apart just above the surface. It disturbed him to see the meticulously painted hull crack, the boards screaming as they parted. The noise was haunting. Yet even this was better than the eerie quiet as she surrendered to the greedy, bubbling waters.
Derek realized that the unconscious girl hadn’t moved during the piercing rending sounds. Yet tears streamed down her face, and a desperate moan escaped her lips at the silence.
Chapter 15
An anxious Dr. Bigsby doggedly followed him as he carried Nicole to his cabin, though not close enough, because Derek slammed the door in his face.
“But, Captain Sutherland! She needs medical attention. She could be gravely injured.”
Derek paid him no heed; he was certain she would awaken soon, and he could begin grilling her on what she’d put in their water. He placed her on his bed, not exactly dumping her, but close to it. She cried out in pain, and he felt his first jolt of alarm.
Working quickly, he removed her boots and oilskins. Her skin was icy—he’d never felt another human being so cold. At the sight of her abraded neck and wrists, he choked out a call to Bigsby. With his black medical case in hand, the man entered at once, since he’d never moved.
“What can you do for that?” Derek asked, holding up her wrist. Salt had collected on her oilskins and rubbed against her skin like sandpaper.
“I have a salve, but that is the least of our concerns. I’ve completed a preliminary examination of her crewmates, and many suffered serious injuries. This one appears so fragile that I fear she could have internal damage. And she must be warmed without delay.”
When Derek simply stood there, shaken at the anxious sound of the doctor’s voice, Bigsby maneuvered him out of the way and started cutting through her shirt.
He’d only managed a small part when he said, “What the devil…?”
It was the mehndi that still lightly decorated Nicole’s skin. “I’ll do that!” Derek snatched the scissors from the doctor’s hands. He didn’t like the idea of another man seeing that painted skin. Painted for him.
Bigsby stared at him with an incredulous look on his face. “If she’s…tattooed, it makes little difference to me. I was just surprised.”
With scissors in hand, Derek stood unmoving, frowning down at her.
The doctor asked in a baffled tone, “What had you planned to do with her?”
“I’m a little short on plans where she’s concerned,” he said as he impatiently raked a hand through his hair.
“Obviously,” the doctor muttered. Then in a louder voice, he declared, “If you won’t let me help her, then you must get her out of her wet clothes and get her warm.”
Derek resumed cutting her shirt. But what he revealed of her body made his breath whistle out. Angry bruises ran across her chest. Without thought, his hand dipped to her skin, his fingers brushing over the livid marks.
“Captain Sutherland,” Bigsby said sharply, “you shouldn’t be in here when I’m examining her. She’ll be distressed when she awakens.”
“I don’t give a damn about that,” Derek snapped. “I’m responsible for her now. She’s…mine. I’m not leaving her alone.”
Bigsby shook his head, then marched to the door to call for a bucket of hot water. When he returned and began his examination, he clucked over the girl like a mother hen. Derek could find no fault with the man’s professional behavior. He removed all of her clothing, but kept a woolen blanket covering every part of her body that he wasn’t currently examining.
Finished at last, Bigsby said, “She has a nasty lump on her head. I’m most concerned about that. You never know how head injuries will react. I’m also worried that she was probably in wet clothes for at least the duration of the storm. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t develop a fever.”
“What are you doing now?” Derek asked when the doctor directed the sailor with the hot water to set it beside the bed.
“I’m bathing her wounds,” he answered.
“The hell you are! You’re needed by other crew members more than you are here, and my crew comes first.” At the doctor’s troubled look, he gruffly said, “I’ll do it.”
Bigsby nodded. “Please be quick about it. She needs to be dry and warm as soon as possible. Captain Sutherland, I am not exaggerating when I say it could be life or death if you don’t keep her warm. And you have to be gentle with her. Even if she’s unconscious, her body registers the pain. You mustn’t hurt her any more than she is.”
Before he left, he added, “Since I’m not certain if she has sustained internal injuries, she absolutely cannot be moved from that bed.”
&nbs
p; Derek impatiently shoved the doctor out the door.
He turned back to his chore, grabbing a cloth out of the bucket of steaming water, and lifted it to her body. The task of caring for her proved to be punishing for him, because with every movement, she cried out in pain. Although he hated her for what she’d done, he couldn’t help flinching.
Her legs and her slightly jutting hipbones were bruised even blacker than her chest. He could clearly make out where the rope had wrapped around her tiny waist, damaging the delicate skin. The lump on her head hadn’t receded, and her skin was raw in several places. All in all, he’d never seen a woman in such bad shape. It scared the hell out of him.
He strove to treat her objectively but, brute that he was, he had to keep himself from imagining her skin and beautifully shaped body as they were the last time he’d enjoyed them. He was sweating when he finally finished washing the salt from her skin and wounds. He’d never tended a sick or injured person in his life, much less a sick or injured woman. He felt clumsy and inept every time he placed his rough hands on her small body.
After drying her, he looked in one of her trunks for something to dress her in, but wasn’t able to solve the conundrum that was her undergarments—scraps of lacy confections, too imaginative for him to figure out. Worse was the pleasure he found imagining her in all those silks and sheer materials; he was a guilty voyeur, an interloper.
Furious with himself, he stuffed everything back in the trunk and slammed the lid in frustration. He didn’t even bother with the second chest, but hastily dressed her in one of his own shirts before bundling her with every blanket he could lay hands on.
“Her bruises are worse,” he informed Bigsby later that night. “And she hasn’t awakened yet.”
“Captain, please allow me to say for the fifth time that I am fairly confident nothing is broken or permanently injured. And sleep is her body’s way of coping with the trauma of her injuries.”
Derek stalked off again. He trusted Bigsby. Hell, he’d let him examine her even though the thought of the doctor touching her infuriated him. But it hadn’t escaped Derek’s notice that every time he’d approached the doctor since they’d brought Nicole aboard, Bigsby would get this ridiculously knowing look. Sometimes he appeared to feel sorry for Derek.
