by Kresley Cole
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 assure
d 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."
"I assure you I can," he said. "I can't trust that you'll return."
"You can't trust me?" she asked in disbelief.
"This subject's closed. I'll accompany you on whatever business you have in town in the morning. Now, come to bed."
Her eyebrows shot up at his resolute tone, at his decree. She made one more attempt. "You're truly not letting me go?"
"Never," he said easily as he stared down into her eyes. The realization of what he'd said obviously hit him, and he turned away as if surprised by his own words. Which was a mistake, because behind him, Nicole was bringing down the thick glass bottle, and again for Sutherland the world went black.
When Sutherland came to and found he was tied to the bed and gagged, he thrashed against the ropes. But if Nicole knew anything, it was how to tie a knot. She couldn't help flashing a proud grin at her handiwork. "Wouldn't waste your time trying to get out of..." She trailed off under his lethal glare, "...those."
He said something against the cloth she'd tied over his mouth. She could only imagine what words he used to impart the idea that he would throttle her if loose. Somehow, she prevented herself from shivering under that glacial look. She rifled through his desk and trunks for money, distracting herself from his fury. "What's that, Captain?" she asked. "Oh yes, yes, very good of you.... I think I will borrow some money." She found the bag of coins she'd been eyeing earlier and smiled over at him before glancing back.
"Most gracious of you, as usual. Your hospitality, your company...always so generous."
She walked over to her own trunk and began stuffing some clothing into a purloined satchel. "Pardon? Oh, of course I will write and reply to what I'm sure will be a flood of correspondence from you.
"Alas, the time has come for me to depart, and as I am sure you will no doubt make this into a long, teary good-bye..." She stopped when he groaned again.
Was he in a lot of pain? She hadn't hit him that hard, just in a specific spot Chancey had taught her. But that sound...
Any concern evaporated when she looked at him. He watched her, or rather her shirt, which gaped open as she bent down. She plucked her collar up to her neck as her face reddened. Helplessly tied to the bed, and still he looked predatory. That look was as powerful as a touch.
Could he desire her, even now? Deciding to find out, she boldly leaned down again. She made sure he had a clear view of her exposed breasts as she fiddled with something in her bag.
He groaned again. A heady sense of power flooded through her. She looked over his body and saw his arousal swelling against the cloth of his trousers. She gasped. Her mind replayed the last time they'd been intimate. In another second, he would have taken her. She remembered how desperate she'd been for him to do just that.
Doing the forbidden had always rewarded Nicole. And if making love to Sutherland wasn't forbidden...Slowly she padded over to the bed and sat on the edge, her hand out as she worked up the nerve to touch him.
His eyes were hooded, and his chest rose and fell quickly. She placed her hands there and lightly stroked him, loving the feel of his hard muscles and the crisp hair that came to a V. She trailed her hand down to the line of hair just above his trousers and followed it, watching his hard stomach dive as her nails grazed his skin.
She stilled. He was aroused, but what if he didn't want to desire her? The ropes should have dampened his need. Should she untie him? No, he'd only punish her for hitting him over the head and the embarrassment of being tied up.
Wondering how to proceed, she absently began stroking him again. Lord, this was madness. She'd knocked him out in order to get away, and although he seemed powerless, he could make her stay. She couldn't do this. She was just about to jump up and leave when she felt his body tense. Looking down, she saw her own hands petting him...all over. Up and down the sides of his slim hips, caressing the flexing undersides of his bound arms. "Oh!" she gasped, surprised at herself. He pulled away, twisting on his side, and refused to look at her.
Who was he to turn from her? She wanted him; would she let a few, well, ropes stand in the way?
She rose up on her knees and, using all her weight to turn him over, sat astride him above his waist. She glimpsed a flash of determination just as he rose up as far as his bonds would allow, forcing her to slide to his lap. He sported a satisfied expression before sinking back again.
He's maneuvering me? He's supposed to be helplessly tied to the bed. Did he think he was the one in control here? Wanting to experience that heady sense of power again, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. His eyes smoldered.
She wouldn't have thought it possible, but he became even harder and hotter beneath her. Instinctively she wriggled against him, finding the right position, getting more comfortable. She thought he cursed against the cloth. She flicked another button open as she slowly moved against him, the pressure and friction eating away any shyness she might have felt.
With her hands on the sides of her shirt, she asked before her courage faltered, "Do you want to see me, Sutherland?"
Chapter 20
Did he want to see her? He wanted to see her, and taste her, and bury himself inside her. He'd been in a living hell of wanting her and being denied her lithe body. All thoughts of throttling her were gone, replaced by a desire so consuming he'd never experienced the like in all his life.
He was in a less than desirable position, and he knew he'd be furious with not just her but himself later. Yet need pulsed through him, settling like steel in his cock. He burned for her, his desire overwhelming the ache of his abused head. He'd play along. Get her so aroused that she would untie him. The feelings of powerlessness and fury receded; he could bed this little wench if he wanted to, even tied up.
And, damn it, he wanted to. Under any circumstances.
He gave a short nod at the questioning look in her eyes, and she slowly, damn her, so slowly pulled her shirt past her breasts. He sucked in a breath and his cock stiffened hungrily. Her breasts, so pale and perfect, were--he'd have to use his memory--silky to touch.
He looked up to find that she'd faltered, as if she didn't know what to do next. He nodded pointedly at her trousers. She looked down and fingered the waist of her pants.
"Do you want me to take these off now?"
He gave a quick nod again. And watched spellbound as she slipped off his engorged body and stood, shyly unbuttoning her trousers. She pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, those dark eyes grave with uncertainty. Yet even when she hadn't a shred of clothing on, she didn't shy away or cover herself. She resolutely let him look his fill.
Looking at her soft, smooth body, he thought again that he could not have created a woman who would be more beautiful to him. She fit him as no other had. Her full, upthrusting breasts had molded perfectly in his hand, and the thought of cupping them made him strain against the ropes. He tore his gaze away and ran his eyes slowly down her body, taking in the soft indentation of her waist and the gently flaring hips.
All thought left him as his eyes co
ntinued steadily down to the softly curling hair at the juncture between her thighs. His mouth watered like that of a wolf spying prey. He wanted her under his mouth. When she untied him, he would set upon her in a frenzy with his probing tongue at her wet lips. Fascinated, he watched as a blush crept up her body, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking.
When she glanced at the door and back, a feeling of unease settled over him. She could change her mind, and he could do nothing to prevent it. He nodded to his own trousers. She understood and seemed glad to have something to do. She stole across to the bed and, with trembling fingers, grasped the top of his trousers, touching his stomach. He couldn't control the sudden intake of breath or the surging hardness in his pants.
He cursed his body when she jumped back, looking at him wonderingly. Damn. He hadn't thought he could get even harder, and now she was even more hesitant. Before she could change her mind, he jerked his head from her to his pants. Without a word, he commanded her to undress him.
This time she pulled them down determinedly and gasped when he sprang forth. She was riveted, but he didn't want her to watch him; he needed to be in her now.
Sutherland again nodded at her and then to himself. What did he want her to do? She was afraid to untie him, yet she wanted this to happen. But he had to be on top of her, didn't he?
She moved to the side of the bed, kneeling beside him, staring enthralled at his erection. It was like its own entity, as it throbbed and grew. Beautiful, as though carved from marble, but hot. Its broad tip was moist. Before she could think, she'd placed her hands on it. The hair curling at its base was soft, the sack she hefted taut. She cupped it and weighed it in her hand, making him shudder. A sharp, low utterance escaped him. He pinned her with his stare and spoke against the cloth. Surely, he was asking her to untie him.
"I won't untie you."
He shook his head. She didn't think he'd call out to the watch because he wouldn't want them to see him like this, so slowly, cautiously, she leaned forward, untying the cloth at the back of his head and pulling it free. He took a deep breath and seemed not to know what to say. Unable to stop herself, she returned to stroking the stretched skin of his shaft, noting the sensitivity at the crown. She could touch him forever....
