The Captain of All Pleasures

Chapter 8

Jesus, Chancey, you killed him!” Nicole cried as she wrapped the sheet more securely around her. Flying over to Sutherland’s motionless form where he’d dropped on the floor, she protectively gathered his head in her lap.

“Why then should ye care?” Chancey asked, his hands tight around the billy club he’d used to pound the back of Sutherland’s head.

“Of course I’d care,” she managed in a strangled whisper, as she cautiously checked his head and listened to his breathing—luckily, strong and steady. “I wouldn’t want him to die…. I wouldn’t want anyone to die,” she amended when a look of rage twisted Chancey’s face. “This is not as it looks,” she said, wishing her traitorous face wasn’t flushed red with embarrassment.

He rapped the club on his open palm. “Oh, so ye mean to tell me I find ye naked in the bed o’ the most notorious rake in London, but it’s not how it looks?” He turned to Sutherland with an ominous glare. “Then tell me what did happen so I’ll be knowin’ which way to properly kill the bastard.”

“No!” She threw herself over him. “I came here and eventually I, well…I seduced him.”

“Is that so?” He snorted, clearly disbelieving, but at least he’d let go of the club, letting it hang from a strap on his wrist.

Nicole needed time to devise a way to get the furious Chancey away from the unconscious man. “I, uh, need to dress.” Abruptly he turned his back. Changing the direction of the conversation, she asked, “How did you know where I was? How did you get past his guards?”

“I had a bad feelin’ about ye, so I stopped by the ship to check. It didn’t take a bloody genius to figger out where ye been. His guards, well, they went the way o’ their cap’n,” he finished in a sneering voice.

“Oh,” was all she could manage. She laid the sheet over Sutherland’s torso and legs and hastily threw her shirt over her head.

“Hurry yerself. More o’ his crewmen’ll be back soon, and I’ll be needin’ time for doin’ what I’m after.”

“Now, you just wait,” she ordered as she grabbed a pillow and gently laid Sutherland’s head on it. She really began to fear for him. “Listen to me. It’s the truth—I initiated this. I wouldn’t lie. Have I ever lied to you?” she demanded of Chancey’s back. “Have I ever been anything but completely honest with you?”

“Aye, when ye vowed to me ye’d stay in school for once. Or when ye told me Cook had been eatin’ his own tarts. And then tonight—when ye sent me off to look into a dead end,” he countered, his disappointment palpable.

“That…that was an important lead. If for no other reason than to get more information on Tallywood, your main suspect,” she said stiffly as she bent down to finish dressing.

He let out a harsh bark of laughter at that. Truly her answer sounded weak to her own ears. It was bad, what she’d done. She’d sent Chancey out to investigate unwittingly something so nefarious as Tallywood’s midnight bridge party.

“Fine, fine,” she conceded crossly. “But you must believe me on this.”

As she began stomping into her boots, Chancey turned and looked at her quizzically. “I might be admittin’ that we can’t lay all the blame at Sutherland’s door. Ye’re comely and ye came to him unchaperoned after slinkin’ around the docks at night. Blighter probably thought that ye were fair game.”

Nicole stood and met his eyes, unflinching. “I wanted this to happen, Chancey. And I don’t regret it.” She didn’t—in her mind, Sutherland had given her a gift. Even with his harsh words and anger, she wouldn’t trade her time in his bed for anything.

At length, Chancey released an exasperated sigh. “I’ll let him live for now, but”—he raised a hand to cut off her next words—“only because ye’ll be marryin’ him.”

Marrying me?Derek thought as he came to. He struggled to bite back a curse as continuous waves of stabbing pressure circled his head. His eyes opened into narrow slits as he stifled a hiss of pain, knowing that if he made a sound the giant cur with the club would just put him back out.

When he had some success in focusing his eyes, he squinted over at the arguing pair. The man was turned from him, so all Derek could see was his immensely broad back. But considering his size, he had to be the one who’d accompanied Nicole to the jail. Derek was a big man himself, but that mammoth probably had two stone more bulk on him.

And Nicole…the relatively tiny Nicole openly challenged him, shaking her head furiously at his command that she marry Derek.

“He compromised ye. Even yer father would feel forced to see ye marry him, Nic.”

“Sutherland? Think about what you’re saying,” she said incredulously. “Besides, Father doesn’t have to find out.”

“Ye know I’ll be tellin’ him, lass.”

The girl’s face turned ashen, and the big man’s shoulders slumped in response. At once, he marched across the cabin and bent down awkwardly to pat her head with one of his huge paws. Derek had a hard time hearing what they said when their heads were bent together. Finally, the man stood up.

“So ye were able to go all over this ship?”

All over?

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I did what I came to do. You can cross Sutherland off your list.”

What bloody list?

“I can’t be happy with what ye’ve done here tonight, but at least ye’ve accomplished somethin’,” the man said before exhaling loudly. “We can salvage the rest. We need to go and get more o’ our men before the sod’s crew gets back. If we have to force him to marry ye, then that we will.”

Derek guessed that the big man knew the battle was just beginning because he quickly added, “I’ll argue with ye on the way. But, Nic—come hell or high water, ye’ll marry this scoundrel for what he did to ye.”

Why was she shaking her head determinedly, telling the giant that she damn well wouldn’t marry him? Nicole’s reaction astounded Derek; he had difficulty keeping his eyes hooded when she glanced over at him on the floor. She was in such a dudgeon that he doubted she’d notice he’d awakened anyway. He doubted she’d notice if he jumped up and danced a jig. The chit was fuming at the thought of marriage to him.

As if he would ever marry a girl like her. But, damn it, what’s so bad about marrying me? Many women had set their caps on him, praying he’d honor them with a proposal, and some, he thought darkly, had schemed to manipulate him into marriage.

But not her. This little bit of fluff quaked with anger. That simply couldn’t be right. It went against all reasoning. If his head didn’t hurt so badly, he could sort through all this and make some sense of her behavior.

“Chancey,” she said in a low voice, “for the last time, I am not marrying him. He is a wastrel, a drunk, a—a—despoiler of women. Would you see me chained to that” —as if repelled, she flicked her hand in his direction—“for the rest of my life?”

Ah-ha, Chancey is his na—Wait! What the hell did she just say? Derek could feel anger pumping through him. He was not a wastrel nor a drunk. And he’d certainly never despoiled a woman. But a small part of him admitted that if he hadn’t been knocked out, he would’ve started with her.

Still he couldn’t believe what she’d said. Did that explain the look she’d given him that night in the Mermaid? Was that how she regarded him? As a drunk?

He experienced an unwelcome tinge of embarrassment, and the feeling was raw and new and most definitely unwanted. Bloody hell. He could barely suppress the urge to get up and shake her until she took back her words.

Instead, he secretly watched as she marched up to the grizzled salt with shoulders back and eyes flashing. Derek thought she looked regal when she said, “Chancey, you must leave with me right now. You know I’ve recently made promises that do not include him. We will leave him be,” she finished warningly.

The man hesitated; then, shaking his head, he stalked to the other side of the cabin. He had to lean down to make it through the doorway. Just as they started out, he grumbled something about how she should have been sent back sooner.

Derek began to rise, but seeing blackness waver before his eyes, he dropped back down to the cabin floor in furious impotence. He might not be in any shape to go after them tonight, but it didn’t matter. He would make them pay for this.

He would have her if it killed him, and he would teach that girl not to think of him as a—what ridiculous name had she called him? A despoiler of women. By God, she would beg for him.

In his anger, he strained to rise yet again, but he lay as weak as a babe. His head would not stop pounding, and his racing thoughts, although they never left the girl, were chaotic and confused….

Light footsteps sounded, and he shuttered his eyes. Nicole.

But her return did nothing to help clear his confusion. In fact, he became certain he was imagining it when she swept back inside and softly drew a blanket over him. There could be no doubt he dreamed when, tenderly kissing his aching head, she whispered into his hair, “Thank you for tonight,” before she leapt up and vanished.

Sixty hours. The Great Circle Race began in sixty hours, and Derek hadn’t the slightest idea where Nicole had disappeared to. He’d already made up his mind when he and his crewmen couldn’t locate her that he would bloody well remain in port. He’d be damned if he would wait seven months to have this situation resolved.

On his order, his men had searched every place of lodging near the water when they couldn’t find her on or near the Bella Nicola . They’d torn apart the wharf looking for her, offered substantial rewards all over the city, but every lead stalled.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at his desk. He couldn’t say he was becoming obsessed with her, because she’d already caught him in her snares. Leaning back in his chair, he again allowed his mind to revisit that night. Although he’d believed she sought to trap him into marriage, she’d definitely disproved that idea with her adamant refusals of him. And everything before that had been incredible.

Damn it, he didn’t need to relive the night. As always, the memory of her abandon and the swift power of her climax aroused him to a painful degree. Even after he’d been clubbed, her kiss had been sweet and worth the pain. She’d thanked him. Then disappeared.

It was too much. He’d start to believe he’d made up the whole encounter if not that even now he could smell her scent and taste her on his lips. Barring the abrupt end, he wanted it to happen again.

He understood why he’d been hit, but that didn’t make him any less angry about the clubbing he and his guards had gotten on his own ship. Not to mention the rest of that hazy night. He needed to know what list she’d referred to and why she’d been all over his ship. Nicole, the daughter of his worst enemy, having free rein was a disaster in anyone’s books. Much less Nicole with an agenda. He had to find her and question her.

He’d left her in the salon with no doubt that she’d stay there. He couldn’t remember anyone ever disobeying him deliberately. Yet the little chit probably set off the minute he reached the gangway where Lydia had slapped at one of his guards to get aboard and hysterically demand even more money.

Until Lydia had shown up, he’d been so busy brooding over Nicole that he hadn’t had time to think of that witch in days, even though she’d haunted him for years….

A knock at his door pulled him from his musings.

He called out permission to enter and was surprised to find his younger brother standing in the doorway. Or rather, ducking under it. How had Derek not seen how big Grant had grown over the last four years? Grant had always been tall, but at twenty-eight, he’d completely filled out his rangy form.

Though Grant had blue eyes where Derek’s were gray, and his face wasn’t marred by hard living and resentment like Derek’s, overall their physical differences were slight. Their personalities, however, couldn’t have been more dissimilar. Where Derek appeared proud to be an irresponsible rake, given to hedonism, Grant had become a pillar of the community and had grown to be as intensely reserved as their father, the earl, had been. Still, he could remember when Grant was younger he’d been a prankster with a ready humor and a knack for finding trouble.

“Good morning, Derek.” Grant sat down in the chair facing the desk, and Derek could swear he saw power and purpose thrumming through his sibling. In response, Derek sank further back in his chair and propped his scuffed boots up on the desk.

He’d always cared about his brother, but Derek was still ill at ease that Grant had seen him so low the other night. He skipped a greeting. “What is it now, Grant?”

Grant looked around the well-appointed room before he took a deep breath. “Well, I wanted to speak to you before you sailed, but you left the house the other morning before I woke.”

“Then speak.”

“Very well.” Grant leaned forward in his chair before he cautiously asked, “You know of Lord Belmont?”

That got Derek’s attention. “Everyone knows about that crazy old bastard. What of him?”

“He came to see me this week.” Grant took a breath. “He made me a considerable offer to search for his family.”

“Christ.” Derek shook his head. “The only reason he came to you is that he’s been turned down by every other captain and ship owner in London who hasn’t already signed on for that fool’s errand. Myself included. I laughed him out of my office.” Derek examined his brother’s impassive face. “What the hell could he offer you? He’s already run through his fortune on at least a dozen different attempts.”

Grant appeared defensive when he answered. “If I was successful, he would give me the lands of Belmont Court when he passes on.”

Derek let out a surprised whistle. “He is getting desperate, then.” Rumor held that Belmont had attempted to sell the unentailed estate to finance one last search.

This conversation, Derek decided easily, merited a drink, so he rose to grab a bottle of brandy. By way of offering, he swung the bottle in Grant’s direction. As expected, Grant declined with a curt shake of his head. Although it wasn’t quite noon, Grant didn’t appear surprised when Derek began filling his own glass.

“You can’t possibly be considering his offer,” Derek said over his shoulder before returning to his desk.

“Well, I did decide against it,” Grant admitted. “But it made me think—if I had wanted to go, then I should be able to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek asked. “You own half of Peregrine Shipping. You can very well go anywhere you want—”

“No, I can’t,” Grant interrupted. “I’m too busy running Whitestone and your other neglected estates.”

“Ridiculous. I have a steward—”

“Whom I fired several months ago not only for bilking you out of a pitifully large amount, but also for skimming off your tenants.” His face was shuttered. “I wouldn’t have stepped in, if not for your tenants.”

Derek sank back, dumbfounded. Not just at the news of his steward’s embezzlement, but also at the idea that Grant might not have checked his downfall. He drank deeply. “Why didn’t I hear anything about this?”

Grant nodded pointedly at the pile of correspondence on the desk that had been ignored for months. “I’ve sent word through every channel. I’m sure if you bothered to look, you’d find that several of my letters found their way to the ship.”

Derek fought to avoid looking sheepish. “Yes, well, I suppose I remember receiving some letters that I haven’t had time to get to.”

Grant shrugged. “My point is, if I hadn’t been around to hold everything together after you left so abruptly, then you’d be in a very bad spot. And I’m tired of it. I wasn’t raised to take over Whitestone—”

“I damn well wasn’t, either,” Derek cut in. It had been years since their older brother’s death, but he still had difficulty accepting that William was gone and that all those responsibilities now lay on his shoulders.

“It’s not mine,” Grant said in a tightly controlled tone. “Whitestone’s not my estate. I want to earn my own place. Make my own way. You can’t understand how hard it is to work for something that you know you have no future in.”

“What do you mean, ‘no future’? You’re my bloody heir. Everything goes to you. And I’m not exactly living as though I plan to get old.”

“One day you’ll have an heir,” Grant said quietly but with absolute conviction.

Derek’s fingers paled on the glass he grasped. “I will not have an heir. We’ve been through this. It won’t happen.”

Grant ran a hand over his face. He suddenly looked tired, and his absolute self-control was slipping. “I don’t accept that. I want to work in the shipping line, but it’s impossible when you’ve taken over what was supposed to be my place in this company.”

“This company is half mine.”

“But think back to why it was formed all those years ago. We learned to sail so you and I would have a livelihood when William was alive and the heir. Now this earldom is yours. After Lydia, you were too…” Grant stopped, uncomfortable. “Well, I took the reins. But, damn it, it’s been years. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust to your lot in life. My life is completely on hold until you decide to think of someone else for a change and free me from your responsibilities.”

Derek had never looked at it like that. He’d assumed he did Grant and everyone else a favor by staying off the estates. He’d easily avoided home and all the attendant worries because his younger brother did such a good job with them.

Now, learning that Grant was encumbered by those duties, Derek understood it wasn’t fair to tie him up in his affairs. But he couldn’t think about that now. Besides, Grant knew better than to have mentioned Lydia and William to him in the same conversation.

“To hell with you, Grant. I have other plans. I don’t give a bloody damn what happens while I’m gone. No one’s forcing you to stay on.”

A look of bitter disappointment flashed in his brother’s eyes before he stood and turned away. Seemingly resigned, Grant walked over to the port window, studiously taking in the scene of activity on the docks. Derek wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t the last he’d hear about this, and the only reason it had ended now was that Grant despised emotional scenes.

Changing the subject, Grant remarked, “I am pleased that you’re captaining this race, at least. We need this win.” He turned to stare Derek down. “We really need this win. Our reputation has been compromised—whose wouldn’t be after losing twelve cargoes in the last year? Yet you continually sign on the riskiest ventures. In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve had several contracts pulled.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” Derek said testily. And he had. Shipping contracts were based on past performance and reputation, so lost ships and the consequently damaged reputation could prove ruinous to a line.

“If Lassiter wins this race, his company will finally be on solid footing. He could easily take over even more of our business.”

“I willnever allow that to happen.”

Grant’s brows drew together. “Why do you two hate each other so much?”

Derek drank while considering his answer. “He harasses me because he has a Yank’s natural aversion to the aristocracy—men should make their own way and all that drivel.” He looked up when he realized Grant had said nearly the same thing, but ignored his brother’s frown. “He complains to any who’ll listen that I was handed everything while he works tirelessly.”

“You know that’s not true,” Grant said. “And you? Why do you hate him?”

“Of those twelve lost cargoes you were mentioning, he’s directly responsible for at least four—”

A knock on the door broke the tense conversation.

When Derek called permission, Jeb entered and said, “Cap’n, we’ve got goods come to be delivered. I just wanted to make sure that we’re not taking on perishables until the decision to sail is made.”

Whatever Grant detected in Derek’s face had him clenching his fists. “Decision to sail—what bloody decision?” he ground out. “Why aren’t you provisioned?”

Jeb decided this was a good chance to escape, and with a “Sorry, Cap’n,” he scrambled out to close the door behind him.

“Calm down. I do plan on sailing,” Derek said. “Just not yet.” Seeing the uncompromising look on his brother’s face, he reluctantly began filling him in on Nicole.

“Derek, don’t take me for a fool,” Grant said when he finished. “You don’t expect me to believe you are looking for a woman. Much less Lassiter’s chit.”

“It’s true. And it’s important to me.” He took a generous swig of brandy. “Lassiter, you obviously haven’t heard, is in jail right now. And will be until after the race. Without him, there is no competition for the Southern Cross.”

As Grant took in that new information, Derek continued, “And what’s the urgency about sailing today? I’ll win, but if I didn’t, what’s the worst thing that can happen? We lose a few more contracts? You know that won’t break either of our banks.”

Grant loomed over his desk. “Don’t you have any pride left? Peregrine could be the most powerful line in Britain, was well on its way to being that. But then you let a woman crush you and, as a result, the company?” Grant’s eyes bored into him. “I’m glad the American’s picking us off. He deserves it more than we do.”

“That’s a little much—”

“You damn well know it’s not. Think of the people we employ. What happens to everyone who works for the line? To the sailors’ families? I can’t tell you how much it pleased me to watch the company grow, to revive another port town. Now, without regard for anyone else, you’re killing the one thing that made me proud.”

Derek gave an unconcerned shrug just to irritate him.

Grant exhaled and then changed tactics. “You may shun everyone you used to associate with, but the rest of your family doesn’t.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Derek demanded. “Your standing in the ton? I can see it now, you and Mother at Lady Sarah’s rout hearing tales of the drunken reprobate heir. Do they whisper about me? About me ruining what was already an embarrassing foray into commerce for an ancient family?”

Both men stared at each other, neither prepared to back down.

His eyes like ice, Grant finally said, “I’ll sail this ship if you don’t.”

Derek recognized where this was going. Yes, he could have all the time in the world to search for Nicole. But then he’d have to take up the running of the estates.

“Forget it. I’m sailing,” Derek said. “When I feel like it.”

Grant leveled a look of fury at him, and Derek was sure he’d charge him—actually hoped for it. But then Grant’s restraint came to the fore. That worthless, damning restraint. Grant controlled himself, but did say in a scathing voice, “Looks as if you’ll destroy yourself again because of a woman. Only this time you’re taking everyone else down with you.” He started toward the door but turned back. “You are the most selfish bloody bastard I’ve ever had the displeasure to know. That we’re related makes the insult greater.”