The Price of Pleasure (Sutherland Brothers 2)

Grant sprinted to the edge, breath knocked from him as he saw nothing but her small hands clawing at the earth, at slimy roots, frantic for a hold. He dove for her at the brink where the ground beneath her had given way, shooting his arm out and snagging her wrist. Her skin slipped inch by inch from his hand.

"Hang on, Victoria! Grab my arms!" He reached for her elbow, praying all the while that his own position wouldn't give way.

"I can't...get a grip." Her eyes were wide in her face, beseeching. "Don't let go. Please..."

In that instant, when his eyes locked with hers, he knew he'd follow her down before he'd ever let go.

"I won't." He redoubled his efforts to grab her under her arms. The closer he came, the more earth fell below him--by flashes of lightning, he could see large clumps exploding on the rocks hundreds of feet below. He nearly had her.... Seconds before she fell...

"I've got you," he roared, hands clamping behind her elbows. He hiked a leg up to plant a boot higher, pushing against his foothold to raise them to firmer ground. Again, another boot farther back. He dragged her until he could finally scramble back to safety, pulling her on top of him.

She clung to him for many moments, with her hands bunched in his shirt. He reached up to brush the rain from her face and felt warm tears streaming down.

She nearly died. When she pulled away, his hand shot out to cradle the back of her head, tangling in her hair. She'd almost... Through the rain, he studied her face, so pale, and her stark eyes as though memorizing them, before his hands gathered her face to bring her lips beneath his.

He tasted her, drawing her nearer, laying her back in his arms as he squeezed her to him. Her lips were so soft, trembling. Her mouth...sweet and lush....

When she laid her hands flat against his chest, then brushed them higher to clasp his shoulders, he groaned against her and deepened the kiss, taking her with his tongue, savagely slanting his lips over hers again and again.

Distantly, he sensed her breaking away, and forced himself to let her. He cursed himself for frightening her, for clutching her so hard to his chest and kissing her so urgently. Her brows were drawn in confusion as her gaze flickered over his face. Never taking his eyes from hers, he watched as her confusion turned to anger. She bolted to her feet to back away.

But it was too late. That kiss--he'd never experienced anything like it. He lay back, stunned, while she dabbed her tongue at her plump bottom lip as if she couldn't believe he'd just taken her mouth so fiercely. He cursed and ran a hand down his face, determined to master himself, but in the end, it didn't matter.

The seal had been broken. His control had been pierced, if only for moments.

And he liked it.

Heaven help them both.

Eight

Tori shook so hard her teeth clattered. Little wonder. Her best friend had been kidnapped, she'd just been saved from falling to her death, she'd received her first kiss, and the man responsible for all of it was trying to undress her.

After her fall, she'd hurried to the ladder, determined to get warm. When she slipped yet again on the slick rungs, Sutherland was behind her, helping her up. She was exhausted, her body weak, and she let him. Inside, he'd turned his back while she struggled to dry and change, but her arms felt stretched from their sockets. The mattress beckoned, and she buckled to a heap.

He turned around immediately, kneeling beside her. "Oh, no, Victoria, not until you're dry. Come here," he ordered gently as he grasped her shoulder and made her sit up. He took the tail of his shirt and wiped at a smudge on her face.

Still holding her shoulder, he leaned over to the pile of linens in the corner and found the most absorbent material there. He took the cloth and lightly twisted her hair with it, wringing out the water. How could such a big man handle her with such care?

"You've got to get changed. I won't look if you let me help you." His voice was low, soothing, and deep. Lulled, she let him remove her top, in the back of her mind conscious that he did indeed keep his eyes above her chest. But she tensed when he unfastened her skirt.

"Can you do this by yourself?"

Her arms were dead blocks on the sides of her body. Loath to do it, but knowing how dangerous it was to have wet clothes on in this climate, she shook her head. His eyes never wavered from hers as he tugged down her sodden skirt and briskly wiped down her legs, arms, and belly. Leaving the cloth to cover her, he pulled a large shirt over her. She wondered if he realized it had once been his.

He hadn't ogled her, but behaved like a gentleman. Now. Yet earlier when he'd kissed her...

She shook harder at the memory, and he grasped her chin and made her look at him. She couldn't get her eyes to focus. Did his own eyes show worry? Was his face haggard with fatigue?

He laid her down and pulled a sheet over her. Just before her lids closed for good, a gust buffeted the hut. Thinking of Cammy trapped aboard a ship made her feel like crying--or striking him. "You shouldn't have separated us," she rasped. "Not when she's so sick."

"We'll talk about this when you've rested."

Dimly, she heard herself say, "She better be safe. For your sake..."

What felt like hours later, she stirred. Cracking open her eyes, she was surprised to see light, then realized he'd brought in a flickering lantern. She peeked at him through the hair that had fallen in her face. He sat with one long leg stretched out, the other bent with a thick arm resting over it. He never took his eyes from her.

Disconcerted, she sat up, pushing her hair back to tuck it behind her ears. His gaze followed her every movement.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she answered curtly, frowning at her hoarse voice.

"I imagine you have quite a few questions."

She moved to sit on her knees, facing him, the lantern shining between them. "I want to be absolutely sure you were sent by my grandfather."

"How?"

"Describe Belmont Court to me."

He eyed her suspiciously and asked in an impatient voice, "Have you even been there?"

"Well, of course."

He exhaled and related, "The estate manager's name is Huckabee. There's a stream running through the property that's full of trout. There's a walled rose garden adjacent to the south side of the manor."

"So he did send you," she said in resignation. "Why did it take so long?"

"I'm heading the eighth mission. The others must not have journeyed so far out."

"Why you?"

Her question obviously took him aback. "Belmont chose me because he trusts me. I'm known as a man of my word."

He said the last reluctantly, as if he despised talking about himself. But he'd neglected mentioning one thing she was very interested in. "A man of your word? That's nice." She skewered him with a look. "But what I want to know is if you can sail."

Sitting straighter, he ground out, "I've never had any complaints." Then seeming to curb his irritation, he said, "I'm more than capable of getting you home. My older brother is also a captain and I learned a lot from him. For the four years before this voyage I oversaw his estate, but before then I sailed routinely."

She chewed her bottom lip, waiting for more information, but he didn't elaborate. Reading him was like reading a rock.

He must have misconstrued her silence, because he said in a severe tone, "I will protect you with my life."

She leaned forward, her gaze catching his. "That's what the captain of the Serendipity said...and he did!"

He had no answer for that.

"What are you to protect me from?"

"Perhaps from falling." When she flushed, he added, "Belmont entrusted me as your guardian in the event your parents had passed on."

"Is that why you feel you can order me about?" Tori asked.

"I was given that duty, yes. You're my ward now."

"What's your incentive for bringing me back?"

"Belmont is...compensating me in his will."

He'd hesitated. Was he lying about the

will? Will? "Is he sick?" she demanded.

"No, no," he assured her. "Not that I could see."

She sighed in relief. Strange to feel such an instant, biting fear for a man she hadn't seen in almost a decade, even if he was her last blood relative. When she saw he scrutinized her reaction, she hastily asked, "How long is the trip to England?"

"It all depends on the trade winds. We made it to Oceania in four months, but the return will take longer."

"Four months...Cammy won't make it four weeks."

"Once I explained who I was, Miss Scott was glad to go, relieved that you'd finally be rescued."

When the enormity of the situation hit her, she felt dazed. "Putting her on a ship for the first time in a storm." She looked at him in confusion. "Why would you do that?"

"I wanted her where I could be assured of her safety." He leaned forward. "I'm going to be putting you aboard as soon as they return."

She narrowed her eyes. "We're at cross-purposes, Captain. I refuse to travel farther than New Zealand until Cammy's better."

Obviously struggling with anger, he snapped, "I'm not some hack to deliver you wherever you deign to go--"