"Possibly," he admitted, "but there're several people who'd be desperate to have yer father out o' this race. We got a whole list o' suspects."
She shook her head against what he was saying. Yes, other competitors would gain from her father's imprisonment. But none of them was in such financial straits that they depended on it.
"I believe Father told me in one of his letters that Sutherland's line was foundering?"
"Aye, it is. But that don't mean he's doin' this."
"But what if it is him?"
Chancey huffed impatiently. "If yer father hates the man above all else, and even he don't think it's Sutherland..."
Nicole shook her head. "I've got to meet with Sutherland and find out what information he has. I don't have a choice but to confront him."
"Ye're serious?" he asked in amazement. Then, visibly calming himself, he said evenly, "All right, so we go to Sutherland's tonight. I've done worse."
"He, uh, said it was to be only me."
"O' course he did!" Chancey roared.
She heedlessly carried on, "I don't think he'll keep Father in there if I plead our case." Truly she did think, she didn't know why, that she could have some sway where Sutherland was concerned.
However, Chancey sputtered, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"Chancey, you look amazed at what is a...a daring idea." She pointed a finger at him. "And that really irritates, since you were once part of the Liverpool Irishmen. I believe that sailing enclave was notorious around the world for riotous behavior and insane exploits."
Chancey flushed. "I'm reformed!"
"Well, one day I will be, too!"
He glared at her. "First o' all, I'm not believin' that Sutherland had anythin' to do with this. And if I did, I'd be the one to confront him, not Jason's daughter!"
She couldn't understand where his confidence in Sutherland had come from. "I can't keep sitting here helpless when so much points to him. At worst, even if I can't coax him to help me, I can gain entry to his ship and snoop around for any evidence of wrongdoing." And spy for anything to help them in this now-critical race.
Chancey made a strangled exasperated sound; then, going into an uncharacteristic fury, he stood over her. For the first time in all the years she'd sailed with him, he used his hefty frame to intimidate her.
"I know what ye're plannin' and ye can forget it," he bellowed, shaking his finger at her. "Ye'll not be traipsin' after that black-hearted scoundrel!"
Nicole glanced behind him to see several of the crew listening at the door. She scowled at them, and they scurried away. Everyone was accustomed to his blustering, but this was much more volatile. Still, she counted on the fact that even though Chancey's temper flared she'd wear him down in the end. Because she never lost a contest of wills.
"I'll not agree to it, miss," he warned resolutely as he paced back and forth. "Yer father'd not have ye doin' this for him." He took her arm and said, "Dangerous times these are--think o' it, ye were attacked right on yer own ship."
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.
Chapter 7
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."