The Captain of All Pleasures (Sutherland Brothers 1)

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 shipowner 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."