He, in turn, looked down into her eyes until his gaze settled on her smiling lips. Whatever he saw there had his fingers threaded through her hair, then descending over her neck, until he skimmed the backs of his fingers over her breasts. Her eyes grew wide. She grabbed his wrists to stop him, but wished she hadn't as soon as the feelings registered.
He twisted out of her grasp, placing her hands on his chest before bringing his fingers back to her body. She was dumbfounded by his actions, and her reactions. The rigid muscles in his chest moved under her fingertips, enticing her; his touch made her breasts ache.
She looked down at his hands, eyes shuttered. He didn't behave like the pinching, clutching men she'd seen on the docks. He...luxuriated in her, watching his own stroking movements, seemingly enthralled as he teased her nipples to hard, aching points. Her eyelids slid closed when he grasped her sides, his hands so big on her body, and rubbed his thumbs over her.
"You bring a man to his knees when you smile, but you probably know that," he told her in that gravelly tone. "Tonight, I'll have you, and I'll make you smile with pleasure." He bent down and gently brushed his lips to hers, as if preparing her, warning her, for the deepening contact of his mouth.
She became lost in his kiss with its thorough caressing. He acted hungry for her, as if he couldn't control his reaction to her, and thinking of that made her hunger for him. Heat and sensation bombarded every part of her body that touched his--her breasts, her belly, her legs.
She clung weakly to his coat, scarcely aware that she deepened the connection of their bodies by pushing into him as he'd done to her earlier. He responded by pulling her hips to his with a grinding force. She raced toward something, something she starved for. Then his hand trailed down, lighting on her thigh before kneading upward, inch by inch. Did his other hand fumble with his trousers?
She was feeling too much, closer to flying apart than she'd ever been in her dreams. Too much from this man. She stiffened. A last shimmer of sanity called to her. This was Sutherland. It was supposed to end with just a kiss.
Instead of holding him to her, she pushed away from him. She shook her head forcefully. For God's sake, this was Sutherland! Why did she behave like this with him? In answer, the throbbing in her body grew more pronounced.
Unconsciously she swiped at her lips as if to erase what she'd just done. Of all the men in the world, she couldn't be this attracted to him. She simply couldn't. Particularly since she'd never met another man who made her body rebel against her. She couldn't allow a rival, an enemy, this power over her.
A thrill, of what had to be fear, surged through her when she admitted there were a few moments back there when she probably would have done anything he desired.
More important, she reminded herself, while she was in here...cavorting with Sutherland, the two men who wanted to harm the ship and had tried to kill her were loose.
In response to her pulling away, he laughed a mirthless laugh and ran his hand through his thick, black hair. "A word of advice--in your line of work, you should at least act as though you enjoy my kiss," he said, then he stalked past her down the corridor.
Her wits were slow, simpleton slow in her desire-saturated mind, but she finally understood why he'd so heroically brought her back to his ship.
He thought she was a whore.
She wasn't offended by that in the least. She had befriended courtesans who made their livelihood from loving men. No, disappointment seeped into Nicole because during the day she had come to believe that they'd had some powerful connection the night before. The memory of that had factored into why she'd let him kiss and touch her. In reality, he'd just been surveying the women in the tavern and assumed she was part of his selection.
When he walked away, she whirled around to leave. Because that's what she should do. She hadn't even reached the deck before she started doubting her decision. Those men were out there. It was freezing out on the docks. And dark.
Nicole walked to the gangway, past the guards, who seemed uneasy around her. She tried to see each way down the quay, but only craggy, dark places abounded. Miles separated her from the Bella Nicola, and she had no money. And how could she be sure anyone would even be back aboard by now?
She hesitated. Captain Sutherland thought she was a prostitute. Nicole didn't attempt to delude herself that if she entered his cabin, she'd come out unscathed. Then she imagined Pretty jumping out from behind a building, his cadaverous face twisted into a grin.
Crossly, she turned and scuffed to his cabin, all the while sorting through her spiraling emotions. When she entered, his face was unreadable, but she swore he looked surprised to see her return. If he was, he promptly got over it. He didn't waste any time closing the door behind her, and she teased herself by ridiculously thinking that he didn't want her to change her mind.
He stood near enough that his warmth and his addictive scent enfolded her, before moving to the center of the cabin. He shrugged his broad shoulders out of his coat and tossed it over a chair, his every movement casual and unhurried. She had the feeling that he played with her, as if he had all the time in the world to find out her secrets.
Regardless, she would make the most of this situation. Yes, she'd just entered Derek Sutherland's cabin still shaking from his kiss. That was bad. But she needed a safe haven until she could be certain the crew had returned to her ship before she attempted to go home.
"Captain, I, uh, would like..." She had to stop and cough before beginning again. "I would like to stay with you for a couple of hours. For protection," she added hastily.
"Why should I protect you?"
Good question. Yet she had no good answer. "Because I'm asking you to?"
He paused, taking time to look her over again. His voice was husky when he answered, "I'll keep you here with me."
She nodded. There. That wasn't so bad. This was a good decision, Nicole assured herself, even as she reacted to his hungry look with another bloom of heat throughout her body.
But who, she wondered as the sensual rush turned into a deepening knot of dread, would protect her from herself?
Chapter 4
W hen Nicole forced her eyes away from Sutherland and surveyed his cabin, the first thing she noticed was his oversize bed. The second--he'd caught her looking at it. He had the gall to smirk at her, and her face flamed as she glanced away.
The room was extremely large even for a ship of this size, but snug and warm with none of the usual drafts. She took in the tasteful colors and decor and reluctantly acknowledged that it easily surpassed her own cabin, even with all those fancy gifts from her hard-hearted grandmother crammed into it--gifts just waiting, in her opinion, for the right time to be coldly pawned.
A sizable mahogany desk rested under a large clouded-glass skylight, and scattered all over it, so like her own, were charts and scribbled numbers.
As if magnetically drawn to it, she edged over to spy out his course, straining to see in the low light. She made out many of the figures while he fed fuel into the stove and turned up the room's lanterns.
She examined his course line, knowing she was cheating, but she wanted to find out how far south he planned to sail through the Southern Ocean when rounding Africa's Cape of Good Hope. If she could determine that, then she could either meet his course or beat it with a more dangerous, but faster latitude farther south. How low are you going to go, Captain Sutherland?
Her eyebrows shot up. Lower than even her reckless father had ever dared.
His course ran insanely close to the perilous seas around the Antarctic, cutting the distance and sailing time to Sydney. She had to have read it wrong.
"Don't try to read that," he advised. "It will only give you a headache."
Her eyes narrowed. She'd been plotting since she was old enough to count. Indeed, she almost informed him with a sharp rap of her fingernails over the offending numbers that he had made a mistake in one of his calculations. But she should probably let the error stand, since it could
adversely affect his course in the race. It would be a cold-blooded thing to do, but this wasn't a child's game. If he couldn't meet the challenge, then he'd fail.
When she said nothing, he scrutinized her and said, "It's a course--a map of where I'll sail this ship on my next voyage." Had he explained that slowly?
Nicole's nails bit into her palms as she quieted her arrogant pride. She managed a tepid smile as if impressed with his knowledge. Yet thoughts of the race vanished when he walked toward her in that slow, fluid way that made her belly tighten.
He reached out to her, his body so close that she would have to move to avoid touching him. Instead, she lowered her lashes. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to touch her with those lips once more? Nothing happened for the space of what should have been a couple of breaths.
Her eyes flashed open; he'd reached past her toward a bottle of brandy. She didn't think he'd seen her mortifying surrender, but that didn't stop her from berating herself for being so vulnerable to him. Sutherland was a cruel man. A patronizing man. He expected, lest she forget, that she would be bought tonight.
Well, he could occupy himself with liquor all night if he wanted, but she would not let him touch her again. As if to illustrate his matching intention, he poured a generous amount and drained his cut-crystal glass in two long draws.