The Captain of All Pleasures (24 page)

Eventually he had to leave the ship to arrange his cargo for the voyage back, but when he returned, he looked at her as if he hadn't seen her in days. While he was gone, she worked with the new paint supplies he'd thoughtfully brought her, mainly altering the erratic flow of the scene she'd created on the cabin walls.

Even so, she grew restless at being confined, especially during his absences. Just when she was about to say something, he informed her, “We're going out tonight.”

She paused, her face showing her indecision. “I don't think that would be a good idea,” she said, remembering the men gaping at her unconventional attire when she'd left before.

“Why not? I can sense you're restless.”

She knew she looked openly surprised. She hadn't thought he'd noticed. Then she frowned. “Any clothes I'd wear off the ship were aboard the
Bella Nicola.”

He smiled down at her. “Let me take care of that,” he said. With an assessing eye, he looked her over, then placed his hands around her waist. His voice had a husky quality when he said, “I'll be back by eight.”

That afternoon, two boxes were delivered to the ship. She opened the first in wild excitement, then froze. Inside were three of the most beautiful dresses she'd ever seen. He'd picked deep colors and clean styles; she would have chosen them for herself. She held up a rich blue watered silk and hung it out for tonight. Simply looking at it, she could see that it would fit.

In the second box, she found a circle of soap in her favorite scent, matching slippers and small cloth boots for all three dresses, and even all the foundation accessories necessary for wearing them. While she bathed, she thought of her gifts and marveled that Sutherland—Derek, she corrected herself—that Derek had remembered she liked the fragrance of almond oil.

After her bath, she combed her hair until dry and twisted it up in an elaborate knot, allowing a few loose curls to frame her face. Before dressing, she stepped in front of the mirror, and her eyes widened at the reflection. She looked fuller. More busty even. She noted happily that the flare of her backside, the only part of her figure she'd never despaired over, was more pronounced.

She enjoyed an awareness of parts of her body she'd once thought hopeless. Now, as she spun in front of the glass, she liked flaunting her new figure. She wanted to show off those features that Suther—that Derek lavished praise on each night. After she dressed, she gazed one last time at her reflection and recognized that she carried herself much as the old headmistress had tried for months to instill in her.

When he arrived to escort her, his first reaction was to suck in a shallow breath. She panicked. Years of feeling scrawny and ungainly made her lose some of her new confidence. Although Derek made her feel beautiful, she remembered a time when she'd hated her looks.

He was silent until at last he bent down to her ear and murmured in a low, rumbling tone, “You are stunning, Nicole.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she smiled to mask her reaction.

He answered with a devilish one of his own. “Even more so when you smile, love.”

His open praise unsettled her, and she looked away. Some of the crew jumped back to work with smiles on their faces. Embarrassed, she changed the subject. “I know of a place we can eat, if you like.” Then, feeling the soft night air rolling off the high tide, she suggested in a more casual tone that they walk.

He grinned and bowed. “Lead the way, sweet. I forget I'm not showing you a new town.”

She smiled as they descended the gangway together and started walking, but after several steps, she realized he'd lagged behind. He stood there watching her.

“What? Is something wrong?” she squealed, checking her skirts.

His lips tugged up in a grin. “I've never seen you walk at length on land.”

She frowned, and then her mouth made a little
O
at his sultry expression. In a deep voice, he said, “I like the way you walk, Nicole.”

That night, she enjoyed herself far too much. Derek was attentive and demonstrated a dry wit she appreciated. Deflecting his overtures and steeling herself against him seemed more and more a lost battle. The sooner they parted, the better.

Another worry preyed on her mind. For several days, no other ship from the race had docked. After what had happened to the
Bella Nicola
and the
Southern Cross,
she had no cause to doubt other ships had been damaged as well. But Derek could find nothing on Tallywood.

She thought that Derek sensed her uneasiness and was going out of his way to make her happy. This night he'd taken her to a play, a play she didn't remember the first line of because he'd sat holding her hand, tracing her inner palm, slowly stroking each finger. He hadn't bothered to hide his hunger.

She believed he wanted them to spend every evening in bed as they had been. She certainly wouldn't mind, but seeing how proprietary he became with her around other men was also thrilling. In his mind, she belonged to him.

One time tonight, it'd gotten so bad she'd thought Derek was going to haul her back to the ship.

Later, on their way back, she chastised him, “You didn't have to glare at that old man!”

He lifted his eyebrows and laughed. “He wasn't much older than I am. And even though he gathered you were with me, he continued to ogle your ripe, young breasts.”

She blushed, not used to him speaking so frankly to her outside the haven of his bed. “I thought he was harmless.”

“That's because you don't know what men like that are thinking, whereas I do. Honestly, if you had any idea, you would have run…” His voice trailed off. “Nicole, what is it? You've turned white as a sheet.”

Her body went cold as her breath tripped in and out. She forced herself to continue walking because behind her, not more than ten feet away, came a voice from her nightmares.

“You're gonna get us lashed for this, you just wait 'n' see,” Pretty whined. When Clive replied, “Bugger you, Pretty, Cap'n can't keep us locked aboard ship for our whole stay,” the blood left her face.

“Love, what's wrong?”

She'd slowed too much. The two would be abreast of them. Without thinking, she turned her back to the street and grabbed Derek by the collar to bring his lips to hers.

“Now, this I like,” he murmured.

“Hush! Just keep me turned this way,” she whispered against his lips.

“I take it you've seen someone you'd rather not?” he asked in an amused tone.

When she'd given them enough time to pass, she broke from him. “Those two up ahead, the wide one and the weasely one. They—they are the two men who attacked me back in London.”

It was as if she could see aggression fire through his body.

“I don't know what they're doing here,” she said in a shaking voice, “but maybe we should trail them and find out how they got to Syd—”

“Stay here!” he ordered, and charged toward the two men.

She hitched up her skirts to follow and got there just in time to hear Clive's nose crunch as Derek pounded him to the ground. When Pretty scurried to escape, he lunged after him, yanking the wiry man around into his other awaiting fist.

“Th-they said something about a captain,” she stammered from behind him.

He looked from the barely conscious Clive slumped on the ground to the visibly quaking Pretty.

“Now, which one of you wants to tell me who your captain is?”

The search of Tallywood's ship took less than an hour. The watchman had arrived just as Derek learned the English earl was their captain. Upon hearing Nicole's story about her father suspecting Tallywood of being behind the damage to several ships, the Australian authorities called for a search of the
Desirade
. Word swiftly spread around the small sailing community, and crowds flanked the docks. Derek coerced his way onto the ship, and since he obviously wasn't letting Nicole out of his sight, she marched aboard as well.

“This is an injustice!” Tallywood cried, the pale, flaccid skin of his face and jowls shaking in outrage as the Australian authorities restrained him. “I'll have your positions for this, you heathens,” he spat at the men who held him. “I'm a bloody earl! You're nothing but some convict's spawn.”

The two officers were a brawny, rough-looking pair, and each time he whined they jostled him enthusiastically.

After picking Tallywood's safe, an officer uncovered detailed lists and intricate plans for several ships in the race.

When she spied the lists, Nicole rushed forward, dragging Derek along. “Are we in there?” she cried to the marshal. “Did he sabotage our ships?”

“The
Southern Cross?”

Derek nodded.

“He had your water tainted before it was even loaded on the ship.” He turned to her. “The
Bella Nicola?”
At her anxious nod, he said with obvious regret, “Yes, miss. They loosened your rudder and compromised a support in your hold.”

She could feel her lower lip trembling. She didn't want to appear weak in front of these men, but she had to know why. Turning to Derek, she glanced at Tallywood in question, but Derek looked as though he'd stop her. Before he could say a word, she crossed the deck to where the two men held their prisoner.

“Why'd you do it?”

He ignored her, and she thought he wouldn't answer. The second she pulled her eyes from him, the coward spoke. “You all laughed at me,” he began in an eerie voice so low that she had to strain to hear him.

“Common sailors and dockside whores openly mocking me. But I won,” he spewed in an increasingly violent tone. “I won the greatest race of the century….” He continued ranting.

Nicole wanted to interrupt, to answer his words. But she didn't think one could argue with a man like this, a man so full of his own importance that he couldn't fathom the rest of the world wouldn't want to bring him down from his lofty position.

One of the two big officers holding Tallywood said, “You can give him something to remember you by, miss, if you like.”

“Stop this, this bloody instant,” Tallywood shrieked in response. He turned to Nicole. “You're nothing but a commoner. Do you know what will happen if you strike a peer?”

The other officer leaned down to her and said with a wink, “Don't hurt your hand, little bit.”

It was useless to try to find some wise, reconciling words to convey that he'd won the race but lost everything else. Instead, she hiked up her skirts and planted her boot squarely between his legs.

With great ceremony, the Great Circle Race award had been bestowed on Derek by the mayor of Sydney. Afterward, he and Nicole walked to his ship as though isolated from the revelry around them. His hand reached down to clasp hers.

“You, uh, you…” he began in a gruff voice, “could have taken the race.” Although he looked away when admitting that, she simply nodded.

“Your ship was unstoppable.” He looked down at her now. “And you and the Irisher worked her like clay in your hands. It should have been you and your crew feted in Sydney today.”