The Captain of All Pleasures (Sutherland Brothers #1)(43)
Author: Kresley Cole

Sometime in the night, he awoke to find her back snuggled against his chest for warmth and her head lying on his outstretched arm. His whole body tensed in response. Although she wore his shirt, it rode up her thighs, and he could feel every inch of her legs and higher.

This was torture. His erection pulsed thick and rigid. Not being able to touch her when all he wanted to do was bury himself in her was maddening.

He could swear the little witch purposefully tormented him when she wriggled her bottom closer to him. He sucked in a breath—his c**k rested at the press of her inner thighs. He gritted his teeth, straining to think of anything but her smell or her soft hair against his chest. But his mind kept coming back to how perfectly she fit between his hips. Their bodies meshed like two pieces of a puzzle, and he knew bedding her would bear that idea out.

Before her treachery, he would have made love to her. A thorough and selfless joining in which he would have licked her in secret places, run his tongue over the small dip between her intimate flesh and her pale thigh, and worshipped her br**sts. A world away from the stiff f**king he planned for her now. The thought made him bitter—he wished he had the option to do both.

In the nights that followed, he made his way into his bunk to sleep. He awoke early, careful to leave in case she woke. Then, after he’d gone to the bridge to give out orders for the day, he’d return and check on her.

He could almost fool himself that if she wasn’t aware of him spending time with her in bed, it didn’t count as any kind of increased intimacy. He didn’t have a choice in the matter anyway. Although he hadn’t told Bigsby, Nicole shook in tremors each night. Since her skin was rarely hot, he’d concluded that the girl was gripped by what had to be hellish nightmares. Until he came to her.

Since Bigsby had finagled his way into caring for her when Derek had to take the bridge, the surgeon was with her for most of the day. Derek’s only time to help her recover was in the nights, and he didn’t want to stop just yet. It was a challenge to calm her.

On the third night, he couldn’t stop her trembling even after he’d wrapped himself and three blankets over her. He couldn’t get any closer to her. Their skin touched in every place it could, but she continued to moan quietly and shake. In his frustration, Derek put his hand in her hair and stroked her. When this helped, he leaned close to her ear and murmured, “Shhh, Nicole. You need to sleep.”

She stilled and again snuggled against him. Derek swore. A fever might be better than her continued nightmares. Nightmares of the storm, he didn’t doubt. He continued petting her, and her breathing deepened and calmed. Before he could chastise himself, deride his absurd behavior, he’d whispered, “Good girl,” then fallen soundly asleep.

On the fourth day, he was rewarded when her eyes fluttered open.

When she parted her pallid lips, he poured a glass of water for her and awaited her questions. After blinking several times, her eyes settled wide open. She looked as if she battled panic, so he was relieved when she was able to phrase a clear question.

“Where am I?” she rasped before she let him pull her up for a drink.

“You’re aboard the Southern Cross.”

She drank deeply, then sank back down in confusion. “My ship ?”

“Went down.”

At his answer, she brought a limp hand over her face as a broken sound burst from her lips. “C-Crew?” she whispered.

“Your crew,” —he skewered the word—“will be hauled off to the jail in Cape Town for attempted mutiny. It would seem that not knowing about your safety drove the bastards crazy.”

“Did you harm them?” she asked, staring at him accusingly.

“Yes, of course they were hurt when we defended my ship!” Her face became even paler, if possible, and she looked as though she might be sick, so he added brusquely, “If you mean to ask if anyone was killed, then the answer is no.”

Such a look of relief crossed her face . What were those men to her?

She reached out and gripped his wrist with a frantic strength in her small hand. “I must see Chancey.” Her touch was like lightning running through him. He rushed to assure himself that her skin was just hot—she might in fact be getting feverish. When her demand sank in, he became furious.

“That will not happen, princess,” he pronounced in clipped tones.

Abruptly she dropped his hand as her own fell by her side, all strength vanishing. She looked desolate, with such bleakness in her eyes that he came close to taking back what he’d said.

Inwardly, he cringed at his weakness where Lassiter’s daughter was concerned. Was he losing his mind to even think about letting the woman who’d poisoned his crew see the man who’d tried to take his ship? The idea was ludicrous, and it wouldn’t happen.

“I’ve attempted to get information on the poisoning from some of your crew, but they swear they don’t know anything about it.” He pinned her with a flinty glare. “Now you’ll tell me about the sabotage.”

Her eyes widened in surprise before she hissed, “As if you don’t know.”

“What the hell does that mean? How would I know?”

Although her whole body weakened before his eyes, she spoke with increasing fury. “You know because you’re responsible.”

“I’m responsible?” He bit back a laugh as he rose off the bed and walked across the cabin. “I have no reason to hurt anyone’s ship,” he said with amusement, and poured a glass of brandy from the all-but-empty bottle on his desk.

“You hurt my ship,” she countered while he took a large drink.

“It was dead before I even got there because you’d gutted it in the straits,” he said. “You should be thanking me. If I hadn’t plucked you off that sinking ship, odds are you would be dead by now.”

She was silent as she obviously sought to remember and decide whether he was correct. Finally, she replied, “It’s true you saved my life. But I can assure you that I didn’t hit anything.”

“I suppose the Bella Nicola just sank itself.”

She exhaled in impatience. In her condition, it sounded more like a sigh. “She sank because someone sabotaged her.”

“You’re planning to stick to this ridiculous story? So be it.” He lifted his glass to her in a mocking salute. “Here’s to veracity.”

She glared at him. “Will you let me go with my crew at the Cape?”

“No.” Another drink as he made his way back over to the bed.

“That’s kidnapping,” she cried out hoarsely. She weakly moved farther away when he sat back down.

“No, it’s justice, you conniving little witch.” He saw her aversion and shot off the bed again. “After what you did to my crew, I have every right to punish you.”

“What I did to your crew?” she asked in confusion. She feebly massaged her temples.

It was too easy to see her as an innocent young woman, alone after a tragedy. But he knew what she really was. She was the daughter of his most hated adversary, and he himself had dragged her out of his storage room right after she’d poisoned their water.