The Captain of All Pleasures (30 page)

“No, I want to see her.”

The man shuffled his feet. “My lady does not receive—”

“So be it,” Derek interrupted, easily pushing past the old man, only to be greeted by two huge footmen who did not look happy. Wasn't that a measure of status, how large your footmen were? If so, he thought as they grabbed his arms, it would appear the marchioness was doing exceedingly well. He was fighting to shake them off when a dull thump sounded from the second floor.

She was there, rising with the book she'd just dropped. Her hand flew over her mouth until she yanked it to her side. The two footmen also turned to the noise, so Derek was able to steal a fleeting look at her. She'd risen to her full height, standing proudly and acting unconcerned.

A corner of his lip quirked up.
She was his
. The fact that she didn't even realize she would be married to him within a fortnight made him grin. He smiled even as the two men were shoving him out the doors.

“Look for me, Nicole,” he called over his shoulder. “I'll be everywhere you are until you agree to talk to me. This is just beginning.”

E
arly the next morning, Derek gulped down coffee, eager to ride to Atworth House, but his mother stopped him. “I need to talk to you.”

He shook his head. “It can wait.”

She maneuvered in front of him. “No! It can't.”

He scowled at her, but she was undeterred. “I want to tell you that there's no excuse for your behavior last night. Manhandling Lady Christina like that! I saw you force her onto the balcony. I saw her trying to get away from you. I know you've been through a lot, but you have to start taking responsibility for your actions. Nothing can excuse your behavior.”

“She's Nicole Lassiter.”

Amanda frowned, then made a choking sound. “Wh-what? You can't be serious,” she cried. “She's the little wharf rat you've been mooning over since you got back? That's impossible!”

“She spent months on my ship. I think I'd recognize her.”

Grant came bounding down the stairs. “Who spent months on your ship?” he asked, pouring himself coffee at the sideboard.

“I believe we are speaking of Lady Christina,” Amanda supplied in an uneven voice.

Grant frowned. “Lady Christina—”

“Is Nicole Lassiter,” Amanda finished.

Grant looked as though he was choking on laughter. “Lady Christina is Lassiter's daughter? You're marrying Lassiter's daughter?” He shook his head and chuckled.

“If she'll have me.”

“You'll be related to her father forever,” Grant pointed out, wiping his eyes. “How will you handle that?”

With a pained expression, Derek said, “I will do what I have to do.”

Amanda broke in, “These might all be empty musings—she doesn't exactly appear matrimonially bent on you.”

“She found out I was married.”

“Wait, I was there,” Grant said. “Lydia slithered up to Lady Christina and explained that she was the countess of Stanhope.”

Lydia and Nicole together? “What was Nicole's reaction?”

“She fainted dead away.”

Derek ran a hand over his face. Christ, he would have spared her that. He had to see her and explain.

Amanda put her hand on his forearm. “Derek, listen to me. I don't know everything that's happened, but you can't just run off like this.”

“Like what?”

Grant was clearly pleased to answer, “You missed a spot shaving, and your boots don't match.”

He scowled down at his boots but continued to the door.

“Whatever has happened between you and the girl doesn't make it right to go to Atworth House looking like that.”

He could admit that he hadn't gotten very far in the planning stage, since he'd been floored by finally finding her. But he…missed her, and knowing she wasn't even a mile away was making him crazed.

“I've waited long enough.”

“Has she?” Amanda asked.

“What do you mean by that?”

“If she is Nicole Lassiter, has she had time enough to recover from your abandonment?”

“I'm going—”

“Very well. I see my advice is neither wanted nor needed,” she snapped. “I'm returning to Whitestone.”

Grant pointed out, “There are several weeks left in the season.”

“It doesn't matter,” she said tartly, never taking her eyes from Derek's face. “I refuse to stay here when you're acting like this. I at least want to have the excuse of not being here when you embarrass yourself further.”

As Derek walked out the door, he heard her exhale loudly and say, “Love has turned him into a fool. Grant, I'll throttle you if you behave like this.”

When Derek stood once again on the doorstep of Atworth House, he knocked, and after several minutes, the same wheezing butler answered.

The man masked his surprise when Derek demanded, “I want to see Nicole.”

He took a loud, deep breath and announced, “She is not in at the moment.”

Derek smiled as he looked down. When he raised his head, his expression was neutral. “It is seven in the morning.”

“Nevertheless, she is not in at the moment.”

“You're going to tell me this no matter how often I come here today, aren't you?”

He detected a slight nod just as the man said, “She's not in—”

With a raised hand, Derek shook his head. “I get the point.”

Deciding not to wrangle with the footmen again, he nodded to the butler and walked down the steps. As soon as the door closed, Derek turned toward the back of the mansion, where he'd spotted an ivy-covered garden wall. He held his breath as he pushed down the latch on the gate, but it opened easily. He walked in and approached the back of the house. As soon as he stood at the steps to the terrace, he saw her.

Early though it was, Nicole sat at a veranda table under falling cherry blossoms, absently tapping the tip of a strawberry against her bottom lip and ignoring the steaming tea service and newspaper in front of her. She looked out over the magnificent garden, but was lost in thought, unseeing.

 

Nicole leaned back in her chair, replaying the events of the previous night. Sutherland hadn't asked for forgiveness, hadn't even asked her to marry him. He'd simply decreed it so. Again, against her expectations, the tears refused to flow.

She didn't understand what possessed the man to behave as he did.
Audacious
and
arrogant
weren't strong enough words to describe him. Outrage spilled through her. All those late-night imaginings of him on one knee begging forgiveness—yet he just expected them to retie what he had so callously severed.

As if she would marry him! She had a slew of suitors, suitors who had propped up her failing pride. She'd choose one who'd give her a nice, sedate life. She could make it work. Though not if Sutherland continued his antics. Strange how all those years her grandmother had worried about Nicole's behavior in the ton, and now a renegade earl was about to ruin her.

Suddenly, she froze. Out of the corner of her eye, near the house, she could see—no, it couldn't be him. She turned. Sutherland!

She wasn't surprised to get that inexplicable tightening in her chest at the sight of him, but fought it nonetheless. She forced her eyes away from him, rose from her chair, and began her retreat. When she had to pass Derek, he grabbed her hand.

“What are you doing, Sutherland?”

“We're going to be wed.”

Not again. Panic rioted through her.
“Have you lost your mind?”

“No, I'm thinking more clearly than I've ever done. I'm taking you to Gretna Green.”

She gasped and finally sputtered, “The hell you are! Why would I wed you when I despise you?” And why couldn't she make her tone as outraged as she felt?

He reached out to stroke the hair off her forehead, and after an initial try, she couldn't seem to fling herself away from him. Had she missed him that badly? Enough to turn docile at his slightest touch?

“Trust me—you do not want to marry one of those dandies. They're not man enough for you.”

She didn't doubt that. “And you are?”

“Indeed.”

The arrogance! She was embarrassed by her weakness, brought low with another stroke of her hair. She couldn't think when he did that, and he knew it.

He took advantage of her temporary calm by grabbing her hand and pulling her down the steps. “We'll talk in the carriage.”

“No,” she squealed as she pulled back. “I'm not marrying you. And even if I wanted to—which I do not—you can't come in here and act as if you own me. I have a family and obligations. Did it occur to you that they might want to be present when I do wed?”

“Then we'll be married twice.”

“Again,
I'm not—”

Chapman appeared at the veranda doors, politely clearing his throat. “Are you all right, my lady? Shall I get the marchioness?”

“No! No need for—”

“She's here?” Derek demanded.

With a whistling breath, Chapman inclined his head toward the door, and before Nicole could form a protest, Derek half-dragged her in that direction. What would her grandmother think when a huge man came barreling into her staid parlor?

She also questioned why she gave him only token resistance, why she was insanely going along with his high-handed behavior.

When they reached the doorway to the salon, he called to the marchioness, “My lady—”

“What do you want? I'm not hard of hearing,” she interrupted without raising her head, making it plain that her cross-stitching held more interest for her.

He didn't hesitate. “I am Derek Andrew Sutherland, sixth earl of Stanhope, and I am taking your granddaughter to Gretna Green to marry her.”

The dowager sighed impatiently. “If you must….”

Derek paused, openly surprised. “Have her things—if you could have her things sent along to the Bickham Inn tonight?”

Her grandmother nodded, as if he'd just asked her to pass the salt.

Nicole's eyes went wide, and he took advantage of her shock by steering her toward the door again. Nicole looked back, baffled.

The marchioness had a grin on her face.

“If I didn't know better,” Derek remarked as he hustled Nicole into the carriage, “I'd think the old girl might just like me.” His tone was normal, as if they were having a chat over tea. It made it difficult for Nicole to sort out her thoughts. She wanted to sound rational to him, to point out logically why they wouldn't suit, but she'd sound like a fishwife compared to his even tone.

She girded herself by recalling that she was beyond irritation at his conceit, at his assumption that she would just roll over and marry him. Her thoughts bubbled up in a stammering flood. “This is kidnapping! Just like before—I won't have it—not again—not from you.”

“It's not kidnapping. It's eloping,” he pointed out reasonably.

“Eloping?
I won't marry you. I won't! I can't trust you—you left me before.” Her voice finally broke. Hot tears poured from her eyes, replacing those she swiped away. “Nothing ever hurt me so badly, and I'll be damned if I set myself up for that again.”

L
eaving you…nearly broke me,” Derek countered as he swept a tear from her cheek. He saw her wobbling bottom lip and added gently, “But I had to go. I'll explain to you why if you'll listen to me.”

She said nothing.

“Please, just let me explain. I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell you. Grant suspected, but he was never certain.”

In a huff, she replied, “Well, then, go on!”

He nearly smiled at her militant tone, but instead took a deep breath. “William was my older brother and the heir, but he was not a good man. He was hedonistic and spoiled—made that way by the family and servants cosseting him and making him think he was next to God. Plus, in our father's eyes he could do no wrong.”

He looked over to see if she was listening.

“Continue.”

He raised his eyebrows, then said, “When William was shot in a drunken duel, a neighboring lord's daughter came to our family and told us she was carrying William's child.”

When he paused, Nicole impatiently tapped at his hand for him to go on. Her tears were drying.

“My father was ecstatic that William's blood would be passed on—that his precious heir's child would inherit—”

“But wouldn't the child be a bastard?” she interrupted, clearly getting caught up in the tale.

He didn't answer for several seconds. “That's where I came in,” he said tonelessly.

“Oh, no,” she murmured, her face a mirror of his pain as she comprehended what he was saying.

“My mother was against the idea of me wedding her and passing the child off as my own, but in the end, everyone pitied her and pushed for marriage. Even I felt a responsibility for her. I resented William for doing this—I'd always cleaned up after him, and it appeared that I would take on his last obligation for the rest of my life. But as I said, I felt sorry for the girl, and married her.”

“What about your own children? What if you'd had a son?”

“You have to understand that my father loved William above all else.”

When Nicole nodded, he continued, “On our wedding night and for several nights afterward, she refused the marriage bed, saying she was ill due to the child. But on that first night, she'd asked me to stay in her chamber to allay suspicion, and I agreed.

“After a week, she indicated that she was ready to become my wife in truth, but when I arrived home that night, I received an anonymous letter. The spelling was poor, as well as the penmanship, and I didn't doubt one of the servants had written it. The letter explained that the reason she hadn't wanted to share her bed with me was because she was having her monthly cycle.”

“But the baby—”

“There was no baby.” Over her gasp, he resumed. “I flew into a rage and confronted her, but she denied it, swearing she was pregnant. She was very convincing. But then she began an almost panicked attempt to seduce me. I knew then. After an hour of yelling and threats, she finally admitted that she'd tricked our entire family—
gloated
was more like it. She told me of her father's financial troubles and how they'd determined she would become the next countess of Stanhope. She also said that William's death was a godsend, because they'd finally concluded that no matter how much she teased and dallied with him, he simply wasn't going to wed her.”

“Oh, my God…”

“It's worse. She hinted, though I could never prove or disprove it, that she'd engineered the events that led to William's death, that she brought about the duel by playing one man against the other. It was then that I really glimpsed the coldness in her eyes. She's truly a…heartless woman. To this day, I wonder if she said those things to hurt me further or if she spoke the truth. I couldn't turn her over to the authorities, not knowing for certain. I threatened annulment, but she pointed out that no one would believe me if I said I'd never been intimate with her. She was far from virginal, and I'd spent the night of the wedding in her room. Plus, she was a celebrated beauty.”

“What about divorce?” Nicole questioned, sounding outraged.

“In my family, death before divorce was the rule, but I threatened her. She countered that it would kill my father, who'd been ailing ever since William died. In fact, it was on the eve of my father's death that he made me swear I'd always take care of William's ‘love.'

“I was cornered—there was nothing I could do. I could hurt my family and break a deathbed promise to my father, or I could stay wed to her. My path was clear, but I knew I'd die before I let a woman like that be the mother of my children. I swore to her that I would never be a husband to her. And I never was. When I got back from Australia, Lydia was pregnant by some foreign lord. She wanted an annulment. She told people I was unable to perform my marital duties—”

Nicole made a wholly disbelieving sound that he felt complimented by, then asked, “But couldn't you have told me this, instead of abandoning me in Sydney?”

“I realized that I was a worthless drunk. I convinced myself that if I left, you'd forget about me and find someone more worthy of you. You deserved so much more—to be married, to have children who wouldn't bear the stigma of illegitimacy. I was trying to do what was right.”

His eyes caught hers as he took her hand. “If I'd told you I was leaving and you'd given me any indication that you wanted me, I wouldn't have been able to part from you.”

He saw her soften. Then her eyes became suspicious, and he could practically see her nimble mind putting everything together. “And you just happened to realize this right around the time Chancey came for me?”

Derek said nothing. He didn't want to cause any grief for the man, but he wasn't about to lie to her again.

She shook her head. “No wonder Chancey looked as though he needed to tell me something before they sailed,” she said to herself. “And he appeared so guilty all the way home.”

Derek remained silent.

Hesitantly, she asked, “What about the drinking?”

“I think in the back of my mind, I decided I was coming for you, even before I consciously realized it. I stopped drinking midway through the voyage back—I wanted to be a good man, a good husband for you. I haven't had a drop since,” he said resolutely.

“Oh, Derek…” she breathed, and threw her arms around him.

“You know that you're marrying me,” he said in what should have been a questioning tone, but he was confident, and it sounded more like a truth. When she leaned back and looked at him, he said, “I know you've got to feel it as much as I do, that this is right. Nicole, we are inevitable.”

 

Nicole knew it, too. When he said they would be married, it was as if a piece of a puzzle had just shifted into place.

He must have mistaken her silence, because he declared, “I will say this once—you don't want to marry one of those lordlings. I cannot even begin to express the misery a bad union can make. You must believe me, because I've experienced it.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, so grave with warning. How much he must have suffered for the last few years! Could she trust him? He'd hurt her before. But when she looked into his eyes, she
believed
that he loved her, even though he'd never told her so. She was about to kiss him in assurance, when she recalled his dictatorial conduct this morning.

They were going to have to establish some rules.

She withdrew from him and assumed her best businesslike demeanor. In a brisk tone she announced, “I will warn you, I won't be a conventional bride.”

His expression turned serious as well. “I won't be a conventional husband.”

“I won't abide your being unfaithful.”

“I won't be unfaithful, and I won't abide it in you, either.”

She gave him a quick
that's settled
nod, then said, “I don't want to live in England.”

He smiled thinly. “I must. Since I'm not letting you go, so shall you.” When she nibbled her lip, he said, “We can visit America as often as you like, but I believe you would like living at my estate, Whitestone. And your roots are here as well.”

She didn't like his reasoning, but really, where else would they live? And it would be easier to help out her father and Maria from England.

“I don't want to have a dozen children,” she announced with a tilt of her head. “Two would be nice, I think.”

He paused, then said, “Agreed for now. But I reserve the right to ask you again after we've had our first child.”

Our first child. Derek's child
. “Agreed.” This was too easy. “I want my father always to be welcome in our home, as well as Maria and Chancey.”

“Chancey and Maria will be—” Derek hedged.

“Sutherland…” she cut in warningly. God, but her father would kill her when he found out whom she'd married.

“He'll be…welcome.”

That was good enough for now, she supposed, and gave him a smile in conclusion.

A hungry look fired in his eyes. She read the desire in them just before he touched his lips to hers. She felt the desire in him when he slipped his tongue in to tease her to instant arousal, her breaths halting, her hands seeking. He smiled against her lips, and she pulled away. “What is it?”

“You, Nicole,” he said, running his hand over her hair and face, “are a treasure.”

She smiled, not knowing what prompted him to say that. His lips sought hers once more.

He tugged at the bodice of her gown to expose her breasts. “What are you doing?” she murmured.

“I'm making love to you.”

She pulled back and frowned. “You can't make love to me in a carriage.”

“Let me convince you that I can,”
he uttered in a low, determined voice that stroked her inside.

“I can't make love to you here, now.” She could hear the realization in her tone.

“Don't pretend that you don't want me as much as I want you,” he said, an edge in his voice.

“Of
course
I do,” she said in exasperation, and he grinned. “But making love to you outside of marriage was my first mistake with you—I won't make it again,” she finished, her voice becoming more determined with each word.

Derek grabbed her hand and spread it over the front of his trousers, over his rigid flesh. “Do you feel this?” he asked in a pained tone. “Four months without being inside you. Do you feel how much I need you?”

She melted with heat and want, only a shred of her determination remaining. It was just enough. “Don't do this, Derek. I want to make a fresh start with you—”

At once, his big hands were grasping her waist, pulling her off the seat. Part of her grew outraged while another became excited by the low, growling sound he made. Then his hands released her. Her eyes opened. She was sitting on the opposite side of the carriage.

“It seems I can deny you nothing,” he told her evenly, though his face looked tight with strain and his hands were clenched.

She began a conversation, mainly to keep her mind off the memory of her hand caressing his straining trouser front. After a time, he relaxed and joined in. Before long, she was cuddled on his lap, with him stroking her hair. Hours rolled by as they talked about their likes and dislikes, their desire for a family. He asked her question after question about her childhood and life.

He was so attentive, just as he'd been during their time in Sydney, and she easily recollected all the wonderful times they'd had. She also recollected the nights—the wild, hot nights. To mask her discomfiture, she asked, “Why are you suddenly so interested?”

He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Before, part of me didn't want to get to know you better. I think I knew I wouldn't want to let you go.”

She cast him a lazy grin.
He loved her
. He might not vocalize it, but he did.

With a returning smile, he asked, “Explain to me, please, how a young sailor with an uncanny knack for navigation can also be a future marchioness?”

“I was expected to return to England and follow in my grandmother's footsteps, but I inveigled Father into keeping me with him and letting me sail. That is, until I was eighteen and ran out of ammunition,” she admitted with a frown. “During the time I was at sea, Grandmother used her influence to spread that story about me to save my reputation.”

“I thought the fear of traveling was a classic touch.”

“So did I!” She giggled. “It was quite funny when I told Grandmother you knew the truth. That night, she and Chapman paced the floors, wondering what to do, until she hit on an idea.”

“And what was that?”

“ ‘Chapman,'” Nicole grated, imitating her grandmother's scratchy voice perfectly, “ ‘perhaps we should kill him.' ”