The Gift

Chapter Four

Sara felt much better when she awakened the following morning. She'd finally caught up on her rest, and she felt ready to take on the world. More directly, she felt strong enough to talk to her Viking husband again.

She had come up with a wonderful plan during the night, and she was certain that once she'd explained exactly what she wanted from her husband, he would agree. Oh, he'd probably grumble and growl, but in the end he'd see how much it meant to her, and he would give in.

There were several issues that needed to be discussed, but she decided she would get the most worrisome one over and done with first.

She wanted a courtship and a proper marriage. No matter how rude and arrogant he became when she explained her request to him, she was determined to hold onto her temper. She would simply use a sweet tone of voice and be as logical as possible.

Lord, she did dread the task ahead of her. Nathan wasn't a very easy man to talk to. Why, he acted as though it was a chore to be in the same room with her.

That realization led to a dark thought. What if he really didn't want to be married to her?

"Nonsense," she muttered to herself. "Of course he wants to be married to me."

That attempt to bolster her confidence didn't last long. She was so accustomed to thinking of Nathan as her husband that she had never once considered being married to anyone else. She'd grown up with the idea, and because she had such an easygoing, accepting nature, she never questioned her fate.

But what about Nathan? He didn't seem to be the type of man who accepted much of anything without putting up a fight.

She guessed that she would continue to fret about the situation until she'd talked to him.

She dressed with care, determined to look her best when she confronted Nathan. It took her almost an hour to unpack her possessions. The dark green walking dress was her first choice, but she couldn't shake all the wrinkles out of the skirt, so she settled on wearing her light pink gown. The neckline wasn't nearly as revealing as the one Nathan had rudely remarked upon, and she thought that fact might put him in a good mood.

Their cabin was actually quite nice. It was much larger than the one she'd visited Nora in. Why, her chamber was actually three times the size. The ceiling was much higher, too, adding to the feeling of spaciousness.

It was sparsely furnished, though. There was a twisted metal grate in the corner of the cabin. Sara assumed that was the hearth, though she admitted she didn't care for the modern design overly much. In the opposite corner of the room was a tall white screen. There were hooks on the wall behind it to hold clothing, and a washstand with a porcelain pitcher and bowl set on top. In the corner opposite the bed was her trunk. A table and two chairs took up the center of the room, and a large mahogany desk was set against the wall.

Yes, the room was sparsely furnished, she mused, but it would certainly do for the next month or two, depending upon the weather. If the sea remained calm, the journey to her aunt's island shouldn't take them too long.

Sara removed Nathan's clothes from the hooks, folded them, and put them on her trunk. She then hung up her gowns. She also removed the papers and charts from the top of his desk and put her sketch pads and charcoals there instead.

After donning the pink gown and matching shoes she brushed her hair and tied it behind her neck with a pink ribbon. She grabbed her matching pink parasol from her trunk and then went to look in on Nora. She hoped her aunt would be feeling rested enough to stroll along the upper decks. Sara wanted to go over her prepared speech with her aunt before confronting Nathan.

Nora was sound asleep, however, and Sara didn't have the heart to wake her.

When she left her aunt's cabin she noticed that the dark, narrow hallway actually widened into a large rectangular room. Sunlight filtered down the steps and made the wooden floors sparkle. The pristine area was devoid of furniture, but there were a multitude of black iron hooks protruding from the ceiling. She wondered what in heaven's name the area was used for, or if it was just wasted space. Her attention was turned when one of the crew came lumbering down the steps.

The man tucked his head under the low overhand, then came to an abrupt stop when he spotted her. Sara recognized the man from the wharf but decided to pretend that she didn't. After all, she had acted most unladylike, and that incident was best forgotten.

"Good day, sir," she announced with a curtsy. "My name is Lady Sara Winchester."

He shook his head at her. She didn't know what to make of that. "You're Lady St. James."

She was too surprised by his boldness to correct him for contradicting her. "Yes," she agreed. "I am Lady St. James now, and I thank you for reminding me."

The big man shrugged. The gold earring in his earlobe fascinated her. So did the fact that he seemed to be a little wary of her. Perhaps the seaman just wasn't used to visiting with gentle ladies of breeding. "I'm very happy to make your acquaintance, sir," she said.

She waited for him to tell her his name. He stood staring down at her for a long minute before he finally responded. "We met last night, Lady St. James," he said. "You hit me, remember?"

She remembered. She gave him a disgruntled look for bringing up her bad behavior, then slowly nodded. "Yes, I do remember, sir, now that you mention it, and for that shame I must apologize to you. My only excuse is that I was in a bit of a startle at the time. What is your name?"

"Jimbo."

If she thought that name odd, she didn't remark upon it. She reached out and clasped his right hand in both of hers. The feel of her soft skin against his calluses startled him. Her parasol fell to the floor, but Jimbo was still too surprised by her touch to fetch it, and she was too intent on gaining his friendship to fetch it herself. "Do you forgive me, sir, for hitting you?"

Jimbo was rendered speechless. The woman he'd met two nights before was a far cry from the soft-spoken lady standing so humbly before him. Lord, she was a fair sight, too. She had the prettiest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

He got hold of his thoughts when she gave him a puzzled look. "Does it matter to you if I forgive you or not?" he muttered.

Sara gave his hand an affectionate squeeze before she let go. "Oh, my, yes, Mister Jimbo. Of course it matters. I was very rude."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "All right, I forgive you. You didn't do any real damage," he added in a grumble. He was feeling as awkward as a schoolboy.

Sara's smile melted his frown away. "I do thank you, sir. You have a kind heart."

Jimbo threw back his head and shouted with laughter. When he was able to regain his composure he said, "Be sure to mention my… kind heart to the captain. He'll appreciate hearing such high praise."

She thought that was a fine idea. "Yes, I will mention it," she promised.

Since the seaman seemed to be in such a pleasant mood, she decided to ask him a few questions. "Sir? Have you seen the maids about this morning? My bed has still to be made up, and I have several gowns that need attention."

"We don't have any maids aboard this vessel," Jimbo returned. "Fact is, you and your aunt are the only women traveling with us."

"Then who…" She stopped that question in midsentence. If there weren't any maids, who had taken her clothes off her? The answer came to her in a flash. Nathan.

Jimbo watched as a fine blush covered her cheeks and wondered what she was thinking about.

"I have one other question to ask you, sir, if you're patient enough to listen."

"What?" he countered abruptly.

"What is this room called? Or does it have a specific name?" She made a sweep with her hand to indicate the area around her. "I thought it was just a hallway, yet now, with the light streaming down the steps, I can see it's much larger. It would make a wonderful salon," she added. "I hadn't noticed that folding screen when I first boarded, and I…"

She quit her speech when Jimbo moved the screen off to the side and secured it in the buckles and straps against the wall next to the stairs. "This is the wardroom," Jimbo told her. "Or so it's called on all true frigates."

The hallway was completely gone, and once the screen had been moved Sara could see the steps leading down to another level. "Where do those steps lead?"

"The wine and water are stored on the level below us," Jimbo answered. "Lower still is the second hold, where we keep the ammunition."

"Ammunition?" she asked. "Why would we need ammunition?"

Jimbo smiled. "You didn't chance to notice the cannons, m'lady, when you boarded?"

She shook her head. "I was a little upset at the time, sir, and I didn't pay much attention to details."

A little upset was certainly the understatement of the year, Jimbo thought. The woman had been in a rage.

"We have eight cannons in all," Jimbo announced. "That's way below the usual number for most ships, but our aim is always on target, and we don't need more. This ship is a scaled-down version of a frigate the captain took a liking to," he added. "The ammunition stores are kept below the water level in the event of an attack. They're safer from explosion that way."

"But Mister Jimbo, we aren't at war now. Why would the captain have such weapons on board? What is the need?"

Jimbo shrugged. Sara's eyes suddenly widened. "Pagan." She blurted out the name of the infamous pirate and then nodded. "Yes, of course. How cunning of our captain to be prepared for the villains who roam the seas. He thinks to defend us against all the pirates, doesn't he?"

It was a mighty effort, but Jimbo was able to hide his smile. "You've heard of Pagan, have you?"

She let him see her exasperation. "Everyone has heard of that villain."

"Villain? Then you don't like Pagan?"

She thought that had to be the oddest question ever put to her. The sparkle in his eyes puzzled her, too. He seemed to be vastly amused, and that didn't make any sense at all. They were talking about the horrid pirate, not sharing the latest jest making the rounds in London.

"I most certainly don't like the man. He's a criminal, sir. Why, there's a bounty the size of England on his head. You're obviously given to a romantic nature if you believe all those silly stories about Pagan's goodness."

The piercing sound of a whistle interrupted her lecture. "What is that noise?" she asked. "I heard it earlier when I was dressing."

"That's the boatswain piping the change," he explained. "You'll be hearing the sound every four hours, night and day. It's the notice of the change of duty."

"Mister Jimbo?" she asked when he started to turn away from her.

"Lady Sara, you don't have to call me mister," he grumbled. "Jimbo will do fine."

"Then you must quit calling me Lady Sara," she countered. "We are friends now, and you may simply call me Sara." She grabbed his arm. "May I ask you just one last question?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Last evening… or was it the night before? Well, I noticed that you seemed to be in my husband's employ. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you happen to know where Nathan is? I would like to have a word with him."

"He's aft."

She looked startled but was quick to recover. Then she shook her head at him. The censure in her expression gained his full attention. He turned completely around. "He's aft, I'm telling you."

"Yes, he might very well be daft, Jimbo," she began. She paused to pick up her parasol and then walked around the big man. "But you're most disloyal when you voice that thought aloud. I'm Nathan's wife now, and I won't listen to such talk. Please don't show such disrespect again."

Matthew came down the stairs just in time to hear his friend mutter something about respect. Lady Sara smiled as she made her way past him.

"What was that all about?" Matthew asked his friend. "I thought I heard you-"

Jimbo cut him off with a glare. "You aren't going to believe this, but I just promised not ever to tell anyone Nathan was aft."

Matthew shook his head. "She's a strange one, isn't she, Jimbo? I'm wondering how such an innocent could have come from such a mean-hearted family."

"Sara isn't anything like our Jade," Jimbo announced. He was referring to Nathan's younger sister. "In all our travels together I never once saw Jade cry."

"No, she never cried." There was pride in Matthew's voice. "But this one… I didn't know a woman could carry on the way she did that first night."

"Screaming like a hellion, too," Jimbo interjected. "Now, Jade," he continued, "she never screamed."

"Never," Matthew agreed. His voice was emphatic.

Jimbo suddenly grinned. "The two are as different as fire and snow," he said. "Still, they do have one thing in common."

"What's that?"

"They're both damn fair in looks."

Matthew nodded.

The comparison between the two ladies was cut short when a shrill scream reached them. They both knew it was Sara making all the racket. "She's a piece of work, isn't she?" Matthew drawled out.

"A damned loud piece of work," Jimbo muttered. "Wonder what's got her all riled up this time."

Odd, but both men were eager to get back up on deck to see what was happening. They were both smiling, too.

Sara had just located Nathan. He was standing behind a spoked wheel. She was about to call out to him when he turned his back on her and pulled off his shirt.

She saw the scars on his back. Her reaction was instinctive. She let out a shout of outrage.

"Who did that to you?"

Nathan immediately reacted. He grabbed hold of his whip and turned to confront the threat. It didn't take him any time at all to realize there wasn't any enemy trying to harm his bride. Sara stood all alone.

"What is it?" he roared at her while he tried to calm his heartbeat. "I thought someone was…"

He stopped himself in mid-bellow, took a deep breath, and then said, "Are you in pain, madam?"

She shook her head.

"Don't you ever scream like that again," he ordered in a much softer tone of voice. "If you wish my attention, simply ask for it."

Sara's parasol fell to the deck when she walked over to her husband. She was still so stunned by what she'd seen, she wasn't even aware she'd dropped it. She stopped when she was just a scant foot away from Nathan. He saw the tears in her eyes. "Now what is it?" he demanded. "Did someone frighten you?" Damn, he didn't have the patience for this, he told himself.

"It's your back, Nathan," she whispered. "It's covered with scars."

He shook his head. No one had ever dared mention his disfigurement to him. Those who'd seen his back pretended not to notice.

"Thank you for telling me," he snapped. "I never would have known…"

Hell, she started to cry. His sarcasm was obviously too much for her, he decided. "Look, Sara," he muttered in true exasperation. "If the sight of my back offends you, go below."

"It doesn't offend me," she answered. "Why would you say such a mean thing?"

Nathan motioned to Jimbo to take over the wheel, then clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't grab her. The urge to shake some sense into the woman fairly overwhelmed him. "All right, then, why did you scream?"

His voice was as brisk as the wind. Sara guessed he was a little sensitive about his marks. "I was very angry when I saw the scars, Nathan. Did you have an accident?"

"No."

"Then someone deliberately did this thing to you?" She didn't give him time to answer. "What monster inflicted such pain? My God, how you must have suffered."

"For God's sake, it happened a long time ago."

"Was it Pagan?" she asked.

"What?" he asked.

He looked startled. Sara thought her guess had been right after all. "It was Pagan who did that to you, wasn't it?"

Jimbo started coughing. Nathan turned to glare him into silence. "Why in God's name would you think it was Pagan?" he asked Sara.

"Because he's mean enough," she answered.

"Oh?" he asked. "And how would you know that?"

She shrugged. "I heard that he was."

"It wasn't Pagan."

"Are you absolutely certain, Nathan? No one knows what the villain looks like. Perhaps it was Pagan, and you just didn't realize it because he didn't give you his true name."

He let her see his exasperation. "I know who did it."

"Will you tell me who it was, then?"

"Why?"

"So I can hate him."

His anger vanished. Such loyalty stunned him. "No, I won't tell you who it was."

"But it wasn't Pagan."

She could drive a man to drink, Nathan thought to himself. "No," he answered once again.

"Nathan, you don't have to shout at me."

He turned his back on her in dismissal. Jimbo moved away from the wheel. Sara waited until she and her husband were all alone and then moved closer.

He felt the touch of her fingertips on the top of his right shoulder. He didn't move. The feathery light caress down his back was incredibly gentle, and provocative, too. He couldn't ignore it, or the strange feelings her touch evoked.

"I wouldn't have poked you in your back last night if I'd known about your injury," she whispered. "But I couldn't see in the dark, and I didn't… know."

"For God's sake, woman, it doesn't hurt now. It happened years ago."

His abrupt tone startled her. Her hand dropped back to her side. She moved over to stand beside him. Her arm touched his. She looked up at his face and simply waited for him to look at her again. His expression could have been chiseled in stone, she thought to herself. He looked just the way she pictured a Viking. The ripple of muscles cording his shoulders and his upper arms were those of a fit warrior. His chest was covered with dark curly hair that tapered to a V at the waistband of his breeches. She didn't dare look any lower, for to do so would be brazen, and when she returned her attention to his face again she found him watching her.

She blushed. "Nathan?"

"What?"

Did he always have to sound so resigned when he talked to her? Sara forced herself to sound pleasant when she apologized. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

He didn't think that comment was worthy of a response.

"Will the captain mind?" she asked then.

"Mind what?"

"Mind that you're directing his boat for him."

His smile was heartwarming to her. "It isn't a boat, Sara. You may call the Seahawk a ship or a vessel, but you must never call her a boat. It's an insult, bride, and we captains take grave exception to hearing such blasphemy."

"We captains?"

He nodded.

"Oh, Nathan, I didn't realize," she blurted. "Then we're rich?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

Hell, he thought, she looked disgruntled. Nathan quickly told her how he and his friend Colin had started the shipping company together, why they'd decided that he should remain a silent partner, and he ended his brief summary with the fact that in approximately ten months time, give or take a month or two, their company would take a turn into sure profits.

"How can you be so certain that in just a year we'll be rich?"

"The contract I signed."

"Do you mean a contract for shipping services?"

"No."

Her sigh was dramatic. "Please explain, Nathan."

He ignored her request. She nudged him. Lord, getting anything out of him was such a strain. "If you're so certain about this, I'll be happy to help you."

He actually laughed. Sara took heart. Her offer to lend a hand had obviously pleased him. Her voice was filled with enthusiasm when she said, "I could help you with the books. I'm really quite good with figures. No?" she added when he shook his head. "But I want to help."

He let go of the wheel and turned to face her. Lord, she was a fair sight today, he thought to himself as he watched her try to manage her wild curls. The wind was high, making the task impossible. She was dressed in pink. Her cheeks were flushed, adding to the lovely picture. His gaze settled on her mouth. Her lips were just as rosy as the rest of her.

He gave in to his sudden urge. Before she could back away from him he grabbed hold of her shoulders. He pulled her up against his chest, then threaded one hand through the curls behind her neck. Her hair felt like silk to him. He made a fist of the curls, then jerked her head back so her face was tilted up toward him. He told himself that it was only for his own peace of mind that he was going to kiss her, knowing full well that once he explained the special task she was going to have to undertake she'd start screaming again.

"We'll each have a special duty to perform," he told her. His mouth was getting closer to hers. "It's my duty to get you pregnant, Sara, and it will be your duty to give me a son."

His mouth settled on top of hers just in time to capture her outraged gasp.

Sara was simply too stunned to react at first. His mouth was hard, hot, incredibly demanding. He was drowning her with his warmth, his taste, his wonderful masculine scent.

Nathan wanted her response. She didn't disappoint him. When his tongue moved inside her mouth to mate with hers, her knees went weak. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him even as she tried to wiggle out of his embrace.

She didn't realize she was kissing him back, didn't know the sounds she heard belonged to her.

Only when Nathan had her full cooperation did he gentle the kiss. God, she was soft. He could feel the heat inside her, wanted to get closer, closer. His hands moved to cup her derriere, and he slowly lifted her off the ground until her pelvis was touching his own, then pulled her tight against his arousal.

His mouth slanted over hers again and again. He wanted to be inside her. Nathan knew he was close to losing all sense of discipline. His hunger was demanding to be appeased.

The whistles and hoots of laughter penetrated his mind then. His crew was obviously enjoying the spectacle he was giving them. Nathan tried to pull away from Sara.

She wouldn't let go of him. She pulled on his hair to get him to deepen the kiss again. He gave into her silent plea with a low growl. The kiss they shared was openly carnal, but when her sweet tongue rubbed against his he forced himself to stop.

They were both out of breath when they drew apart. Sara couldn't seem to keep her balance. She fell back against the wooden ledge adjacent to the wheel. One hand rested on the swell of her bosom, and she let out a ragged little whisper. "Oh, my."

As soon as their captain had quit touching his bride the men returned to their duties. Nathan glared at several backs before he looked at Sara again. He couldn't help but feel extremely satisfied when he saw the bemused look on her face. It made him want to kiss her again.

He had to shake his head over his own lack of discipline. He decided he'd wasted enough time on his bride and turned his attention back to the wheel. He scowled when he noticed his hands were shaking. The kiss had obviously affected him a little more than he'd thought.

It took Sara much longer to recover. She was trembling from head to foot. She had no idea a kiss could be so… thorough.

He certainly hadn't been affected, she thought when she saw the horridly bored look on his face again.

She suddenly felt like crying and didn't understand why. Then she remembered the obscene remarks he'd made about her special duty. "I'm not a brood mare," she whispered. "And I'm not at all certain I like you touching me."

Nathan glanced back over his shoulder. "You could have fooled me," he drawled. "The way you kissed me-"

"I believe I hated it."

"Liar."

It was an insult, yes, but the way he'd said the word actually warmed her heart. He made it sound very like an endearment.

That didn't make any sense. Was she so desperate for a word of kindness from the Viking that she now responded to insults? Sara could feel herself blushing. She stared at her shoes and folded her hands demurely in front of her. "You can't kiss me again," she announced, wishing her voice had sounded a little more forceful and less breathless.

"I can't?"

His amusement was apparent. "No, you can't," she told him. "I've decided that you're going to have to court me first, Nathan, and then we must have a proper ceremony performed by a true minister before you may kiss me again."

She hadn't looked at him when she made that emphatic speech, but when she was finished she glanced up to gauge his reaction. His expression, unfortunately, didn't tell her anything. She frowned at him. "I believe our marriage could be challenged in the courts unless we say our vows to each other in front of a man of God."

He finally let her see his reaction. She wished she'd been left guessing. Lord, his scowl was as hot as the noon sun beating down on them.

But his eyes… the color was so vivid, so true, so mesmerizing. When he was looking directly into her eyes he made her forget to breathe. A sudden thought settled in her mind. Her Viking was actually very handsome.

Why hadn't she noticed that before? she asked herself. Good God, was she beginning to find him appealing?

Nathan pulled her from her thoughts when he said, "Are you thinking you've found a way to breach this contract?"

"No."

"Good," he countered. Almost as an afterthought he added, "As I instructed you before, I'm not about to dissolve this contract, Sara."

She disliked his arrogant tone. "I already knew that before I was so instructed."

"You did?"

"Yes, I did."

"How?"

She started to shake her head at him again, but Nathan stopped that action when he hauled her back into his arms. He firmly grabbed hold of her hair.

"Unhand me, Nathan. You make my head ache when you tug on my hair like that."

He didn't let go, but he did begin to rub the back of her neck. His touch was very soothing. Sara had to catch herself from letting out a telling little sigh.

"You realize how much I want the money and the land, don't you, Sara?" he asked. "That's why you know I won't walk away from the contract."

"No."

Nathan didn't know why he pressed her for an explanation. His curiosity was caught, however, because she was acting so damn shy. The woman didn't make any sense to him, and he was determined to understand how her mind worked.

"Then why did you know I would want to be married to you?"

"Well, why wouldn't you?" she whispered.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Nathan, I'm everything a husband could want in a wife," she blurted out. She tried to sound as arrogant, as self-assured as he did whenever he talked to her. "Truly," she added with a vehement nod.

"Is that so?"

She could see the laughter in his eyes. Her bluster of pride immediately began to evaporate. "Yes, I am," she said.

A fine blush covered her cheeks. How could anyone sound so arrogant and look so shy at the same time? he wondered. She was such a contradiction to him. "Would you care to tell me why you think you're everything I could want?"

"Certainly," she replied. "For one, I'm pretty enough. I'm not plain," she added in a rush. "I'll admit I'm not a raving beauty, Nathan, but that shouldn't signify."

"You don't believe you're a… raving beauty?" he asked, amazed.

She gave him a good frown, for she was certain he was deliberately baiting her. "Of course not," she said. "You must have a cruel streak inside you to taunt me over my appearance. I'm not overly ugly, Nathan. Just because I have brown hair and brown eyes doesn't necessarily mean I'm… homely."

His smile was tender. "Sara, haven't you ever noticed how men stop and stare when you pass by?"

She wished she could strike him. "If you mean to imply that I'm that unappealing, well, sir," she muttered.

"Well, what?" he asked when she seemed to be at a loss for words.

"You're no prize either, husband."

He shook his head. He wasn't married to a vain woman. That fact pleased him considerably. "You're right," he announced. "I have seen prettier women, but as you just said, that shouldn't signify."

"Lest you think you make me feel completely inferior with that rude remark, you're mistaken," she returned. The blush had moved to her voice. "I'm really all a man could want. Dare you smile at me? I mean what I say. I've been trained to be a good wife, just as you've been trained to be a good provider. It's the way of things," she ended with a deliberate shrug.

The vulnerability in her expression was apparent. She had pricked his curiosity, too. The woman said the damnedest things. "Sara, exactly what is it that you've been trained to do?"

"I can run a household with ease, no matter the number of servants you employ," she began. "I can sew a straight stitch without pricking my finger, plan a formal dinner party for as many as two hundred," she exaggerated, "and accomplish any other duty associated with the running of a large estate."

She was certain she'd impressed him with her list. She'd even impressed herself. Most of what she'd just boasted of was pure fabrication, of course, as she didn't really have the faintest idea if she could run a large estate or not, but Nathan couldn't possibly know about her inadequacies, could he? Besides, just because she'd never entertained anyone before didn't necessarily mean she couldn't organize a party for two hundred guests. She believed she could accomplish any goal if she really put her mind to the challenge. "Well?" she asked when he didn't make any comment. "What think you of my accomplishments?"

"I could hire someone to run my household," he countered. "I don't have to be married to have a comfortable home."

He almost laughed out loud, for the look of disappointment on her face was comical.

She tried not to feel defeated by his remark. "Yes, but I can also engage in intelligent conversation with your guests on any current topic. I happen to be very well-read."

His grin stopped her. His conduct, she decided, was proving just what one would expect from a man bearing his name. Nathan was turning out to be as despicable as the rest of the St. James men. He was certainly as muleheaded.

"You could not hire anyone with such a fine education,'' she muttered.

"And that's it?" he asked. "There isn't anything else you've been trained to do?"

Her pride was like a shredded gown pooled around her ankles. Wasn't there anything she could say that would impress the man?

"Such as?"

"Such as pleasing me in bed."

Her blush intensified. "Of course not," she stammered out. "You're supposed to teach me how…" She paused to step on his foot. Hard. "How dare you think I would be trained in that… that…"

She couldn't go on. The look in her eyes confused him. He couldn't decide if she was about to burst into tears or try to kill him. "A mistress could see to those duties, I suppose," he said just to goad her.

Lord, he thought, she really was a joy to tease. Her reactions were so uninhibited, so… raw. He knew he should quit his game. She was getting all worked up, but he was enjoying himself too much to stop just yet.

"You will not have a mistress."

She'd shouted that statement. He deliberately shrugged. She stepped on his foot again. "No matter how pretty she is, no matter how… talented she may be, no matter what," she said. "I won't have it."

She didn't give him time to respond to that statement but continued. "As for sleeping next to me, Nathan, well, you can just forget such notions in future. I'm going to be properly courted by you and wed before a minister first."

She waited a long minute for his agreement. "Well?" she demanded.

He shrugged again.

How could she have thought he was the least bit appealing? Lord, she wished she had enough strength to give him a sound kick in his backside. "This is a very serious matter we're discussing," she insisted. "And if you shrug at me once more, I swear I'll scream again."

He didn't think it was the time to mention the fact that she was already screaming. "Not we," he said in soft, soothing voice. "You're the one who thinks this is a serious matter," he explained. "I don't."

She took a deep breath and tried one last time. "Nathan, please try to understand my feelings," she whispered. "I've decided that it isn't decent for you to sleep with me." She was too embarrassed to continue with that particular bend in the topic. "Are you going to marry me or not?"

"I already did."

Lord, she was furious with him. Her face was as red as sunburn, and she couldn't meet his gaze. She was staring intently at his chest. The subject was obviously extremely distressing to him.

And yet she persisted. "Look," she muttered. "It's really very simple to understand, even for a St. James. I want to be properly courted, Nathan, and you aren't going to touch me until we've said our vows in front of a man of God. Do you hear me?"

"I'm certain he heard you clear, miss," came a shout from behind her. Sara shoved herself away from Nathan and turned around to find an audience of some ten men smiling at her. All had paused in their duties, she noticed, and all were nodding at her. Most were actually a fair distance away.

"Aye, I'd wager he caught every word," called another. "You ain't going to let the captain touch you until you're wed proper. Ain't that right, Haedley?"

A baldheaded, bent-shouldered man nodded. "That's what I heard," he shouted back.

Sara was mortified. Lord, she must have been screaming like a shrew.

She decided to blame Nathan. She turned around to glare at him. "Must you embarrass me?"

"You're doing a fair job on your own, bride. Go back to the cabin," he ordered. "Take that gown off."

She was immediately waylaid by that command. "Why? Don't you like it?" she asked.

"Take everything off, Sara. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Her heart almost failed her when the fullness of what he'd just said settled in her mind. She was simply too furious to try to reason with him any longer. Without a word of farewell she turned around and slowly walked away from him.

She passed Jimbo on her way toward the steps. "You were correct, Mister Jimbo," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Nathan is daft."

The seaman wasn't given time to reply, for Lady Sara was already gone.

She didn't start in running until she reached the wardroom area. Sara picked up her skirts and ran like lightning then. She didn't pause at her cabin door but continued on to the far corner, where Aunt Nora's quarters were located.

For all his bulk and age, Matthew could still be quick when the occasion called for such action, and he reached the door at the same time Sara did.

"Lady Sara, I'm hoping you won't disturb sweet Nora with a visit now," he said from behind.

She hadn't heard his approach. She let out a loud gasp and turned around. "You gave me a startle," she began. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone, sir. What is your name?"

"Matthew."

"I'm pleased to meet you," she returned. "As for my aunt, well, I just wanted to look in on her."

"I'm taking care of your aunt," Matthew interjected. "She isn't up to visitors today. She's tuckered out."

Sara immediately felt guilty. She had fully intended on pouring her heart out to her aunt so that she could gain her assistance in dealing with Nathan. Her own problems seemed paltry, however. "Nora isn't truly ill, is she?" she asked, fear obvious in her voice. "I saw the bruises, but I thought-"

"She's going to heal just fine," Matthew announced. He was pleased by her caring attitude. "Nora's needing plenty of rest, though. She shouldn't move about neither. Her ribs were cracked-"

"Oh God, I didn't know."

"Now, now, don't start in weeping," Matthew pleaded. Lady Sara's eyes were already looking misty to him. He didn't know what he'd do if she went full-blown on him. The thought of having to comfort the captain's wife made his stomach tighten up. "It ain't as bad as all that," he announced with a nod for emphasis. "I've wrapped her tight around the middle. She just needs rest is all. I don't want her fretting about anything, either," he added. He gave her a knowing look when he made that last remark.

Sara immediately concluded he'd guessed what her mission was. She bowed her head in contrition and said, "I was going to burden her with a special problem that has developed. I won't bother her, of course. I don't want to worry her. When she awakens will you please tell her that I'll come to visit her as soon as she asks for me?"

Matthew nodded. Sara took hold of his hand. The show of affection rattled him. "Thank you for helping Nora. She's such a good-hearted woman. She has suffered so, Mister Matthew, and all because of me."

Lordy, she looked like she was about to burst into tears again. "Now, now, you didn't do the damage to your aunt," Matthew said. "You aren't the one who kicked her in the ribs. I was told it was your father and his brothers behind the foul deed."

"My Uncle Henry was behind this treachery," she returned. "Still, I'm just as responsible. If I hadn't insisted that Nora come back to England with me…"

She didn't go on with her explanation. She gave Matthew's hand another quick squeeze, then surprised a smile out of him when she made a formal curtsy and told him how pleased she was to have him on her staff.

Matthew mopped his brow as he watched her walk back to her cabin. He grunted over the foolishness of it all, for the fact that he was actually nervous because she had almost cried was simply ludicrous. Still, he was smiling when he strolled away.

Sara continued to think about Nora until she opened the door to her cabin. As soon as she spotted the big bed the problem of Nathan became uppermost in her thoughts.

She didn't dare waste another minute. She shut the door, bolted it, and then dragged her heavy trunk over to the entrance, straining her back with the effort.

She hurried over to the table, thinking she'd put that piece of furniture up against the trunk to add to her fortress.

No matter how much grit she put to the chore, she couldn't get the table to budge. She finally located the cause. The legs had been nailed to the floor. "Now why would anyone want to do such a thing?" she muttered to herself.

She tried to move the desk and found that it had also been nailed to the floor. The chairs, thankfully, weren't stationary. They were heavy, though. Sara dragged one over to the trunk and spent precious minutes struggling with the weight until she'd lifted the awkward piece of furniture and had it propped up on top.

She stood back to observe her work. She rubbed her lower back, trying to take the sting away. She knew that blocking the door was only a temporary measure, but she still felt she'd been very clever. It didn't take her long to discard that bit of praise, however, when she realized how childishly she was behaving. Yes, she thought to herself, her conduct was infantile, but then so was Nathan's. If he wasn't going to be reasonable, why should she? Perhaps by nightfall her Viking would come to his senses and realize her request had validity. And if the muleheaded man didn't agree, well, she was determined to stay inside the cabin until he gave in. If she starved to death, so be it.

"I like it better the other way."

Sara jumped a foot, then whirled around. She found Nathan lounging against the edge of the desk, smiling at her.

He didn't wait for her question but simply pointed up to the trapdoor. "I usually come in through the top," he explained in a soft whisper. "It's quicker."

She might have nodded, but she couldn't be sure. She leaned back against the trunk and stared at him. Oh, God, now what was she going to do?

His bride couldn't seem to find her voice. Nathan decided to give her a little more time to calm down before he pressed her. The color was completely gone from her face, and there was the real possibility that she might swoon on him again.

"I assume you were trying to change the room around?"

His voice had been pleasant, soothing. She wanted to scream. "Yes," she blurted out instead. "I like it better this way."

He shook his head. "It won't do."

"It won't?"

"You might not have noticed, but the trunk and the chair are actually blocking the door. Besides, I don't think either one of us will want to sit… up there."

His remarks were ridiculous, of course. They both knew why the door was blocked. Sara pretended to give the matter her full attention, however, in an attempt to save her pride. "Yes, I do believe you're right," she announced. "The furniture is blocking the door. I only just noticed. Thank you so much for pointing out that fact to me." She didn't pause for breath when she added, "Why is the table nailed to the floor?"

"You tried to move that, too?"

She ignored the laughter in his voice. "I thought it would look much nicer in front of the trunk. The desk, too," she added. "But I couldn't move either one."

He stood up and took a step toward her. She immediately backed away. "When the pitch of the sea gets rough, the furniture moves," he explained. He took another step toward her. "That's the reason."

She felt as though she was being stalked. Nathan's long hair swayed about his shoulders when he moved. The muscles in his shoulders seemed to roll with his pantherlike swagger. She wanted to run away from him, and yet in the back of her mind was the honest admission that she wanted him to catch her. She thoroughly liked the way he kissed her… but that was all she was going to like.

From the look on Nathan's face she knew he would like a lot more from her. His intimidating tactics were making her daft. She frowned at him for confusing her.

He smiled back.

She'd made a half circle of the cabin but trapped herself at the head of his bed. Nathan stopped when he saw the fear in her eyes. He let out a long sigh.

She thought he might be having second thoughts, yet before she could grasp the joy in that possibility his big hands were on her shoulders, and he was pulling her toward him.

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. His voice was actually very gentle when he said, "Sara, I know this is difficult for you. If there was more time, perhaps we could wait until you knew me a little better. I won't lie to you and tell you I could or would court you, though, for in truth I don't have the patience or the experience for such a chore. Still, I don't want you to be afraid of me." He paused to shrug, then smiled at her. "It shouldn't matter to me if you're afraid or not, but it does."

"Then…"

"There isn't time," he interrupted. "If you hadn't run away from me eight months ago, you'd be carrying my son now."

Her eyes widened over that announcement. Nathan thought she was reacting to his mention of a babe. She was such an innocent, and he knew she didn't have any experience in sexual matters. And Lord, that did please him.

"I didn't run away from you," she blurted out. "Whatever are you talking about?"

That denial surprised a frown out of him. "Don't you dare lie to me." He gave her shoulders a little squeeze to emphasize his words. "I will not abide it, Sara. You must always be completely honest with me."

She looked as furious as he'd sounded. "I'm not lying," she returned. "I never ran away from you, Viking. Never."

He believed her. She looked too sincere, and thoroughly outraged.

"Sara, I sent a letter to your parents informing them of my intent to come for you. I sent the messenger on a Friday. You were supposed to be ready the following Monday. I even gave the hour. You left for your aunt's island on Sunday morning, the day before. I simply put two and two together."

"I didn't know," she returned. "Nathan, my parents must not have received your letter. Neither one said a word to me. It was such a chaotic time. My mother was worried sick about my Aunt Nora, her sister. Nora always wrote at least one letter a month, but Mother hadn't received a missive in such a long time. She was making herself ill worrying about Nora. When she suggested I go to her sister and find out what was wrong, well, I immediately agreed, of course."

"Just when did your mother confide this worry in you?" he asked.

His cynicism irritated her. She knew what he was thinking and frowned in reaction. "A few days before I left," she admitted. "But she wouldn't have confided her concerns to me if I hadn't caught her crying. And she was most reluctant to burden me. Very reluctant," she added. "Do you know, now that I reflect upon it, I'm certain I was the one who suggested I go to Nora's island."

A sudden thought turned her attention. "How did you know my true destination? My family told everyone I had gone to the colonies to visit my older sister."

He didn't bother to explain that his men had been following her, and he didn't mention that she'd booked passage on one of his ships. He simply shrugged. "Why couldn't they have told the truth about the matter?"

"Because Nora was in disgrace," Sara said. "She married her groom and fled from England over fourteen years ago. I was certain everyone would have forgotten the scandal, but as it happens, no one did."

Nathan turned the topic back to the letters. "So you didn't know that Nora hadn't written to your mother until two days before you left?"

"Mother didn't want me to worry," Sara said. "I won't allow you to think that my mother had anything to do with trickery. My father or my sister might have tried to intercept your missive, Nathan, just to make you wait a little longer, but my mother would never have gone along with such deceit."

Nathan found her defense of her mother honorable. Illogical, but honorable all the same. For that reason he didn't force her to accept the truth. Her belief that her father was innocent, however, irritated the hell out of him.

And then it dawned on him that she hadn't tried to run away from him. He was so pleased over that revelation, he quit frowning.

Sara stared up at her husband while she tried to think of another way to convince him that her mother was completely innocent of any treachery. And then the truth of what he had just told her settled in her mind.

He hadn't forgotten her.

Her smile was captivating. He didn't know what to make of the sudden change in her. She threw herself against his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him. He grunted in reaction. He was more confused than ever by her bizarre behavior. Yet he found he liked the sudden show of affection she was showing him, liked it very much.

Sara let out a little sigh, then moved back from her husband.

"What was that all about?" he asked, grimacing inside over the hard edge in his voice.

She didn't seem to notice. She patted her hair back into place as she whispered, "You didn't forget me." She tossed a strand of curls back over her shoulder in a motion he found thoroughly feminine, then added, "Of course, I knew you hadn't. I was certain there was just a little misunderstanding of sorts, because I…"

When she didn't continue, he said, "Because you knew I wanted to be married to you?"

She nodded.

He laughed.

She gave him a disgruntled look, then said, "Nathan, when I couldn't find Nora I sent several notes to your residence asking for your assistance, and you never responded. I did wonder then…"

"Sara, I don't have a residence," Nathan announced.

"Of course you do," she argued. "You have the town-house. I saw it once when I was out for a ride in… why are you shaking your head at me?"

"My townhouse was burned to the ground last year."

"No one told me!"

He shrugged.

"I should have sent the message to your country home, then," she said. "All right," she added in a mutter. "Now why are you shaking your head?"

"The country home was also destroyed by fire," he explained.

"When?"

"Last year," he answered. "About a month before my townhouse was gutted."

She looked appalled. "You have had your share of mishaps, haven't you, Nathan?"

They weren't mishaps, but he didn't tell her that. The fires had been deliberately set by his enemies. They'd been looking for incriminating letters. Nathan had been working for his government, and at the end of the investigation the bastards had been dealt with, but he hadn't had time to right the damage to his estate just yet.

"You actually wrote to me asking my assistance in locating Nora?" he asked.

She nodded. "I didn't know who else to turn to," she admitted. "I think it was your Uncle Dunnford St. James who was behind this trickery," she added.

"Which trickery?" he asked.

"He probably intercepted the missive you sent to my parents."

He let her see his exasperation. "I think it was your father who was behind that scheme."

"And just why would you think that?"

"Because Attila the Hun's been dead for years," he said. "And your father is the only other man mean enough to come up with such a vile plan."

"I won't listen to such slander against my father. Besides, I'm just as certain it was Dunnford."

"Oh? And is he the one who beat your aunt?"

Her eyes immediately filled with tears. He regretted his question at once. She turned to stare at his chest before answering. "No," she whispered. "That was the work of my Uncle Henry. He's the one you saw inside the tavern the other night. And now you know the truth about me," she ended with a pitiful wail.

Nathan lifted her chin up with the crook of his finger. His thumb rubbed her smooth skin. "What truth?"

She stared into his eyes a long minute before answering. "I come from bad stock."

She'd hoped to gain a quick denial, even a bit of praise.

"Aye, you do."

The man didn't have a sympathetic bone in his body, she thought. "Well, so do you," she muttered. She pushed his hand away from her chin. "We really shouldn't have children."

"Why not?"

"Because they could end up turning out like my Uncle Henry. Worse, they could behave like your side of the family. Even you have to admit that the St. James men are all mean-looking and just as mean-hearted. They're villains," she added with a nod. "Every last one of them."

He wouldn't admit to any such thing, of course, and he made his position known at once. "For all their rough behavior, they're damned honest. You know when you've got them riled. They're very straightforward."

"Oh, they're straightforward, all right," she countered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She knew she was getting him riled up again, but she didn't care. "Your Uncle Dunnford was straightforward when he shot his own brother, wasn't he?"

"So you heard about that, did you?" He tried hard not to smile. Sara looked so disapproving.

"Everyone heard about it. The incident took place on the steps of his townhouse in the middle of the morning, with witnesses strolling by."

Nathan shrugged. "Dunnford had good reason," he drawled.

"To shoot his brother?" She sounded incredulous.

He nodded.

"And what was his reason?" she asked.

"His brother woke him up."

She was waylaid by his sudden grin. He was back to looking handsome to her. She found herself smiling.

"Dunnford didn't kill his brother," Nathan explained. "He just made it a little inconvenient for him to sit for a couple of weeks. When you meet him, you'll-"

"I did meet him once," Sara interrupted. She was suddenly out of breath. The way he was staring at her made her feel so strange inside. "I met his wife, too."

She was still smiling at him. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. He took heart. She wasn't acting at all afraid of him. He tried to think of a way to bring the topic around to the most important matter in his mind: bedding her.

He was gently rubbing her shoulders in an absentminded fashion. Sara didn't think he was even aware of what he was doing, for he had a faraway look in his eyes. She thought he might be thinking about his relatives.

She wanted him to rub away the sting at the base of her back, and since he was looking so preoccupied she decided to take advantage of his inattention. She moved his right hand to her spine. "Rub there, Nathan. My back aches from moving the furniture."

He didn't argue over her request. He simply did as she asked. He wasn't very gentle until she told him to ease his touch a little. Then she moved both his hands to the base of her spine. When he began to rub there she leaned against him and closed her eyes. It felt like heaven.

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes of listening to her sighs.

"Yes, better," she agreed.

He didn't stop rubbing her back, and she didn't want him to. "When did you meet Dunnford?" he asked. His chin dropped to rest on the top of her head. He inhaled her sweet, feminine scent.

"I met him at the gardens," she answered. "Both your uncle and your aunt were there. It was a frightening experience I shall never forget."

He chuckled. "Dunnford does look like a barbarian," he said. He slowly pulled her closer to him by pressing against her spine. She didn't resist. "My uncle's a big man, muscular. He's given to bulk in his shoulders. Yes, I suppose he could be a little frightening."

"So is his wife," Sara interjected with a smile. "I couldn't tell them apart."

He pinched her backside for being so insolent. "Dunnford has a mustache."

"So does she."

He pinched her again. "The St. James women aren't as fat as the Winchester women," he countered.

"The Winchester ladies are not fat," she argued. "They're just… fit."

It was high time they confronted the true issue here, she decided. She took a deep breath, then said, "Nathan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to take my clothes off."

That announcement got his full attention. "You're not?"

She moved back a fraction of an inch so she could see his expression. His smile was slow, easy. It gave her courage to set down the rest of her rules. "No, I'm not," she said. "If we must do this thing, I'm keeping my clothes on. Take it or leave it, Nathan."

She worried her lower lip while she waited for his reaction. Nathan thought she might be frightened again. That chafed him. "For God's sake, Sara, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yes, you will," she whispered.

"And just how would you know?"

"Mother said it always hurts." Sara's cheeks turned scarlet.

"It doesn't always hurt," he snapped. "The first time might be a little… uncomfortable."

"You just contradicted yourself," she cried out.

"You don't have to act as though-"

"I'm not going to like it much either," she interrupted. "You might as well understand that right this minute. How long does it take? Minutes or hours?" she asked. "I would like to try to prepare myself."

He wasn't rubbing her backside now. He was gripping her. Hard. He looked a little startled by her question. Sara pushed her advantage. "I have only one little favor to ask of you. Couldn't you please wait until tonight to do this thing? Since you're so determined, couldn't you at least give me a few more hours to come to terms with my fate?"

Come to terms with her fate? Nathan felt like throttling her. She acted as though she was going to an execution. Hers. He frowned even as he gave in. "All right," he said. "We'll wait until tonight, but that is the only favor I'm willing to give you, Sara."

She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed him. Her lips rubbed against him for just a fleeting instant, and when she moved back she was looking damned pleased with herself.

"What the hell was that supposed to be?"

"A kiss."

"No, Sara," he growled. "This is a kiss."

He hauled her up against his chest, tilted her face up, and slammed his mouth down on hers. He wasn't at all gentle, but in truth she didn't mind at all. She melted against him and let him have his way. After all, she thought to herself, she'd just gotten her victory, and she guessed he was entitled to one, too.

Odd, but it was the last thought she could hold. The kiss became one of blatant ownership. The intensity, the raw intimacy made her weak in the knees. She clung to her husband and let out a little whimper of sheer bliss when his tongue moved inside her mouth.

He squeezed her backside and lifted her up against his pelvis. Her hips instinctively cuddled his hardness. He pulled. She pushed.

The feeling was erotic, arousing. Nathan quit trying to subdue her when he realized he had her full cooperation. Lord, she was responsive. She was tugging on his hair even as she tried to get closer to him.

He pulled back quite suddenly, then had to hold her up until she recovered from the kiss. He was arrogantly happy over that telling fact.

And damn, he wanted her. He pushed Sara down the bed and turned to leave. He had to move the chest and chair before he could get to the door.

Sara had gathered her wits by the time he'd gotten the door open. "In future, Nathan," she began, grimacing over the shiver in her voice, "I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't come into our chamber by way of the chimney. I promise I won't bolt the door again," she added when he turned around and gave her an incredulous look.

"Come in through what?" he asked, thinking he surely hadn't heard her correctly.

"The chimney," she explained. "And you still didn't answer my question. Is this thing you're so determined to do going to take minutes or hours?"

Her question turned his attention, and he was no longer interested in explaining that the trapdoor wasn't a chimney. He'd explain that fact to the ignorant woman later. "How the hell would I know how long it's going to take?" he muttered.

"Do you mean you've never done it before?"

Nathan closed his eyes. The conversation had gotten out of hand.

"Well, have you?"

"Yes." He sounded disgusted. "I've just never timed it before," he snapped.

He was pulling the door shut behind him when he suddenly turned back and smiled at her.

She was amazed by the quick change in him. "Sara?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"You aren't going to hate it."

The door closed on that promise.