The Gift

Chapter Ten

The vote was unanimous. No one wanted Sara to be disappointed. The pirates were tossed overboard and allowed to swim back to their ship.

Nathan did have the last word, however, or rather the last action. He ordered two cannons made ready and took great satisfaction in putting a large hole in the pirates' vessel. When Sara asked what the noise was he told her they were simply emptying the cannons.

The Seahawk had suffered damage as well. Most of the repairs that needed to be seen to at once were above the water line. The very same sails Sara had nearly destroyed with her parasol had been sliced in half by one of the enemy's cannon shots.

The crew set about righting as much of the damage as possible. They smiled as they worked-a rarity-and every one of them had tossed his necklace of garlic cloves away. They were feeling safe again, for they believed the curse had been removed.

Their mistress had saved their hides. Why, even sour-tempered Chester was singing her praises.

Sara went with Matthew to fetch Nora from the hold, and it wasn't until the hatch was opened that she remembered the captives trapped below. Nathan waited until Sara had turned to leave the deck, then slammed his fist into the midsection of each man. The loud groans caught Sara's attention, yet when she turned around and asked her husband what the awful noise was he simply shrugged at her and then graciously helped the doubled-over captives to take flight over the rail.

Sara took great delight in retelling the sequence of events to Nora. Her aunt was an appreciative audience of one. She praised her niece for her courage and her cunning.

"I cannot let you believe I was completely courageous," Sara confessed. She stood with her aunt in the middle of the wardroom area. She'd already shown Nora where she'd hidden behind the screen. "I was terrified all the while," she added with a nod.

"That doesn't signify," Nora countered. "You helped your husband. It means all the more because you were afraid and yet you didn't fail him."

"Do you know Nathan hasn't said a word of praise to me?" Sara said. "I hadn't realized that until this very minute. You would think-"

"I would think he hasn't had time to say thank you, Sara, and I doubt he will when he does have the time. He's a bit…"

"Stubborn?"

Nora smiled. "No, dear, not stubborn, just proud."

Sara decided he was a little of both. The rush of excitement was over, but Sara's hands started shaking. She felt sick to her stomach, too, and the side of her face was throbbing quite painfully.

She wasn't going to worry Nora, though, and so she kept her aches and pains to herself.

"I know you've heard the whispers comparing you to Nathan's sister," Nora said.

She hadn't heard any such whispers, but she pretended she had just so that her aunt would continue. Sara nodded and said, "Jade was mistress of this vessel for a long while, and the men were very loyal to her."

"I know their comments must have hurt your feelings, child," Nora said.

"Which comments are you referring to?" Sara asked. "I've heard so many."

"Oh, that you cry all the time," Nora answered. "Jade never cried. She kept her emotions under lock and key, or so Matthew likes to boast. She was extremely courageous, too. I've heard such wonderful stories about the feats she and her men accomplished. But you've heard all that," Nora continued with a wave of her hand. "I'm not bringing up this topic to make you think the men still believe you inferior, Sara. No, quite the opposite is the case now. Why, you've won their hearts and their loyalty today. They won't be making comparisons in future, I'll wager. They've seen you're every bit as courageous as their Jade."

Sara turned to go into her cabin. "I believe I'll have a little rest, Aunt," she whispered. "The excitement has worn me out."

"You do look pale, Sara. It was quite a morning, wasn't it? I believe I'll go find Matthew and, if he isn't too busy, spend a few minutes with him. Then I'm going to have a rest, too."

Sara's light blue walking dress was on the floor of the cabin. As soon as she shut the door behind her and spotted the gown she remembered how the infidel had clutched it in his arms. She remembered all the foul words they'd said, too.

It was finally settling in. The realization of what could have happened made her stomach lurch. "I mustn't think about all the possibilities," she whispered to herself.

Nathan could have been killed.

Sara unbuttoned her gown and took the garment off. Her petticoats, shoes, and stockings came next. She was excruciatingly exact with her task. Her gaze kept returning to the gown on the floor, though, and she couldn't block the memories.

They'd really meant to kill her husband.

Sara decided she needed something to do to take her mind off her fear. She cleaned the cabin. Then she took a sponge bath. By the time she was finished with that task the trembling had eased up just a little.

Then she noticed the dark bruise on the side of her face.

The terror returned full force. How could she ever live without Nathan? What if she hadn't thought to take the pistols with her to the hold? What if she'd stayed below with Nora and hadn't…

"Oh, God," she whispered. "It's all a mockery. I'm such a coward."

She leaned over the washstand and stared into the mirror. "An ugly coward."

"What did you say?"

Nathan asked that question. He'd entered the room without making any noise. Sara jumped a foot, then turned to look at him. She tried to hide the right side of her face by pulling her hair forward.

She realized she was crying. She didn't want Nathan to notice, though. She bowed her head and walked toward the bed. "I believe I'll have a nap," she whispered. "I'm very weary."

Nathan blocked her path. "Let me see your face," he ordered.

His hands rested on her hips. Sara's head was still bowed, and all he could see was the top of her head. He could feel her trembling. "Does it hurt, Sara?" he asked, his voice gruff with concern.

Sara shook her head. She still wouldn't look up at him. Nathan tried to nudge her chin up. She pushed his hand away. "It doesn't hurt at all," she lied.

"Then why are you crying?"

The tenderness in his voice made her trembling increase. "I'm not crying," she whispered.

Nathan was getting worried. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. What the hell was going on inside her mind now? he wondered. Sara had always been so transparent to him. He never had to worry about what she was thinking. She always told him. Whenever she had a problem or a worry he knew about it immediately. And as soon as she'd blurted out whatever was on her mind she demanded that he fix it.

Nathan smiled to himself. And damn if he didn't always fix it, too, he thought.

"I would like to rest now, Nathan," she whispered, turning his thoughts back to her.

"You will tell me what's bothering you first," he ordered.

She burst into loud tears.

"Are you still not crying?" he asked in exasperation.

She nodded against his chest. "Jade never cries."

"What did you say?"

She wouldn't repeat herself. She tried to move away from him then, but Nathan wouldn't let her. He was more forceful, more determined. He held her secure with one arm and pushed her chin up. His touch was gentle when he brushed the hair away from her face.

When he saw the dark swelling on her cheek his expression turned murderous. "I should have killed the bastard," he whispered.

"I'm a coward."

She blurted out that confession, then nodded vehemently when he looked incredulous. "It's true, Nathan. I didn't realize it until today, but now I know the truth about myself. I'm not at all like Jade. The men are right. I don't measure up."

He was so surprised by her fervent speech that he didn't realize he'd let go of her until she'd turned and hurried over to the bed. She sat down on the side and stared at her lap.

"I'm going to have my nap now," she whispered again.

He was never going to understand her. Nathan shook his head and tried not to smile. It would injure his wife's feelings if she thought he was mocking her. Sara was pulling her hair over the right side of her face. It was obvious she was embarrassed about the bruise. "I'm not just a coward, Nathan. I'm an ugly one. Jade has green eyes, doesn't she? The men say her hair is as red as fire. Jimbo said she's beautiful."

"Why the hell are we talking about my sister?" Nathan asked. He regretted his gruff tone of voice immediately. He wanted to ease Sara's distress, not increase it. In a much softer voice he said, "You aren't a coward."

She looked up at him so that he could see her frown. "Then why are my hands shaking, and why do I feel like I'm going to be sick? I'm so afraid right now, and all I can think about is what could have happened to you."

"What could have happened to me?" He was stunned by her admission, humbled. "Sara, you were also at risk."

She acted as though she hadn't heard him. "They could have killed you."

"They didn't."

She started crying again. He let out a sigh. This was going to take time, he decided. Sara needed more than just a quick denial. She needed him to touch her.

And he needed to touch her as well. Nathan stripped out of all his clothes but his pants. He'd unbuttoned them and was about to pull them off, but then he decided he didn't want Sara to know what his intent was just yet. It would only turn her attention, and he wanted to address the problem first.

Sara stood up when Nathan sat down. She watched him get comfortable. He leaned against the wood behind the pillows. One leg was stretched out, the other bent at the knee. He pulled her in front of him, then settled her between his legs. Her back rested against his chest, and with prodding her head fell back against his shoulder. Nathan's arm was around her waist. She wiggled her backside against him until she was comfortable. The movement made him grit his teeth. His wife still didn't have any idea how provocative she could be. She didn't realize how quickly she could make him want her.

"Now you don't have to hide your face from me," he whispered. He gently brushed her hair away from the side of her face, leaned down, and kissed the side of her neck. Sara closed her eyes and tilted her head just a little to give him better access.

"Nathan? Did you see how quickly that man turned on me? If the pistol hadn't discharged, I couldn't have defended myself. I don't have the strength. I'm puny."

"You don't have to have strength to defend yourself," he replied.

That remark made absolutely no sense to her. "I hit Duggan, but afterwards my hand stung for the longest time. It was a paltry hit, too. Yes, one must have strength if one is going to-"

"Who's Duggan?"

"The man with Uncle Henry at the tavern the first night we met," Sara explained.

Nathan remembered. He smiled when he pictured the dainty white-gloved fist coming through the window. "You had the element of surprise on your side, but you didn't make a proper fist."

He took hold of her hand and showed her how. "Don't tuck your thumb underneath your fingers. You'll get it broken if you do. Put it here, on the outside, below your knuckles. Now squeeze tight," he ordered. "Let the force of the blow come from here," he added as he rubbed his finger back and forth across the tip of her knuckles. "Put your whole body into the action."

Sara nodded. "If you say so, Nathan."

"You need to know how to take care of yourself," he muttered. "Pay attention, Sara. I'm instructing you."

She hadn't realized she was feeling so insecure with

Nathan until that moment. "Don't you want to take care of me?" she asked.

His sigh parted her hair. "There will be times when I won't be with you," he reasoned. He was trying to be patient with her. "Now then," he added in a brisker tone of voice, "where you hit is just as important as how you hit."

"It is?"

She tried to turn around to look at him. Nathan pushed her head back on his shoulder. "Yes, it is," he said. "The most vulnerable area of a man's body is his groin."

"Nathan, you cannot believe I'd-"

He could hear the blush in her voice. He rolled his eyes heavenward in true exasperation. "It's ridiculous for you to be embarrassed. I'm your husband, and we should be able to discuss anything with each other."

"I don't think I could hit a man… there."

"The hell you couldn't," he countered. "Damn it, Sara, you will defend yourself because I command it. I don't want anything to happen to you."

If he hadn't sounded so irritated, she would have been pleased with his admission. Nathan hadn't sounded happy about the fact that he didn't want anything to happen to her, though. Lord, he was a complex man. He pushed and prodded her to do things she didn't know if she could do. "And if I can't hit a man there? Cowards don't defend themselves," she announced. "And I've already admitted that sin to you."

God, she sounded pitiful. Nathan tried not to laugh. "Explain to me why you consider yourself a coward," he ordered.

"I already did explain," she cried out. "My hands are still shaking, and every time I think about what could have happened I'm filled with terror. I can't even look at that gown without feeling sick to my stomach."

"What gown?" he asked.

She pointed to the blue dress on the floor. "That gown." she whispered. "One of those villains held it. I want you to throw it overboard," she added. "I'm never going to wear it again."

"All right, Sara," he soothed. "I'll get rid of it. Now close your eyes, and you won't have to look at it."

"You think I'm being foolish, don't you?"

He started to nuzzle the side of her neck. "I think you're experiencing aftermath," he whispered. "It's a natural reaction, that's all. It doesn't mean you're a coward."

She tried to concentrate on what he was saying to her, but he was making it very difficult. His tongue was teasing her ear, and his warm breath was making her warmer. The shivers were easing away, and she was beginning to feel drowsy.

"Do you ever have… aftermath?" she asked in a faint whisper.

His hand was caressing the underside of her breast. The rustling of silk against skin was arousing. "Yes," he told her.

"What do you do about it?"

"I find a way to vent my frustration," he answered. He pulled the ribbon free from the drawstring bow at the top of her chemise and then eased the straps down her shoulders.

Sara was feeling relaxed. Nathan's voice was soothing against her ear. She let out a little sigh of pleasure and closed her eyes again.

His hand rested on her thigh. When he began to caress the sensitive skin near the junction of her legs she moved against him restlessly.

His fingers slipped beneath the edge of her chemise, and he slowly began to stoke the fire in her. He knew just how much pressure to exert, just where to touch to drive her wild. She let out a ragged moan when his fingers thrust inside her.

"Easy, baby," he whispered when she tried to stop him. "Don't fight it, Sara. Let it happen."

He held her tight against him and continued his sweet torture. His fingers were magical, demanding. Sara was soon mindless to everything but finding her release.

"I love the way you respond to me. You get so hot, so wet. It's all for me, isn't it, Sara?"

She couldn't answer him. He was becoming more forceful with his demands and she was coming unglued. She couldn't stop the climax. It happened before she realized it was going to happen. Her hands reached down to hold his hand between her thighs, and she tightened around him by drawing her knees up and squeezing him tight.

It was a shattering orgasm. Sara went limp from the wonder of it. She fell back against her husband's chest in blissful surrender.

As soon as her heartbeat slowed a little and she was able to catch a thought she became embarrassed. Her chemise was down around her waist, and Nathan was gently caressing her breasts.

"I didn't know that I could… that is, without you inside me, I didn't think it was possible…" She couldn't go on.

"I was inside you," he whispered. "My fingers were, remember?"

He turned her around until she was on her knees facing him. God, he was sexy. Her breath caught in her throat, and she suddenly realized she wanted him again. Her gaze held his as she pushed the chemise down over her thighs.

She leaned forward until her breasts were pressed against his chest. He was already pulling his pants off. It was awkward, but in seconds they had both tossed their garments aside. Sara was once again kneeling between her husband's legs. She held his gaze as she reached down to touch him. His low groan told her he liked that boldness.

Then his hands were fisted in her hair, and he was pulling her toward him. "This, Sara, is how you get rid of the aftermath," he whispered. His mouth claimed hers, cutting off any reply she might have made. Sara didn't mind. He was, after all, instructing her, and she was his ever-attentive student.

They spent another hour together before Nathan went back to directing the repairs. Sara did a lot of sighing as she dressed. She collected her charcoals and her sketch pad and went up on deck to sit in the afternoon sun.

In little time the work had ceased, and she was surrounded by men who wanted her to draw their likenesses. Sara was happy to accommodate the men. They praised her work, and their disappointment seemed sincere when she'd used the last paper and had to quit.

Nathan was up on the spar deck, helping to strengthen one of the smaller sails that had been knocked loose when the cannon had hit. He finished that chore and then turned to go back to the wheel.

He paused when he spotted his wife. She was sitting on the wooden ledge below him. At least fifteen of his men were sitting on the deck by her feet. They seemed to be extremely interested in what she was saying to them.

Nathan moved closer. Chester's voice reached him. "Do you mean to say you were only four when you wed the captain?"

"She just explained it all to us, Chester," Kently muttered. "It were by the daft king's demand, weren't it, Lady Sara?"

"Do you wonder why the king wanted to end the feud?" Ivan asked.

"He wanted peace," Sara answered.

"What caused the rift in the first place?" another asked.

"No one can recall," Chester guessed.

"Oh, I know what caused the disagreement," Sara said. "It was the cross of gold that started the feud."

Nathan leaned against the post. He smiled even as he shook his head. So she believed that nonsense, did she? Of course she did, he thought to himself. It was a fanciful story, and Sara would certainly believe it.

"Tell us about this cross of gold," Chester asked.

"Well, it began when a Winchester baron and a St. James baron went on a crusade together. The two men were good friends. This was back in the early middle ages, of course, and everyone was out to save the world from infidels. The two barons' holdings were adjacent to each other, and the story has it that they grew up together in King John's court. I don't know if that was true or not, though. Anyway," she added with a shrug, "the two friends went to a foreign port. One of them saved the life of the ruler there, and in return he was given a gigantic cross made all of gold. Yes," she added when the men looked so impressed, "it was encrusted with large stones, too. Some were diamonds, others rubies, and it was said to be quite magnificent."

"How big was it said to be?" Matthew called out.

"As big as a full-grown man," Sara answered.

"But what happened then?" Chester asked. He was eager to hear the rest of the story and didn't like the interruptions.

"The two barons returned to England. Then the cross suddenly disappeared. The Winchester baron told everyone who would listen that he'd been given the cross and that the St. James baron had stolen it. The St. James baron gave the very same story."

"It weren't ever found, m'lady?" Kently asked.

Sara shook her head. "War broke out between the two powerful barons. Some say there never was a cross, and that it was used only as an excuse to gain the other's land. I believe the cross exists."

"Why?" Chester asked.

"Because when the St. James baron was dying he was said to have whispered, 'Look to the heavens for your treasure.'"

She nodded after making that statement. "A man doesn't lie when he's about to meet his Maker," she instructed. "Directly after saying those words he clutched his heart and dropped dead."

Her hand moved to her bosom, and she bowed her head. Some of the men started to applaud, then stopped themselves. "You aren't believing this story, are you, Lady Sara?"

"Oh, yes," she answered. "One day Nathan's going to find the cross for me."

Nathan thought his wife was a hopeless dreamer. He smiled, though, for he suddenly realized he liked that flaw in her.

"Sounds like the captain will have to go to heaven to find it," Chester said.

"Oh, no," Sara argued. "It was just a little clue the baron was giving when he said 'Look to the heavens.' He was being cunning."

The talk continued for a few more minutes. A storm was brewing, however, and the wind soon became too high to ignore. Sara went back to her cabin to put her charcoals away. She spent the remainder of the day with her Aunt Nora, but by nightfall Nora was yawning like an infant, and Sara took her leave so that her aunt could get her needed rest. The events of the long day had clearly worn her out.

In truth, Sara was just as exhausted. She started having the telltale back pains while she readied herself for bed. The pain was a sure indication that she was about to start her monthly.

An hour later the cramps came on with a vengeance. They were much worse than usual. She was in too much pain to worry that Nathan might find out about her condition. She was freezing, too. The pain did that to her, and it didn't matter at all that it was warm and humid inside the cabin. She was still chilled through to the bone.

She put on her heavy white cotton sleeping gown, then crawled into bed and covered herself with three quilts.

She couldn't get comfortable no matter what position she tried. Her lower back felt as though it had been broken in half, and the agony soon made her start whimpering.

Nathan didn't come down to the cabin until the night watch had changed. Sara usually left a candle burning for him, but the room was pitched into darkness.

He heard her groan. He quickly struck two candles and hurried over to the bed.

He still couldn't see her. She was cocooned beneath a mound of covers.

"Sara?"

His alarm was obvious in his tone of voice. When she didn't immediately answer him he jerked the covers away from her face.

Fear made him break out in a cold sweat. Her face was as white as the sheets. Sara pulled the covers back over her head.

"Sara, what in God's name is the matter?"

"Go away, Nathan," she whispered. Her voice was muffled by the quilts, but he understood her all the same. "I don't feel well."

She sounded near death. His worry intensified. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded in a rough whisper. "Does your face hurt now? Damn, I knew I should have killed that bastard."

"It isn't my face," she cried out.

"Is it fever, then?" He jerked the covers away again.

Oh, God, she couldn't explain her condition to him. It was too humiliating. She let out another low groan and rolled onto her side, away from him. Her knees were pulled up against her stomach, and she began to rock back and forth in an attempt to ease the pain in her back. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. "I just don't feel well. Please go away."

He wasn't about to do any such thing, of course. He put his hand on her forehead. It was cool, though damp, to his touch. "It isn't fever," he announced with an added grunt of relief. "God, Sara, I didn't hurt you this afternoon, did I? I know I was a little… rough, but-"

"You didn't hurt me," she blurted out.

He still wasn't convinced. "You're certain?"

She was wanned by his obvious worry. "I'm certain. You didn't cause this illness," she added. "I just need to be alone now."

A cramp claimed her full attention then. She let out a low moan, then added, "Let me die in peace."

"The hell I will," he muttered. Another black thought gave him the chills. "You didn't make anything when you were in the galley, did you? You didn't eat something you prepared?"

"No. It isn't stomach upset."

"Then what the hell is it?"

"I'm not… clean."

He didn't know what in God's name that was supposed to mean. "You're sick because you aren't clean? Sara, that's got to be the most illogical illness I've ever heard of. Will you feel better if I order a bath made ready for you?"

She wanted to scream at him yet knew the effort would cost her more pain. "Nathan, it's a… woman's condition," she whispered.

"A what?"

Lord, he was going to make her spell it out for him. "I'm having my monthly," she shouted. "Oh, I hurt," she added in a whimper. "Some months are worse than others."

"You're having your monthly…"

"I'm not pregnant," she blurted out at the same moment. "Please go away now. If God is truly merciful, I'll die in just a few more minutes… if not from the pain, then from the shame of having to explain my condition to you."

He was so relieved she wasn't suffering from a life-threatening ailment, he let out a ragged sigh. Then he reached out to pat her shoulder. He pulled back before actually touching her, though. Damn, he felt awkward. Inadequate, too.

"Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?" he asked. "Do you want something?"

"I want my mother," she muttered. "But I can't have her, can I? Oh, just go away, Nathan. There isn't anything you can do."

She pulled the covers back over her face and let out another pitiful moan. Nathan must have decided to let her have her way, she decided when she heard the door shut. She burst into tears then. How dare he leave her when she was in such agony? She'd lied when she said she wanted her mother. She wanted Nathan to hold her, and the obstinate man should have been able to read her mind and know that was what she needed.

Nathan immediately went to Nora's cabin. He didn't bother to knock. As soon as he threw the door open a deep voice called out, "Who's there?"

Nathan almost smiled. He recognized Matthew's booming voice. The seaman was obviously sharing Nora's bed. "I have to talk to Nora," he announced.

Sara's aunt came awake with a start. She let out a gasp and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her blush was as high as the candle flame.

Nathan walked over to the side of the bed and stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the floor.

"Sara's ill," he announced before Nora could say a word.

Nora's embarrassment over being found in such a compromising position quickly faded in the light of that announcement.

"I must go to her," she whispered. She struggled to sit up. "Do you know what the ailment is?"

"Do you want me to have a look at her?" Matthew asked in a rush. He was already tossing the covers aside.

Nathan shook his head. He cleared his throat. "It's this… woman's thing."

"What woman's thing?" Matthew asked, genuinely perplexed.

Nora understood. She patted Matthew's hand but kept her gaze on Nathan's face. "Is she in much pain?"

Nathan nodded. "She's in terrible pain, madam. Now tell me what I can do to help her."

Nora thought he sounded very like a military commander, so brisk was his tone of voice. "A stiff drink of brandy sometimes helps," Nora suggested. "A gentle word wouldn't hurt either, Nathan. I remember becoming very emotional during that time of month."

"Isn't there anything else I can do for her?" Nathan muttered. "My God, Nora, she's in pain. I won't have it"

With extreme effort Nora was able to contain her smile. Nathan looked like he wanted to kill someone. "Have you asked her what might help?"

"She wanted her mother."

"How would that help?" Matthew asked.

Nora answered, "She needs her husband, dear. Nathan, she wants someone to comfort her. Try rubbing her back."

Nora had to raise her voice to give that last suggestion, for Nathan was already striding out the doorway.

As soon as the door closed behind him Nora turned to Matthew. "Do you think he'll tell Sara that you and I-"

"No, my love, he wouldn't say a word," Matthew interjected.

"I hate to deceive Sara, but she does tend to see everything in black or white. I don't think she'd understand."

"Hush now," Matthew soothed. He kissed Nora and pulled her into his arms. "Age will season her."

Nora agreed. She changed the topic then and whispered, "Nathan is beginning to care for Sara, isn't he? It won't be long before he realizes he loves her."

"He may love her, Nora, but he won't ever admit it. The boy learned a long time ago to protect himself against any true involvement."

Nora snorted over that remark. "Nonsense," she countered. "Given an ordinary woman, perhaps you would be right, Matthew, but surely you've noticed by now that my Sara isn't ordinary. She's just what Nathan needs. She thinks her husband loves her, and it won't take her long to convince him that he does. Just wait and see."

Sara didn't have any idea she was the topic of discussion. She was in the throes of self-pity.

She never heard Nathan come back into the cabin. He was suddenly touching her shoulder. "Sara, drink this. It will make you feel better."

She rolled over, saw the goblet in his hands, and immediately shook her head.

"It's brandy," he told her.

"I don't want it."

"Drink it."

"I'll throw up."

She couldn't be any blunter than that, he supposed. He hastily put the goblet on the desk and then got into bed beside her.

She tried to push him out. He ignored her struggle and her demands.

Sara rolled back onto her side again, facing the wall. She might as well pray for death, she supposed. It was an overly dramatic request she gave her Maker, and in the back of her mind she really hoped He wasn't listening, and that thought didn't make a lick of sense to her either.

She couldn't take the pain much longer. Then Nathan put his arm around her waist. He pulled her a little closer to him and began to rub her lower back. The gentle touch was heaven. The ache immediately began to lessen. Sara closed her eyes and scooted closer to her husband so that she could steal a little more of his warmth.

She barely noticed the rocking and pitching motion of the ship. Nathan noticed. His own stomach was in torment, and he wished to God he hadn't eaten anything. It was only a matter of time before he would turn completely green.

He kept rubbing her spine for fifteen minutes or so without speaking a word to her. He tried to concentrate on the woman cuddled up against him, but each time the ship rolled, so did his stomach.

"You can stop now," Sara whispered. "I'm feeling better, thank you."

Nathan did as she requested, then started to get out of bed. She waylaid that intent with her next request. "Will you hold me, Nathan? I'm so cold. It's chilly tonight, isn't it?"

It was as hot as blazes to him. His face was drenched in perspiration. He did as she asked, though. Her hands felt like ice, but in just a few minutes he'd hugged her warm again.

He thought she was finally asleep and was just easing himself out of her hold when she whispered, "Nathan? What if I'm barren?"

"Then you're barren."

"Is that all you can say? We can't have children if I'm barren."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. God, she sounded like she was going to cry again. "You can't possibly know if you're barren or not," he said. "It's too soon to jump to that conclusion."

"But if I am?" she prodded.

"Sara, what do you want me to say?" he asked. His frustration was almost visible. His stomach lurched again. Deep breaths weren't helping. He tossed the covers aside and tried to leave the bed again.

"Would you still want to be married to me?" she asked. "We won't get the land the king promised if I don't have a baby by the time-"

"I'm aware of the conditions of the contract," he snapped. "If we don't get the land, then we'll rebuild on the land my father left to me. Now quit your questions and go to sleep. I'll be back in a little while."

"You still haven't answered me," she said. "Would you still want to be married to a barren woman?"

"Oh, for God's sake-"

"You would, wouldn't you?"

He grunted. She took that sound to mean he would. She rolled over and kissed his back. He'd left the candles burning, and when she looked up at his face she saw how gray his complexion had turned.

She was quick to put two and two together. The ship was bouncing like an errant ball in the water. The goblet of brandy was pitched to the floor. Nathan closed his eyes and grimaced.

He was seasick. Sara was filled with sympathy for her poor husband, but that emotion was quickly squelched when he muttered, "I wouldn't be married to anyone if it wasn't for the damned contracts. Now go to sleep."

After grumbling out that remark he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Sara was suddenly furious again. How dare he take that tone of voice with her? She was just as ill as he was, perhaps even more. She forgot all about the gentle way he'd treated her and decided to teach the man a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

"I'm sorry I'm keeping you from whatever business you have to attend to," she began. "My back is feeling much better now, Nathan. Thank you. My stomach isn't upset either. I suppose I shouldn't have had that fish for supper. It tasted wonderful, though, especially when I put a little dab of chocolate on top. Have you ever tasted fish sweetened that way? No?" she asked when he didn't answer her.

He seemed to be in quite a hurry to get his pants back on. Sara held her smile. "I usually just put sugar on top, but I wanted to experiment tonight. By the way, the cook has promised to serve us oysters when we reach port. I love oysters, don't you? The way they sort of… slide down your throat… Nathan, aren't you going to kiss me good-bye?"

The door slammed shut before she'd finished her question. Sara smiled. She gained tremendous satisfaction from her sinful actions. It was high time her husband realized his good fortune in having her for his wife. High time indeed.

"Serves him right for being so obstinate," she muttered to herself. She pulled the covers up over her shoulders and closed her eyes. She was sound asleep in minutes.

Nathan spent most of the night hanging over the side of the ship. He'd gone to the usually deserted area, and no one paid him any attention.

The sun was easing up into the sky when he returned to the cabin. He felt as wrung out as a wet sail. He literally collapsed on the bed. Sara was bounced awake by that action. She rolled over and cuddled up against her husband's side.

He started snoring so she wouldn't start talking again. Sara leaned up and kissed the side of his cheek. In the soft candlelight she could see how pale he was. He was in dire need of a shave, too. He looked fierce with the dark shadow along his jawline. Sara reached up to touch the side of his cheek with her fingertips. "I love you," she whispered. "Even with all your flaws, Nathan, I still love you. I'm sorry I deliberately made you seasick. I'm sorry that you suffer from such an ailment."

Satisfied with her confession, especially because she knew he hadn't heard a word of what she'd just said, she rolled away from him. Her sigh was loud. "I do believe you should consider another line of work, husband. The sea doesn't seem to suit you."

He slowly opened his eyes, then turned to look at her. She appeared to be asleep again. She looked damned peaceful to him. Angelic.

He wanted to throttle her. His wife had somehow found out about his illness and had deliberately used that knowledge to get even with him. She must have taken exception to his remark about not being married at all if it weren't for the contracts.

His flash of anger dissipated in little time, and he found himself smiling. Little Sara wasn't such an innocent after all She'd done exactly what he would have done if he'd had such a weapon at his disposal and wasn't strong enough to physically retaliate.

When he was angry he liked to use his fists. She used her head and it pleased him. Still, it was high time she understood just who was in charge of the marriage. High time indeed. She wasn't supposed to use cunning on him.

And Lord, she looked lovely. He suddenly wanted to make love to her. He couldn't, of course, because of her delicate condition, and he almost shook her awake to ask her how long this woman's thing lasted.

Exhaustion finally overcame him. Just as he was drifting off to sleep he felt Sara take hold of his hand. He didn't pull away. His last thought before falling asleep was a bit unsettling.

He needed her to hold him.

They were just two days away from Nora's home, and Nathan was once again beginning to think that the rest of the voyage might prove uneventful.

He should have known better.

It was late evening on the twenty-first of the month. There were more stars than sky above, and the breeze was every bit as pretty by a seaman's measure. The wind was gentle, yet coaxingly insistent. They were making good time-a clipping speed, in fact. The mighty ship set straight in the water and cut directly through the ocean without rocking or lurching to either side. A man could put a keg of grog on the rail without fear of losing it, so calm was the sea, and there was nary a worry to annoy a seaman's dreams.

Nathan stood next to Jimbo behind the wheel. The two men were in deep discussion over the plans to expand the Emerald Shipping Company. Jimbo was in favor of adding additional clippers to their fleet, while Nathan favored heavier, more durable ships.

Sara interrupted their conversation when she came rushing across the deck. She was dressed only in her nightgown and wrapper. Jimbo noticed that right away. Nathan's back was to his wife, however, and because she was barefoot he didn't hear her approach.

"Nathan, I must speak to you at once," she cried out. "We have a horrible problem, and you must take care of it right away."

Nathan had a resigned look on his face when he turned around, but that expression faltered as soon as he saw the pistol in his wife's hand. The weapon, he couldn't help but notice, was pointed at his groin.

Sara was in a high fit about something. She looked a sight. Her hair was in wild disarray around her shoulders, and her cheeks were bright.

Then he noticed her state of attire. "What are you doing strutting around the deck dressed in your nightclothes?" he demanded.

Her eyes widened over his rebuke. "I wasn't strutting," she began. She stopped herself with a shake of her head. "This isn't the time to lecture me about my attire. We have a serious problem, husband."

She turned her attention to Jimbo. The pistol made her curtsy awkward. "Please forgive my unladylike appearance, Jimbo, but I've had quite an upset, I can tell you, and I didn't take time to dress."

Jimbo nodded even as he dodged the pistol she was waving back and forth between Nathan and him. He didn't think she realized she was holding the weapon.

"You've had an upset?" Jimbo prodded.

"What in God's name are you doing with that pistol?" Nathan demanded at the same time.

"I might have need for it," Sara explained.

"Lady Sara," Jimbo interjected when Nathan looked as if he was at a loss for words, "calm yourself and tell us what has you so upset. Boy," he added in a growl, "get that damn pistol away from her before she shoots herself."

Nathan reached out to take the weapon from her hand. Sara backed up a space and put the pistol behind her back. "I went to see Nora," she blurted out. "I just wanted to say goodnight to her."

"And?" Nathan asked when she didn't continue.

She stared at Jimbo a long minute before deciding to include him in her explanation, then glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one else was within hearing distance. "She wasn't alone."

She'd whispered that statement and waited for her husband's reaction. He shrugged.

She wanted to shoot him. "Matthew was with her." She nodded vehemently after telling that news.

"And?" Nathan prodded.

"They were in bed together."

She waved the pistol again. "Nathan, you have to do something."

"What would you like me to do?"

He sounded very accommodating, but he was grinning. The man wasn't at all surprised by the news she'd just given him. She should have guessed he'd react that way. Nothing ever seemed to upset him… except her, of course. She always upset him, she admitted.

"She wants you to make Matthew leave," Jimbo interjected. "Isn't that right, Sara?"

She shook her head. "It's a little late to shut the barn door, Jimbo. The cow's already out."

"I'm not getting your meaning," Jimbo returned. "What do cows have to do with your aunt?"

"He dishonored her," she explained.

"Sara, if you don't want me to make Matthew leave Nora alone, just what do you think I should do?" Nathan asked.

"You have to make it right," Sara explained. "You're going to have to marry them. Come along with me, husband. We might as well get it done right away. Jimbo, you can serve as witness."

"You can't be serious."

"Quit your smile, husband. I'm very serious. You're captain of this vessel, so you can legally marry them."

"No."

"Lady Sara, you do come up with the most astonishing suggestions," Jimbo said.

It was obvious to her that neither man was taking her seriously. "I'm responsible for my aunt," Sara said. "Matthew has blemished her honor, and he must marry her. You know, Nathan, this will really solve another worry. My Uncle Henry won't come chasing after Nora for her inheritance once she's remarried. Yes, this could have a happy ending, to my way of thinking."

"No." Nathan's voice was emphatic.

"Sara, does Matthew want to marry Nora?"

She turned to frown at the seaman. "It doesn't matter if he wants to or not."

"Aye, it does," Jimbo argued.

She started waving the pistol around again. "Well, I can see I won't be getting any help from either of you."

Before the two men could agree with that statement Sara whirled around and started for the steps again. "I do like Matthew," she muttered. "It's a shame."

"What are you thinking to do, Lady Sara?" Jimbo called out.

She didn't turn around when she called out her answer. "He's going to marry Nora."

"And if he doesn't?" Jimbo asked, smiling over the matter-of-fact way she'd made that announcement.

"Then I'm going to shoot him. I won't like it, Jimbo, but I'll have to shoot him."

Nathan was right behind Sara. He put his arm around her waist, hauled her up against him, then reached over her shoulder and grabbed hold of the pistol. "You aren't going to shoot anyone," he told her in a low growl.

He handed the pistol to Jimbo, then dragged Sara down to their cabin. He shut the door behind him and continued on toward the bed.

"Unhand me, Nathanial."

"Don't ever call me Nathanial," he ordered.

She pushed away from him and turned to look at his face. "Why can't I call you by your given name?"

"I don't like it, that's why," he told her.

"That's a stupid reason," she argued. She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. Her wrapper opened, and he was given a healthy view of her full breasts pressed against the thin nightgown.

"Sara, when is this condition of yours going to be over?" he asked.

She didn't answer that question but nagged him back to the topic of his name. "Why don't you like being called Nathanial?"

He took a threatening step forward. "I see red whenever I hear it, Sara. It puts me in a fighting mood."

That wasn't really a suitable explanation, but she wasn't about to point that out to him. "When aren't you in a fighting mood, husband?" she asked.

"Don't bait me."

"Don't yell at me."

He took a deep breath. It didn't calm him one bit.

She smiled. "All right," she whispered in a bid to placate him. "I won't ever call you Nathanial… unless I want you in a fighting mood. You'll know to be on your guard, husband. Agreed?"

He thought those comments were too ignorant to answer. He'd backed her over to the side of the bed. "Now it's your turn to answer me, Sara. When is this damned woman's thing finished?"

She slowly removed her robe. She took her sweet time folding the garment. "You aren't going to do anything about Nora and Matthew, are you?" she asked.

"No, I'm not," he answered. "And neither are you. Leave them alone. Do you understand me?"

She nodded. "I'm going to have to think about this long and hard, husband."

Before he could make a stinging remark about her ability to think much at all she pulled her nightgown up over her head and tossed it on the bed. "I have finished this damned woman's thing," she whispered shyly.

She was trying to be bold, but the blush ruined that effect. Nathan was making her feel awkward because of the way he was looking at her. His hot stare made her toes tingle. She let out a sigh and then moved forward into his arms.

He made her kiss him first. She was in an accommodating mood. She put her arms around his neck and tugged on his long hair to bring his mouth down to hers.

And Lord, did she kiss him. Her mouth was hot, her tongue wild, and it didn't take her any time at all to get the response she wanted.

Nathan took over then. He held her captive by making a fist in her hair, then slowly lowered his head again. His open mouth settled on hers, and his tongue thrust deep inside to mate with hers. Her breasts were pressed against his bare chest, and her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.

He let out a low growl when she sucked on his tongue, so she did it again. The sound he made was as arousing to her as his kiss, and she couldn't seem to get close enough to him.

He pulled away to remove his clothes but stopped when she began to nibble on the side of his neck. He shuddered in reaction. His hands stroked her smooth shoulders. The feel of her silky skin against his rough, callused palms made him realize once again how very fragile she was. "You're so delicate," he whispered. "And I'm…"

He couldn't retain his thought, for she was making him forget everything but feeling. She kissed every inch of his chest. Her tongue tickled his sensitive nipples. When he gruffly ordered her to cease her torment she doubled her efforts to drive him beyond the brink of sanity.

She was forced to stop when he pulled on her hair and shoved the side of her face against his chest. He was taking deep, gulping breaths. Then her fingers circled his navel. He quit breathing. She smiled. "You make me feel so warm, so alive, so very strong. I want to show you how much I love you, Nathan. Will you let me?"

He understood her intent when she began to unbutton his pants. Her hands shook. Then she slowly disengaged herself from his embrace and knelt down. Nathan didn't remember much after that. His delicate little wife had turned into a blaze of sensuality. She was like the sun, scorching him with her soft mouth, her wet tongue, her incredibly arousing touch.

He couldn't take the sweet agony long. He wasn't very gentle when he pulled her up and lifted her high off the ground. He forced her legs around his waist as he captured her mouth for a long, intoxicating kiss.

"God, Sara, I hope you're ready for me," he whispered on a low groan. "I can't wait any longer. I have to be inside you. Now. Then I'll be able to slow down, I promise."

He tried to shift positions, but she pulled on his hair. "Nathan, tell me you love me," she demanded.

He answered her by kissing her again. Sara soon forgot all about wanting to hear his declaration of love. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, and all she could think about was finding fulfillment.

His hands gripped the sides of her hips, and he began to ease slowly inside her.

Her head fell back. She let out a low whimper. "Please hurry, Nathan."

"I want to drive you crazy first," he ground out. "Like you drive me…"

She bit his neck. He thrust deep. He was shaking as much as she was. She squeezed him tight. He groaned with pleasure.

He braced their fall onto the bed with his knee, then covered her completely. His hands cupped the sides of her face, and he leaned up on his elbows and gently kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her sweet lips.

"God, you always taste so good," he growled. He nibbled on the side of her neck, teased the lobe of her ear with his tongue, and the last thing he remembered saying to her was that he was going to set the pace this time.

But then she drew her knees up, taking even more of him inside her. She arched up against him. The provocation was too much for him to endure. He felt enveloped by her heat, her intoxicating scent… her love.

The bed squeaked with each deep thrust. He wanted their lovemaking to last forever. The fever of passion raged between them. Sara suddenly tightened even more around him. She cried out his name. Her surrender gave him his own. He poured his seed inside her with his last thrust. His deep, guttural growl drowned out their pounding heartbeats.

He collapsed on top of her, too weak to move, too content ever to want to move away from her. His head rested in the hollow of her neck. His breaths were still deep, shaky. So were hers. That fact made him smile inside.

As soon as she loosened her hold on him he rolled to his side. He took her with him for the simple reason that he couldn't seem to let go of her.

She couldn't quit crying.

It was a joyful interlude, but he knew it was just a matter of time before she started nagging him again to give her the words she longed to hear.

He didn't want to disappoint her, yet he wouldn't lie to her. And in the dark recesses of his mind fear took root. What if he wasn't capable of ever giving her what she wanted?

Nathan considered himself the master of the game when it came to hurting people. He'd had quite a lot of experience in that area. Yet when it came to loving someone he didn't have the faintest idea how. Just considering that problem scared the hell out of him. Damn if he'd allow himself to become so vulnerable, he thought. Damn if he would.

She felt him tense against her. She knew what would come next. He'd try to leave her. She wasn't going to let him this time, however, and she vowed that if she had to, she'd even follow him out the door.

How could her husband be so gentle, so giving, so wonderfully considerate when he made love to her and then turn into a statue of ice? What in God's name was going through his mind?

"Nathan?"

He didn't answer her. She expected that rudeness. "I love you," she whispered.

"I know you do," he muttered when she nudged him.

"And?" she persisted.

His sigh was long, drawn out. "Sara, you don't have to love me. It isn't a requirement in this marriage."

He thought he'd been very logical when he'd made that statement of fact. He'd skirted the true issue quite nicely, to his way of thinking.

Sara tried to shove him out of the bed. "You are the most impossible man I've ever known. Listen well, Nathan. I have something to say to you."

"How could I not listen, Sara?" he drawled. "You're screaming like a shrew again."

He did have a point there, she admitted to herself. She had been screaming. She rolled onto her back, pulled the light cover up over herself, and stared at the ceiling. "God's truth, you do frustrate me," she muttered.

He took exception to that remark. "The hell I do," he countered. He blew the candle flame out, then rolled onto his side and roughly pulled her into his arms. "I satisfy you every damned time I touch you."

That wasn't what she meant at all, but he sounded so arrogantly pleased with himself that she decided not to argue. "I still have something important to say to you, Nathan. Will you listen?"

"Will you promise to go to sleep directly after you've said this thing?"

"Yes."

He grunted. She guessed that sound meant he didn't really believe her. She was about to tell him what she thought about his rude behavior when he pulled her even closer to him and gently began to rub her back. His chin rested on the top of her head.

He was being extremely affectionate. Sara was astonished. She wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

She decided she didn't care if he realized or not. The action was so telling, she couldn't contain the burst of joy that filled her heart.

Just to test him she tried to move away. He tightened his hold. "All right, Sara," he announced. "I'd like to get some sleep tonight. Tell me what's on your mind. Get it done so I can rest."

She couldn't quit smiling. That was quite all right, she told herself, because he couldn't see her expression. He'd pressed her face against the side of his neck. His fingers were gently stroking the hair away from her temple.

She had been quite determined to tell him that he loved her. She'd believed that once she'd told him, he'd realize she was right. Now she didn't want to say anything to ruin the moment. He wasn't ready to acknowledge the truth quite yet.

The revelation had finally settled in her mind. It stunned her a little. Nathan was afraid. She wasn't certain if he was afraid of loving anyone or just afraid of loving her… but he was afraid.

Lord, he'd go into a rage if she told him what she was thinking. Men didn't like to hear they were afraid of anything.

"Sara, damn it all, hurry up and get it said so I can go to sleep."

"Get what said?" she countered as her mind raced for a suitable topic to talk about.

"God, you make me daft. You said you had something important to tell me."

"I did," she agreed.

"Well?"

"Nathan, don't squeeze me so tight," she whispered. He immediately let up on his hold. "I seem to have forgotten whatever it was I wanted to tell you."

He kissed her forehead. "Then go to sleep," he instructed.

She snuggled up against him. "You're a fine man, Nathan." She whispered those words of praise and then let out a loud, thoroughly unladylike yawn. "You do please me most of the time."

His deep chuckle warmed her. It wasn't enough, though. "Now it's your turn," she instructed.

"My turn to do what?" he asked. He deliberately pretended not to understand just to prick her temper.

She was too tired to nag him any longer. She closed her eyes and yawned again. "Oh, never mind," she said. "You can have your turn tomorrow."

"You're a fine woman," he whispered. "You please me, too."

Her sigh of pleasure filled the room. "I know," she whispered back.

She fell asleep before he could give her a lecture on the merits of humility. Nathan closed his eyes. He needed rest, for God only knew what tomorrow would bring, with Lady Sara trying her damnedest to run things.

If Nathan had learned anything of value over the past weeks, it was never to expect the usual.

He had believed he would have to protect his wife from the world. Now he knew the truth. It had become his duty to protect the world from his wife.

It was an absurd revelation, of course, but the marquess still fell asleep with a grin on his face.