The Gift

Chapter Three

She didn't faint; she screamed. Nathan didn't try to quiet her down. When he couldn't stand the grating noise another second he simply dragged her over to the Emerald Shipping Company offices. He left the hysterical woman in her aunt's capable hands. Because he believed he was capable of gentlemanly behavior upon rare occasion, he didn't start laughing until he was once again outside.

Nathan had thoroughly enjoyed her reaction to his announcement. Lady Sara wasn't at all subtle. He doubted he would ever have to worry about knowing what was on her mind. Nathan, conditioned to sneakiness all his life, found his straightforward bride refreshing. Loud, he added as an afterthought, but refreshing all the same.

After he took care of a few remaining details Nathan joined the last of the crew aboard the ship. Jimbo and Matthew were waiting on deck for him. They were both scowling, but Nathan decided to let them get away with their show of insolence. He had saddled the loyal men with the chore of getting Sara and Nora settled in their cabins.

"Did she finally quit screaming?" Nathan asked.

"When I threatened to put a gag in her mouth," Jimbo answered. The big man increased his frown and added, "She hit me then."

Nathan let his exasperation show. "I assume she isn't too frightened any longer," he replied dryly.

"I'm not so certain she ever was frightened," Matthew interjected. The older man grinned. "Didn't you notice the fire in her eyes when you dragged her into the offices? She looked bloody furious to me."

Jimbo reluctantly nodded. "After you left she kept shouting that it was all just a cruel jest. Not even her sweet-tempered aunt could calm her down. Your lady actually demanded that someone pinch her so she'd wake up and find it was all just a black nightmare."

"Aye, she did," Matthew agreed with a chuckle. "Felix took her to heart, too. For all his bulk, the boy isn't very cunning."

"Felix touched her?" Nathan was more incredulous than angry.

"No, he didn't touch her," Jimbo rushed out. "He tried to give her a little pinch, that's all. He thought he was being accommodating. You know how the boy likes to please. Your little bride turned into a wildcat as soon as he went for her. I wager Felix won't be so eager to obey next time she gives an order."

Nathan shook his head in vexation. He started to turn away. Matthew stopped him with his next remark. "Perhaps Lady Sara will do better if we put her in with her aunt."

"No."

Nathan realized how abrupt he'd sounded when both men smiled at him. "She stays in my cabin," he added in a much softer tone of voice.

Matthew paused to rub his chin. "Well now, boy, that could be a problem," he drawled. "She doesn't know it's your cabin."

Nathan wasn't at all concerned about that announcement. He frowned at Matthew, but only because the seaman had used the ridiculous nickname "boy" when he'd addressed him. Nathan knew his unspoken censure wouldn't do him any good, though. Both Matthew and Jimbo called him that insulting nickname whenever they were alone with him. They didn't think he was seasoned enough to merit the name "captain" in private. Nathan had inherited the pair when he'd taken over the vessel. The two men had quickly proven to be invaluable. They knew all the ins and outs of pirating and had shown him the way. He knew they thought of themselves as his guardians. God only knew they'd told him so often enough. Still, they'd put their lives on the line countless times in the past to save his backside. Their loyalty far outweighed their irritating habits.

Since the two men were staring at him with such expectant looks on their faces, Nathan said, "She'll find out soon enough whose cabin she's in."

"The aunt is in a poor way," Matthew said then. "I'd wager a couple of her ribs are cracked. As soon as she falls asleep I'm going to strip her raw and bind her tight around the middle."

"The Winchesters did the damage, didn't they?" Jimbo asked.

Nathan nodded. "Which bastard brother was it?" Matthew asked that question.

"It appears that Henry was behind the scheme," Nathan explained. "But I would imagine the other brothers were aware of what was going on."

"Are we going to take Nora home?" Matthew asked.

"We're charted in that direction," Nathan answered. "I don't know what the hell else to do with the woman. Is she strong enough to make the journey?" he asked Matthew. "Or are we going to have to bury her at sea?"

"She'll do all right," Matthew predicted. "There's a tough hide underneath all those bruises. Yes, if I coddle her real nice, she'll make it." He nudged Jimbo in his side, then added, "Now I'm having to nursemaid two weaklings."

Nathan knew he was being baited. He turned and walked away. From behind Jimbo called out, "He's referring to you, boy."

Nathan raised his hand high into the air to make an obscene gesture before disappearing down the stairs. The men's hearty laughter followed him.

The next several hours were spent on chores for every hand aboard the Seahawk. The cargo was secured, the jib raised, the anchor weighed, and the eight cannons given a last spit and oiling before the command was given to sail.

Nathan did his part until his stomach became so queasy he was forced to stop. Jimbo took over command of the forty-two seamen when Nathan went below again.

It was a ritual getting seasick the first couple of days out. Nathan had learned to put up with the inconvenience. He was certain no one besides Matthew and Jimbo were aware of his problem, but that fact didn't ease his embarrassment at all.

From past experience he knew he had another hour or two before he was completely out of commission. Nathan decided to look in on his bride to make certain she was all right. If luck was on his side, she would be sound asleep, and the inevitable confrontation could be put off until later. God knew she should be exhausted. His bride had been awake for over twenty-four hours, and the tantrum she'd thrown when she found out that he was indeed her husband surely had worn her out. Still, if she wasn't sleeping, Nathan determined to have it out with her and get it over and done with. The sooner the rules were set down for her, the sooner she could come to terms with his expectations for their future together.

She would probably get hysterical on him again, Nathan guessed. He braced himself against the inevitable pleading and weeping and opened the door.

Sara wasn't asleep. As soon as Nathan walked into the cabin she bounded off the bed and stood there with her hands clenched at her sides, facing him.

It was apparent she wasn't quite over her fear or her anger yet. It was damp and stuffy inside the cabin. He shut the door behind him, then walked over to the center of the large square room. He could feel her staring at him when he reached up and lifted the square trap built into the ceiling. He propped the makeshift window open with a stick wedged into the third groove.

Fresh sea air and sunlight flooded the cabin. Nathan's stomach lurched in reaction. He took a deep breath, then walked back over to the door and leaned against it. In the back of his mind lurked the possibility that his bride might just decide to take flight. He wasn't in any condition to go chasing after her, and therefore he blocked the only exit.

Sara stared at Nathan a good long while. She could feel herself shaking and knew it was only a matter of time before her fury got the upper hand. She was determined to hide her anger from him, though, no matter what the cost. Showing any emotion in front of the barbarian would certainly be a poor beginning.

The expression on Nathan's face was one of resignation. His arms were folded in front of his chest, his stance relaxed.

She thought he looked bored enough to fall asleep. That didn't sit well. His intense stare was making her toes curl, too. Sara forced herself to stare back. She wasn't about to cower in front of him, and if anyone was going to win the rude staring contest, it was going to be she.

Nathan thought his bride seemed quite desperate to hide her fear from him. She wasn't doing a very good job of it, for her eyes were already getting misty, and she was trembling.

Lord, he hoped he was up to another round of hysterics. His stomach was railing against the pitch of the ship. Nathan tried to block the feeling and concentrate on the matter at hand.

Sara was a beautiful woman. The streamers of sunlight made her hair look more golden than brown. There was a pick of the litter in the Winchester family after all, he thought to himself.

She was still dressed in the unappealing dark blue gown.

The neckline was too damned low, in his opinion. He thought about mentioning that fact to her later, after she'd gotten rid of some of her fear, but her sudden frown changed his inclination. It was imperative that she understood who was in charge.

He stood in the shadows of the door, but she could still see the long, wicked scar running the length of the side of his right arm. The white mark against such bronzed skin was noticeable. Sara stared at it a long minute while she wondered how he'd come by such a horrible injury, then she let out a soft little sigh.

He was still dressed in a pair of indecently snug fawn-colored britches. It was a miracle to her that he could even breathe. His white shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, and the casualness of his attire irritated her almost as much as his sudden frown. She thought about waiting until later to tell him that one simply didn't wear such unseemly attire when one was traveling aboard such a fine vessel, but his intense frown changed her inclination. It was imperative that he understand what was expected of him now that he was married.

"You dress like a tavern wench."

It took a full minute for the insult to penetrate. At first Sara was too astonished to react. Then she let out a loud gasp.

Nathan hid his smile. Sara didn't look as if she was going to weep. In truth, she looked like she wanted to kill him. It was a nice beginning. "You're falling out of your neckline, bride."

Her hands immediately covered the top of her gown. Her face was flaming red in the space of a heartbeat. "It was the only dress that was dark enough to conceal me when I walked along…" She stopped her explanation as soon as she realized she was actually defending herself.

"Conceal?" Nathan drawled. "Sara, it doesn't conceal anything. In future you will not wear such revealing gowns.

The only one who sees your body will be me. Do you understand me?"

Oh, she understood all right. The man was a cad, she concluded. How easily he'd turned the tables on her, too. Sara shook her head. She wasn't about to let him put her in such a vulnerable position when he had so much accounting to do.

"You look like a barbarian," she blurted out. "Your hair's much longer than is fashionable, and you dress like a… villain. Guests traveling aboard such a fine boat should keep their appearances impeccable. You look like you've just carried in the crops," she added with a nod. "And your scowl is downright ugly."

Nathan decided he was finished with foolish banter and homed in on the true matter at hand.

"All right, Sara," he began. "Get it over and done with."

"Get what over and done with?"

His sigh was long, weary, absolutely infuriating to her. She desperately tried to hold onto her temper, but the urge to shout at him was making her head pound and her throat ache. Her eyes stung with tears. He had so much explaining to do before she would ever consider forgiving him, she thought, and he had damn well better get on with it before she decided his sins were too mortal ever to be forgiven at all.

"The fit of weeping and begging," Nathan explained with a shrug. "It's obvious to me that you're afraid," he continued. "You're about to start crying, aren't you? I know you must want me to take you back home, Sara. I've decided to save you the humiliation of pleading by simply explaining that no matter what you say or do, you're staying with me. I'm your husband, Sara. Get used to it."

"Will it bother you if I weep?" she asked in a voice that sounded like someone was choking her.

"Not in the least," he said. It was a lie, of course, for it would bother him to see her upset, yet he wasn't about to admit to that fact. Women generally used that kind of information against a man and burst into tears every time they wanted something.

Sara took a deep breath. She didn't dare speak another word until she'd gained control of herself. Did he actually think she would beg? By God, he was a horrid man. Intimidating, too. He didn't seem to possess an ounce of compassion.

She continued to stare at him while she gathered her courage to ask him all the painful questions she'd stored up inside her for such a long time. She doubted that he would tell her the truth, but she still wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

He thought she looked ready to cry. Sara was apparently back to being terrified of him, he decided. Hell, he hoped she wouldn't faint again. He had little patience with the weaker sex, yet found he didn't want Sara to be too frightened of him.

In truth, he felt a little sorry for her. She couldn't possibly want to be married to him. He was a St. James, after all, and she had been raised a Winchester. She had certainly been trained to hate him. Poor Sara was just a victim in the scheme, a pawn the daft king had used to try to right the differences between the two feuding families.

Still, he couldn't undo the past for her. His signature was on that contract, and he was bound and determined to honor it.

"You might as well understand that I'm not going to walk away from this marriage," he stated in a hard voice. "Not now, not ever."

After making that statement he patiently waited for the fit of hysterics sure to come.

"What took you so long?"

She'd spoken in such a soft whisper, he wasn't certain he heard her correctly. "What did you say?"

"Why did you wait so long?" she asked him in a much stronger voice.

"Wait so long to do what?"

He looked completely bewildered to her. She took another deep breath. "To come for me," she explained. Her voice shook. She gripped her hands together in a bid to hang onto her temper, then said, "Why did you wait so long to come and get me?"

He was so surprised by her question, he didn't immediately respond. That Nathan didn't even think she merited a response was the last blow to her pride that Sara was going to take. In a near shout Sara demanded, "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you?"

His eyes widened in surprise. His bride had just shouted at him. He stared at her in a way that made her think he thought she'd lost her mind.

And then he slowly shook his head at her. Her composure shattered. "No?" she shouted. "Was I so insignificant to you that you couldn't even be bothered getting around to the chore of coming for me?"

Nathan was stunned by her questions. He knew he shouldn't let her raise her voice to him, but her comments so astonished him, he wasn't certain what to say.

"You actually want me to believe you're angry because I didn't come for you sooner?" he asked.

Sara picked up the nearest object she could get her hands on and threw it at him. Fortunately, the chamberpot was empty. "Angry?" she asked in a roar worthy of a commander. "What makes you think I'm angry, Nathan?"

He dodged the chamberpot and the two candles that followed, then leaned back against the door. "Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "You seem troubled."

"I seem…" She was too incensed to stammer out another word.

Nathan's grin was in full evidence when he nodded. "Troubled," he finished for her.

"Do you own a pistol?"

"Yes."

"May I borrow it?"

He forced himself not to laugh. "Now why would you want to borrow my pistol, Sara?"

"I want to shoot you, Nathan."

He did laugh then. Sara decided she hated him. The bluster went out of her. She wanted to weep with frustration. Perhaps her relatives had been right after all. Perhaps he did despise her, maybe even as much as her parents told her he would.

She gave up the battle and sat down on the bed again. She folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze downcast. "Please leave my cabin. If you wish to explain your sorry conduct to me, you may do so tomorrow. I'm too weary to listen to your excuses now."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She dared to give him orders. "That isn't how our marriage works, Sara. I give the orders, and you obey them."

His voice had been hard, angry. It was deliberate, of course, for he wanted her to understand he meant what he said. He thought he was probably frightening her again. She started wringing her hands in obvious agitation, and though he felt a bit guilty because he had to resort to such intimidating tactics, the issue was far too important to soften his approach. Nathan promised himself that no matter how pitiful she looked or sounded when she started crying, he would not back down.

Sara continued to wring her hands for a long minute, pretending that it was her husband's stubborn neck she had between her fingers. The fantasy helped to lighten her mood.

Nathan nagged her back to reality when he growled, "Did you hear me, bride?"

God, she hated the name "bride!"

"Yes, I heard you," she answered. "But I don't really understand. Why is that how this marriage works?"

The tears were back in her eyes again. Nathan suddenly felt like an ogre. "Are you trying to bait me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No," she answered. "I just supposed our marriage was going to go along in the opposite direction.

Yes, I always did," she added in a rush when he frowned intently at her.

"Oh? And just how did you think this marriage was going to go along?"

He actually seemed to be interested in her opinion. Sara immediately took heart. She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. "Well, I supposed that it would always be my duty to tell you what I wanted."

"And?" he prodded when she quit her explanation.

"And it would always be your duty to get it for me."

She could tell from his dark expression he didn't like hearing that opinion. She could feel herself getting riled up again. "You're supposed to cherish me, Nathan. You did promise."

"I did not promise to cherish you," he countered in a shout. "For God's sake, woman, I didn't promise you anything."

She wasn't about to let him get away with that lie. She jumped to her feet to confront him again. "Oh, yes, you did promise," she shouted back. "I read the contract, Nathan, from start to finish. In return for the land and the treasury you're supposed to keep me safe. You're also supposed to be a good husband, a kind father, and most of all, Viking, you're supposed to love and cherish me."

He was at a loss for words. He suddenly felt like laughing again. The twisted turn in the topic was exasperating. Exhilarating, too.

"You really want me to love and cherish you?"

"I most certainly do," she replied. She folded her arms across her chest. "You promised to love and cherish me, Nathan, and by God, you're going to."

She sat down on the bed again and took her time straightening the folds in her gown. The blush that covered her cheeks told of her embarrassment.

"And what are you supposed to be doing while I'm loving and cherishing you?" he asked. "What are your promises, bride?"

"I didn't promise anything," she answered. "I was only four years old, Nathan. I didn't sign the contract. You did."

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Then you don't believe you have to honor your father's signature? The promises he made on your behalf aren't binding?"

"I didn't say that," she whispered. She let out a loud sigh, then added, "Of course I will honor them. They were given in my name."

"And what are they?" he demanded.

She took a long time answering him. She looked thoroughly disgruntled, too. "I have to love and cherish you, too," she muttered.

He wasn't satisfied. "And?"

"And what?" she asked, pretending ignorance.

He decided then and there that his bride was trying to make him crazed. "I also read the contract through from start to finish," he snapped. "Don't try my patience."

"Oh, all right," she countered. "I have to obey you, too. There, are you happy now?"

"Yes," he returned. "We're now back where we started," he said then. "As I instructed you before, I will be the one to give the orders, and you will be the one to obey them. And don't you dare ask me why again."

"I will try to obey your orders, Nathan, when I think they're reasonable."

His tolerance was at an end. "I don't give a damn if you think they're reasonable or not," he roared. "You will do as I say."

She didn't seem at all upset that he'd raised his voice to her. Her voice was quite mild when she said, "You really shouldn't use blasphemies in a lady's presence, Nathan. It's common, and you happen to be a marquess."

The look on his face was chilling. Sara felt completely defeated. "You hate me, don't you?"

"No."

She didn't believe him. Lord, the mere sight of her was making him ill. His complexion had a gray cast to it. "Oh, yes, you do hate me," she argued. "You can't fool me. I'm a Winchester, and you hate all the Winchesters."

"I do not hate you."

"You don't have to shout at me. I'm only trying to have a decent conversation, after all, and the least you could do is control your temper." She didn't give him time to shout at her again. "I'm very weary, Nathan. I would like to rest now."

He decided to let her have her way. He opened the door to leave, then turned around again.

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"You aren't at all afraid of me, are you?"

He looked quite astonished. It was as though the truth had just dawned on him. She shook her head. "No."

He turned around again so she wouldn't see his smile.

"Nathan?"

"What?"

"I was a little afraid of you when I first saw you," she admitted. "Does that make you feel better?"

His answer was to shut the door.

The minute she was alone again she burst into tears. Oh, what a naive fool she'd been. All those wasted years of dreaming about her wonderful knight in golden armor coming to claim her for his bride. She'd imagined him to be a gentle, understanding, sensitive man who was thoroughly in love with her.

Her dreams mocked her. Her knight was more tarnished than golden. He had just proven to be as understanding, as compassionate, as loving as a goat.

Sara continued to feel sorry for herself until exhaustion overcame her.

Nathan looked in on her again an hour later. Sara was sound asleep. She hadn't bothered to remove her clothes but slept on top of the multicolored quilt. She rested on her stomach, her arms thrown wide.

A feeling of contentment settled inside him. It was a strange, altogether foreign feeling, but he found he actually liked seeing her in his bed. He noticed Nora's wedding band was still on her finger. Odd, but he didn't like seeing that at all. He pulled the ring off her finger just to rid himself of his own irrational irritation and put the band in his pocket.

He turned his attention to taking Sara's clothes off. After he'd unbuttoned the long row of tiny clasps down her back he eased the gown off. Her shoes and stockings came next. He was awkward with the task, and the petticoats almost defeated him. The knot in the string was impossible to untie. Nathan used the tip of his knife to cut the string away. He kept at the chore until he'd stripped his bride of all but her silk chemise. The white garment was extremely feminine, with lace edging the scooped neckline.

He gave in to his urge and brushed the back of his hand down her back.

Sara didn't wake up. She let out a little sigh in her sleep and rolled over onto her back just as Nathan was tossing the rest of her garments on the nearby chair.

Nathan didn't have any idea how long he stood there staring at her. She looked so innocent, so trusting, so damned vulnerable when she slept. Her eyelashes were black, thick, startling against the creaminess of her skin. Her body was magnificent to him. The fullness of her breasts, only partially concealed by the flimsy chemise, aroused him. When he realized he was physically reacting to her he turned to leave the cabin.

What in God's name was he going to do with her? How could he ever maintain his distance from someone as enticing as his bride?

Nathan put those questions aside when a wave of seasickness hit him. He waited until his stomach quit lurching so violently, then lifted the blanket from the hook and covered Sara. His hand touched the side of her face, and he couldn't help but smile when she instinctively rubbed her cheek against his knuckles. She reminded him of an affectionate little kitten.

She turned, and her mouth touched his skin. Nathan abruptly pulled his hand away. He left the room and went to look in on Sara's aunt. Nora appeared to be sleeping peacefully. She looked pale, and her breathing was labored, but she didn't seem to be in much pain. Her expression was serene. Nathan remembered the ring in his pocket. He walked over to the side of the bed, lifted her hand, and slipped the band back on.

Nora opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thank you, dear boy. I'll rest much easier now that I have my Johnny's ring back."

Nathan acknowledged her gratitude with a curt nod, then turned and walked back to the door. "You think I'm a sentimental fool, don't you?" she called out.

His smile was quick. "Aye," he answered. "I do."

His blunt honesty made her chuckle. "Have you spoken to Sara yet?" she asked.

"I have."

"Is she all right?" Nora asked. She wished he'd turn around so she could see his expression.

"She's sleeping," Nathan announced. He opened the door and started out.

"Wait," Nora called out. "Please don't leave yet." He reacted to the tremor he heard in her voice and immediately turned around again. "I'm very frightened," Nora whispered.

Nathan shut the door and walked back over to the old woman's side. His arms were folded across his chest. He looked relaxed, save for the frown on his face. "You needn't be afraid," he told her. His voice was soft, soothing. "You're safe now, Nora."

She shook her head. "No, you misunderstand," she explained. "I'm not afraid for myself, dear boy. My worry is for you and Sara. Do you have any idea what you're letting yourself in for? You can't possibly know what those men are capable of. Not even I understood the depths to which they would sink for greed. They'll come after you."

Nathan shrugged. "I'll be ready," he answered. "The Winchesters aren't a challenge to me."

"But dear boy, they-"

"Nora, you don't know what I'm capable of," he countered. "When I tell you I'll be able to handle any challenge, you'll just have to believe me."

"They'll use Sara to get to you," Nora whispered. "They'll hurt her if they have to," she added with a nod.

"I protect what's mine." His voice was hard, emphatic.

His arrogance actually calmed her, too. She slowly nodded. "I believe you will," she said. "But what about the Winchester women?"

"Do you mean all of them, or one specifically?"

"Sara."

"She'll do all right," he said. "She isn't a Winchester any longer. She's a St. James. You insult my capabilities when you worry about her safety. I take care of my possessions."

"Possessions?" she repeated. "I've never heard a wife referred to in quite that fashion."

"You've been away from England long years, Nora. Nothing's changed in all that while, though. A wife is still a husband's possession."

"My Sara's very tenderhearted," Nora said, turning the topic a bit. "These past years haven't been easy for her. She's been considered an outsider because of the marriage contract. Some would say she was a leper in her own family. Sara was never allowed to attend any of the functions young ladies so look forward to. The fuss was always made over her sister Belinda."

Nora paused to take a breath, then continued. "Sara's fiercely loyal to her parents and her sister, of course, though for the life of me I can't understand why she would give any of them the time of day. You'd best beware of Sara's sister, for she's as cunning as her Uncle Henry. They're cut from the same evil bolt."

"You worry too much, Nora."

"I just want you to understand… Sara," she whispered.

The wheeze was back in her voice, and it was obvious that she was becoming weary. "My Sara's a dreamer," she continued. "Look at her drawings, and you'll understand what I'm saying. Her head's in the clouds most of the time. She sees only the goodness in people. She doesn't want to believe her father is like his brothers. I place the blame on Sara's mother, of course. She's lied to her daughter all these years, made up excuses for each and every sin the others committed."

Nathan didn't comment.

"Dear boy," she began again.

His sudden frown stopped her. "Madam, I'll make a pact with you," Nathan said. "I'll refrain from calling you old woman if you'll quit calling me your dear boy. Are we in agreement?"

Nora smiled. She was squinting up at the giant of a man. His very presence seemed to swallow up the room. "Yes, calling you dear boy was rather foolish," she agreed with a chuckle. "Do I have your permission to call you Nathan?"

"You do," he answered. "As for your concerns about Sara, they're all ill-founded. I will not allow anyone to hurt her. She's my wife, and I will always treat her kindly. In time she'll realize her good fortune."

His hands were clasped behind his back like a general's, and he was pacing the small room.

"There is also the telling fact that you protected her from those thugs the other evening," Nora said. "I know you'll take good care of her. I only hope you'll consider her tender feelings, too, Nathan. You see, Sara's actually very shy. She keeps her thoughts bottled up inside her. It's very difficult to know what she's feeling."

Nathan raised an eyebrow over that announcement. "Are we talking about the same woman, madam?"

Nora's grin was telling. She paused to pat a stray hair back into her bun. "I happened to overhear a little of your conversation with my niece," she confessed. "I'm not in the habit of eavesdropping," she added, "but it was a rather loud discussion the two of you were having, and actually they were mostly Sara's comments I overheard. Just a snatch here and there," she added. "Tell me this, Nathan. Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Love and cherish her?"

"You heard that particular snatch, did you?" He couldn't contain his grin when he remembered the militant way his bride had dared to challenge him.

"I do believe your entire crew overheard Sara's remarks. I must have a little chat with her about her unladylike bellowing. I've never heard her raise her voice before, yet I cannot truly fault her. You did take your time coming to claim her. She's been stewing over your… forgetfulness. You must believe me when I tell you it isn't at all in her nature to raise her voice to anyone."

Nathan shook his head. He turned and walked out of the cabin. He was pulling the door shut behind him when Nora called out, "You've still to answer me. Will you love and cherish her?"

"Do I have a choice, madam?"

He shut the door before she could answer him.

Sara awakened a short time later to the horrid noise of someone retching. The tortured sound made her own stomach queasy. She sat up with a start. Her first thought was for Nora. The rolling motion of the ship must have made her aunt sick.

Sara immediately tossed the cover aside and rushed to the door. She was still so sleepy, she felt completely disoriented. She didn't even realize she was only partially dressed until she tripped over one of her petticoats.

One of Nathan's maids had obviously been at work. Sara saw that her trunk had been placed next to the far wall and realized she must have slept through its delivery. She blushed over the realization that a man had come into her cabin while she'd been asleep. She hoped the maid had covered her with the blanket before the visitation had taken place.

She heard a sound in the hallway and opened the door. Nathan was just walking past when she peeked outside. He never bothered to glance her way, just reached out and pulled the door closed again when he strode by.

Sara wasn't offended by his rudeness, and she wasn't worried about her aunt any longer. When she had seen the color of Nathan's complexion she'd known immediately, of course. Her fierce Viking husband looked as green as the sea.

Could it be possible? she asked herself. Was the invincible, ill-mannered marquess of St. James afflicted with seasickness?

Sara would have laughed out loud if she hadn't been so exhausted. She went back to bed and took a long nap, getting up only briefly to eat dinner with Nora before returning yet again to her bed for more badly needed sleep.

The air inside the chamber cooled considerably during the night, and Sara woke up shivering. She tried to pull the quilt up around her shoulders, but the blanket was caught on something quite solid. When Sara finally opened her eyes she found the cause. The blanket was tangled up in Nathan's long, naked legs.

He was sleeping next to her.

She almost had heart failure. She opened her mouth to scream. He clamped his big hand over half her face.

"Don't you dare make a sound," he ordered.

She pushed his hand away. "Get out of my bed." The command came out in a furious whisper.

He let out a weary sigh before responding to that command. "Sara, you happen to be sleeping in my bed. If anyone's going to leave, it's going to be you."

He sounded sleepy to her, and mean. Sara was actually comforted by his callous attitude. She guessed he was so exhausted he only wanted to sleep, and her virtue was therefore still safe.

"Very well," she announced. "I'll go and sleep with Nora."

"No, you won't," he answered. "You aren't going to leave this cabin. If you wish to, bride, you may sleep on the floor."

"Why do you persist in calling me bride?" she demanded. "If you have to call me something other than my name, then call me wife, not bride."

"But you aren't my wife yet," he responded.

She didn't understand. "I most certainly am your wife… aren't I?"

"Not until I've bedded you."

A long silent minute passed before she responded to that statement.

"You may call me bride."

"I don't need your permission," he growled. He reached out to take her into his arms when she started shivering again, but she pushed his hands away.

"My God, I can't believe this is happening to me," she cried out. "You're supposed to be kind, gentle, understanding."

"What makes you think I'm not?" he couldn't resist asking.

"You're naked," she blurted out.

"And that means I'm not-"

She wanted to hit him. Her face was turned away from him, but she could hear the laughter in his voice. "You're embarrassing me," she announced. "On purpose."

His patience was at an end. "I am not deliberately trying to embarrass you," he snapped. "This is just how I sleep, bride. You'll like it, too, once-"

"Oh, God," she said on a groan.

She decided she was through with the shameful conversation. She scooted down to the bottom of the bed so that she could get out, as one side was blocked by the wall, and the other side was blocked by Nathan. It was too dark inside the cabin to find her wrapper. Nathan had kicked one of the covers off the bed, though. Sara grabbed it and wrapped it around herself.

She didn't know how long she stood there glaring at his back. His deep, even breathing indicated he was sound asleep.

She was freezing in no time. Her thin nightgown offered little protection against the chill in the room.

She was miserable. She sat down on the floor, tucked her bare feet under the blanket, and then stretched out on her side.

The floor felt as though it were covered with a layer of ice. "All married couples have separate chambers," she muttered. "I have never, ever been treated so poorly in all my days. If this is your idea of how you plan to cherish me, you're already failing, Nathan."

He heard every word of her whispered tirade. He held his smile when he said "You're a quick learner, bride."

She didn't know what he was talking about. "And what is it you think I've learned so quickly?" she asked.

"Where your place is," he drawled. "It took my dog much longer."

Her scream of outrage filled the cabin. "Your dog?" She came to her feet in one swift action, then poked him in his shoulder. "Move over, husband."

"Climb over, Sara," he ordered. "I always sleep on the outside."

"Why?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"For protection," he answered. "If the cabin is breached, the enemy will have to get through me in order to get to you. Now will you go to sleep, woman?"

"Is this an old rule or a new one?"

He didn't answer her. She poked his shoulder again. "Have there been other women in this bed, Nathan?"

"No."

She didn't know why, but she was immensely pleased with that surly denial. Her anger dissipated when she realized her husband really meant to try to protect her. He was still an ogre, but he would do his best to keep her safe. She got into bed and squeezed herself up against the wall.

The bed soon began to shake from her shivers. Nathan's tolerance was gone. He reached out and roughly pulled her into his arms. Sara was literally covered by his warmth. And his nakedness. He draped one of his heavy legs over both of hers, immediately warming the lower half of her body. His chest and arms took care of the rest of her.

She didn't protest. She couldn't. His hand was clamped over her mouth. She snuggled closer to him, tucked the top of her head under his chin, and closed her eyes.

The instant Nathan removed his hand from her mouth, she whispered, "If anyone is going to sleep on the floor, it's going to be you."

His low grunt of irritation was his only response. Sara smiled to herself. She was feeling much better. She let out a yawn, moved even closer to her husband, and let him take her shivers completely away.

She fell asleep feeling warm and safe… and just a little bit cherished.

It was a nice beginning.