"What the hell is a proper greeting?" he asked. He knew exactly what she wanted from him, but he wanted to see what she would do next.
She opened her eyes and frowned at him. "You're supposed to kiss me."
"Why?" he asked, baiting her again.
Her exasperation was obvious. "Just do it," she commanded.
Before he could ask another aggravating question she clasped the sides of his face with her hands and pulled his head down toward her. "Oh, never mind," she whispered "I'll do it myself."
He didn't offer any resistance. But he didn't take over the duty either. Sara placed a chaste kiss on his mouth, then leaned back. "This would feel much better if you cooperated, Nathan. You're supposed to kiss me back."
Her voice was low, sensual, as soft as her warm body pressed against his. A man could only take so much teasing. Nathan lowered his head and slowly rubbed his mouth over hers. He caught her sigh when he opened her mouth and deepened the kiss.
She was already melting in his arms. He was once again nearly undone by her easy response to his touch. His tongue dueled with hers, and he couldn't contain his low growl of pleasure.
When he finally pulled back from her she slumped against him. He couldn't stop himself from putting his arms around her and holding her tight. She smelled like roses and cinnamon.
"Who taught you how to kiss?" he demanded in a rough whisper. It was an illogical question, he supposed, given the fact that she'd been a virgin when he'd taken her to his bed, but he was compelled to ask anyway.
"You taught me how to kiss," she answered.
"You never kissed anyone before me?"
She shook her head. His anger dissipated in a flash. "If you don't like the way I kiss…" she began.
"I like it."
She quit protesting.
He suddenly pulled completely away from her, grabbed hold of her hand, and dragged her over to the candles. He blew both flames out and then headed for the corridor.
"Nathan, I can't leave the galley," she announced.
"You need a nap."
"I what? I never take naps."
"You do now."
"But what about my lovely soup?"
"Damn it, Sara, I don't want you cooking again."
She frowned at his broad back. Lord, he was bossy. "I already explained why I took on this duty," she muttered.
"Do you think you can win the men's loyalty with a bowl of slop?"
If he slowed down just a little, she thought, she would be able to kick him in the back of his legs. "It isn't slop," she shouted instead.
He didn't argue with her. He continued to drag her along all the way back to their cabin. She was a bit surprised when he followed her inside.
He shut the door behind him and bolted it.
"Turn around, Sara."
She gave him a good frown for being so dictatorial, then did as he commanded. He was much quicker unbuttoning the gown than he had been the last time.
"I really don't want to have a nap," she told him again.
He didn't quit prodding her until her gown fell to the floor. It still hadn't dawned on her that he really wasn't interested in forcing her to sleep. He stripped her down to her chemise, but when he tried to remove that garment she pushed his hands away.
Nathan stared at her a long minute. Her body was simply perfection to him. Her breasts were full, her waist narrow, and her legs long, shapely, exquisite.
His hot stare soon made her uncomfortable. Sara tugged on the straps of her chemise, trying without much success to conceal a little more of her breasts.
She quit feeling embarrassed when he unbuttoned his shirt. That action gained her full attention. "Are you taking a nap, too?"
"I never take naps."
He tossed his shirt aside, leaned back against the door, and began to pull his boots off. Sara backed up a space.
"You aren't just changing your clothes, are you?"
His grin was lopsided, endearing. "No."
"You don't want to…"
He didn't look at her when he answered. "Oh, yes, I want to," he drawled.
"No."
His reaction was immediate. He stood to his full height and walked toward her. His hands were on his hips. "No?"
She shook her head.
"Why the hell not?"
"It's daylight," she blurted out.
"Damn it, Sara, you aren't afraid again, are you? Honest to God, I don't think I can go through that ordeal again."
She was outraged. "Ordeal? You call making love to me an ordeal?"
He wasn't going to let her stray from answering his question. "Are you afraid?" he demanded.
He looked as though he dreaded her answer. Sara suddenly realized she had a way out if she wanted it, but she immediately discarded that idea. She wasn't going to lie to him.
"I wasn't afraid last night," she announced. She folded her arms across her chest and then added, "You were."
That remark wasn't worthy of a retort. "You said you didn't hurt anymore," he reminded her as he moved forward another step.
"I'm not tender now," she whispered. "But we both know I will be if you persist in getting your way, Nathan."
His smile indicated his amusement. "Will that be so unbearable?"
A warm knot was already forming in the pit of her stomach. All the man had to do was look at her in that special way of his and she came apart.
"Are you going to want to… move again?"
He didn't laugh. She looked so worried, and he didn't want her to think he was mocking her feelings. He wasn't going to lie, either. "Yeah," he drawled as he reached for her. "I'm going to want to move again."
"Then we aren't going to do anything but nap."
The little woman really needed to understand who was husband and who was wife, Nathan thought to himself. He decided he'd explain all about her duty to obey him later. All he wanted to do was kiss her. He threw his arm around her shoulders, dragged her over to the trap, and didn't let go of her when he reached up and pulled the wooden door shut.
The cabin was pitched into darkness. Nathan paused to kiss Sara. It was a hot, wet, lingering kiss that let her know with certainty that he was going to get his way.
Then he turned to light the candles. Her hand stayed his action. "Don't," she whispered.
"I want to see you when you…"
He stopped his explanation when he felt her hands on his waistband. Sara's hands were shaking, but she got the buttons to his breeches undone in little time. Her fingers brushed against his hard stomach. His indrawn breath told her he liked that. It made her bolder. She rested the side of her face against his chest, then slowly edged the waistband down. "You wanted to see me when I what, Nathan?" she whispered.
It took all he had to concentrate on what she was saying. Her fingers were slowly easing their way down toward his groin. He closed his eyes in sweet agony.
"When you find fulfillment," he said on a low groan. "God, Sara, touch me."
His body was rigid now. Sara smiled to herself. She had no idea her touch could so arouse him. She pushed his clothing down a little further. "I am touching you, Nathan."
He couldn't take the torment any longer. He took hold of her hand and placed it where he needed her touch most.
She wanted to stroke him. He wouldn't let her. His growl was deep, guttural. "Don't," he ordered. "Just hold me, squeeze me, but don't… oh, God, Sara, stop now."
He sounded as if he was in pain. She pulled her hand away. "Am I hurting you?" she whispered.
He kissed her again. She put her arms around his neck and held him close. When he moved to the side of her neck and began to place wet kisses below her earlobe she tried to touch his hard arousal again.
He took hold of her hand and put it on his waist. "It's too soon for me to lose my control," he whispered. "You make it unbearable."
She kissed the base of his neck. "Then I won't touch you there, Nathan, if you promise not to move around so much when you make love to me."
He laughed. "You'll want me to move," he told her.
He pulled her back up against his chest. "You know what, Sara?" he said between fervent kisses.
"What?"
"I've decided I'm going to make you beg."
He was as good as his word. By the time the two of them were in bed and he was settled between her thighs she was begging him to end the sweet torment.
The fire of passion inside her was completely out of control. Nathan did hurt her when he finally moved inside her. She was so tight, so hot, it was blissful agony for him to slow down. He tried to be a gentle lover, knowing how tender she was, and he didn't move at all until she began to writhe underneath him.
She found her release before he did, and her tremors gave him his own orgasm. He hadn't spoken a word during the mating. She never quit talking. She rambled on and on, tender words of love. Some made sense. Others didn't.
When he finally collapsed on top of her, when he finally regained his ability to think at all, he realized she was crying.
"God, Sara, did I hurt you again?"
"Only a little," she whispered shyly.
He leaned up to look into her eyes. "Then why are you crying?"
"I don't know why," she answered. "It was so… amazing, and I was so…"
He stopped her rambling by kissing her. When he next looked into her eyes he smiled. She looked thoroughly bemused again.
This one could get to his heart, he suddenly realized. The sound of the boatswain's whistle announcing the change of the watch was like a warning bell going off inside Nathan's mind. It was dangerous to be so attracted to his wife, foolish… irresponsible. To care for the woman would make him vulnerable, he knew. If he'd learned anything of consequence in his escapades, it was to protect himself at all costs.
Loving her could destroy him.
"Nathan, why are you frowning?"
He didn't answer her. He got out of bed, dressed with his back to her, and then walked out of the cabin. The door closed softly behind him.
Sara was too stunned by his behavior to react for a long minute. Her husband had literally fled the cabin. It was as though he had a demon chasing him.
Had their lovemaking meant so little to him that he couldn't wait to leave her? Sara burst into tears. She wanted, needed his words of love. God, he treated her as though she was nothing but a receptacle for his passion. Fast spent, fast forgotten. A whore was treated better than he'd just treated her, she thought to herself. Women of the night at least earned a shilling or two.
She hadn't even merited a growl of farewell.
When her tears were spent she took her frustration out on the bed. She made a fist and slammed it into the center of Nathan's pillow, taking great satisfaction in pretending it was her husband's head. Then she pulled his pillow against her bosom and held it tight. Nathan's scent clung to the pillowcase. So did hers.
It didn't take her long to realize how pitiful she was being. She tossed the pillow aside and turned her attention to righting the cabin.
She stayed in the room the remainder of the afternoon. She dressed in the same blue dress, and when the cabin was cleaned she sat down in one of the chairs and began to make a sketch of the ship using her pad and charcoals.
Sketching took her mind off Nathan. Matthew interrupted her when he knocked on the door to ask if she wanted to eat her dinner with the first or second change in the watch. She told him she would wait and share her meal with her aunt.
Sara was eager to find out what the men thought about her soup. The aroma had been quite nice when she'd finished stirring in all the spices. It should have a hearty flavor, she thought, for it had simmered long hours.
It was only a matter of time before the men came to thank her. She brushed her hair and changed her gown in preparation for their visitations.
Her staff would soon be completely loyal to her. Making the soup was a giant step in that direction, anyway. Why, by nightfall they would all think she was very, very worthy.
The watch turned at six that evening. The first group filed into the galley to collect their dinner just a few minutes later. The men had put in a hard day's work. The decks had been scoured, the hammocks scrubbed, netting mended, and half the cannons had been given another thorough cleaning. The seamen were weary, and their hunger was fierce. Most ate two full bowls of the heavily flavored soup before they were appeased.
They didn't start getting sick until the second watch had just eaten their share.
Sara had no idea the men were ill. She was getting impatient, though, for no one had come along to tell her what a fine job she'd done.
When a hard knock sounded at her door she rushed to answer it. Jimbo stood at the entrance, frowning at her. Her smile faltered.
"Good evening, Jimbo," she began. "Is something wrong? You look very unhappy."
"You haven't had any soup yet, have you, Lady Sara?" he asked.
His obvious concern didn't make any sense to her. She shook her head. "I was waiting to share my dinner with Nora," she explained. "Jimbo, what is that horrid sound I'm hearing?"
She looked out the door to see if she could locate the sound.
"The men."
"The men?"
Nathan suddenly appeared at Jimbo's side. The look on her husband's face made her breath catch in the back of her throat. He looked bloody furious. Sara instinctively backed up. "What's the matter, Nathan?" she asked, her alarm obvious. "Is something wrong? Is it Nora? Is she all right?"
"Nora's fine," Jimbo interjected.
Nathan motioned Jimbo out of the way, then stalked into the cabin. Sara continued to back away from him. She noticed his jaw was clenched tight. That was a bad sign.
"Are you upset about something?" she asked Nathan in a faint whisper.
He nodded.
She decided to be more specific. "Are you upset with me?"
He nodded again. Then he kicked the door shut.
"Why?" she asked, trying desperately not to let him see her fear.
"The soup." Nathan's voice was low, controlled, furious.
She was more confused by his answer than frightened. "The men didn't care for my soup?"
"It wasn't deliberate?"
Since she didn't have any idea what he meant by that question, she didn't answer. He could see the confusion in her eyes. He closed his own and counted to ten. "Then you didn't deliberately try to kill them?"
She let out a loud gasp. "Of course I didn't try to kill them. How could you think such a vile thing? The men are all part of my staff now, and I certainly wouldn't try to harm them. If they didn't like my soup, I'm sorry. I had no idea they were such persnickety eaters."
"Persnickety eaters?" He repeated those words in a roar. "Twenty of my men are now hanging over the sides of my ship. They're retching up the soup you prepared for them. Another ten are writhing in agony in their hammocks. They're not dead yet, but they sure as hell are wishing they were."
She was appalled by what he was telling her. "I don't understand," she cried out. "Do you mean to suggest that my soup wasn't any good? The men are ill because of me? Oh, God, I must go and comfort them."
He grabbed hold of her shoulders when she tried to rush past him. "Comfort them? Sara, one or two of them just might comfort you right off the ship."
"They wouldn't throw me overboard. I'm their mistress."
He felt like shouting. Then he realized he already was. He took a quick breath. "The hell they wouldn't toss you overboard," he muttered.
Nathan dragged her over to the bed and pushed her down on the quilt. "Now, wife, you're going to tell me just how you made that damned soup."
She burst into tears. It took Nathan almost twenty minutes to find the cause, and it wasn't Sara who finally gave him sufficient information. He couldn't make head or tail out of her incoherent explanation. Ivan remembered the tainted meat he'd left on the sidebar. He remembered, too, that he hadn't told Sara it was bad.
Nathan locked Sara inside the cabin so she couldn't cause any more mischief. She was furious with him because he wouldn't let her go and apologize to the men.
He didn't come to bed that night, as he and the other healthy men had to take over the next watch. Sara didn't understand that duty called and believed he was still too angry with her to want to sleep next to her.
She didn't know how she was ever going to find the courage to face her staff again. How could she convince them that she hadn't deliberately tried to do them in? That worry turned to anger in short time. How could the men believe such a sinful thing about their mistress anyway? Why, they besmirched her character by believing she would hurt them. Sara determined that once she won their trust again she would sit them all down and have a firm talk with them about their tendency to jump to conclusions.
Nathan was slow to forgive her error, too. He came down to the cabin the following morning. He glared at her but didn't speak a word. He fell asleep on top of the covers and slept the morning away.
She couldn't stand the confinement long. She couldn't stand his snoring either. It was half past the noon hour when she slipped out of the room. She went up on deck, opened her blue parasol, and set out for a brisk walk.
It turned out to be a humiliating experience. Each man she approached turned his back on her. Most still had a gray cast to their complexions. All of them had scowls. She was in tears by the time she reached the narrow steps to the highest deck. She was scarcely aware of where she was going and only wanted to get as far away from the dark frowns as possible, if only for just a few minutes.
The highest level was filled with ropes and masts. There was barely room to walk. Sara found a corner near the tallest sail, sat down, and put her opened parasol between two fat ropes.
She didn't know how long she sat there trying to think of a plan to persuade the men to like her again. Her face and arms soon turned pink from the sun. It wasn't at all fashionable for a lady to walk around with a bronzed complexion. Sara decided she'd better go back down and look in on her Aunt Nora.
It would be nice to visit with someone who cared about her. Nora wouldn't blame her. Yes, a pleasant visit was just the thing she needed. She stood up and tugged on her parasol only to find that the delicate spokes had become caught up in ropes. It took her a good five minutes to loosen the knots in the ropes enough to work the parasol partially free. The wind was high again, making the task more difficult. The sound of the sails slapping against the posts was loud enough to drown out her frustrated mutters. She gave up on the task when the material of her parasol tore. She decided then to ask Matthew or Jimbo for assistance.
Sara left the parasol dangling in the ropes and made her way back down the steps.
The crash, when it came, nearly toppled her over the side of the ship. Chester caught her in the nick of time. Both of them turned to the noise on the upper deck just in time to see one of the masts slam into a larger one.
Chester took off running, shouting for assistance as he raced up the steps. Sara decided she'd better get out of the way of the sudden chaos around her. She waited until several more men had rushed past her, then made her way down to Nora's cabin. Matthew was just coming out of the room when Sara strode past him.
"Good day, Matthew," she said in greeting. She paused to curtsy, then added, "I'll only stay a few minutes. I just wanted to see how my aunt is doing today. I promise I won't wear her out."
Matthew grinned. "I believe you," he replied. "But I'm still coming back in a half hour's time to check on Nora."
The booming crash shook the vessel then. Sara grabbed hold of the door to keep herself from pitching forward to her knees. "Heavens, the wind is fierce today, isn't it, Matthew?"
The seaman was already running toward the steps. "That wasn't the wind," he shouted over his shoulder.
Sara shut the door to Nora's cabin just as Nathan came charging out of his quarters.
Her aunt was once again propped up with pillows behind her back. Sara thought she looked a little more rested and said so. "The color's back in your cheeks, Nora, and your bruises are beginning to fade to yellow now. You'll be strolling around the decks with me in no time at all."
"Yes, I do feel better," Nora announced. "How are you faring, Sara?"
"Oh, I'm just fine," she answered. She sat down on the side of the bed and took hold of her aunt's hand.
Nora frowned at her. "I heard about the soup, child. I know you aren't doing fine."
"I didn't eat any of the soup," Sara blurted out. "But I do feel terrible about the men. I didn't mean to make them ill."
"I know you didn't mean to," Nora soothed. "I told Matthew so. I took up your defense, Sara, and told him you didn't have a malicious thought in your head. Why, you'd never do such a terrible thing on purpose."
Sara's frown matched her aunt's. "I think it's horribly rude of my staff to think such evil thoughts about their mistress. Yes, I do. Why, they're as contrary as their captain, Nora."
"What about Nathan?" Nora asked. "Is he blaming you, too?"
Sara shrugged. "He was a little upset about the soup, of course, but I don't believe he thinks I poisoned the men on purpose. He's probably being a little more understanding because he didn't eat any of it. Anyway, I've decided I don't care what the man thinks of me. I'm more upset with him than he is with me. Yes, I am," she added when Nora began to smile. "He isn't treating me at all well."
She didn't give her aunt time to respond to that dramatic statement. "Oh, I never should have said that. Nathan's my husband, and I must always be loyal to him. I'm ashamed of myself for—"
"Has he harmed you?" Nora interrupted.
"No, of course not. It's just that…"
A long minute passed while Nora tried to guess what was the matter and Sara tried to think of a way to explain.
When Sara started blushing Nora surmised that the problem had something to do with the intimate side of their marriage. "He wasn't gentle with you when he bedded you?"
Sara looked down at her lap before answering. "He was very gentle."
"Then?"
"But afterwards he didn't… that is, the second time—well, after—he just left. He didn't say a single tender word to me, Nora. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. A whore is treated with more consideration."
Nora was too relieved that Nathan had been gentle with Sara to take issue over his lack of thoughtfulness. "Did you say any tender words to him?" she asked.
"No."
"It would seem to me that Nathan might not know how to give you what you want. He might not know you need his praise."
"I don't need his praise," Sara countered in a disgruntled voice. "I would just like a little consideration. Oh, heaven help me, that's not the truth. I do need his words of praise. I don't know why I seem to need them, but I do. Nora? Do you notice how the boat is tilted to one side now? I wonder why Nathan doesn't straighten it out."
It took her aunt a minute to make the switch in topics. "Yes, it is at an angle, isn't it?" she responded. "But you did say the wind was brisk today."
"We don't seem to be clipping along either," Sara interjected. "I hope we don't topple over," she added with a sigh. "I never did learn how to swim. That shouldn't signify, though. Nathan can't let me drown."
Nora smiled. "Why can't he?"
Sara seemed surprised by that question. "Because I'm his wife," she blurted out. "He promised to protect me, Nora."
"And you have ultimate faith that he will?"
"Of course."
The vessel suddenly shifted again, pitching them even further toward the water line. Sara saw how startled Nora was; her aunt was gripping her hand. She patted Nora and said, "Nathan is the captain of this vessel, Nora, and he wouldn't let us fall over into the ocean. He knows what he's doing. Don't worry."
A sudden roar filled the cabin. It was her name being bellowed. Sara grimaced in reaction, then turned to give Nora a thoroughly disgruntled look. "Do you see what I mean, Nora? The only time Nathan says my name, he screams it. I wonder what has him in a snit now. The man has such a sour disposition. It's a wonder I can put up with him."
"Go and see what he wants," Nora suggested. "Don't let him frighten you with his shouts. Just remember to look below the bluster."
"I know," Sara said with a sigh. She stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her gown. "Look below the surface, and I'll find myself a good man," she added, repeating her aunt's suggestion of the day before. "I will try."
She kissed Nora and hurried out into the corridor. She almost bumped into Jimbo. The big man grabbed hold of her to steady her. "Come with me," he ordered.
He started to lead her toward the steps that led down to the lower level. She pulled back. "Nathan is calling for me, Jimbo. I must go to him. He's up on deck, isn't he?"
"I know where he is," Jimbo muttered. "But he needs a few more minutes to calm himself down, Sara. You can hide down here until he—"
"I'm not hiding from my husband," Sara interrupted.