The Gift (17 page)

"Damned right you're not."

Sara jumped a foot when Nathan's booming voice sounded behind her. She turned around and valiantly tried to manage a smile. After all, there was a member of her staff standing right beside her, and for that reason personal irritations should be placed aside. The scowl on her husband's face changed her inclination, though. She no longer cared that Jimbo was watching. She scowled back. "For heaven's sake, Nathan, must you sneak up on me like that? You gave me a good scare."

"Sara," Jimbo began in a whisper, "I wouldn't be…"

She ignored the seaman's mutterings. "And while I'm on the topic of your bad habits, I might as well point out that I'm getting mighty sick of your shouting at me all the time. If you have something you wish to say to me, kindly speak in a civil tone of voice, sir."

Jimbo moved to stand by her side. Matthew suddenly appeared out of the shadows and took up his position on her other side. In the back of Sara's mind was the astonishing fact that both men were actually trying to protect her.

"Nathan wouldn't ever hurt me," she announced. "He may want to, but he would never touch me, no matter how angry he is."

"He looks like he wants to kill you," Jimbo countered in a low drawl. He actually grinned, for he found Sara's gumption worthy. Wrongheaded, he added to himself, but worthy still.

Nathan was trying to calm down before he spoke again. He stared at Sara and took several deep breaths. He counted.

"He always looks like he wants to kill someone," Sara whispered back. She folded her arms in front of her, trying her damnedest to look irritated and not worried.

Nathan still hadn't said a word. The look in his eyes made her skin burn. In truth, he did look like he wanted to throttle her.

Look below the surface, her aunt had suggested. Sara couldn't manage that feat. She couldn't even hold Nathan's gaze for more than a heartbeat or two. "All right," she muttered when she couldn't stand his hot glare any longer. "Did someone else have some of my soup? Is that the reason you're in such a state, husband?"

The muscle flexed in the side of his jaw. She decided she shouldn't have asked him that question after all. It only reminded him of the confusion she'd caused the day before. Then she noticed he was holding her parasol.

Nathan's right eyelid twitched. Twice. God, he was developing an affliction, he noted, thanks to his innocent wife's mischief. He still couldn't trust himself to speak to her. He took hold of her hand and pulled her into their cabin. He slammed the door, then leaned on it.

Sara walked over to the desk, turned, and leaned against it. She was trying to look nonchalant. "Nathan, I cannot help but notice that you're once again upset about something," she began. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or are you going to continue to stand there and glare at me? Lord, you do strain my patience."

"I strain your patience?"

She didn't dare nod in answer. He'd roared that question at her, and she guessed he didn't want an answer.

"Does this look familiar?" he demanded in a rough voice. He lifted her parasol but kept his gaze fully directed on her.

She stared at the parasol and noticed right away that it had been broken in half.

"Did you break my lovely parasol?" she demanded. She looked incensed.

His eyelid twitched again. "No, I didn't break it. When the first mast let loose it broke your damned parasol. Did you untie the latchings?"

"Please quit your shouting," she protested. "I cannot think when you're yelling at me."

"Answer me."

"I might have untied a few of the fatter ropes, Nathan, but I had good reason. That's a very expensive parasol," she added with a wave of her hand toward him. "It got caught up, and I was trying to… Nathan, exactly what happens when the ropes become untied?"

"We lost two sails."

She didn't comprehend what he was telling her. "We what?"

"Two sails were destroyed."

"And that is why you're so upset? Husband, you have at least six others on this boat. Surely—"

"Ship," he roared. "It's a ship, not a boat."

She decided to try to placate him. "I meant to say ship."

"Do you have any more of these things?"

"They're called parasols," she replied. "And yes, I do have three more."

"Give them to me. Now."

"What are you going to do with them?"

She rushed over to her trunk when he took a threatening step toward her. "I can't imagine why you would need my parasols," she whispered.

"I'm throwing them in the ocean. With any luck they'll cripple a couple of sharks."

"You cannot throw my parasols in the ocean. They match my gowns, Nathan. They were made just for… it would be a sin to waste… you can't." She ended her tirade in a near wail.

"The hell I can't."

He wasn't shouting at her any longer. She should have been happy over that minor blessing, but she wasn't. He was still being too mean-hearted to suit her. "Explain why you want to destroy my parasols," she demanded. "Then I might give them to you."

She located the third parasol in the bottom of the trunk, but when she straightened and turned to confront him again she clutched all three against her bosom.

"The parasols are a menace, that's why."

She looked incredulous. "How could they be a menace?"

She was looking at him as though she thought he'd lost his mind. He shook his head. "The first parasol crippled my men, Sara," he began.

"It only crippled Ivan," she corrected.

"Which is why you made the damn soup that crippled the rest of my crew," he countered.

He had a valid point there, she had to admit, but she thought it was terribly unkind of him to bring up the topic of her soup again.

"The second parasol crippled my ship," he continued. "Haven't you noticed we aren't gliding across the waters now? We had to drop anchor in order to see to the repairs. We're easy prey for anyone sailing past. That's why your other damned parasols are all going into the ocean."

"Nathan, I didn't mean to cause these mishaps. You're acting as though I did everything on purpose."

"Did you?"

She reacted as though he'd just slapped her backside. "No," she cried out. "God, you're insulting."

He wanted to shake some sense into her. She started crying.

"Quit that weeping," he demanded.

Not only did she continue to cry, but she threw herself into his arms. Hell, he'd been the one to make her weep in the first place, he thought, and she certainly should have been upset with him just a little, shouldn't she?

Nathan didn't know what to make of her. Her parasols littered the floor around his feet, and she was clinging to him as she sobbed wet tears all over his shirt. He put his arms around her and held her close even as he tried to understand why in God's name he wanted to comfort her.

The woman had damn near destroyed his ship.

He kissed her.

She tucked her face in the side of his neck and quit crying. "Do the men know I broke the ship?"

"You didn't break it," he muttered. God, she sounded pitiful.

"But do the men think I—"

"Sara, we can fix the damage in a couple of days," he said. It was a lie, for it would take them close to a week to see to the repairs, but he'd softened the truth just a little to ease her worry.

He decided then that he had lost his mind. His wife had caused nothing but chaos since the moment she'd boarded his ship. He kissed the top of her head and began to rub her backside.

She leaned against him. "Nathan?"

"Yes?"

"Does my staff know I caused this mishap?"

He rolled his eyes heavenward. Her staff, indeed. "Yes, they know."

"Did you tell them?"

He closed his eyes. There had been such censure in her voice. She thought he was being disloyal to her, he surmised. "No, I didn't tell them. They saw the parasol, Sara."

"I wanted them to respect me."

"Oh, they respect you all right," he announced. His voice had lost its angry bite.

She heard the smile in his voice and felt a quick rush of hope until he added, "They're waiting for you to bring on the plague next."

She thought he was teasing her. "They don't believe that nonsense," she replied.

"Oh, yes, they do," he told her. "They're making wagers, Sara. Some think it will be boils first, then the plague. Others believe—"

She pushed away from him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

He nodded. "They think you're cursed, wife."

"How can you smile at me when you say such sinful things?"

He shrugged. "The men are superstitious, Sara."

"Is it because I'm a woman?" she asked. "I've heard that seamen think it's bad luck to have a woman on board, but I didn't credit such foolishness."

"No, it isn't because you're a woman," he answered. "They're used to having a woman on board. My sister Jade used to be mistress of this ship."

"Then why—"

"You aren't like Jade," he told her. "They were quick to notice."

She couldn't get him to elaborate. A sudden thought changed her direction. "Nathan, I'll help with the repairs," she said. "Yes, that's it. The men will realize I didn't deliberately—"

"God save us all," he interrupted.

"Then how am I going to win their confidence again?"

"I don't understand this obsession with winning the men over," he returned. "It makes absolutely no sense."

"I'm their mistress. I must have their respect if I'm going to direct them."

He let out a loud sigh, then shook his head. "Direct yourself to bed, wife, and stay there until I come back."

"Why?"

"Don't question me. Just stay inside this cabin."

She nodded agreement. "I won't leave this cabin save for going to visit with Nora, all right?"

"I didn't say—"

"Please? It's going to be a long afternoon, Nathan. You might be too busy to come home for hours yet. You didn't come to bed at all last night. I tried to wait up for you, but I was very weary."

He smiled because she'd called their cabin home. Then he nodded. "You'll wait up for me tonight," he ordered. "No matter what the time."

"Are you going to want to shout at me again?"

"No."

"All right, then," she promised. "I'll wait up for you."

"Damn it, Sara," he countered. "I wasn't asking. I was telling."

He grabbed her and squeezed her shoulders. It was actually more of a caress. She pushed his hands away and wrapped her arms around his waist again.

"Nathan?" she whispered.

Her voice sounded shaky to him. His hands dropped to his sides. He thought she might be afraid he'd hurt her. He was about to explain that no matter how much she provoked him he would never, ever raise a hand against her. But Sara suddenly leaned up on tiptoes and kissed him. He was so surprised by the show of affection he didn't know how to respond.

"I was very upset with you when you left the cabin so quickly after we had… been so intimate."

"Do you mean after we made love?" he asked, smiling over the shyness in her voice.

"Yes," she replied. "I was very upset."

"Why?"

"Because a wife likes to hear that she…"

"Satisfied her husband?"

"No," she returned. "Don't mock me, Nathan. Don't make what happened between us so cold and calculated either. It was too beautiful."

He was shaken by her fervent speech, knew she believed what she'd said with all her heart. He found himself inordinately pleased with her. "Yes, it was beautiful," he said. "I wasn't mocking you," he added in a rougher tone. "I was just trying to understand what it is you want from me."

"I want to hear that you…"

She couldn't go on.

"That you're a fine woman?"

She nodded. "I'm at fault, too," she admitted. "I should have given you a few words of praise, too."

"Why?"

He really looked bewildered to her. That did irritate her. "Because a husband needs to hear such words, too."

"I don't."

"Yes, you do."

He decided he'd wasted enough conversation on his confusing wife and bent on one knee to collect the parasols.

"May I please have those back?" she asked. "I'll destroy them myself right away. I don't want my staff to see you throw them overboard. It would be most humiliating."

He reluctantly agreed, though only because he was certain she couldn't do any real damage with the useless things as long as they stayed inside the cabin. Still, just to be on the safe side, he made her give him her promise.

"The parasols won't leave this chamber?"

"They won't."

"You will destroy them?"

"I will."