The Gift (19 page)

It was well after midnight when Nathan came back down to the cabin. Sara was sound asleep. She was curled up like a kitten in the chair. Her long curly hair hid most of her face, and she looked utterly feminine to him.

He didn't know how long he stood there staring at her.

God, it felt right to have her close to him. He couldn't understand why he felt such contentment, even admitting that it was a dangerous reaction, for there wasn't any way in hell he would allow a woman to mean more to him than baggage would.

She was simply a means to an end, he told himself. And that was all.

Nathan stripped, washed, then went over to the table. He saw the sketch pad and gently pried it out of her grasp. Curiosity caught him, and he slowly thumbed through the work she'd done. There were a good ten or twelve drawings completed. They were all sketches of him.

He didn't know how to react. The drawings were amazingly well done. She'd certainly captured his size, his strength. But then her mind had taken a fanciful turn, he decided, for damn if he wasn't smiling in every last one of them.

Sara really was a hopeless romantic. The old woman had told him that Sara's head was in the clouds most of the time. He knew that comment wasn't exaggeration.

Yes, his wife was a foolish dreamer. And yet he stood there, lingering over one particular drawing for a long, long while. It was all wrong, of course, but it still held him mesmerized.

The picture showed him from the back, standing on the deck, next to the wheel, looking off into the fading sunset. It was as though she'd sneaked up behind him to catch him unawares. His hands were clasped on the wheel. He was barefoot and shirtless. Only a hint of his profile was visible, just enough to tell that he was supposed to be smiling.

There weren't any scars on his back.

Had she forgotten about them, or had she decided she didn't want to include his scars in her work? Nathan decided the issue wasn't important enough to think about any longer. He had scars, and she'd damn well better accept them. He shook his head over that ridiculous reaction, then lifted Sara into his arms and put her to bed.

Nathan left the trap open so that the cabin would be rid of the lingering smoke, and he stretched out next to her.

She immediately rolled over and cuddled up against his side. "Nathan?"

"What?"

He made his voice as harsh as possible so she'd realize that he didn't want to talk to her.

His message was lost on her. She scooted closer to him and put her hand on his chest. Her fingers toyed with the thick hair until he flattened his own hand on top of hers. "Stop that," he ordered.

She put her head down on his shoulder. "Why do you think I'm having such a difficult time adjusting to ship life?" she asked in a whisper.

He answered her with a shrug that would have sent her flying into the wall if he hadn't been holding her.

"Do you think it might be because I'm not used to running a vessel?"

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "You aren't supposed to run my ship," he answered. "I am."

"But as your wife I should—"

"Go to sleep."

"Help," she said at the very same time.

She kissed the side of his neck. "I'll do much better when we're on land, Nathan. I can run a large household, and—"

"For God's sake, Sara, you don't have to run through your list of accomplishments again."

She stiffened against him, then relaxed. She must have finally decided to obey him, he thought to himself. The woman was going to go to sleep.

"Nathan?"

He should have known better, he told himself. She wasn't going to sleep until she was good and ready.

"What is it?"

"You forgot to kiss me goodnight."

God, she was aggravating. Nathan let out a weary sigh. He knew he wouldn't get any sleep until he gave in to her. His wife could be quite singleminded. She was more nuisance than not, he told himself. At the moment he was hard pressed to think of any redeeming qualities she might possess. Why, she was as stubborn as a mule, as bossy as a mother-in-law, and those were just two of the numerous flaws he'd already noticed.

He did kiss her, though, fast and hard, just to get her to quit nagging him. Damn but she tasted good, he thought. He had to kiss her again. He used his tongue. So did she. The kiss was far more thorough, more arousing.

She squeezed herself up against him. The provocation was too much to resist. She was all soft and feminine. He had to make love to her then. He didn't even make her nag him into doing that duty. She was still a little resistant, though. When he ordered her to take her nightgown off and turned to light the candle she asked him to leave them in darkness. He told her no, that he wanted to watch her, and she turned crimson before trying to hide her body from him by pulling the covers up to her chin.

He tossed the blankets aside and set about the task of wooing the shyness out of her. In no time at all she became quite brazen. She wanted to touch him everywhere with her hands and her mouth. He let her have her way, of course, until he was so hot for her he was shaking with his desire.

Lord, she was the most incredibly giving woman he'd ever touched. There was always such honesty in her reactions, such trust. That worried him. She didn't hold anything back, that sweet temptress of his, and when he finally settled himself between her silky thighs she was wet and hot and begging him to come to her.

He wanted to take it slow and easy, to make each thrust last forever, but she made him forget his good intentions by squeezing him tightly inside her. The sting of her nails drove him wild, and the erotic little whimpers she made soon forced him to let go of his own control.

He spilled his seed into her at the moment she found her own release. He held her close, absorbing her shudders with his own.

The scent of their lovemaking clung to the air between them. The feeling of peace was there, too.

He tried to roll away from her. She wouldn't let him. Her arms were tightly wrapped around his waist. The restraint was puny, but he decided to stay for a few more minutes, until she'd calmed down just a little. Her heartbeat still sounded like a drumbeat, as did his own.

He could feel the wetness on his shoulder, knew she'd cried again. That amused him. Sara always ended up crying when she found her own release. She always screamed, too. His name. She'd excused her behavior by telling him they were tears of joy she wept because she'd never experienced such bliss.

Neither had he, he thought to himself. For the second time that night the realization worried him.

"I love you, Nathan."

That scared the hell out of him. He reacted to her whispered pledge as though he'd just been slashed with a whip. His accommodating body went from warm flesh to cold steel in the space of a heartbeat. She let go of him. He rolled over onto his side away from her. She suddenly found herself staring at his back.

She waited for him to acknowledge her words of love. Long minutes passed before she accepted the fact that he wasn't going to say anything. His snoring helped her come to that conclusion.

She felt like crying. She didn't, though, and found a small victory in that new strength. Then she concentrated on finding something else to be pleased about.

At least he hadn't left the cabin after they'd made love, she thought to herself. She supposed she should be thankful for that. But in truth, she wasn't overly thankful.

She was shivering. Sara rolled away from Nathan's heat and reached for the quilts. When she was finally settled under the blankets she and Nathan were back to back.

She felt lonely, vulnerable. And it was all his fault, she thought to herself. He was the one who was making her feel so miserable. She decided then and there that if it wasn't her sole duty to love him with all her heart, she just might hate him. Lord, he was coldhearted. Stubborn, too. He had to know how much she needed to hear his words of love and yet he refused to give them to her.

He did love her, didn't he? Sara thought about that worry a long while. Then Nathan rolled over and took her into his arms again. He grumbled in his sleep as he roughly pulled her up against his chest. Her hair was caught under his shoulder. His chin rubbed the top of her head in what she thought was an affectionate gesture, and she suddenly didn't mind that he'd forgotten to tell her he loved her.

She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep. Nathan did love her, she told herself. His mind was just having a little difficulty accepting what his heart already knew… had always known, she corrected herself, from the moment they were wed to each other.

In time her husband would realize. Why, it was only because he had such a cranky disposition that it was taking him longer to accept than it would most ordinary husbands.

"I do love you, Nathan," she whispered against his neck.

His voice was gruff from sleep yet tender when he said, "I know, baby. I know."

He was snoring again before she could gather enough nerve to ask him if he'd been pleased by her fervent declaration.

She still couldn't go to sleep. She spent another hour trying to think of a way to make Nathan realize his good fortune in having her for his wife.

The way to Nathan's heart certainly wasn't through his stomach, she decided. He wasn't about to eat anything she prepared for him. The man was distrustful by nature, and her soup had soured him on her cooking skills.

She finally settled on a sound plan. She'd sneak up on her husband by way of his staff. If she could prove her value to the crew, wouldn't Nathan begin to see how wonderful she really was? It shouldn't be difficult to convince the men how goodhearted and sincere their mistress was. Yes, they were a superstitious lot to be sure, but men were only men, after all, and gentle words and kind actions would surely woo their loyalty.

Why, if she really put her mind to the problem she could certainly find a true method to win the men's loyalty in less than a week.

She'd spent the entire seven days trying to gain their confidence. When she found out why they were wearing the smelly necklaces she was so disgusted with her staff that she quit trying to win them over.

She also quit running back to her cabin whenever they glared at her. She just pretended she hadn't noticed. She wasn't about to let any of them know how upsetting their conduct was to her. She kept her composure and her tears firmly in check.

Only Nathan and Nora knew how she really felt. Sara kept both of them informed about her injured feelings. Nathan did his best to ignore the situation. Nora did her best to soothe her niece.

The problem, of course, was that each minor accident, no matter what the cause, was blamed solely on Sara's very presence. They thought the woman was cursed, and that was that. The minute Chester noticed a fresh wart on his hand he blamed Sara. His hand had brushed against hers, he remembered, when they passed on deck.

How could she reason against such idiocy? Sara put that question to Nathan at least twice a day. His answers never made a lick of sense, though. He either grunted with what she interpreted as true irritation or shrugged with what she knew was total indifference to her plight. He was as sympathetic as a goat, and each time he finished giving her his oblique opinion she kissed him just to be contrary.

By the following Monday Sara didn't think her life could get any bleaker. But then, she hadn't counted on the pirates. They attacked the ship on Tuesday morning.

It started out to be a nice, sunny, peaceful day. Matthew was taking Nora for a stroll along the decks. Nora's arm was linked through Matthew's, and the two of them took turns whispering to each other and laughing like children. The elderly couple had become extremely close over the past weeks. Sara thought Matthew was just as smitten as Nora appeared to be. He had taken to smiling quite a lot, and Nora seemed to be blushing just as often.

When Sara set out on her stroll Jimbo walked beside her. She was never allowed to be alone. She believed it was because her staff had turned so belligerent on her. When she made that comment to Jimbo, though, he shook his head.

"That might be a little part of it," he said, "but the full truth is that the captain doesn't want anything else broken, Sara. That's why you've got yourself a guard trailing you day and night."

"Oh, the shame of it all," Sara cried out.

Jimbo had difficulty holding back his grin. Sara was certainly given to drama. He didn't want her to think he was laughing at her, though. "Now, now, it isn't that terrible," he remarked. "You needn't sound so forlorn."

Sara was quick to rally. Her face heated up, and she let him see her irritation. "So that's how it's to be, is it?" she asked. "A few little mishaps and I'm now condemned by my staff as a witch and condemned by my own husband as a defiler of property? Jimbo, must I remind you that nothing out of the ordinary has happened since the fire, and that was over seven days ago. Surely the men will come to their senses in time."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?" Jimbo repeated. "You cannot be serious, Sara. Have you forgotten Dutton's little mishap, then?"

He would have to bring up that unfortunate incident. Sara gave him a disgruntled look. "He didn't drown, Jimbo."

Jimbo rolled his eyes heavenward. "No, he didn't drown," he agreed. "But it was mighty close."

"And I did apologize to the man."

"Aye, you did," Jimbo said. "But what about Kently and Taylor?"

"Which ones are they?" Sara asked, deliberately feigning ignorance.

"The ones you knocked stupid two days ago when they slipped on the cannon grease you spilled," he reminded her.

"You cannot place the blame for that solely on my shoulders."

"I can't?" he asked. He was eager to hear the excuse she would give to explain away those injuries. "You did spill the grease, didn't you?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But I was on my way to fetch a rag to mop up the mess when those men rushed past me. If they hadn't been in such a hurry to get away from me, they would have stopped, of course, and I could have warned them about the slippery deck. So you see, Jimbo, the blame really belongs on their superstitious shoulders."

The shouted warning of a ship in the distance stopped their conversation. Within a blink of the eye the deck was filled with men running to their posts.

Sara didn't understand what all the commotion was about. Nathan bellowed her name before Jimbo could give her a proper explanation.

"Nathan, I didn't do it," she cried out when she saw him striding toward her. "Whatever has happened, I swear to you that I had nothing to do with it."

That vehement speech gave Nathan pause. He actually smiled at her before grabbing hold of her hand and dragging her toward their cabin.

"I know you're not responsible," he told her, "though the men will probably blame you all the same."

"What is it they're going to blame me for this time?" she asked.

"We're about to have some unwanted guests, Sara."

"Unwanted?" she whispered.

They reached their cabin. Nathan pulled her inside but left the door open. It was obvious he wasn't planning on staying long. "Pirates," he explained.

The color immediately left her face.

"Don't you dare faint on me," he ordered, though he was already reaching out to catch her in the event she decided not to obey him.

She pushed his hands away. "I'm not going to swoon," she announced. "I'm furious, Nathan, not frightened. Damn if I'll let my staff think I've brought on pirates, too. Make them go away, Nathan. I'm not up to another upset."

They were in for quite a battle, Nathan knew, but he wasn't going to share that information with his wife. In truth, he was worried, for he knew he should have used the faster clipper for their journey. They would never be able to outrun the bastards closing in on them. The Seahawk was too bulky and too weighted down to accomplish that feat.

"Give me your promise that you'll be careful," Sara demanded.

He ignored that command. "Matthew took Nora below," he said. "Stay here until he comes for you."

After giving her that order he turned and strode out the doorway. Sara ran after him. He was forced to stop when she threw her arms around his waist. It was either that or drag her up the steps with him. Nathan turned around then, peeling her hands away as he moved. "For God's sake, woman, now isn't the time to demand a good-bye kiss," he roared.

She was about to tell him, no, that certainly wasn't the reason she'd stopped him, but he waylaid her intent by giving her a quick kiss.

When he pulled away she smiled at him. "Nathan, now isn't the time to be… romantic," she said. "You have a fight on your hands. Do see to it."

"Then why did you stop me?" he demanded to know.

"I wanted you to promise me you'd be careful."

"You're deliberately trying to make me crazy, aren't you, Sara? It's all a plot to make me lose my mind, isn't it?"

She didn't answer that ridiculous question. "Promise me, Nathan. I won't let go of your shirt until you do. I love you, and I'll worry unless you give me your word."

"Fine," he countered. "I'll be careful. Happy now?"

"Yes, thank you."

She turned and hurried back into her cabin to prepare herself for the coming battle. She rushed over to the desk drawers, intending to find as many weapons as possible. If the pirates were actually successful in breaching the ship, Sara was determined to help her husband any way that she could.

She found two loaded pistols in the bottom drawer and one wickedly sharp dagger in the center slot. Sara tucked the knife into the sleeve of her gown and put the pistols in a blue reticule. She wrapped the strings of the purse around her wrist just as Matthew came charging into the cabin. A loud booming sound echoed in the distance. "Was that one of our cannons or one of theirs?" Sara asked, her voice shivering with her worry.

Matthew shook his head. "It was one of theirs," he answered. "They missed their mark. They aren't close enough to do any damage yet. That's the reason we aren't firing our own cannons, Sara. Come with me now. I've got Nora safely tucked away below the water level. You can wait it out there with her."

Sara didn't argue, knowing full well that Nathan was behind the order, but she felt very cowardly. It didn't seem honorable to her to hide.

It was pitch black in the hull. Matthew went down the rickety steps first. He lifted her over the first rung, explaining that the wood was filled with rot and would be replaced just as soon as he had time for the chore.

When they reached the bottom and turned a sharp corner the soft glow of a single candle led the way to where Nora patiently waited.

Sara's aunt was settled on top of a wooden box. Her bright red shawl was draped around her shoulders. The older woman didn't look at all afraid. "We're about to have an adventure," she called out to her niece. "Matthew, dear, do be careful."

Matthew nodded. "It would be an adventure all right, if we didn't have such precious cargo on board," he announced.

"What precious cargo?" Sara asked.

"I believe he's referring to you and me, dear," Nora explained.

"Aye," Matthew agreed. He started back up the squeaky steps. "Now we've got to defend instead of offend," he added. "It's going to be a first for the crew."

Sara didn't know what he was talking about. It was apparent that Nora did understand, though. Her smile said as much. "What do you suppose Matthew meant by that remark, Aunt?" she asked.

Nora briefly considered telling Sara, then just as quickly discarded the notion. She decided that her niece was too innocent to understand. Sara still saw everything as good or evil. In her idealistic mind there weren't any shades of gray. In time she would come to understand that life wasn't that simple. Then she would be able to accept the fact that Nathan had led a rather colorful life. Nora hoped she would be there when Sara was told she was married to Pagan. She smiled just thinking about her niece's reaction to that news.

"I believe the crew would fight more vigorously if they didn't have to keep us safe," Nora said.

"That doesn't make any sense," Sara argued.

Nora agreed but changed the topic instead of saying so. "Is this where the munitions are kept?"

"I believe it is," Sara answered. "Do you suppose those kegs are filled with powder?"

"They must be," Nora said. "We must watch the candle flame. If a fire started down here—well, I needn't tell you what could happen. Don't let me forget to blow out the flame when Matthew comes to fetch us."

The ship suddenly felt as though it had just let out a giant belch. It shook from aft to stem. "Do you think they hit us with that shot?" Sara asked.

"It certainly felt as though they did," Nora answered.

"Nathan had better finish this quickly. My nerves cannot take such an upset. Nora, you and Matthew have become very close, haven't you?"

"What a time you've chosen to ask me that," Nora said with a little chuckle.

"I just wanted to take our minds off the worry at hand," Sara replied.

"Yes, that might be a good idea. And you're right, Matthew and I have become quite close. He's such a gentle, understanding man. I'd quite forgotten how comforting it is to be able to confide my thoughts and worries in someone who cares about me."

"I care about you, Aunt."

"Yes, dear, I know you do, but it isn't at all the same. You'll understand what I'm saying when you and Nathan become a little closer."

"I fear that day will never come," Sara returned. "Does Matthew confide in you as well?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, often."

"Has he talked about Nathan much?"

"Several times," Nora admitted. "Some things were given in confidence, of course, and so I cannot speak about—"

"Of course you can," Sara interrupted. "I'm your niece, after all, and anything you would tell me wouldn't go any further. You do trust me, don't you, Nora?"

Sara kept up her prodding for another ten minutes or so before Nora finally relented. "Matthew told me all about Nathan's father. Did you ever meet the Earl of Wakersfield?"

Sara shook her head. "It's said that he died when Nathan was just a boy, Nora. I couldn't have been more than a babe. I did hear that he was knighted, though."

"Yes, he was knighted. It was all a sham, though. Matthew told me that the earl actually betrayed his country while he was in service. Yes, that's true, Sara," she added when her niece let out a gasp. "It's a horrifying story, child. Nathan's father was in cahoots with two other infidels, and the three thought they could overturn the government. They called themselves the Tribunal, and as Matthew related the sequence of events to me, they almost pulled off their treacherous scheme. Nathan's father had second thoughts, though. His conscience got him killed before the truth was let out."

Sara was horrified by what she'd just learned. "Poor Nathan," she whispered. "The shame must have been unbearable."