He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"Last evening… or was it the night before? Well, I noticed that you seemed to be in my husband's employ. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Do you happen to know where Nathan is? I would like to have a word with him."
"He's aft."
She looked startled but was quick to recover. Then she shook her head at him. The censure in her expression gained his full attention. He turned completely around. "He's aft, I'm telling you."
"Yes, he might very well be daft, Jimbo," she began. She paused to pick up her parasol and then walked around the big man. "But you're most disloyal when you voice that thought aloud. I'm Nathan's wife now, and I won't listen to such talk. Please don't show such disrespect again."
Matthew came down the stairs just in time to hear his friend mutter something about respect. Lady Sara smiled as she made her way past him.
"What was that all about?" Matthew asked his friend. "I thought I heard you—"
Jimbo cut him off with a glare. "You aren't going to believe this, but I just promised not ever to tell anyone Nathan was aft."
Matthew shook his head. "She's a strange one, isn't she, Jimbo? I'm wondering how such an innocent could have come from such a mean-hearted family."
"Sara isn't anything like our Jade," Jimbo announced. He was referring to Nathan's younger sister. "In all our travels together I never once saw Jade cry."
"No, she never cried." There was pride in Matthew's voice. "But this one… I didn't know a woman could carry on the way she did that first night."
"Screaming like a hellion, too," Jimbo interjected. "Now, Jade," he continued, "she never screamed."
"Never," Matthew agreed. His voice was emphatic.
Jimbo suddenly grinned. "The two are as different as fire and snow," he said. "Still, they do have one thing in common."
"What's that?"
"They're both damn fair in looks."
Matthew nodded.
The comparison between the two ladies was cut short when a shrill scream reached them. They both knew it was Sara making all the racket. "She's a piece of work, isn't she?" Matthew drawled out.
"A damned loud piece of work," Jimbo muttered. "Wonder what's got her all riled up this time."
Odd, but both men were eager to get back up on deck to see what was happening. They were both smiling, too.
Sara had just located Nathan. He was standing behind a spoked wheel. She was about to call out to him when he turned his back on her and pulled off his shirt.
She saw the scars on his back. Her reaction was instinctive. She let out a shout of outrage.
"Who did that to you?"
Nathan immediately reacted. He grabbed hold of his whip and turned to confront the threat. It didn't take him any time at all to realize there wasn't any enemy trying to harm his bride. Sara stood all alone.
"What is it?" he roared at her while he tried to calm his heartbeat. "I thought someone was…"
He stopped himself in mid-bellow, took a deep breath, and then said, "Are you in pain, madam?"
She shook her head.
"Don't you ever scream like that again," he ordered in a much softer tone of voice. "If you wish my attention, simply ask for it."
Sara's parasol fell to the deck when she walked over to her husband. She was still so stunned by what she'd seen, she wasn't even aware she'd dropped it. She stopped when she was just a scant foot away from Nathan. He saw the tears in her eyes. "Now what is it?" he demanded. "Did someone frighten you?" Damn, he didn't have the patience for this, he told himself.
"It's your back, Nathan," she whispered. "It's covered with scars."
He shook his head. No one had ever dared mention his disfigurement to him. Those who'd seen his back pretended not to notice.
"Thank you for telling me," he snapped. "I never would have known…"
Hell, she started to cry. His sarcasm was obviously too much for her, he decided. "Look, Sara," he muttered in true exasperation. "If the sight of my back offends you, go below."
"It doesn't offend me," she answered. "Why would you say such a mean thing?"
Nathan motioned to Jimbo to take over the wheel, then clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't grab her. The urge to shake some sense into the woman fairly overwhelmed him. "All right, then, why did you scream?"
His voice was as brisk as the wind. Sara guessed he was a little sensitive about his marks. "I was very angry when I saw the scars, Nathan. Did you have an accident?"
"No."
"Then someone deliberately did this thing to you?" She didn't give him time to answer. "What monster inflicted such pain? My God, how you must have suffered."
"For God's sake, it happened a long time ago."
"Was it Pagan?" she asked.
"What?" he asked.
He looked startled. Sara thought her guess had been right after all. "It was Pagan who did that to you, wasn't it?"
Jimbo started coughing. Nathan turned to glare him into silence. "Why in God's name would you think it was Pagan?" he asked Sara.
"Because he's mean enough," she answered.
"Oh?" he asked. "And how would you know that?"
She shrugged. "I heard that he was."
"It wasn't Pagan."
"Are you absolutely certain, Nathan? No one knows what the villain looks like. Perhaps it was Pagan, and you just didn't realize it because he didn't give you his true name."
He let her see his exasperation. "I know who did it."
"Will you tell me who it was, then?"
"Why?"
"So I can hate him."
His anger vanished. Such loyalty stunned him. "No, I won't tell you who it was."
"But it wasn't Pagan."
She could drive a man to drink, Nathan thought to himself. "No," he answered once again.
"Nathan, you don't have to shout at me."
He turned his back on her in dismissal. Jimbo moved away from the wheel. Sara waited until she and her husband were all alone and then moved closer.
He felt the touch of her fingertips on the top of his right shoulder. He didn't move. The feathery light caress down his back was incredibly gentle, and provocative, too. He couldn't ignore it, or the strange feelings her touch evoked.
"I wouldn't have poked you in your back last night if I'd known about your injury," she whispered. "But I couldn't see in the dark, and I didn't… know."
"For God's sake, woman, it doesn't hurt now. It happened years ago."
His abrupt tone startled her. Her hand dropped back to her side. She moved over to stand beside him. Her arm touched his. She looked up at his face and simply waited for him to look at her again. His expression could have been chiseled in stone, she thought to herself. He looked just the way she pictured a Viking. The ripple of muscles cording his shoulders and his upper arms were those of a fit warrior. His chest was covered with dark curly hair that tapered to a V at the waistband of his breeches. She didn't dare look any lower, for to do so would be brazen, and when she returned her attention to his face again she found him watching her.
She blushed. "Nathan?"
"What?"
Did he always have to sound so resigned when he talked to her? Sara forced herself to sound pleasant when she apologized. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."
He didn't think that comment was worthy of a response.
"Will the captain mind?" she asked then.
"Mind what?"
"Mind that you're directing his boat for him."
His smile was heartwarming to her. "It isn't a boat, Sara. You may call the Seahawk a ship or a vessel, but you must never call her a boat. It's an insult, bride, and we captains take grave exception to hearing such blasphemy."
"We captains?"
He nodded.
"Oh, Nathan, I didn't realize," she blurted. "Then we're rich?"
"No."
"Well, why not?"
Hell, he thought, she looked disgruntled. Nathan quickly told her how he and his friend Colin had started the shipping company together, why they'd decided that he should remain a silent partner, and he ended his brief summary with the fact that in approximately ten months time, give or take a month or two, their company would take a turn into sure profits.
"How can you be so certain that in just a year we'll be rich?"
"The contract I signed."
"Do you mean a contract for shipping services?"
"No."
Her sigh was dramatic. "Please explain, Nathan."
He ignored her request. She nudged him. Lord, getting anything out of him was such a strain. "If you're so certain about this, I'll be happy to help you."
He actually laughed. Sara took heart. Her offer to lend a hand had obviously pleased him. Her voice was filled with enthusiasm when she said, "I could help you with the books. I'm really quite good with figures. No?" she added when he shook his head. "But I want to help."
He let go of the wheel and turned to face her. Lord, she was a fair sight today, he thought to himself as he watched her try to manage her wild curls. The wind was high, making the task impossible. She was dressed in pink. Her cheeks were flushed, adding to the lovely picture. His gaze settled on her mouth. Her lips were just as rosy as the rest of her.
He gave in to his sudden urge. Before she could back away from him he grabbed hold of her shoulders. He pulled her up against his chest, then threaded one hand through the curls behind her neck. Her hair felt like silk to him. He made a fist of the curls, then jerked her head back so her face was tilted up toward him. He told himself that it was only for his own peace of mind that he was going to kiss her, knowing full well that once he explained the special task she was going to have to undertake she'd start screaming again.
"We'll each have a special duty to perform," he told her. His mouth was getting closer to hers. "It's my duty to get you pregnant, Sara, and it will be your duty to give me a son."
His mouth settled on top of hers just in time to capture her outraged gasp.
Sara was simply too stunned to react at first. His mouth was hard, hot, incredibly demanding. He was drowning her with his warmth, his taste, his wonderful masculine scent.
Nathan wanted her response. She didn't disappoint him. When his tongue moved inside her mouth to mate with hers, her knees went weak. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him even as she tried to wiggle out of his embrace.
She didn't realize she was kissing him back, didn't know the sounds she heard belonged to her.
Only when Nathan had her full cooperation did he gentle the kiss. God, she was soft. He could feel the heat inside her, wanted to get closer, closer. His hands moved to cup her derriere, and he slowly lifted her off the ground until her pelvis was touching his own, then pulled her tight against his arousal.
His mouth slanted over hers again and again. He wanted to be inside her. Nathan knew he was close to losing all sense of discipline. His hunger was demanding to be appeased.
The whistles and hoots of laughter penetrated his mind then. His crew was obviously enjoying the spectacle he was giving them. Nathan tried to pull away from Sara.
She wouldn't let go of him. She pulled on his hair to get him to deepen the kiss again. He gave into her silent plea with a low growl. The kiss they shared was openly carnal, but when her sweet tongue rubbed against his he forced himself to stop.
They were both out of breath when they drew apart. Sara couldn't seem to keep her balance. She fell back against the wooden ledge adjacent to the wheel. One hand rested on the swell of her bosom, and she let out a ragged little whisper. "Oh, my."
As soon as their captain had quit touching his bride the men returned to their duties. Nathan glared at several backs before he looked at Sara again. He couldn't help but feel extremely satisfied when he saw the bemused look on her face. It made him want to kiss her again.
He had to shake his head over his own lack of discipline. He decided he'd wasted enough time on his bride and turned his attention back to the wheel. He scowled when he noticed his hands were shaking. The kiss had obviously affected him a little more than he'd thought.
It took Sara much longer to recover. She was trembling from head to foot. She had no idea a kiss could be so… thorough.
He certainly hadn't been affected, she thought when she saw the horridly bored look on his face again.
She suddenly felt like crying and didn't understand why. Then she remembered the obscene remarks he'd made about her special duty. "I'm not a brood mare," she whispered. "And I'm not at all certain I like you touching me."
Nathan glanced back over his shoulder. "You could have fooled me," he drawled. "The way you kissed me—"
"I believe I hated it."
"Liar."
It was an insult, yes, but the way he'd said the word actually warmed her heart. He made it sound very like an endearment.
That didn't make any sense. Was she so desperate for a word of kindness from the Viking that she now responded to insults? Sara could feel herself blushing. She stared at her shoes and folded her hands demurely in front of her. "You can't kiss me again," she announced, wishing her voice had sounded a little more forceful and less breathless.
"I can't?"
His amusement was apparent. "No, you can't," she told him. "I've decided that you're going to have to court me first, Nathan, and then we must have a proper ceremony performed by a true minister before you may kiss me again."
She hadn't looked at him when she made that emphatic speech, but when she was finished she glanced up to gauge his reaction. His expression, unfortunately, didn't tell her anything. She frowned at him. "I believe our marriage could be challenged in the courts unless we say our vows to each other in front of a man of God."
He finally let her see his reaction. She wished she'd been left guessing. Lord, his scowl was as hot as the noon sun beating down on them.
But his eyes… the color was so vivid, so true, so mesmerizing. When he was looking directly into her eyes he made her forget to breathe. A sudden thought settled in her mind. Her Viking was actually very handsome.
