The Gift (Crown's Spies #3)

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 br**sts, 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, na**d 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.