The Gift (Crown's Spies #3)

Why hadn't she noticed that before? she asked herself. Good God, was she beginning to find him appealing?

Nathan pulled her from her thoughts when he said, "Are you thinking you've found a way to breach this contract?"

"No."

"Good," he countered. Almost as an afterthought he added, "As I instructed you before, I'm not about to dissolve this contract, Sara."

She disliked his arrogant tone. "I already knew that before I was so instructed."

"You did?"

"Yes, I did."

"How?"

She started to shake her head at him again, but Nathan stopped that action when he hauled her back into his arms. He firmly grabbed hold of her hair.

"Unhand me, Nathan. You make my head ache when you tug on my hair like that."

He didn't let go, but he did begin to rub the back of her neck. His touch was very soothing. Sara had to catch herself from letting out a telling little sigh.

"You realize how much I want the money and the land, don't you, Sara?" he asked. "That's why you know I won't walk away from the contract."

"No."

Nathan didn't know why he pressed her for an explanation. His curiosity was caught, however, because she was acting so damn shy. The woman didn't make any sense to him, and he was determined to understand how her mind worked.

"Then why did you know I would want to be married to you?"

"Well, why wouldn't you?" she whispered.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Nathan, I'm everything a husband could want in a wife," she blurted out. She tried to sound as arrogant, as self-assured as he did whenever he talked to her. "Truly," she added with a vehement nod.

"Is that so?"

She could see the laughter in his eyes. Her bluster of pride immediately began to evaporate. "Yes, I am," she said.

A fine blush covered her cheeks. How could anyone sound so arrogant and look so shy at the same time? he wondered. She was such a contradiction to him. "Would you care to tell me why you think you're everything I could want?"

"Certainly," she replied. "For one, I'm pretty enough. I'm not plain," she added in a rush. "I'll admit I'm not a raving beauty, Nathan, but that shouldn't signify."

"You don't believe you're a… raving beauty?" he asked, amazed.

She gave him a good frown, for she was certain he was deliberately baiting her. "Of course not," she said. "You must have a cruel streak inside you to taunt me over my appearance. I'm not overly ugly, Nathan. Just because I have brown hair and brown eyes doesn't necessarily mean I'm… homely."

His smile was tender. "Sara, haven't you ever noticed how men stop and stare when you pass by?"

She wished she could strike him. "If you mean to imply that I'm that unappealing, well, sir," she muttered.

"Well, what?" he asked when she seemed to be at a loss for words.

"You're no prize either, husband."

He shook his head. He wasn't married to a vain woman. That fact pleased him considerably. "You're right," he announced. "I have seen prettier women, but as you just said, that shouldn't signify."

"Lest you think you make me feel completely inferior with that rude remark, you're mistaken," she returned. The blush had moved to her voice. "I'm really all a man could want. Dare you smile at me? I mean what I say. I've been trained to be a good wife, just as you've been trained to be a good provider. It's the way of things," she ended with a deliberate shrug.

The vulnerability in her expression was apparent. She had pricked his curiosity, too. The woman said the damnedest things. "Sara, exactly what is it that you've been trained to do?"

"I can run a household with ease, no matter the number of servants you employ," she began. "I can sew a straight stitch without pricking my finger, plan a formal dinner party for as many as two hundred," she exaggerated, "and accomplish any other duty associated with the running of a large estate."

She was certain she'd impressed him with her list. She'd even impressed herself. Most of what she'd just boasted of was pure fabrication, of course, as she didn't really have the faintest idea if she could run a large estate or not, but Nathan couldn't possibly know about her inadequacies, could he? Besides, just because she'd never entertained anyone before didn't necessarily mean she couldn't organize a party for two hundred guests. She believed she could accomplish any goal if she really put her mind to the challenge. "Well?" she asked when he didn't make any comment. "What think you of my accomplishments?"

"I could hire someone to run my household," he countered. "I don't have to be married to have a comfortable home."

He almost laughed out loud, for the look of disappointment on her face was comical.

She tried not to feel defeated by his remark. "Yes, but I can also engage in intelligent conversation with your guests on any current topic. I happen to be very well-read."

His grin stopped her. His conduct, she decided, was proving just what one would expect from a man bearing his name. Nathan was turning out to be as despicable as the rest of the St. James men. He was certainly as muleheaded.

"You could not hire anyone with such a fine education,'' she muttered.

"And that's it?" he asked. "There isn't anything else you've been trained to do?"

Her pride was like a shredded gown pooled around her ankles. Wasn't there anything she could say that would impress the man?

"Such as?"

"Such as pleasing me in bed."

Her blush intensified. "Of course not," she stammered out. "You're supposed to teach me how…" She paused to step on his foot. Hard. "How dare you think I would be trained in that… that…"

She couldn't go on. The look in her eyes confused him. He couldn't decide if she was about to burst into tears or try to kill him. "A mistress could see to those duties, I suppose," he said just to goad her.

Lord, he thought, she really was a joy to tease. Her reactions were so uninhibited, so… raw. He knew he should quit his game. She was getting all worked up, but he was enjoying himself too much to stop just yet.

"You will not have a mistress."

She'd shouted that statement. He deliberately shrugged. She stepped on his foot again. "No matter how pretty she is, no matter how… talented she may be, no matter what," she said. "I won't have it."

She didn't give him time to respond to that statement but continued. "As for sleeping next to me, Nathan, well, you can just forget such notions in future. I'm going to be properly courted by you and wed before a minister first."

She waited a long minute for his agreement. "Well?" she demanded.

He shrugged again.

How could she have thought he was the least bit appealing? Lord, she wished she had enough strength to give him a sound kick in his backside. "This is a very serious matter we're discussing," she insisted. "And if you shrug at me once more, I swear I'll scream again."

He didn't think it was the time to mention the fact that she was already screaming. "Not we," he said in soft, soothing voice. "You're the one who thinks this is a serious matter," he explained. "I don't."

She took a deep breath and tried one last time. "Nathan, please try to understand my feelings," she whispered. "I've decided that it isn't decent for you to sleep with me." She was too embarrassed to continue with that particular bend in the topic. "Are you going to marry me or not?"

"I already did."

Lord, she was furious with him. Her face was as red as sunburn, and she couldn't meet his gaze. She was staring intently at his chest. The subject was obviously extremely distressing to him.

And yet she persisted. "Look," she muttered. "It's really very simple to understand, even for a St. James. I want to be properly courted, Nathan, and you aren't going to touch me until we've said our vows in front of a man of God. Do you hear me?"

"I'm certain he heard you clear, miss," came a shout from behind her. Sara shoved herself away from Nathan and turned around to find an audience of some ten men smiling at her. All had paused in their duties, she noticed, and all were nodding at her. Most were actually a fair distance away.

"Aye, I'd wager he caught every word," called another. "You ain't going to let the captain touch you until you're wed proper. Ain't that right, Haedley?"

A baldheaded, bent-shouldered man nodded. "That's what I heard," he shouted back.

Sara was mortified. Lord, she must have been screaming like a shrew.

She decided to blame Nathan. She turned around to glare at him. "Must you embarrass me?"

"You're doing a fair job on your own, bride. Go back to the cabin," he ordered. "Take that gown off."

She was immediately waylaid by that command. "Why? Don't you like it?" she asked.

"Take everything off, Sara. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Her heart almost failed her when the fullness of what he'd just said settled in her mind. She was simply too furious to try to reason with him any longer. Without a word of farewell she turned around and slowly walked away from him.

She passed Jimbo on her way toward the steps. "You were correct, Mister Jimbo," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Nathan is daft."

The seaman wasn't given time to reply, for Lady Sara was already gone.

She didn't start in running until she reached the wardroom area. Sara picked up her skirts and ran like lightning then. She didn't pause at her cabin door but continued on to the far corner, where Aunt Nora's quarters were located.

For all his bulk and age, Matthew could still be quick when the occasion called for such action, and he reached the door at the same time Sara did.

"Lady Sara, I'm hoping you won't disturb sweet Nora with a visit now," he said from behind.

She hadn't heard his approach. She let out a loud gasp and turned around. "You gave me a startle," she began. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone, sir. What is your name?"

"Matthew."

"I'm pleased to meet you," she returned. "As for my aunt, well, I just wanted to look in on her."

"I'm taking care of your aunt," Matthew interjected. "She isn't up to visitors today. She's tuckered out."

Sara immediately felt guilty. She had fully intended on pouring her heart out to her aunt so that she could gain her assistance in dealing with Nathan. Her own problems seemed paltry, however. "Nora isn't truly ill, is she?" she asked, fear obvious in her voice. "I saw the bruises, but I thought—"

"She's going to heal just fine," Matthew announced. He was pleased by her caring attitude. "Nora's needing plenty of rest, though. She shouldn't move about neither. Her ribs were cracked—"

"Oh God, I didn't know."

"Now, now, don't start in weeping," Matthew pleaded. Lady Sara's eyes were already looking misty to him. He didn't know what he'd do if she went full-blown on him. The thought of having to comfort the captain's wife made his stomach tighten up. "It ain't as bad as all that," he announced with a nod for emphasis. "I've wrapped her tight around the middle. She just needs rest is all. I don't want her fretting about anything, either," he added. He gave her a knowing look when he made that last remark.

Sara immediately concluded he'd guessed what her mission was. She bowed her head in contrition and said, "I was going to burden her with a special problem that has developed. I won't bother her, of course. I don't want to worry her. When she awakens will you please tell her that I'll come to visit her as soon as she asks for me?"

Matthew nodded. Sara took hold of his hand. The show of affection rattled him. "Thank you for helping Nora. She's such a good-hearted woman. She has suffered so, Mister Matthew, and all because of me."

Lordy, she looked like she was about to burst into tears again. "Now, now, you didn't do the damage to your aunt," Matthew said. "You aren't the one who kicked her in the ribs. I was told it was your father and his brothers behind the foul deed."

"My Uncle Henry was behind this treachery," she returned. "Still, I'm just as responsible. If I hadn't insisted that Nora come back to England with me…"

She didn't go on with her explanation. She gave Matthew's hand another quick squeeze, then surprised a smile out of him when she made a formal curtsy and told him how pleased she was to have him on her staff.

Matthew mopped his brow as he watched her walk back to her cabin. He grunted over the foolishness of it all, for the fact that he was actually nervous because she had almost cried was simply ludicrous. Still, he was smiling when he strolled away.

Sara continued to think about Nora until she opened the door to her cabin. As soon as she spotted the big bed the problem of Nathan became uppermost in her thoughts.

She didn't dare waste another minute. She shut the door, bolted it, and then dragged her heavy trunk over to the entrance, straining her back with the effort.

She hurried over to the table, thinking she'd put that piece of furniture up against the trunk to add to her fortress.

No matter how much grit she put to the chore, she couldn't get the table to budge. She finally located the cause. The legs had been nailed to the floor. "Now why would anyone want to do such a thing?" she muttered to herself.

She tried to move the desk and found that it had also been nailed to the floor. The chairs, thankfully, weren't stationary. They were heavy, though. Sara dragged one over to the trunk and spent precious minutes struggling with the weight until she'd lifted the awkward piece of furniture and had it propped up on top.

She stood back to observe her work. She rubbed her lower back, trying to take the sting away. She knew that blocking the door was only a temporary measure, but she still felt she'd been very clever. It didn't take her long to discard that bit of praise, however, when she realized how childishly she was behaving. Yes, she thought to herself, her conduct was infantile, but then so was Nathan's. If he wasn't going to be reasonable, why should she? Perhaps by nightfall her Viking would come to his senses and realize her request had validity. And if the muleheaded man didn't agree, well, she was determined to stay inside the cabin until he gave in. If she starved to death, so be it.