She was appalled by what he was telling her. "I don't understand," she cried out. "Do you mean to suggest that my soup wasn't any good? The men are ill because of me? Oh, God, I must go and comfort them."
He grabbed hold of her shoulders when she tried to rush past him. "Comfort them? Sara, one or two of them just might comfort you right off the ship."
"They wouldn't throw me overboard. I'm their mistress."
He felt like shouting. Then he realized he already was. He took a quick breath. "The hell they wouldn't toss you overboard," he muttered.
Nathan dragged her over to the bed and pushed her down on the quilt. "Now, wife, you're going to tell me just how you made that damned soup."
She burst into tears. It took Nathan almost twenty minutes to find the cause, and it wasn't Sara who finally gave him sufficient information. He couldn't make head or tail out of her incoherent explanation. Ivan remembered the tainted meat he'd left on the sidebar. He remembered, too, that he hadn't told Sara it was bad.
Nathan locked Sara inside the cabin so she couldn't cause any more mischief. She was furious with him because he wouldn't let her go and apologize to the men.
He didn't come to bed that night, as he and the other healthy men had to take over the next watch. Sara didn't understand that duty called and believed he was still too angry with her to want to sleep next to her.
She didn't know how she was ever going to find the courage to face her staff again. How could she convince them that she hadn't deliberately tried to do them in? That worry turned to anger in short time. How could the men believe such a sinful thing about their mistress anyway? Why, they besmirched her character by believing she would hurt them. Sara determined that once she won their trust again she would sit them all down and have a firm talk with them about their tendency to jump to conclusions.
Nathan was slow to forgive her error, too. He came down to the cabin the following morning. He glared at her but didn't speak a word. He fell asleep on top of the covers and slept the morning away.
She couldn't stand the confinement long. She couldn't stand his snoring either. It was half past the noon hour when she slipped out of the room. She went up on deck, opened her blue parasol, and set out for a brisk walk.
It turned out to be a humiliating experience. Each man she approached turned his back on her. Most still had a gray cast to their complexions. All of them had scowls. She was in tears by the time she reached the narrow steps to the highest deck. She was scarcely aware of where she was going and only wanted to get as far away from the dark frowns as possible, if only for just a few minutes.
The highest level was filled with ropes and masts. There was barely room to walk. Sara found a corner near the tallest sail, sat down, and put her opened parasol between two fat ropes.
She didn't know how long she sat there trying to think of a plan to persuade the men to like her again. Her face and arms soon turned pink from the sun. It wasn't at all fashionable for a lady to walk around with a bronzed complexion. Sara decided she'd better go back down and look in on her Aunt Nora.
It would be nice to visit with someone who cared about her. Nora wouldn't blame her. Yes, a pleasant visit was just the thing she needed. She stood up and tugged on her parasol only to find that the delicate spokes had become caught up in ropes. It took her a good five minutes to loosen the knots in the ropes enough to work the parasol partially free. The wind was high again, making the task more difficult. The sound of the sails slapping against the posts was loud enough to drown out her frustrated mutters. She gave up on the task when the material of her parasol tore. She decided then to ask Matthew or Jimbo for assistance.
Sara left the parasol dangling in the ropes and made her way back down the steps.
The crash, when it came, nearly toppled her over the side of the ship. Chester caught her in the nick of time. Both of them turned to the noise on the upper deck just in time to see one of the masts slam into a larger one.
Chester took off running, shouting for assistance as he raced up the steps. Sara decided she'd better get out of the way of the sudden chaos around her. She waited until several more men had rushed past her, then made her way down to Nora's cabin. Matthew was just coming out of the room when Sara strode past him.
"Good day, Matthew," she said in greeting. She paused to curtsy, then added, "I'll only stay a few minutes. I just wanted to see how my aunt is doing today. I promise I won't wear her out."
Matthew grinned. "I believe you," he replied. "But I'm still coming back in a half hour's time to check on Nora."
The booming crash shook the vessel then. Sara grabbed hold of the door to keep herself from pitching forward to her knees. "Heavens, the wind is fierce today, isn't it, Matthew?"
The seaman was already running toward the steps. "That wasn't the wind," he shouted over his shoulder.
Sara shut the door to Nora's cabin just as Nathan came charging out of his quarters.
Her aunt was once again propped up with pillows behind her back. Sara thought she looked a little more rested and said so. "The color's back in your cheeks, Nora, and your bruises are beginning to fade to yellow now. You'll be strolling around the decks with me in no time at all."
"Yes, I do feel better," Nora announced. "How are you faring, Sara?"
"Oh, I'm just fine," she answered. She sat down on the side of the bed and took hold of her aunt's hand.
Nora frowned at her. "I heard about the soup, child. I know you aren't doing fine."
"I didn't eat any of the soup," Sara blurted out. "But I do feel terrible about the men. I didn't mean to make them ill."
"I know you didn't mean to," Nora soothed. "I told Matthew so. I took up your defense, Sara, and told him you didn't have a malicious thought in your head. Why, you'd never do such a terrible thing on purpose."
Sara's frown matched her aunt's. "I think it's horribly rude of my staff to think such evil thoughts about their mistress. Yes, I do. Why, they're as contrary as their captain, Nora."
"What about Nathan?" Nora asked. "Is he blaming you, too?"
Sara shrugged. "He was a little upset about the soup, of course, but I don't believe he thinks I poisoned the men on purpose. He's probably being a little more understanding because he didn't eat any of it. Anyway, I've decided I don't care what the man thinks of me. I'm more upset with him than he is with me. Yes, I am," she added when Nora began to smile. "He isn't treating me at all well."
She didn't give her aunt time to respond to that dramatic statement. "Oh, I never should have said that. Nathan's my husband, and I must always be loyal to him. I'm ashamed of myself for—"
"Has he harmed you?" Nora interrupted.
"No, of course not. It's just that…"
A long minute passed while Nora tried to guess what was the matter and Sara tried to think of a way to explain.
When Sara started blushing Nora surmised that the problem had something to do with the intimate side of their marriage. "He wasn't gentle with you when he bedded you?"
Sara looked down at her lap before answering. "He was very gentle."
"Then?"
"But afterwards he didn't… that is, the second time—well, after—he just left. He didn't say a single tender word to me, Nora. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. A whore is treated with more consideration."
Nora was too relieved that Nathan had been gentle with Sara to take issue over his lack of thoughtfulness. "Did you say any tender words to him?" she asked.
"No."
"It would seem to me that Nathan might not know how to give you what you want. He might not know you need his praise."
"I don't need his praise," Sara countered in a disgruntled voice. "I would just like a little consideration. Oh, heaven help me, that's not the truth. I do need his words of praise. I don't know why I seem to need them, but I do. Nora? Do you notice how the boat is tilted to one side now? I wonder why Nathan doesn't straighten it out."
It took her aunt a minute to make the switch in topics. "Yes, it is at an angle, isn't it?" she responded. "But you did say the wind was brisk today."
"We don't seem to be clipping along either," Sara interjected. "I hope we don't topple over," she added with a sigh. "I never did learn how to swim. That shouldn't signify, though. Nathan can't let me drown."
Nora smiled. "Why can't he?"
Sara seemed surprised by that question. "Because I'm his wife," she blurted out. "He promised to protect me, Nora."
"And you have ultimate faith that he will?"
"Of course."
The vessel suddenly shifted again, pitching them even further toward the water line. Sara saw how startled Nora was; her aunt was gripping her hand. She patted Nora and said, "Nathan is the captain of this vessel, Nora, and he wouldn't let us fall over into the ocean. He knows what he's doing. Don't worry."
A sudden roar filled the cabin. It was her name being bellowed. Sara grimaced in reaction, then turned to give Nora a thoroughly disgruntled look. "Do you see what I mean, Nora? The only time Nathan says my name, he screams it. I wonder what has him in a snit now. The man has such a sour disposition. It's a wonder I can put up with him."
"Go and see what he wants," Nora suggested. "Don't let him frighten you with his shouts. Just remember to look below the bluster."
"I know," Sara said with a sigh. She stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her gown. "Look below the surface, and I'll find myself a good man," she added, repeating her aunt's suggestion of the day before. "I will try."
She kissed Nora and hurried out into the corridor. She almost bumped into Jimbo. The big man grabbed hold of her to steady her. "Come with me," he ordered.
He started to lead her toward the steps that led down to the lower level. She pulled back. "Nathan is calling for me, Jimbo. I must go to him. He's up on deck, isn't he?"
"I know where he is," Jimbo muttered. "But he needs a few more minutes to calm himself down, Sara. You can hide down here until he—"
"I'm not hiding from my husband," Sara interrupted.
"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—"