She wanted to stroke him. He wouldn't let her. His growl was deep, guttural. "Don't," he ordered. "Just hold me, squeeze me, but don't… oh, God, Sara, stop now."
He sounded as if he was in pain. She pulled her hand away. "Am I hurting you?" she whispered.
He kissed her again. She put her arms around his neck and held him close. When he moved to the side of her neck and began to place wet kisses below her earlobe she tried to touch his hard arousal again.
He took hold of her hand and put it on his waist. "It's too soon for me to lose my control," he whispered. "You make it unbearable."
She kissed the base of his neck. "Then I won't touch you there, Nathan, if you promise not to move around so much when you make love to me."
He laughed. "You'll want me to move," he told her.
He pulled her back up against his chest. "You know what, Sara?" he said between fervent kisses.
"What?"
"I've decided I'm going to make you beg."
He was as good as his word. By the time the two of them were in bed and he was settled between her thighs she was begging him to end the sweet torment.
The fire of passion inside her was completely out of control. Nathan did hurt her when he finally moved inside her. She was so tight, so hot, it was blissful agony for him to slow down. He tried to be a gentle lover, knowing how tender she was, and he didn't move at all until she began to writhe underneath him.
She found her release before he did, and her tremors gave him his own orgasm. He hadn't spoken a word during the mating. She never quit talking. She rambled on and on, tender words of love. Some made sense. Others didn't.
When he finally collapsed on top of her, when he finally regained his ability to think at all, he realized she was crying.
"God, Sara, did I hurt you again?"
"Only a little," she whispered shyly.
He leaned up to look into her eyes. "Then why are you crying?"
"I don't know why," she answered. "It was so… amazing, and I was so…"
He stopped her rambling by kissing her. When he next looked into her eyes he smiled. She looked thoroughly bemused again.
This one could get to his heart, he suddenly realized. The sound of the boatswain's whistle announcing the change of the watch was like a warning bell going off inside Nathan's mind. It was dangerous to be so attracted to his wife, foolish… irresponsible. To care for the woman would make him vulnerable, he knew. If he'd learned anything of consequence in his escapades, it was to protect himself at all costs.
Loving her could destroy him.
"Nathan, why are you frowning?"
He didn't answer her. He got out of bed, dressed with his back to her, and then walked out of the cabin. The door closed softly behind him.
Sara was too stunned by his behavior to react for a long minute. Her husband had literally fled the cabin. It was as though he had a demon chasing him.
Had their lovemaking meant so little to him that he couldn't wait to leave her? Sara burst into tears. She wanted, needed his words of love. God, he treated her as though she was nothing but a receptacle for his passion. Fast spent, fast forgotten. A whore was treated better than he'd just treated her, she thought to herself. Women of the night at least earned a shilling or two.
She hadn't even merited a growl of farewell.
When her tears were spent she took her frustration out on the bed. She made a fist and slammed it into the center of Nathan's pillow, taking great satisfaction in pretending it was her husband's head. Then she pulled his pillow against her bosom and held it tight. Nathan's scent clung to the pillowcase. So did hers.
It didn't take her long to realize how pitiful she was being. She tossed the pillow aside and turned her attention to righting the cabin.
She stayed in the room the remainder of the afternoon. She dressed in the same blue dress, and when the cabin was cleaned she sat down in one of the chairs and began to make a sketch of the ship using her pad and charcoals.
Sketching took her mind off Nathan. Matthew interrupted her when he knocked on the door to ask if she wanted to eat her dinner with the first or second change in the watch. She told him she would wait and share her meal with her aunt.
Sara was eager to find out what the men thought about her soup. The aroma had been quite nice when she'd finished stirring in all the spices. It should have a hearty flavor, she thought, for it had simmered long hours.
It was only a matter of time before the men came to thank her. She brushed her hair and changed her gown in preparation for their visitations.
Her staff would soon be completely loyal to her. Making the soup was a giant step in that direction, anyway. Why, by nightfall they would all think she was very, very worthy.
Chapter Seven
By nightfall they thought she was trying to kill them.
The watch turned at six that evening. The first group filed into the galley to collect their dinner just a few minutes later. The men had put in a hard day's work. The decks had been scoured, the hammocks scrubbed, netting mended, and half the cannons had been given another thorough cleaning. The seamen were weary, and their hunger was fierce. Most ate two full bowls of the heavily flavored soup before they were appeased.
They didn't start getting sick until the second watch had just eaten their share.
Sara had no idea the men were ill. She was getting impatient, though, for no one had come along to tell her what a fine job she'd done.
When a hard knock sounded at her door she rushed to answer it. Jimbo stood at the entrance, frowning at her. Her smile faltered.
"Good evening, Jimbo," she began. "Is something wrong? You look very unhappy."
"You haven't had any soup yet, have you, Lady Sara?" he asked.
His obvious concern didn't make any sense to her. She shook her head. "I was waiting to share my dinner with Nora," she explained. "Jimbo, what is that horrid sound I'm hearing?"
She looked out the door to see if she could locate the sound.
"The men."
"The men?"
Nathan suddenly appeared at Jimbo's side. The look on her husband's face made her breath catch in the back of her throat. He looked bloody furious. Sara instinctively backed up. "What's the matter, Nathan?" she asked, her alarm obvious. "Is something wrong? Is it Nora? Is she all right?"
"Nora's fine," Jimbo interjected.
Nathan motioned Jimbo out of the way, then stalked into the cabin. Sara continued to back away from him. She noticed his jaw was clenched tight. That was a bad sign.
"Are you upset about something?" she asked Nathan in a faint whisper.
He nodded.
She decided to be more specific. "Are you upset with me?"
He nodded again. Then he kicked the door shut.
"Why?" she asked, trying desperately not to let him see her fear.
"The soup." Nathan's voice was low, controlled, furious.
She was more confused by his answer than frightened. "The men didn't care for my soup?"
"It wasn't deliberate?"
Since she didn't have any idea what he meant by that question, she didn't answer. He could see the confusion in her eyes. He closed his own and counted to ten. "Then you didn't deliberately try to kill them?"
She let out a loud gasp. "Of course I didn't try to kill them. How could you think such a vile thing? The men are all part of my staff now, and I certainly wouldn't try to harm them. If they didn't like my soup, I'm sorry. I had no idea they were such persnickety eaters."
"Persnickety eaters?" He repeated those words in a roar. "Twenty of my men are now hanging over the sides of my ship. They're retching up the soup you prepared for them. Another ten are writhing in agony in their hammocks. They're not dead yet, but they sure as hell are wishing they were."