Sara was sitting in a rocking chair near the front door. Nathan climbed the steps and announced, "I'm leaving with half the crew tomorrow."
"I see."
She tried to control her expression. She was suddenly filled with panic. Dear God, was he going away on another raid? Nora had mentioned that her island home was close to the pirates' nest located just a little further down the coast. Was Nathan going to meet up with past associates and go on one last adventure?
She took a deep, settling breath. She knew she was jumping to conclusions, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.
"We have to sail to a larger port, Sara, in order to get the supplies we need to repair the Seahawk."
She didn't believe a word of that story. Nora lived in a fishing village, for God's sake, and the seamen would certainly have enough supplies on hand. She wasn't going to let Nathan know what she was guessing, though. When he was ready to tell her he was Pagan, he would. Until then she would pretend to believe him. "I see," she whispered again.
Nathan was surprised by her easy acceptance. He was used to arguing with her over every little matter. The change in her manner actually worried him. She had been acting peculiar all day long.
He leaned against the rail and waited for her to say something more. Sara stood up and walked back into the house.
He caught up with her in the foyer. "I won't be gone long," he told her.
She kept right on going. She'd reached the second story when he grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Sara, what's gotten into you?"
"Nora has given us the second chamber on the left, Nathan. I only packed a few things, but perhaps you'd better have some of the men fetch my trunk."
"Sara, you aren't going to be staying here that long," Nathan countered.
"I see."
And if you're killed at sea, she wanted to scream at him. What then, Nathan? Would anyone even bother to come back here to tell me? Lord, it was too horrible to think about.
Sara shrugged off his hands and continued. Nathan once again followed her.
The bedchamber assigned to them faced the sea. Twin windows were open, and the lulling sound of the waves slapping against the rocks echoed throughout the spacious room. There was a large four-poster bed situated between the windows with a lovely multicolored quilt covering it. A large overstuffed green velvet chair sat at an angle near the wardrobe adjacent to the door. The color of the drapes matched the color of the chair exactly.
Sara hurried over to the wardrobe and began to hang her dresses inside.
Nathan leaned against the door and watched his wife for a minute. "All right, Sara. Something's the matter, and I want to know what it is."
"Nothing's the matter," she said, her voice shaking. She didn't turn around.
Damn, he thought, something was certainly wrong, and he wasn't going to leave the room until he found out what it was.
"Have a safe voyage, husband. Good-bye."
He felt like growling. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow."
"I see."
"Will you quit saying I see?" he bellowed. "Damn it, Sara, I want you to quit acting so damned cold with me. I don't like it."
She turned around so he could see her frown. "Nathan, I've asked you countless times to quit using blasphemies in my presence because I don't like it, but that doesn't stop you, does it?"
"That isn't the same," he muttered. He wasn't at all irritated with her near-shout. The fact that she was getting her temper back actually pleased him. She wasn't acting cold or uncaring.
Sara couldn't understand why he was smiling at her. He looked relieved. The man didn't make any sense to her at all. Nathan had obviously spent one too many days in the hot sun.
A plan formed in her mind. "Since you like using blasphemies so much, I shall have to assume that you gain immense satisfaction when you use such ignorant words." She paused to smile at him. "I've decided I'm going to use sinful words, too, just to test this theory. I'm also going to find out if you like hearing your spouse talk so commonly."
His laughter didn't bother her at all. "The only foul words you know are damn and hell, Sara, because those are the only blasphemies I've ever used in your presence. I was being considerate," he added with a nod.
She shook her head. "I've heard you use other words when you didn't know I was on deck. I've also heard the crew's colorful vocabulary."
He started laughing again. The thought of his delicate little wife using foul words was extremely amusing to him. She was such a feminine thing, such a soft, sweet lady, and he couldn't even begin to imagine her using a crude word. It just wasn't in her nature.
A shout from Matthew stopped their discussion. "Nora's wanting both of you in the drawing room," he bellowed up the stairs.
"You go on down," Sara ordered. "I only have two more gowns to finish. Tell her I'll be right there."
Nathan hated the interruption. He had been thoroughly enjoying himself. He let out a sigh and started out the door.
Sara had the last word. Her voice was amazingly cheerful when she called out, "Nathan, it's a damned hot afternoon, isn't it?"
"Damned right it is," he called back over his shoulder.
He wasn't about to let her know he didn't like hearing her talk like a common wench. What Sara said to him in private was one thing, but he knew good and well she'd never use such blasphemies in public.
He was given a chance to put her to the test much sooner than he'd anticipated.
There was a visitor sitting beside Nora on the brocade settee in the drawing room. Matthew was standing in front of the windows. Nathan nodded to his friend, then strode over to Nora.
"Nathan, dear, I'd like to present the Reverend Oscar Pickering." She turned to her guest and added, "My nephew is the marquess of St. James."
It took all he had not to start laughing. The opportunity was simply too good to pass up. "You're a man of the cloth?" he asked with a wide smile:
Nora had never seen Nathan so accommodating. Why, he actually reached out and shook the vicar's hand. She'd thought he would be as ill at ease as Matthew. That poor dear looked as if he had a rash paining him.
Sara walked into the drawing room just as Nathan sprawled in one of the two chairs facing the settee. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and grinned like a simpleton.
"Oscar is the newly appointed regent for the village," Nora was telling Nathan.
"Have you known Oscar long?" Nathan asked before he spotted Sara standing in the doorway.
"No, we've only just met, but I did insist that your aunt call me by my given name."
Sara walked forward, then made a perfect curtsy in front of their guest. The new government official was a skinny man with rounded spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He wore a starched white cravat with his black jacket and breeches, and his manner was most austere. He seemed a little condescending to Sara, for his head was tilted back, and he was looking down through his spectacles at her.
He kept giving Nathan quick glances. There was a noticeable look of disdain on his face.
Sara didn't like the man one bit. "My dear," Nora began, "I would like to present-"
Nathan interrupted. "His name is Oscar, Sara, and he's the new regent for the village."
He'd deliberately left out mention that the man also happened to be the vicar.
"Oscar, this lovely young lady is my niece, and Nathan's wife, of course. Lady Sara."
Pickering nodded and motioned to the chair next to Nathan. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lady Sara."
Sara dutifully smiled. The man's spectacles must have been pinching his nose tight, she thought, as he had an unusually high, nasal voice.
"I should have sent a note requesting an audience," Pickering said, "but I happened to be out on my daily walk, and I couldn't restrain myself when I saw all the commotion going on up here. My curiosity, you see, got the better of me. There are several unsavory-looking men sitting on your verandah, Lady Nora, and I would advise you to have your servants chase them away. Mustn't mingle with the inferiors, you see. It isn't done."