He stood in the shadows of the door, but she could still see the long, wicked scar running the length of the side of his right arm. The white mark against such bronzed skin was noticeable. Sara stared at it a long minute while she wondered how he'd come by such a horrible injury, then she let out a soft little sigh.
He was still dressed in a pair of indecently snug fawn-colored britches. It was a miracle to her that he could even breathe. His white shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, and the casualness of his attire irritated her almost as much as his sudden frown. She thought about waiting until later to tell him that one simply didn't wear such unseemly attire when one was traveling aboard such a fine vessel, but his intense frown changed her inclination. It was imperative that he understand what was expected of him now that he was married.
'You dress like a tavern wench.'
It took a full minute for the insult to penetrate. At first Sara was too astonished to react. Then she let out a loud gasp.
Nathan hid his smile. Sara didn't look as if she was going to weep. In truth, she looked like she wanted to kill him. It was a nice beginning. 'You're falling out of your neckline, bride.'
Her hands immediately covered the top of her gown. Her face was flaming red in the space of a heartbeat. 'It was the only dress that was dark enough to conceal me when I walked along…' She stopped her explanation as soon as she realized she was actually defending herself.
'Conceal?' Nathan drawled. 'Sara, it doesn't conceal anything. In future you will not wear such revealing gowns.
The only one who sees your body will be me. Do you understand me?'
Oh, she understood all right. The man was a cad, she concluded. How easily he'd turned the tables on her, too. Sara shook her head. She wasn't about to let him put her in such a vulnerable position when he had so much accounting to do.
'You look like a barbarian,' she blurted out. 'Your hair's much longer than is fashionable, and you dress like a… villain. Guests traveling aboard such a fine boat should keep their appearances impeccable. You look like you've just carried in the crops,' she added with a nod. 'And your scowl is downright ugly.'
Nathan decided he was finished with foolish banter and homed in on the true matter at hand.
'All right, Sara,' he began. 'Get it over and done with.'
'Get what over and done with?'
His sigh was long, weary, absolutely infuriating to her. She desperately tried to hold onto her temper, but the urge to shout at him was making her head pound and her throat ache. Her eyes stung with tears. He had so much explaining to do before she would ever consider forgiving him, she thought, and he had damn well better get on with it before she decided his sins were too mortal ever to be forgiven at all.
'The fit of weeping and begging,' Nathan explained with a shrug. 'It's obvious to me that you're afraid,' he continued. 'You're about to start crying, aren't you? I know you must want me to take you back home, Sara. I've decided to save you the humiliation of pleading by simply explaining that no matter what you say or do, you're staying with me. I'm your husband, Sara. Get used to it.'
'Will it bother you if I weep?' she asked in a voice that sounded like someone was choking her.
'Not in the least,' he said. It was a lie, of course, for it would bother him to see her upset, yet he wasn't about to admit to that fact. Women generally used that kind of information against a man and burst into tears every time they wanted something.
Sara took a deep breath. She didn't dare speak another word until she'd gained control of herself. Did he actually think she would beg? By God, he was a horrid man. Intimidating, too. He didn't seem to possess an ounce of compassion.
She continued to stare at him while she gathered her courage to ask him all the painful questions she'd stored up inside her for such a long time. She doubted that he would tell her the truth, but she still wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.
He thought she looked ready to cry. Sara was apparently back to being terrified of him, he decided. Hell, he hoped she wouldn't faint again. He had little patience with the weaker sex, yet found he didn't want Sara to be too frightened of him.
In truth, he felt a little sorry for her. She couldn't possibly want to be married to him. He was a St. James, after all, and she had been raised a Winchester. She had certainly been trained to hate him. Poor Sara was just a victim in the scheme, a pawn the daft king had used to try to right the differences between the two feuding families.
Still, he couldn't undo the past for her. His signature was on that contract, and he was bound and determined to honor it.
'You might as well understand that I'm not going to walk away from this marriage,' he stated in a hard voice. 'Not now, not ever.'
After making that statement he patiently waited for the fit of hysterics sure to come.
'What took you so long?'
She'd spoken in such a soft whisper, he wasn't certain he heard her correctly. 'What did you say?'
'Why did you wait so long?' she asked him in a much stronger voice.
'Wait so long to do what?'
He looked completely bewildered to her. She took another deep breath. 'To come for me,' she explained. Her voice shook. She gripped her hands together in a bid to hang onto her temper, then said, 'Why did you wait so long to come and get me?'
He was so surprised by her question, he didn't immediately respond. That Nathan didn't even think she merited a response was the last blow to her pride that Sara was going to take. In a near shout Sara demanded, 'Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you?'
His eyes widened in surprise. His bride had just shouted at him. He stared at her in a way that made her think he thought she'd lost her mind.
And then he slowly shook his head at her. Her composure shattered. 'No?' she shouted. 'Was I so insignificant to you that you couldn't even be bothered getting around to the chore of coming for me?'
Nathan was stunned by her questions. He knew he shouldn't let her raise her voice to him, but her comments so astonished him, he wasn't certain what to say.
'You actually want me to believe you're angry because I didn't come for you sooner?' he asked.
Sara picked up the nearest object she could get her hands on and threw it at him. Fortunately, the chamberpot was empty. 'Angry?' she asked in a roar worthy of a commander. 'What makes you think I'm angry, Nathan?'
He dodged the chamberpot and the two candles that followed, then leaned back against the door. 'Oh, I don't know,' he drawled. 'You seem troubled.'
'I seem…' She was too incensed to stammer out another word.
Nathan's grin was in full evidence when he nodded. 'Troubled,' he finished for her.
'Do you own a pistol?'
'Yes.'
'May I borrow it?'
He forced himself not to laugh. 'Now why would you want to borrow my pistol, Sara?'
'I want to shoot you, Nathan.'
He did laugh then. Sara decided she hated him. The bluster went out of her. She wanted to weep with frustration. Perhaps her relatives had been right after all. Perhaps he did despise her, maybe even as much as her parents told her he would.
She gave up the battle and sat down on the bed again. She folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze downcast. 'Please leave my cabin. If you wish to explain your sorry conduct to me, you may do so tomorrow. I'm too weary to listen to your excuses now.'
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She dared to give him orders. 'That isn't how our marriage works, Sara. I give the orders, and you obey them.'
His voice had been hard, angry. It was deliberate, of course, for he wanted her to understand he meant what he said. He thought he was probably frightening her again. She started wringing her hands in obvious agitation, and though he felt a bit guilty because he had to resort to such intimidating tactics, the issue was far too important to
