"That isn't what I'm talking about," she whispered.
She waited for him to ask her to explain what she'd meant, then gave up when he kept silent. "Nathan?"
"Hell, what now?"
"Please don't take that mean tone with me."
"Sara…" he began in a warning tone of voice.
"After you took those other women to your bed, well, after… what did you do?"
What in God's name was she getting at? "I left," he snapped.
"Are you going to leave me?"
"Sara, this is my bed. I'm going to sleep."
Her patience was at an end. "Not before I explain proper etiquette to you," she announced. "After a man finishes… that, he should tell his wife what a fine woman she is. Then he should kiss her and hold her close. They fall asleep in each other's arms."
He couldn't stop himself from smiling. She said the damnedest things. Sounded like a general, too. "It's called lovemaking, Sara, and how would you know what's proper and what isn't? You were a virgin, remember?"
"I just know what's proper," she countered.
"Sara?"
"Yes?"
"Don't shout at me."
He turned to look at her. Hell, she looked as if she was going to cry. He didn't have the patience to deal with her tears. God, she was vulnerable… and beautiful. Her mouth was all rosy and swollen from his kisses.
He reached over and hauled her into his arms. After giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head he pushed her face down into the crook of his shoulder and muttered, "You're a fine woman. Now go to sleep."
He didn't sound like he meant what he said, but she didn't care. He was holding her close. He was stroking her back. She thought that was a little telling. She snuggled up against him and closed her eyes.
His chin rested on the top of her head. Each time the memory of their lovemaking came into his thoughts he blocked it. He wasn't ready to let his emotions get the upper hand. He was simply too disciplined to let a woman get that close.
He was just drifting off to sleep when she whispered his name again. He squeezed her to let her know he wanted her to keep quiet. She whispered his name again.
"Yes?" he answered with a deliberate yawn.
"Do you know what this holding and hugging each other is called?"
She wasn't going to let up on him until she told him what was on her mind. Nathan squeezed her again, then gave in. "No, Sara, what's it called?"
"Cherishing."
He groaned. She smiled. "It's a good start, isn't it?"
His snore was her only answer. Sara wasn't bothered that he had rudely fallen asleep in the middle of her fervent speech. She'd simply explain it all to him again the next day.
She couldn't wait for morning light. She was going to find a hundred ways to make Nathan realize his good fortune. She already knew she was the perfect mate for him. He didn't know it yet, but eventually, with patience and understanding, he'd realize how much he loved her. She was certain.
She was his wife, his love. Their marriage was true in every sense. There was a bond between them. Marriage was a sacred institution, and Sara was determined to protect and cherish her vows.
She fell asleep holding him tight. The next day was going to be the official start of her new life as Nathan's wife. It was going to be a day in heaven.
Chapter Six
It was a day in hell.
Nathan had already left the cabin by the time she awakened. He'd opened the chimney lid for her, and the room was flooded with fresh air and sunshine. It was much warmer than the day before. After she bathed, she dressed in a lightweight royal-blue gown with white linen borders and then went to find her husband. She wanted to ask him where the fresh sheets were kept so that she could change the bedding. She also wanted him to kiss her again.
Sara had just reached the top step on the way to the main deck when she heard a man's shout. She hurried forward to see what all the commotion was about and almost tripped over the fallen man sprawled on the deck. The older seaman had obviously taken quite a fall, for he was sleeping soundly.
The parasol she hadn't been able to find the day before was twisted between his feet. Jimbo was bent on one knee over the prostrate man. He slapped the side of the man's face twice in an attempt to waken him.
In a matter of seconds a crowd gathered around their friend. Each immediately offered a suggestion or two as to how Jimbo could bring the man around.
"What the hell happened?"
Nathan's booming voice sounded directly behind Sara. She didn't turn around when she answered his question. "I believe he tripped on something."
"It weren't something, m'lady," one of the crew announced. He pointed to the deck. "It were your parasol that caught up in his legs."
Sara was forced to accept full responsibility. "Yes, it was my parasol," she said. "His injury is my fault. Will he be all right, Jimbo? I really didn't mean to cause this mishap. I-"
Jimbo took pity on her. "No need to carry on so, Lady Sara. The men know it was just an accident."
Sara glanced up to look at the crowd. Most were nodding and smiling at her. "No need to get yourself in a dither, m'lady. Ivan will get his wits back in a minute or so."
A man with a full orange beard nodded. "Don't be fretting," he interjected. "It weren't that bad. The back of his head broke his fall."
"Murray?" Jimbo called out. "Bring me a bucket of water. That ought to bring him around."
"Will Ivan be able to cook up our meal tonight?" The man Sara remembered was named Chester asked that question. He was frowning at Sara.
She frowned back. It was apparent he blamed her for the unfortunate circumstance. "Is your stomach more important to you than your friend's health?" she asked. She didn't give him time to answer her but knelt down beside the sleeping man and gently patted his shoulder. The elderly man didn't respond. His mouth was gaping.
"My God, Jimbo, have I killed him?" she whispered.
"No, you didn't kill him," Jimbo returned. "You can see he's breathing still, Sara. He'll just have a fair head split when he wakes up, that's all."
Nathan lifted Sara to her feet and pulled her back away from the crowd. She didn't want to leave. I'm responsible for this accident," she said. Her gaze was fully directed upon Ivan, but she could still see the nods from the men surrounding her. She felt herself blush in reaction to their easy agreement. "It was an accident," she cried out.
No one contradicted her. That made her feel a little better. "I should take care of Ivan," she announced then. "When he opens his eyes I must tell him how sorry I am for forgetting my parasol."
"He won't be in the mood to listen," Nathan predicted.
"Aye," Lester agreed. "Ivan the Terrible isn't one to forgive a slight for a good long while. He loves a good grudge, doesn't he, Walt?"
A slightly built man with dark brown eyes nodded agreement. "This is more than a slight, Lester," he muttered. "Ivan's going to be in a rage."
"Is Ivan the only cook?" Sara asked.
"He is," Nathan told her.
She finally turned around to look at her husband. Her blush was high, and she really didn't know if the heat in her cheeks was due to the fact that this was their first encounter since their night of intimacy or because she'd caused such commotion.
"Why do they call him Ivan the Terrible?" she asked. "Is it because he has a mean temper?"
He barely spared her a glance when he answered. "They don't like his cooking," he said. He motioned for one of the men to toss the contents of the bucket in Ivan's face. The cook immediately started sputtering and groaning.
Nathan nodded, then turned and walked away from the group.
Sara couldn't believe he'd leave without a word to her first. She felt humiliated. She turned back to Ivan and stood wringing her hands while she waited for her chance to apologize. She silently vowed she would find Nathan and give him another lesson in proper etiquette.