Nathan swished the mouthful from side to side, swallowed and croaked, "Worse."

Thomas closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. "Damn, Nathan, I'm sorry. Have you told her? I mean, have you said...anything?"

"Aye," Nathan said, contemplatively tracing patterns in the sand. "Several times."

"And?"

Nathan made a frustrated sound and batted at the sand. "And, she says she wants to be friends."

"Ouch! Jesus, Nathan, I'm sorry."

Nathan acknowledged the empathy with a half-lift of one shoulder and a vague nod.

"Is that how you would have it?"

"Hardly me choice," Nathan said sullenly.

Unable to sit still, Nathan rose to fetch several pieces of wood to stoke the fire. He dropped back down on the sand, a shower of sparks spiraling skyward.

He felt Thomas' stare and spread his arms. "What?"

Cate stirred at the sharp sound. Grimacing, Nathan waited. "What would you have me do?" he whispered hoarsely once she had quieted.

"Force the issue."

He shot Thomas a skeptical glare over the flames. "And what if I scare her off? What if she hauls her wind and leaves?"

"She wouldn't."

"Aye, but she would," Nathan said evenly, his shoulders jerking. "Bloody damn near did and but a day since. Damn near jumped ship, too."

"Stop her." He saw the folly in that as soon as he uttered it. With eyes that saw right through a man, Cate didn't strike him as a woman who was readily cowed. Bodily harm would ensue for anyone foolish enough to try to bend her to his will.

Nathan made a disgusted noise and waved the suggestion away. He took a drink, and then hunched forward to prop his chin on his knees.

"She still loves him; not much to do about that," Nathan said, staring owlishly into the fire.

"Him?"

"Her husband."

"Oh." Thomas took a drink and wiped his mouth of the back of his hand.

"I swear, if I ever find the bastard, and I will," Nathan emphasized with a stab of his finger, "I'll kill 'im straight away."

Knowing Nathan's bent, it was a credible threat. Conviction or provocation could precipitate such an act, more so of recent, if there was any grain of truth to the stories he'd heard.

Nathan pitched several bits of shell into the fire as his agitation grew. "Any man what takes a woman through war-nigh on to a goddamned hero, as I hear it-and then leaves her to suffer God knows what alone, deserves a blade to the gut. God protect us from noble men," he intoned to the sky.

Thomas frowned but nodded interestedly. It explained a good deal of the woman's hardness-not in the way of coldness, for any man could see an internal fire of spirit and flesh-and wisdom. The woman was a mystery and a wonder.

"And you would never do that-leave her, that is?" Thomas mused.

Nathan twitched. They both knew he had left a good number of women in his wake and not always with a proper taking of his leave.

Nathan swiped away the thought. "That was different different...'cuz she's...she's different.

"Charm her."

Nathan rolled a dubious look from the corner of his eye. "Charm her, how?"

"I don't know, like you always do. Hell, Nathan, I've seen you charm the scales off a fish. Flash her that smile of yours and she'll be clay in your hand."

Nathan's bells-God knew where the hell those things came from!-tinkled when he shook his head in disbelief at Thomas's failure to comprehend the delicacies of the situation. "She's different."

"C'mon, Nathan, if you can't be honest with her or me, at least be honest with yourself for once."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know."

"Goddamned taskmaster, aren't you?"

Sputtering like a reprimanded schoolboy, Nathan pointedly fixed his gaze on the fire. Within seconds, his eyes crept back to find Thomas still staring. "You know, you remind me of me dear old, aged aunt. You'd best hope your face doesn't freeze like that. Fancy yourself me keeper, eh?"

"Someone needs to; you do a damn poor business of it yourself."

"I've made it this far, haven't I?"

"Aye and how much further had you been else?"

Nathan held his ire for a moment, and then slumped. "Aye, true enough."

Thomas' attention drifted back to Cate's sleeping form once more. The fire sparked gold and orange in the tumble of copper hair. "She's too beautiful to be kept in limbo waiting for no one. If you've designs, fair enough. But if not, you'd oblige me to say as much and step aside."

Jaw working, Nathan's gaze settled on her and lingered with a sudden tenderness. "Sad thing is she hasn't the slightest idea the effect she has on men. All she need do is look at you with those cursed eyes and..."

"And what?"

"And, nothing." Nathan picked up a bit of driftwood and hurled it into the fire. "That's what happens: nothing."

Nathan turned into himself, mired deep in his own murk. Silence fell; the fire's hiss the only sound between them.

"So, I've wore 'round to my original question," Thomas said at length. "Put a name on what you're at with her?"

Snatching up the bottle from at his feet, Nathan meditatively rolled it between his hands. At length, he took a drink then blew a tired exhale. "Only one thing I can do: keep her safe, until I can find her husband."

Now there was a novelty: finding a husband?

Thomas' mouth sagged."Safe, as on the Morganse safe? You think it's safe out here?"

"Well, it's safer than anywhere else. Well, it is," he bristled at Thomas' dubious guffaw.

Thomas burst out a laugh, only to clap a hand over his mouth when Cate stirred.

"Sure, Nathan," he whispered, still fizzing with mirth. "You just keep believing that. What makes you so sure she wants to find her husband?"

Nathan gave him a level look from under his brows. "She. Still. Loves. Him."

"I wouldn't be so sure. I could have sworn I saw something different, but you'd know better than I. You'd best be careful with her, Nathan. That woman could wipe the decks with your carcass."

Nathan snorted. "As well I know!"

Cate woke again much later. The moon had set. The air had the feel of being nearer to day than night. The fire was down to mere coals, glimmering red hot under their blanket of ash. Aside from the rattle of palm fronds, the rush of surf on the reef, and the snoring of over 300 celebration-worn men, the beach was still.

Twisting her head around, she was startled to find a dark form laying barely an arm's length away. Peering closer, she saw it was Nathan. Sprawled on his stomach, braids snarled about his shoulders, an arm pillowed his head. Hearing the throaty rasp of his breathing, she resisted the urge to touch him. Instead, she enjoyed the connection that came with seeing him sleep. Like the coals, her anger had burned out. She sought to rekindle it, but found she couldn't. Irritated and annoyed, yes, but angry at him, no. It had been Nathan being Nathan. How could she expect anything more?

As she turned, something caught her eye. Next to her head, her shoes sat neatly arranged. She looked back, half-expecting to see Nathan watching, but he remained asleep. And so, she settled back into her quilt-lined nest and did the same.

The next time Cate woke was not so delicate. She was jerked into the new day by a blaze of sunlight in her eyes, and Mr. Hodder's expostulations-which would cause many a woman to blush-in her ears. At first thinking she was still aboard, she burrowed deeper under the blanket. At last able to assimilate her whereabouts, she peeked like a turtle from its shell. It was no surprise to find Nathan already gone, a faint depression in the sand his only trace.

The beach was alive with activity. Absent were many of the usual sounds of morning-the grind of holystones, pounding of feet to breakfast, or the hails from the tops as the day sails were bent or reefs shaken out-but enough was present to lend a air of normalcy. Pryce could be heard in full vent, prodding some poor unfortunate deemed too laggardly. A baleful complaint came from Hermione. Beatrice was having a bit of her morning parroty say, her vulgarities blending seamlessly with those from the humans. It led one to wonder what a contended parrot sounded like, or if finding her a companion might sweeten her disposition. In that there was, of course, the risk of two irascible birds.

Cate pushed up and knocked the hair from her face in time to see Nathan striding toward her. Sash jouncing at his knees, his attention was fixed on the steaming mug he bore.

"I give you joy o' the morning, luv," Nathan declared brightly as he folded down to the sand next to her. "I assured Mr. Kirkland I would see you got this the instant you showed a leg. Upon me word, the man takes your thirsts as a personal challenge. He represents to have put cinnamon in it. Have a care. It's hot."

He held out the mug for her to inhale the aromatic brew, and then carefully sip. His warning was needless. Kirkland's pride in the temperature of anything produced in his galley was well-known, his coffee ready to blister the first unsuspecting soul.

"It's wonderful. Have you had yours, yet?" Cate asked as she arranged herself more comfortably and took the cup.

Nathan nodded as he watched her drink. "Oh, aye, before the sun was o'er the gun'l. Could use another bit, though; can't seem to hit me stride yet." He blinked widely in example.

She held the cup out in invitation. At first, he refused, but then relented. They spent the next while sitting in companionable silence, sharing and observing the flurry of activity on the beach. As soon as the mug was empty, Nathan passed the word for another. Ordinarily, she would have been reluctant to infringe her needs on others, but somehow on that particular morning, sitting next to Nathan, she was content to be waited upon.

Cate waited with considerable apprehension for Nathan to say something about the night before, but he blithely ignored it to the point she wondered if he remembered. Perhaps, he had been more in drink than thought, or it was just the Captain of Denial in full command of his realm.

They were nearly to the bottom of the second cup, when she realized they had been carrying on an entire conversation and not a word was spoken, a tip of the head, a gesture, the quirk of a mouth, or the cock of an eyebrow communicating every thought.

It was Thomas who finally interrupted their amiable silence.

"Good morning!" he chimed as he crossed the beach. Barely acknowledging Nathan, his full attention fixed on Cate. "Just as lovely under the morning sun as she is under the light of the moon!"

Shielding a hand to the sun, she looked up smiling. "And just as good a liar in the light as he is in the dark,"

Thomas laughed loudly enough to cause several of the nearby hands to give pause. Nathan's cheerfulness faded as he darted suspicious looks between them.

"I thought we'd linger here for the day, Nathan," Thomas said. "We need to water and wood, as well. Allow us the day, and we'll ride the evening tide to take our position abaft the Straits."

Still casting sharp-eyed looks between them, Nathan nodded distractedly.

"We'll be setting the kedges and making ready," Nathan announced at last and rose. "We've every reason to believe our prey should pass within the day or next."

"Fair enough. Much to do." Thomas removed his hat and sweep a grand bow. "M' lady."

"What's he got to be so cheerful about this morning?" Nathan muttered, watching as Thomas strode away.

"Maybe he has a particular relish for mornings," she suggested lightly, hovering over her drink.

Nathan twisted around to peer suspiciously down the sharp edge of his nose at her. "Maybe he had an extra good night."

She batted her eyes with exaggerated innocence over the mug's rim. "Why Captain Blackthorne, whatever are you implying?"

Narrowing one eye threateningly, a precursor to a retort, he suddenly brightened. "I've a surprise."

"What?" Skepticism seemed the better part of valor, at the moment.

"Have no cares," he replied, with a flip of his hand. "Allow me to attend to a few matters with Pryce, and we'll aweigh."

He scurried off, hailing the First Mate. Coffee finished, Cate rose, wincing. Romantic as it might sound, sleeping on a beach did not provide the best night's repose. Sand was surprisingly hard and had a nasty trait of shifting into shapes unaccommodating to the body.

Cate was rigging a drying rack for the herbs collected the day before-a task slowed by being obliged to pause to scratch Hermione's head every time she was butted on the hip-when Nathan found her next. A haversack over his shoulder, he hooked her by the arm and led her away, snagging up the quilt as they passed. He resolutely declined to offer a hint as to their destination, answering her inquiries with no more than a dramatic roll of the eyes.

Down the shore a short way laid a broad creek, which they followed inland. It was early in the day, but the walk was still warm. On New Providence, she had been a distracted observer of the new world before her. And yesterday, she had been too preoccupied. Now, following Nathan, braids swinging with his bobbing gait, she walked in open-mouthed amazement.

Going from the saturated blues of sky and water to the vibrant greens almost hurt the eyes. There were vines as thick as an arm and head-high ferns, and trees whose towering heights dwarfed the Morganse's masts. Each step brought the damp, earthy smell of fallen leaves and dying vegetation, which mingled with wafts from the flowers, at times so heady and sweet as to nearly bowl one over. Cate kept close on Nathan's heels; a few paces too far apart, and she feared losing sight of him. The going wasn't rough, but the footing did require constant attention.

Cate wondered what had brought to Nathan this sudden urge to go off into the jungle, when there seemed to be so much else to occupy his time and mind. It could have been an innocent desire to show her some local point of interest, or a gesture of atonement for his behavior the night before. The latter seemed highly unlikely; fits of conscious weren't his burden. Her moonlight walk with Thomas was another possible motivation. Out-of-hand, she ruled that out; outright jealousy an even less-natural state.

The terrain took an increasingly upward slope. In spite of the canopy of shade, the atmosphere was heavy and still. Wiping the sweat from her face, Cate kept climbing, accepting Nathan's hand to navigate rock tumbles or steep banks.

"A bit more," was her only hint, as he stood in a nearly knee-deep creek to hoist her from one bank.

A patch of brilliance in the verdant shadows finally came into view: the sun's reflection on the surface if a broad pool. Flat rocks stair-stepped down at random angles to form a natural basin. The pristinely clear water made the depth deceptive; it could have been a few inches, or it could have been several feet to the crystalline glitter of the black sand bottom. As she came closer, her nose was met with the sharp smell of sulfur.

"Well," Nathan exclaimed, spreading his arms out. "Here 'tis!"

"It's beautiful. How did you ever find this?"

He gestured with the bearded point of his chin. "Stick your finger in."

Kneeling down, Cate dipped her hand in and jerked back. "It's hot."

"Aye. Hot springs, from the volcanoes."