"Take better aim before you fire, darling," Nathan growled. His fingers dug her flesh as he twisted her arm aside.

Cate jerked to free and rubbed her wrist, trying to erase the burn of his grip. "Do you think that little of me?"

"No! I think far more of you. However, I think far less of him," he said, with a jerk of his head toward the cabin. "You never struck me as the game-playing sort."

"This wasn't my doing."

"Yes, I can see the signs of struggle everywhere." Nathan spun on his heel and stalked toward the accommodation ladder.

"You don't own me," she seethed in his wake. "You can't keep me locked up like some feeble aunt to be let out at your pleasure. I can do as I want."

Nathan pivoted back so suddenly, Cate almost collided with him.

"By all evidence, I'd wager that's exactly what you were doing. By the way, the combs suit you," he said as a begrudging afterthought.

Nathan's countenance softened, and he sighed. "True enough. As you have so eloquently and succinctly pointed out, I have no claim on you a-tall. I only came to take you away from this rabble, because I thought the Morganse was where you wanted to be. My mistake." His cutting edge returned. He ducked another mocking bow. "I bid you good e'en."

Cate followed him, hoping that he would stop again, her fears reaching panic proportions when he didn't.

"Nathan!"

He whirled with an unexpected quickness that made her flinch. He recoiled, thinking Cate was going to take another swing. She held up her hands as a peace offering, but they still stood a distance apart.

"So...are you saying you don't want me back?" she finally asked.

With a long-suffering air, Nathan crossed his arms. His boot tapped a rapid tattoo on the planks. "Do you want to go back?"

Cate could see Thomas over Nathan's shoulder. Leaned against the cabin door's frame, arms crossed, one foot cocked over the other, he was a dark blot against the blaze of candles behind him. The white of his smug smile, however, gleamed. She searched Nathan's face for any sign of the familiar warmth or humor, but his features were either lost to the shadows, or obscured by a several day scruff of beard. He was as near a stranger then as he had been their first meeting.

"Can I go back?" she asked.

"Do you want to go back?"

God, I wish he would stop answering each question with another question.

Biting her lip, she looked to her feet, and braced for the possibility of rejection.

What do I do then?

So seized by dread, Cate could barely squeeze out, "If I can."

Nathan leaned nearer and lowered his voice. "You can do whatever you want to do, luv."

Bare inches away, his eyes held hers, and then wavered, uncertainty tugging their corners. The inked pools held the same fear then, as the night of Jensen's death, when she had asked to leave. He had, in essence, pled for her to stay. Betrayal was there now, whether by her or Thomas, she couldn't tell. There was something else, a subterranean rumbling of something, so deep and restrained it couldn't be named.

Cate wished she had a deeper understanding of what it was between these two men. It might have shown a light on what transgressions she may have unwittingly committed, what breach of faith may have violated. She needed a Ship's Articles, or something in writing that clearly described her confines. The strain of tiptoeing around, lest she inadvertently trample another of Nathan's secret boundaries, of the come-hither only to be pushed away, was becoming wearisome.

And yet, the thought of not being with him was even worse.

"Yes." She meant to sound confident, but her voice quaked.

"You're sure?" Nathan threw a hard look over his shoulder at Thomas, and then tilted his head at her. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes." She gulped, and ventured to ask, "Are you sure?"

He broke into a dazzling smile. "Darling, I've been sure since the day you were dropped on me deck. C'mon."

"A minute, please. I'll be right back." Cate ran back to Thomas, in spite of Nathan's scowl.

"Didn't I say he'd be coming?" Thomas said, his grin broadening.

"You love it when you're right, don't you?"

Thomas laughed, loud and hearty. "There's no denying it does allow the day to go better."

Cate rose on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you, I think."

"Don't thank me yet!" Thomas called after her, as she scurried back to Nathan. "You've got him hooked, but you still have to reel him in!"

"I'm not looking to catch anything," Cate called back.

"God help you both!" he shouted and disappeared inside.

Nathan cast a suspicious look over his shoulder as he handed Cate down the side. "What did he mean by that?"

"Nothing," she sighed, hitching her skirts. "Can we just go?"

She half-expected Nathan to sit next to her on the thwart. Instead, he sat facing her as they pushed off the Griselle.

"Stretch out and row dry," Nathan demanded of the oarsman.

Their knees touched and he drew back. The small gesture speared any hopes that had dared to soar, of things between them being different. Thinking perhaps he was still annoyed, she thought to say something, but silence seemed the better option. Perhaps enough had been said already.

The peacefulness of the bay was broken only the low grunts of the oarsmen and the rustle of the water at each dip of the oar. The light of the bow lantern sparked like fireflies on the ripples. She took the opportunity to assimilate what had just happened. Just as Thomas had predicted, Nathan had come for her. It had been a surprising show, but of what? Jealousy? Protection? Male territoriality? Or, had it been another case of Nathan not wanting her, and yet not wanting anyone else-at least, not Thomas-to have her?

Pawn or prize? Would she ever know which one she was?

As they neared the Morganse, singing could be heard, inordinately loud for the hour. It was also markedly lacking in merriment, sounding more akin to the heavy-labor chants reserved for manning the capstan or hauling sheets.

"What are they singing about?" Cate asked.

"'Tis no celebration," said Nathan glumly, and threw a dark look over his shoulder. "I suppose fair warning is in order."

She stiffened. "About what?"

"Our guest-our dear Lord Creswicke's intended betrothed."

"What's wrong? Nathan, what did you do to her?"

He stiffened with indignation. "Nothing! Wretchedly insulting you think I would. It's just...well, it's just..."

Chapter 14: Beloved Betrothed.

Tucking the hem of her skirt into her waistband, Cate struggled up the Morganse's side. The black hull absorbed any ambient light, making it insufferably difficult to see. She groped overhead in the dark for the next step-no more than a ledge only half-large enough for a foot-while striving to not slip from the dew-slickened step upon which she stood. Two strong arms eventually came over the gunwale to seize her by her arms and lift her up. As she alighted on deck-right foot always touching first-she was met by the sound of female crying, and a beleaguered look on every man.

"How is it, man?" Nathan asked, after scampering up the side by the manrope like a squirrel up a tree, showoff!

"Not stopped since ye left, sir," Pryce replied, with a grim roll of his eyes.

Cate whirled around on Nathan. "What did you do to her?" she shouted over the din.

Eyes rounding, Nathan sputtered indignantly. "Ravaged her! Six, no, seven times myself, plus every man having a turn! What the bloody hell else do you think we'd have time...?"

Nathan's protests faded as Cate ran into the cabin. The lamps were lit, but the sleeping area, from whence the shrieking came, was unlit.

"You left her in the dark!" Cate shouted.

Nathan and Pryce skidded to a halt behind her.

"We thought to put a light, but not a man would pass. Besides," Nathan pleaded, wincing at the sound of demolition emanating from behind the curtain, "we feared for the welfare of herself and the ship were we to leave her alone with a flame."

"We intended as to stow 'er below, but she sheared off in there, 'n stuck tighter than a barnacle on an oyster," put in Pryce, retreating a step at Cate's glare.

Cate pushed the curtain aside and held it. A band of light fell into the room, but not enough to see.

"Nooo! Please don't kill me," came a cry out of the darkness.

The crying increased to a siren-like pitch. The curtain falling closed behind her, Cate groped her way forward, using the shrieks as a beacon. Her eyes became accustomed to the dim enough to make out a figure cowering in the floor. Arms over her head, her shoes skidded on the planks as she tried to scrabble deeper into the corner.

"No! Please! I beg...! No!"

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," Cate said as she inched forward.

The woman thrashed and kicked, and caught Cate in the legs, hard enough to take her to the floor. She landed heavily on top of the woman. A struggle ensued: the woman fighting as if being attacked. Cate was dimly aware of a growing light and approaching footsteps as she grappled to extricate herself. Finally she managed to seize the woman by the arms and gave her a hard shake.

"You're all right! I won't hurt you!"

Cate's pleas seemed at first to have fallen on deaf ears, but then resistance eased. In quavering moans, the woman slumped, perhaps more from exhaustion than terror. As steps came up behind her-Nathan's, Cate now knew-and a growing light, Cate struggled to pry the soul free of the corner, a task akin to moving a dead sheep. Once able to grasp her chin, Cate brought the woman's face around into the light and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her face.

"You're just a child!" She whirled around on Nathan. "She's just a child."

Enormous blue eyes focused on Cate, and then settled on Nathan. "Pirates! No!"

Cate's opposition was smaller, but fought with the fury of the frenzied. Cate took the brunt as the woman scratched, kicked and clawed. After a shot square to the chin and an elbow to the stomach, Cate's well-meaning intentions grew more determined. Still, it was no worse than wrestling with her younger brother...until she was bitten. She screeched and struck out, sending the girl tumbling back into the corner. Cate felt herself then being lifted from the floor. She somehow wound up at the door, Nathan between she and the cowering heap on the floor.

"Belay that caterwauling, you shrieking strumpet!"

"Nathan...?"

"Out!" he barked, whirling around on Cate.

"But...?"

"Out!" Nathan shouted, with a swipe. He spun back around toward the woman. "Stay on the floor or stay on the bunk, but stay you shall! C'mon!"

Nathan seized Cate by the arm and propelled her into the salon, not stopping until she was seated at the table.

"Blood box, Mr. Millbridge," he called as he pulled up a chair at her knee.

Nathan took the arm that until then Cate hadn't realized she had been cradling. She made to look at it, but he determinedly brushed her aside. Crescent-shaped and bright red, blood welling from a few places, the bite was on the inside of her forearm, just above her wrist. It stung horribly, throbbing in unison with her heart, still racing from the struggle. It had been a long time since she had been bitten: a foul-tempered Highland pony. This one was no worse, but Nathan was taking the offense as serious, muttering dark comments under his breath as he inspected. He looked up apologetically when Cate winced. As his long, tar-grimed fingers probed, an identical mark could be seen on his wrist.

"You, too, hmm?" she said under the sobbing coming from behind the curtain.

A corner of Nathan's mouth twitched. "Not the first and most probably not the last. I'm obliged to admit, however, it has been a time. Tea, Mr. Millbridge, if you please" he said without looking up as the blood box was delivered.

Dabbing the sweat from her temples, Cate was about to insist she wasn't of a mood for tea. Hospitality, however, was the last thing on Nathan's mind. Fetching the brandy bottle, he poured a bit into pot when it came. He dipped in a bit of cloth and proceeded to clean the wound.

Biting her lip against the sting, Cate stared at her blood box and mentally sorted through its inventory. Chamomile? Valerian? Lavender? She was reasonably prepared for ship-related emergencies, but woefully lacking in preparations for hysterical women.

"We can't just leave her in there," she said to the top of Nathan's head.

He shot her a look from under his brows. "Why not? I'm not compelled to be nice. Pirate." The last word was offered up as a multi-faceted explanation.

"She's your responsibility."

"No," Nathan said with slow emphasis. "She's a hostage."

"Little difference. Ouch!"

"Sorry. Here, hold this." Nathan directed her hand to the compress. He rose and began rummaging through her box. "You'll not be going back in there with yon she-devil," he warned darkly, pausing to glare over the lid.

He grunted in satisfaction at finding the jar of salve. "It cures everything else, let's hope it works against rabid animals."

Cate sucked in at the sting of the salve, and again when the bandage was tied off with a little more force than might have been intended. The incessant crying was beginning to make her head pound. She prided herself on having faced many an emergency-dare she say, disaster?-with strength and grace. Fire, war, destruction, disease, horror: she had endured them all. Hysterics was quite another thing. Knowing how disturbed most men were in the face of a crying woman, her sympathy for the Morgansers deepened. It was harrowing, and they had endured it most of the day.

Cate frowned, straining to think of what might help. "She might need..."

"To be left lying as any vicious beast should."

"We can't just leave her. We have to do...something."