Nathan stiffened and he pushed her back to hold her at arms' length.

"You need off this ship, and I shan't take no for an answer, nor do I want to hear or care about Princess What's-Her-Name."

Cate's hopes soared at the prospect. Leaving the ship could mean escaping behind the ghosts currently haunting.

"It sounds wonderful! I'll go tell Prudence."

Nathan made a guttural sound of disgust. "Do we have to take the Princess of Darkness? I know! We'll lock her up!" he declared, with an inspired finger to the air. "We'll put her in the hold; the bilge rats deserve her. No, that won't do. Hermione doesn't deserve that. We shan't have milk for a week. Why can't we just leave her to annoy the anchor watch for the day?"

"We can't just leave her."

"Why not? Why does she have to follow us like some wharf cur?"

"Because you brought that wharf cur aboard, and now it's...she's your responsibility. You made an agreement: Creswicke gives you the money and you give her back safe. How is it to look if you arrive with an injured or damaged hostage?"

The dark slash of brows shot up to the edge of his headscarf. "Damaged? First of all," he began, ticking his points off on his fingers. "Damaged is exactly what they are expecting. She's on a pirate ship, ergo she's assumed damaged. Secondly, I don't give a buggering damn what they think, as long as they pay. And thirdly, how did I wind up arguing when all I wanted was to do something nice. How the bloody hell did that happen!"

"You keep saying you want me to relax, but how can I, if I'm worried about her?"

Agitation growing, he began to pace, hands spiraling skyward. "Hell and death, there's no telling what the little petticoat might do next. She's constantly ordering you about like you're her damned chambermaid. In less than a day, she's taken over me cabin, has you sleeping on the deck-in an utterly reproachful mood, I might add. You're crying, and you've begun talking to yourself."

"I do not."

"Aye, but you do."

She bit her lip. He wasn't entirely incorrect. "Perhaps to her I am the chambermaid. Do you remember an older woman with her?"

"Aye," he said after a pause to recall. "Caterwauled enough to raise the dead, she did. We were in no need of a grannie."

"Well, in retrospect, bringing the grannie would have made things ever so much easier. That was her nanny."

"I'll remember that the next time I kidnap a sixteen-year-old, if I ever grow that desperate again!" he said, with a suffering roll of his eyes. "You should be subservient to no one. If I hear her bark one more order-"

"She doesn't bark-"

"If I hear her bark one more order at you," he repeated evenly, narrowing a malevolent eye, "I'll...well, I'll...I'll do something, and it shan't be pleasant."

Muttering several unrepeatable oaths, Nathan surrendered by throwing his hands in the air. "Fair enough! Anchor watch didn't do anything to deserve her anyway. To leave her, I'd be losing men overboard hither and yon, like rats off a fire ship. Probably have to shanghai me next crew, since no one what knows a bowline from a ratline would board this ship else."

Chapter 15: Falls of Our Existence.

This is wonderful, Nathan." Her head pillowed on the folded quilt, Cate stretched out on the luxurious carpet of moss.

Nathan plopped down next to her, grinning. The sunlight filtered through the dense greenery in broad bands of yellow. The fine mist from the nearby waterfall glistened like fairy dust on his braids and lashes. "I give you joy of your pleasure."

They had come ashore earlier that afternoon. Unshipping Prudence, however, had been quite the ordeal.

"This isna going to be easy," said Mr. Cameron, standing next to Cate at the rail. Realizing he'd been overheard, he explained in his Scots brogue. "'Twas a fair wrestle t' bring her aboard." He sighed, woefully shaking his head. "'Twill be no better achievin' the reverse."

Cate leaned closer to Cameron to ask from the corner of her mouth, "How did you get her aboard in the first place?"

He mouthed the words "Admiral's chair," with reserved contempt.

It was a contraption beneath the dignity of every able-bodied seaman, reserved for the incapable and the inept. No more than a wooden slat looped in a rope dangling from a yardarm, it resembled a swing rigged in a play yard. At the whim of ship, wave, and wind, it could be a precarious ride.

"I'm impressed anyone was able to get her in one of those," Cate said, more to herself.

"Alone, nay...exactly." He smiled slyly as, in typical Highlander style, he allowed the suspense to build. "In the Captain's lap."

Sputtering a laugh, Cate tried to visualize that, but found it unnecessary, since it was being played out before her.

Situated deep in a seat, Nathan hooked an arm around Prudence's middle tightly enough to elicit a squeak of protest. With the grunt and sweat of those manning the halyard, the sling rose. Eyes round as shillings, Prudence squealed and kicked. It was difficult to be sure if it was an inopportune pitch of the ship, or a bit of tomfoolery on the part of those controlling the line, but the chair took a wild arch out over Cate's head as she clambered down the accommodation ladder. She looked up to a grim-faced Nathan, half-submerged in a billowing cloud of yellow skirts. With a grunt of satisfaction, he released his burden into the awaiting launch several inches premature. Prudence landed in an inelegant heap in the bilge water.

Nathan gave every hand in the longboat the benefit of a glare that forestalled further comments. As they pushed away from the Morganse's side, Cate retreated to the furthest point of the bow, where she could hide the smile that couldn't be suppressed. The palpable tension transformed the short journey ashore into something akin to Purgatory, everyone present obliged to listen to Prudence, striving futilely to keep her skirts clear of the water, and bemoaning the destruction of her shoes and lack of a hat.

"A true lady simply never goes out in the sun without one," the child sniffed.

Prudence's third, or perhaps it was the fourth, repetition of said guideline was cut short by Nathan's arm snaking out to snatch a hat-a thoroughly disreputable, sweat-stained affair-from an oarsmen and plunking it on her head. Its floppy brim sagged nearly to her nose, but delivered silence.

Once ashore, Nathan made a final, valiant attempt to leave Prudence behind, citing her dress and patent-leather slippers as unfit for traversing rough terrain. He was no match for the either woman's stubbornness. Shaking his head as he muttered darkly, he struck off with his female entourage in tow, with a rucksack under his arm and the blue and yellow quilt from the bunk over his shoulder.

Nathan led them down the sugar-white shore to where a stream met the bay. There he turned inland, his battered leather tricorn a compass needle pointing the way. Once again, Cate plunged from a world of saturated blues into a verdant tapestry of color. The shrill cries of gulls gave way to the chattering of brightly plumed flocks of small, parrot-like birds. Her venture inland a few days before had been through a claustrophobic press of green. Here they walked under a park-like canopy of palms, her neck aching with trying to see their crowns.

Nathan regaled them with one story after another. Cate only half-listened, smiling to herself at the not-so-subtle variations from versions she had heard many times over. She wondered how historians centuries later would reconcile the inconsistencies: was it a monster or a monstrous wave which had sank the ship; a plague or marauding natives that wiped out the marooned crew; a ghost or a precocious sea goddess that had stalked the decks; had the heroic captain been shot five times or stabbed four?

It was an unspeakable joy to have Nathan alone-well, almost. It was easy enough to pretend the child wasn't there. She closed her eyes and listened to the timbre of his voice, ragged, yet mellow, like well-worn flannel. She oft wondered what his voice might have been before it had been so shattered. That there had been violence was evident in the scar at his throat, as to what it had been she dared not venture to inquire.

Prudence was torn between her fear of Nathan and her horror of the unknown. Every flutter, buzz of wing, or snap of twig presented eminent peril. Her base instincts of a man-especially one bearing a pistol, knife, and cutlass-as protection ultimately prevailed, and she hung at his elbow. The proximity had caused her fear to give way to something between fascination and morbid curiosity.

At length, Prudence whined of being hot and tired, and they stopped for a rest. Cate sat on the ground with Nathan spread-eagle on his back beside her. Representing that a lady never sat on the ground, Prudence perched atop a rock, near enough for safety's sake, but far enough to be out of hearing.

"It would seem she has overcome her fear of you," Cate observed.

Nathan raised his head to peer down the length of his body to where Prudence sat.

"Can't understand what she's afraid of." He dropped his head back down and said to the trees, "Never hurt a woman in me life."

"You'll have to admit, for someone from Boston, you are a bit of a sight."

He lifted his head to glare down his nose. "What do you mean by that?"

Cate twisted around in order to see him better. "You have no idea, do you? To the unsuspecting, you are positively...Let's see, what word I am looking for?"

"Fearsome? Villainous? Rapacious? Scalawag?" His eyebrows waggled in hopeful anticipation.

"No...eccentric."

"Eccentric?" His mustache drooped as he dropped his head back down. "Eccentric." He mouthed the word with visible distaste. "Doesn't sound very impressive."

"Very well, exotic. How's that?"

"Barely better," Nathan grumbled, his dignity ruffled. "Might as well be a bloody schoolmaster."

His indignation struck a chord. Laughter exploded from Cate. She put a hand over her mouth, her eyes bulging as it fizzed out between her fingers. Nathan rose up on one elbow and glowered.

"I'm sorry," she said, eyes streaming. Only the barest hint of remorse could be managed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt-"

Another peal erupted. She clamped her hand over her mouth once more, only to have it explode out her nose.

"Think you're funny, don't you?" Nathan huffed over her giggling, which was now beyond all control. He was obliged to raise his voice in order to be heard. "So pleased you're able to find such humor at my expense. Always glad to be of service."

He flopped back down and glared at the trees. "Bloody woman!"

They soon pressed on, Nathan being quite anxious. The trail became steeper, but he assured them their destination was but a short distance more. The increasing sound of rushing water gave credence of something being ahead. The sound had grown to a roar, by the time they rounded an outcropping of rocks. The foliage fell away to reveal a waterfall curving along one side of a sun-drenched clearing. Nearly as wide as the Morganse was long, the falls were an accumulation of a number of smaller ones, anchored periodically by pillars of rock. The water sheeted down in streaks of emerald green and lime, disappearing into a roiling froth of white at the base.

The roar of the cascades made speech impossible, and so Nathan mutely waved them on. He helped them scramble up an incline, and then duck through a stand of flowering bushes, the cerise-colored petals showering their heads and shoulders. They broke out into what struck Cate as almost a room: the walls a tapestry of greens, the carpet made of moss, and a vaulted ceiling of branches. The centerpiece was a large pool, formed by a series of stair-step falls, from knee-high to the height of a man. It was considerably quieter there, the water sheeting over the tiers in a rustling gurgle. The glen's air was thick with moisture, but pleasantly cool.

Nathan spread the quilt for Cate, while Prudence perched on a nearby log. From his sack he produced a half-round of bread, cheese, and a stone bottle of cider. While they ate their luncheon, Nathan launched into another tale of island natives and Spanish conquistadors, one out-manipulating the other in some kind of coup de grace.

When finished, Prudence's youthful exuberance wouldn't allow her to sit, so fascinated she was with every detail. The flora, that was; anything alive still sent her squealing. After saving Prudence from eminent peril-an inquisitive beetle on her shoe-Nathan drew up before Cate. Rocking on his heels, he looked far too much like a boy anxiously waiting to show his mother the frog in his pocket.

"I was thinking...I mean, if you like...Since it's been a bit...What with everything and all..."

Cate squinted with one eye up at him. "Nathan, are you trying to say something?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "I just thought you might fancy a swim," came out in an explosion. He waved toward the pool. "It's fair deep enough, around the other side, at any rate. I just thought...Well, that you'd like-"

"Nathan, will you just come out with it."

"I meant for you to enjoy today, without all the disruptions and distractions of yon witchy-girl," he finished, with a loathing glare over his shoulder.

Looking back at Cate, he sobered. "You look like you've fouled your hawse. What's amiss, luv?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," she said, busily brushing breadcrumbs from her skirt.

"As you always insist," Nathan said tolerantly. He crouched down to reach and stop Cate's hand. His coffee-colored eyes held hers. "Credit Ol' Nathan a bit, eh? From the first, you stood with your shoulders square and your head up, ready to tell anyone, including me, to go to hell. Now today, you slump along with your head down..."

His words faded as he followed her gaze to Prudence.

"Ah, so I see," he said quietly and sat back on his heels. "In all the flurry and hubbub, I'd forgotten one very salient point: you're a woman."

"You make it sound like a sentence."

He snorted. "Hardly, darling. Without, the world would be a considerably less appealing: nothing but hairy chests and aching balls. It never occurred you would be one to be longing for that."

His head inclined in the general direction of Prudence, and more importantly, what she symbolized.

"Not long for," Cate qualified moodily, toying with the fabric of her skirt.

A finger to her chin brought her head up. "Then what?"

Nathan's intuition was alarming. While she had been piecing together the puzzle of Nathan Blackthorne, he had been doing the same with her. It was an uncomfortable to have him poking about in her thoughts. She had struggled with the sensation since she had seen Prudence cowering in the floor. She had preferred to think she was above it, but there it was: jealousy. It was an unbecoming color on anyone, and was even less flattering on her.

"It's just," Cate began. "Well, it's just...I mean, look at her. Everyone can see it, sense it. Everyone is different: the men talk different, Mr. Kirkland brings out the best dishes, chairs are pulled out, doors are opened, the men bow...Hell, you even bowed."

"Because I thought you desired it. I could have just as easily spit on her. I'll go do it now, if you like."

"It wouldn't matter," she sighed. He gave the impression of being more than willing to do so, if she was but to nod. "She'd still be the lady and I'd still be the-"

"That's what's bothering you? A bloody title?"

Nathan regarded her through a narrowed eye. His realization grew and he slumped. "I've only seen you in near rags. It didn't answer you'd be one to fancy dresses and fine things."

Cate hunched her shoulders defensively and looked away. "I don't."

"Ah, but you do, luv." He scrubbed a frustrated hand at the back of his neck. "For the love of...You've trunk-loads in the hold and more in the cabin, yours for the taking. There's not a tar aboard what would begrudge you a stitch of it."

"It's not that. Besides, it's a ship. I couldn't wear any of it anyway."

Dark with concern, the coffee-and-cinnamon eyes searched hers. "This is what I've done to you, isn't it? Living at sea like a Portuguese fishwife, when you could have been living in finery."

Cate snorted and rolled her eyes. "Living where? I have no place."

His steady gaze prodded her to continue. The memories were all so much more manageable when she kept them stashed away. Once freed, it was like Pandora's box, the pain and regrets devouring her. Each time they were released, they were doubly difficult to pack away.

"I'm not some poor wastrel who doesn't know what she's missing. I had all that. Maybe not as fine as Lady Bart's, but I know what I lost. My family owned thousands of acres; my mother's mother was third cousin to the Spanish Royal House, a Hapsburg. Brian's uncle was The Mackenzie, the head of the biggest clan in Scotland. We lived on an estate, with dozens of tenants; Brian was laird of it all. I know what I've lost. I just don't appreciate having my nose rubbed in it."

There it was: the stab high up under her ribs that always came with remembering. She rubbed her forehead, cheeks heating in frustration at how horribly desperate she sounded.

"Perhaps I should have ransomed you after all."

She heard the tease in Nathan's voice and looked up, the sight of his gold and ivory grin eliciting a reluctant one from her.

"Save your energy; it's all so very, very gone," Cate said tartly.

Nathan's smile faded and he sobered. "And I'll wager you mourned when it was gone."

"I mourned for who I lost, not what." She would have traded it all to have Brian back, but Fate had chosen not to leave her even that bargaining chip. In a single day-in a matter of a few hours-she had gone from a lady of substance to a nameless fugitive, with nothing more to her name than what could be stuffed in a saddlebag.

"It's just around her, I feel-I feel the same as when I was at Lady Bart's, with Harte and all those others looking at me...like I didn't fit in. Which, yes, I know I don't," she said peevishly. "Never have-not fully-but it's just that-"