"Why that little trollop," he said in grudging awe.

"I was thinking something considerably less kind."

"I dare say," Nathan said, smiling tolerantly. "You curse better than a street whore."

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment?"

"In every sense of the word, darling," he said, with all sincerity. "That scheming, devious, conniving little..."

Nathan chuckled wryly. "Blessed pity, that. I was enjoying the prospect of the misery she would cause His Bumptiousness."

Cate saw him wince as he shook his head. "Head hurt?"

"A bit. It would seem the Commodore's elbow is a mite more accurate than previously credited."

Nathan protested-more for form, Cate thought-but finally halted to submit to her attentions. Plucking away the lingering feathers, she probed his head and under the scarf. His scalp was wet, but it felt more like sweat than blood's stickiness.

"It's difficult to see in the dark, but it doesn't seem anything serious," she said.

The night closed in. The way was narrow and they occasionally bumped shoulders. It was remarkably warm and still for such an hour, the air like heavy velvet. Moths, some the size of small birds, hung motionless, as if suspended. Nathan had a cantus firmus of his own amid the nocturnal choristers of night creatures. The crunch of his boots, the creak of leather belts, the slap of his sword against his leg, and the swish of bells made a kind of music-his music, the soft rasp of his breathing adding a counterpoint.

"You owe me a thank-you, by the way," Nathan threw into the silence.

"For what?"

"Did you not notice? I told Princess What's-Her-Name she was pretty, just like you asked." Nathan nodded primly.

"Yes, I noticed, and I'm proud of you. I could see she was much the better for it." Cate felt rather like a mother praising a child, as though she should be patting him on the head.

"I live to serve." His attempt at a grandiose bow was hindered by his burden.

It was nearly impossible not to notice Nathan's increasing uneasiness, like a pot building up to boil. Several times, he drew a breath as if to say something, and then abruptly chose not to.

"God's blood and wounds, I can't bear another minute," Nathan burst out, drawing to a halt. "What did I do? I'm not so thick-pated as I couldn't tell I was being blamed for something. What did I do?"

"Nothing." Cate turned and continued on.

"No, no, no!" Striding to catch up, Nathan pried a finger from a box handle to waggle it at her. "Don't try to pull one over on Ol' Nathan. What did I do?"

"Nothing." Cate clamped her lower lip between her teeth as eyes fixed straight ahead. "I thought you did something-they thought you did something-but you didn't, just like I thought."

A faint flash of gold and white showed his relieved smile. "That's good!"

Nathan's pace slowed as the smile faded. "What had I done?"

"Nothing. That's just it, nothing."

Cate whirled around with a suddenness that made him skid to a stop to avoid a collision. "Just as always: nothing! Isn't it?" she fumed.

He fell back a step in the face of her vehemence. "I'm being cursed for doing nothing?"

"You're damned right!" Spinning around, she struck off, agitation quickening her pace.

"And, if I had done...something?" he called.

"Anything!"

Nathan jogged to catch up and fell into step next to her. "I see," he finally said, straining to pick through her logic. "And, if I had done anything, you'd be the happier?"

"Something would have been better than nothing," Cate said tartly.

"There's an eloquently informative statement." Nathan paused to sweep a mocking bow, as if the forest was his audience. "Pray, I beg you not hesitate to allow me the joy of knowing how I can be of greater service. If there's anything-something-nothing I can do, I am forever at your leisure."

"I'd be happier than I am now."

"With nothing. Bloody hell!"

Grumbling darkly under his breath, he stopped again. "All right, let's have it!" he called after her. "C'mon, something's vexing you. Let's have it!"

Scuffing to a halt, Cate stared ahead. Her legs ached, for she had been pounding the ground with every step, since they had passed through Lady Bart's gate. She had been trying to make the best of the evening-on the surface, everything had been a success-but had failed miserably.

"Very well," she said, turning back around. "Do you really want to hear it?"

Nathan's shirt a ghostly glow in the dark, he extended his laden arms to his sides, as if to offer a target. "Either that or I'll be doomed to spend the rest of me days in mystery of when it finally will come out."

A part of her screamed for her to desist, to leave it lie. Another part, larger and more boisterous, irked and angered, frayed by weeks of containment, urged her to let fly.

"You kissed every woman in that room tonight," she began, her throat tightening.

"I did." His pride faltered at the sight of her stalking toward him. "At your bidding, I might add."

"I only desired you to give Prudence a little peck on the cheek."

"Then you should have given me your peck signal, because all I got was the go-ahead-and-do-something," Nathan shot back, eyes bulging in defiance.

The internal voice of ration screamed for Cate to stop. On many occasions she had listened, but not now. A knot of impending tears grew behind her eyes; she vowed not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"Jesus to god, woman, out with it!" Nathan growled.

"You kissed every woman in that room tonight, except me." Cate gulped down a lump. "You kissed all of them, except me! Why not me?" She pounded her chest with her fist. "Am I so distasteful to you?"

With no ready answer, Nathan looked to the ground, and then away. "I was taking you with me."

"For what?"

He winced at his hollow answer being recognized for what it was.

Squarely before him now, her voice quavered dangerously. "You kissed Prudence. You kissed Sally-God knows what else you did to that poor woman! Hell, you even kissed Nanna's and Lady Bart's hands! But not me. Why?"

The moonlight caught the glitter of resentment and accusation in his slitted eyes. Regretting having said anything, she retreated in the face of what looked to be a storm fit to erupt. Instead, he lurched forward and kissed her, firm but quick on the mouth.

"There!"

If shock has been his intention, he had been triumphant.

Nathan stood back. His chest heaved, rising and falling as if he was fighting someone, or something, like a long torment.

"Oh, bloody hell!" He flung the boxes aside and swept Cate into his arms.

Knowing Nathan was going to kiss her was one thing. The ferocity with which he took her was something else, driving Cate back, until she came up against a tree and then held her there.

"Damn!" He drew a shaky breath. "I knew this would happen; I knew if I started, I could never stop."

Nathan kissed her again, forcing her mouth open under his, hungry and demanding. A thrill verging on giddiness raced through her. The scrape of the tree at her back brought back visions of another night, but this was nowhere near the same. Cate's head whirled with in disbelief, fearing it another of his fooleries.

Nathan braced his forehead against Cate's, his voice hoarse with yearning. "Mother of Heaven, I've waited a long time to do that, since the day we pulled you from the water."

"But why...? Why so long?" she gasped, breathless.

His mouth moved wordlessly. Ultimately, he shrugged. "I was a damned cod-livered coward. God curse me sorry bones, I was afraid you'd laugh, afraid you'd leave."

"I'd never-"

Nathan choked a mirthless laugh. His body still hard against her, the walnut eyes were but inches from hers. "Aye, but you almost did. The only thing what kept me from locking you up was the fear you'd jump the moment you were free."

He touched his lips to where Cat's neck and shoulder met, and she shivered. "Just there," he breathed. "I've wanted to put me mouth just there and taste you."

And so, he did, a warm path from shoulder to neck, lingering at the tender skin underneath her jaw. He sucked gently on her earlobe, and flicked it with his tongue, her breath coming shorter yet. She slid a hand into the opening of his shirt and felt his skin ripple at her touch.

Nathan's body against hers strained with need and they tore furtively at each other's clothes. His hand found its way under Cate's skirt to her bare leg. The heat of his palm followed the curve of her thigh and cupped her bottom. His knee insinuated itself between hers and he lifted her higher. Her feet no longer touching the ground, she hooked a leg around his hip. His fingers to search deeper, and she made a small, almost animal sound when he found the slipperiness between her legs.

He broke off with a ragged gasp and braced his head on the trunk. "It's not right. You don't deserve me coming at you like a rutting boar."

"It doesn't-"

Nathan turned his head enough to peer at Cate from the corner of his eye, and his voice softened. "Not here. Not this way. I want a bed, a place where I can serve you properly and not have to worry about Harte looking over me shoulder."

He lowered Cate to the ground and, with considerably effort, withdrew his hand. He tipped her face up and kissed her again, eloquent with tenderness. The bristle of his mustache brushed her lips as a final parting.

"Properly," he whispered. A reminder to himself, a vow to her. He smiled, one of devilment and charm.

Cate kissed the hollow of his throat. His skin was damp with exertion, his pulse racing against her lips. He bent to kiss her again, but stopped short. Arm curling protectively around her shoulders, his gaze averted skyward.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up.

Nathan's jaw twisted sideways as he scanned the diamond-glittered velvet. "I don't know. Just a feeling. Best we push off."

"Is there something wrong?" She stooped to retrieve the boxes from the ground.

"Don't know for sure and not desirin' to see."

Nathan took the boxes and put his arm around her. The small gesture was suddenly so natural, and yet so intimate. He took several steps, and then stopped. Screwing his face, he shifted his weight and plucked delicately at the front of his breeches.

"The lads are in a bit of disarray."

The remainder of the walk was lost to Cate. It was entirely possible she had floated the rest of the way, for she didn't recall her feet touching the ground. She was buoyant on a flood of emotions: joy, disbelief, elation. They tumbled past, too quick and too many to name. Besides, to do so only threatened to dampen them. With the heat of his hand still on her thigh, she played the scene over again and again in her head. If she could etch every detail to memory, then she could prove to herself that it hadn't been a dream.

How? Why? When? What? But then...?

Questions bobbed to the surface like apples in a barrel, and yet none could she seize upon with enough surety to respond.

Nathan moved next to her as if nothing was different. His face was too obscured by the night, and therefore of no guidance as to what he might have been thinking.

...from the first...

A part of her was furious with him for waiting so long, and yet she flogged herself with the regret of having been so blind.

He must have felt her looking, for there was the ivory and gold flash of a smile, and she was sure he winked.

Pryce waited at the longboat, Maori and Chin resting on the oars. He gave them a long, significant look, seeming to know what had transpired. There was no disapproval, however. If anything, Cate thought she caught a glimmer of relief on the stern countenance.

"'Pears there be foul weather a-brewin,'" the First Mate said, casting an eye skyward.

"Aching bunions saying tomorrow next, eh?" Nathan said as he handed Cate to a thwart. A blur of brilliant blue soaring toward the ship caught his eye. "It would appear Beatrice knows it, as well."

"Aye, I've yet to see that blessed bird stray when there be a blow a-comin'. Artemis 'tis not moved the night, neither."

Following their gazes, Cate saw only night-shadowed trees, ink sky and the bay's glittering gunmetal surface. The Morganse's silhouette laid low against the island, her masts and spars merging with the jagged treeline. Lamps doused and sails aback, she sat like a panther coiled to spring. The two mariners stood in the boat elbow to elbow, gazing up with the wisdom that came only with a lifetime at sea.

Nathan closed his eyes and lifted his face into the freshening breeze. "We'll haul anchor at the ready."

Pryce pursed his mouth and said as they pushed off, "'Twill be a dicey passage to make in the dark."

"And no easier for the waiting. At the ready, Master Pryce."

Unable to disagree, Pryce signaled the oarsmen aweigh.

Conversation as they pulled across to the Morganse was kept to low-voiced murmurs, voices being so readily augmented by the night-glassed water. Cate sat on the thwart next to Nathan. Pryce eyed the two of them knowingly. By some strange intuition, every hand in the boat peered at them with the same look.

Is there a damned sign on my forehead?

Feeling the weight of everyone's stare, Cate and Nathan avoided looking at each other like two north ends of a compass. While Nathan and Pryce made low-voiced plans of what was to be done once aboard, Nathan's hand crept under the cover of darkness and her skirt, seeking hers. As he directed Pryce on men and sails, his fingers brushed the dip and curve of her knuckles, and then curved in a two-fingered grasp over her hand as he gave Pryce a heading.

Darkness and damp-slickened steps made scaling the ship's side a treacherous proposition, even with Nathan guiding from behind. Cate had barely managed halfway up when two stout arms reached down to lift her up over the gunwale. As she was lightly set down on deck, she was struck with an overwhelming sense.

Home.