An hour later the cramps came on with a vengeance. They were much worse than usual. She was in too much pain to worry that Nathan might find out about her condition. She was freezing, too. The pain did that to her, and it didn't matter at all that it was warm and humid inside the cabin. She was still chilled through to the bone.

She put on her heavy white cotton sleeping gown, then crawled into bed and covered herself with three quilts.

She couldn't get comfortable no matter what position she tried. Her lower back felt as though it had been broken in half, and the agony soon made her start whimpering.

Nathan didn't come down to the cabin until the night watch had changed. Sara usually left a candle burning for him, but the room was pitched into darkness.

He heard her groan. He quickly struck two candles and hurried over to the bed.

He still couldn't see her. She was cocooned beneath a mound of covers.

"Sara?"

His alarm was obvious in his tone of voice. When she didn't immediately answer him he jerked the covers away from her face.

Fear made him break out in a cold sweat. Her face was as white as the sheets. Sara pulled the covers back over her head.

"Sara, what in God's name is the matter?"

"Go away, Nathan," she whispered. Her voice was muffled by the quilts, but he understood her all the same. "I don't feel well."

She sounded near death. His worry intensified. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded in a rough whisper. "Does your face hurt now? Damn, I knew I should have killed that bastard."

"It isn't my face," she cried out.

"Is it fever, then?" He jerked the covers away again.

Oh, God, she couldn't explain her condition to him. It was too humiliating. She let out another low groan and rolled onto her side, away from him. Her knees were pulled up against her stomach, and she began to rock back and forth in an attempt to ease the pain in her back. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. "I just don't feel well. Please go away."

He wasn't about to do any such thing, of course. He put his hand on her forehead. It was cool, though damp, to his touch. "It isn't fever," he announced with an added grunt of relief. "God, Sara, I didn't hurt you this afternoon, did I? I know I was a little… rough, but-"

"You didn't hurt me," she blurted out.

He still wasn't convinced. "You're certain?"

She was wanned by his obvious worry. "I'm certain. You didn't cause this illness," she added. "I just need to be alone now."

A cramp claimed her full attention then. She let out a low moan, then added, "Let me die in peace."

"The hell I will," he muttered. Another black thought gave him the chills. "You didn't make anything when you were in the galley, did you? You didn't eat something you prepared?"

"No. It isn't stomach upset."

"Then what the hell is it?"

"I'm not… clean."

He didn't know what in God's name that was supposed to mean. "You're sick because you aren't clean? Sara, that's got to be the most illogical illness I've ever heard of. Will you feel better if I order a bath made ready for you?"

She wanted to scream at him yet knew the effort would cost her more pain. "Nathan, it's a… woman's condition," she whispered.

"A what?"

Lord, he was going to make her spell it out for him. "I'm having my monthly," she shouted. "Oh, I hurt," she added in a whimper. "Some months are worse than others."

"You're having your monthly…"

"I'm not pregnant," she blurted out at the same moment. "Please go away now. If God is truly merciful, I'll die in just a few more minutes… if not from the pain, then from the shame of having to explain my condition to you."

He was so relieved she wasn't suffering from a life-threatening ailment, he let out a ragged sigh. Then he reached out to pat her shoulder. He pulled back before actually touching her, though. Damn, he felt awkward. Inadequate, too.

"Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?" he asked. "Do you want something?"

"I want my mother," she muttered. "But I can't have her, can I? Oh, just go away, Nathan. There isn't anything you can do."

She pulled the covers back over her face and let out another pitiful moan. Nathan must have decided to let her have her way, she decided when she heard the door shut. She burst into tears then. How dare he leave her when she was in such agony? She'd lied when she said she wanted her mother. She wanted Nathan to hold her, and the obstinate man should have been able to read her mind and know that was what she needed.

Nathan immediately went to Nora's cabin. He didn't bother to knock. As soon as he threw the door open a deep voice called out, "Who's there?"

Nathan almost smiled. He recognized Matthew's booming voice. The seaman was obviously sharing Nora's bed. "I have to talk to Nora," he announced.

Sara's aunt came awake with a start. She let out a gasp and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her blush was as high as the candle flame.

Nathan walked over to the side of the bed and stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the floor.

"Sara's ill," he announced before Nora could say a word.

Nora's embarrassment over being found in such a compromising position quickly faded in the light of that announcement.

"I must go to her," she whispered. She struggled to sit up. "Do you know what the ailment is?"

"Do you want me to have a look at her?" Matthew asked in a rush. He was already tossing the covers aside.

Nathan shook his head. He cleared his throat. "It's this… woman's thing."

"What woman's thing?" Matthew asked, genuinely perplexed.

Nora understood. She patted Matthew's hand but kept her gaze on Nathan's face. "Is she in much pain?"

Nathan nodded. "She's in terrible pain, madam. Now tell me what I can do to help her."

Nora thought he sounded very like a military commander, so brisk was his tone of voice. "A stiff drink of brandy sometimes helps," Nora suggested. "A gentle word wouldn't hurt either, Nathan. I remember becoming very emotional during that time of month."

"Isn't there anything else I can do for her?" Nathan muttered. "My God, Nora, she's in pain. I won't have it"

With extreme effort Nora was able to contain her smile. Nathan looked like he wanted to kill someone. "Have you asked her what might help?"

"She wanted her mother."

"How would that help?" Matthew asked.

Nora answered, "She needs her husband, dear. Nathan, she wants someone to comfort her. Try rubbing her back."

Nora had to raise her voice to give that last suggestion, for Nathan was already striding out the doorway.

As soon as the door closed behind him Nora turned to Matthew. "Do you think he'll tell Sara that you and I-"

"No, my love, he wouldn't say a word," Matthew interjected.

"I hate to deceive Sara, but she does tend to see everything in black or white. I don't think she'd understand."

"Hush now," Matthew soothed. He kissed Nora and pulled her into his arms. "Age will season her."

Nora agreed. She changed the topic then and whispered, "Nathan is beginning to care for Sara, isn't he? It won't be long before he realizes he loves her."

"He may love her, Nora, but he won't ever admit it. The boy learned a long time ago to protect himself against any true involvement."

Nora snorted over that remark. "Nonsense," she countered. "Given an ordinary woman, perhaps you would be right, Matthew, but surely you've noticed by now that my Sara isn't ordinary. She's just what Nathan needs. She thinks her husband loves her, and it won't take her long to convince him that he does. Just wait and see."

Sara didn't have any idea she was the topic of discussion. She was in the throes of self-pity.

She never heard Nathan come back into the cabin. He was suddenly touching her shoulder. "Sara, drink this. It will make you feel better."

She rolled over, saw the goblet in his hands, and immediately shook her head.

"It's brandy," he told her.

"I don't want it."

"Drink it."

"I'll throw up."

She couldn't be any blunter than that, he supposed. He hastily put the goblet on the desk and then got into bed beside her.

She tried to push him out. He ignored her struggle and her demands.

Sara rolled back onto her side again, facing the wall. She might as well pray for death, she supposed. It was an overly dramatic request she gave her Maker, and in the back of her mind she really hoped He wasn't listening, and that thought didn't make a lick of sense to her either.

She couldn't take the pain much longer. Then Nathan put his arm around her waist. He pulled her a little closer to him and began to rub her lower back. The gentle touch was heaven. The ache immediately began to lessen. Sara closed her eyes and scooted closer to her husband so that she could steal a little more of his warmth.

She barely noticed the rocking and pitching motion of the ship. Nathan noticed. His own stomach was in torment, and he wished to God he hadn't eaten anything. It was only a matter of time before he would turn completely green.

He kept rubbing her spine for fifteen minutes or so without speaking a word to her. He tried to concentrate on the woman cuddled up against him, but each time the ship rolled, so did his stomach.

"You can stop now," Sara whispered. "I'm feeling better, thank you."

Nathan did as she requested, then started to get out of bed. She waylaid that intent with her next request. "Will you hold me, Nathan? I'm so cold. It's chilly tonight, isn't it?"

It was as hot as blazes to him. His face was drenched in perspiration. He did as she asked, though. Her hands felt like ice, but in just a few minutes he'd hugged her warm again.

He thought she was finally asleep and was just easing himself out of her hold when she whispered, "Nathan? What if I'm barren?"

"Then you're barren."

"Is that all you can say? We can't have children if I'm barren."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. God, she sounded like she was going to cry again. "You can't possibly know if you're barren or not," he said. "It's too soon to jump to that conclusion."

"But if I am?" she prodded.

"Sara, what do you want me to say?" he asked. His frustration was almost visible. His stomach lurched again. Deep breaths weren't helping. He tossed the covers aside and tried to leave the bed again.

"Would you still want to be married to me?" she asked. "We won't get the land the king promised if I don't have a baby by the time-"

"I'm aware of the conditions of the contract," he snapped. "If we don't get the land, then we'll rebuild on the land my father left to me. Now quit your questions and go to sleep. I'll be back in a little while."

"You still haven't answered me," she said. "Would you still want to be married to a barren woman?"

"Oh, for God's sake-"

"You would, wouldn't you?"

He grunted. She took that sound to mean he would. She rolled over and kissed his back. He'd left the candles burning, and when she looked up at his face she saw how gray his complexion had turned.

She was quick to put two and two together. The ship was bouncing like an errant ball in the water. The goblet of brandy was pitched to the floor. Nathan closed his eyes and grimaced.

He was seasick. Sara was filled with sympathy for her poor husband, but that emotion was quickly squelched when he muttered, "I wouldn't be married to anyone if it wasn't for the damned contracts. Now go to sleep."

After grumbling out that remark he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Sara was suddenly furious again. How dare he take that tone of voice with her? She was just as ill as he was, perhaps even more. She forgot all about the gentle way he'd treated her and decided to teach the man a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

"I'm sorry I'm keeping you from whatever business you have to attend to," she began. "My back is feeling much better now, Nathan. Thank you. My stomach isn't upset either. I suppose I shouldn't have had that fish for supper. It tasted wonderful, though, especially when I put a little dab of chocolate on top. Have you ever tasted fish sweetened that way? No?" she asked when he didn't answer her.

He seemed to be in quite a hurry to get his pants back on. Sara held her smile. "I usually just put sugar on top, but I wanted to experiment tonight. By the way, the cook has promised to serve us oysters when we reach port. I love oysters, don't you? The way they sort of… slide down your throat… Nathan, aren't you going to kiss me good-bye?"