Julie Garwood - The Gift

Her uncle's eyes narrowed into slits. "Your mother should have her tongue cut out for turning against her husband. This isn't your business, Sara. Get out of my way. I'm going to have a word with your mother."

Sara shook her head. "I won't let you speak to her," she shouted. "Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. If I have to force Mother, I will, but she's going to leave London. A nice visit with her sister will be just the thing. She might even realize she doesn't want to come back here again. God, I hope so. Mother deserves a little joy in her life. I'm going to see that she gets it."

Henry kicked the door shut behind him. He knew better than to strike Sara, for he remembered the threat her husband had made when he'd walked into the tavern to get his bride.

"Go back to the cur you're married to," he shouted. "Victoria," he added in a screech. "Get down here. I'm wanting a word with you."

"Mother isn't here. Now you get out. The sight of you makes me ill."

Henry started toward the steps. He stopped when he spotted the brass umbrella stand in the corner. He was too furious to consider the consequences. The chit needed to learn a lesson, he thought to himself. Just one good hit to rid her of her insolence.

He reached for the ivory-tipped walking stick. Just one good hit…

She damn near killed him.

Tortured screams echoed into the street. The carriage hadn't come to a complete stop before Nathan jumped to the pavement and started up the steps. The god-awful screaming made him crazed with fear for his Sara-so crazed, in fact, that he didn't stop to notice it was a man's voice making all the noise. He didn't stop to open the door, either. He went through it. The frame bounded off his shoulder and landed with a thud on Henry Winchester's head. The heavy piece of wood muffled some of the louder cries.

Nathan wasn't at all prepared for the sight he came upon. He was so stunned, he stopped dead in his tracks. Caine and Sir Richards crashed into his back. Caine let out a low grunt. He felt as though he'd just run into a block of steel. Both he and Sir Richards recovered their balance and moved to the side to see what held Nathan transfixed.

It was difficult for the men to take in. Henry Winchester was shriveled up in a fetal position on the floor in the center of the large foyer. His hands were clutching his groin. The man was literally writhing about in agony, and when he rolled over their way Sir Richards and Caine immediately noticed his bloody nose.

Nathan was staring at Sara. She was standing at the bottom of the steps. She looked thoroughly composed, absolutely beautiful, and completely unharmed.

She was all right. The bastard hadn't gotten to her. Yes, she was all right. Nathan kept repeating that fact inside his mind in an attempt to calm down.

It didn't work. His hands were shaking. He decided he needed to hear her tell him she was all right before he could start breathing normally again.

"Sara?" Nathan whispered her name in such a hoarse whisper, he doubted she could hear him above the racket her Uncle Henry was making. He tried again. "Sara? Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

The anguish in her husband's voice was almost her undoing. Tears filled her eyes, and she realized that Nathan was just as misty. The look on his face made her heart ache. He looked so… scared, so vulnerable… so loving.

Dear God, he did love her. It was so apparent to her.

You love me, she wanted to shout. She didn't, of course, because there were other people present. But he loved her. She couldn't speak, couldn't quit smiling.

She started toward her husband, then remembered her audience. She turned to Caine and Sir Richards and made a perfect curtsy.

Caine grinned. Sir Richards was in the middle of an acknowledging bow when he caught himself. "What happened here?" he demanded in a fluster of authority.

"Damn it, Sara, answer me," Nathan strangled out at the same time. "Are you all right?"

She turned her gaze to her husband. "Yes, Nathan. I'm quite all right. Thank you for inquiring."

She looked down at her uncle. "Uncle Henry had a little mishap," she announced.

The director bent on one knee and lifted a remnant of the door away from Henry's chest. "I surmised as much, my dear," he said to Sara. He tossed the piece of wood aside, then frowned at Henry. "For the love of God, man, quit that weeping. It isn't dignified. Did the door fell you when Nathan came charging through? Speak up, Winchester. I can't catch a word of your blubbering."

Caine had already put the pieces together. Sara was rubbing the back of her right hand in what appeared to be an attempt to work out the sting. Henry was clutching his groin.

"Uncle Henry had his mishap before the door fell on him," Sara explained. She sounded incredibly cheerful, and she was smiling at Nathan when she made that statement. Nathan still wasn't calm enough to reason it through. He couldn't understand why his wife looked so damned pleased with herself. Hadn't she realized the danger she'd been in? Hell, his nerves still felt as raw as a fresh wound.

Then she was slowly walking toward him, and all he could think about was taking her into his arms. He was never going to let go of her, not even when he lectured her on her sinful habit of taking off on her own.

Caine's smile proved catching. The director found himself smiling, too, though he still didn't know what was so amusing. He stood up and turned to Sara. "Please satisfy my curiosity and tell me what happened."

She wasn't about to explain. If she told him exactly what she'd done, the director would certainly be appalled by her unladylike behavior.

Nathan wouldn't be appalled. He'd be proud of her. Sara couldn't wait until they were alone and she could give him all the details, blow by satisfying blow.

"Uncle Henry tripped over a walking stick," she said, unable to stop smiling.

Nathan finally came out of his stupor and took a good look around him. Sara had just reached his side when he grabbed hold of her and stared intently at the red splotches on the back of her right hand.

That low growl she found adorable was working its way up Nathan's throat. She could also see the rage coming over him. She wasn't at all frightened, however, for she knew he would never turn his anger against her.

She didn't want him to get all worked up on her behalf. Sara wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and hugged him tight. "I'm really all right, Nathan," she whispered. "You mustn't worry so."

She rested the side of her face against his chest. The hammering of his heart indicated that her soothing words hadn't calmed him at all. Yet his voice was deceptively calm when he asked, "Did you have the walking stick, or did he?"

"He had the stick when he started up the steps to get me," she explained. "He grabbed it from the umbrella stand."

Nathan pictured it in his mind. He tried to peel her hands away. "Nathan? It's over now. He didn't strike me."

"Did he try?"

She felt as if she were clinging to a statue, so rigid had his stance become. She let out a little sigh, increased her hold on him, and then answered, "Yes, but I wouldn't let him hit me. I remembered your instructions, and I evened the odds, just as you promised I would in such a situation. As to that," she added, "I also had the element of surprise on my side. Uncle Henry isn't at all used to having women defend themselves. He looked… astonished when he fell backwards."

"Caine? Take Sara outside and wait for me. Richards, go with them."

All three of them told Nathan no at the same time. They all had different reasons. Caine didn't want the mess of getting rid of the body. Sara didn't want Nathan to go to the gallows. Sir Richards didn't want the paperwork.

Nathan was still rigid with fury when they'd finished giving him their arguments. He couldn't get Sara out of his arms long enough to rip the Winchester bastard apart. He found the situation extremely frustrating. "Damn it, Sara, if you'll just let me-"

"No, Nathan."

His sigh was long. She knew she'd won. She was suddenly in a hurry to get him alone so that she could win another victory. Come hell or his hide, she would get him to tell her he loved her.

"Nathan, we can't leave until I know Mama's going to be safe," she whispered. "But I want to go home with you now. What are you going to do about this problem?" She didn't give him time to answer. "I meant to say, Nathan, what are we going to do about this problem?"

Her husband wasn't one to give up easily. He still wanted to kill her uncle. He considered his plan a perfectly logical one. It would not only eliminate Sara's worry about her mother's safety, but it would also give him the tremendous satisfaction of putting his fist through the man's face. He kept staring at the walking stick and thinking of the damage a man could inflict with such a weapon. Henry could have killed her.

Caine came up with a nice solution. "You know, Nathan, Henry looks in need of a long rest. Perhaps a sea voyage to the colonies would be just the ticket to improve his health."

Nathan's mood immediately brightened. "See to it, Caine."

"I'll give him to Colin and let him arrange the details," Caine said. He lifted Henry up by the nape of his neck. "A few ropes and a gag are all the baggage he'll be needing."

Sir Richards nodded agreement. "I'll wait here until your mother returns, Sara. I'll explain that your uncle had a sudden desire to take a long trip. I'm also going to wait for your father. I want to have a few words with him, too. Why don't you and Nathan run along now? Take my carriage and have my driver return for me later."

Henry Winchester had regained enough of his sensibilities to make a doubled-over dash for the doorway. Caine deliberately shoved him toward his brother-in-law.

Nathan seized his opportunity. He slammed the back of his fist into Henry's stomach. The blow sent Sara's uncle back to the floor for another bout of writhing.

"Feel better, Nathan?" Caine asked.

"Immensely," Nathan answered.

"What about the papers you had drawn up?" Sir Richards asked Nathan.

"Bring them to Farnmount's ball tonight. We'll borrow Lester's library for a few minutes. Sara and I should get there around nine."

"I'll have to go back to the office to fetch them," the director said. "Set the meeting for ten, Nathan, just to be on the safe side."

"May I ask what it is you're discussing?" Sara interjected.

"No."

Her husband's abrupt answer irritated her. "I don't want to go out tonight," she announced. "I have something most important to discuss with you."

He shook his head. "You will have faith in me, woman," he muttered as he dragged her out the doorway.

She let out a gasp. "Of all the galling things to say to me…"

She stopped when he turned and lifted her into the carriage. His expression looked bleak. She noticed his hands were shaking, too.

He wouldn't let her sit next to him but took his place across from her. When he stretched out his long legs she was trapped between them.

As soon as the carriage started forward he turned and stared out the window.

"Nathan?"

"Yes?"

"Are you having… aftermath now?"

"No."

She was disappointed, for she hoped he'd need to vent his frustration the way she had when she'd experienced aftermath. The memory of just how her husband had helped her get over her tension made her face turn pink.

"Don't men have aftermath after they fight?"

"Some do. I shouldn't have hit Henry in front of you," he said. He still wouldn't look at her.

"Do you mean that if I hadn't been there, you wouldn't have hit him, or that you regret-"

"Hell, yes, I would have hit him," Nathan muttered. "I just shouldn't have struck the bastard in front of you."

"Why?"

"You're my wife," he explained. "You shouldn't be a witness to… violence. In future I will refrain from-"

"Nathan," she interrupted, "I didn't mind. Truly. There are times when it will happen again. I am opposed to violence," she added in a rush, "but I will admit that there are times when a sound punch is just the thing. It can be quite invigorating."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't let me kill the pirates, remember?"

"I let you hit them."