He meant her, all right. Her stomach lurched. She blinked. He didn’t disappear. She shook her head in a bid to clear her mind of the vision from hell.
He crooked his finger at her again. “Come to me.”
His voice was deep, commanding, arrogant. God help her, she started walking toward him.
And then all hell broke loose. The sound of the whip cracking in the air, the scream of pain from the fool who tried to touch her as she moved past him echoed in Sara’s ears. She never looked toward the commotion. Her gaze was locked on the man who was methodically destroying the tavern.
He made it look so easy. A simple flip of his wrist that didn’t seem to cost him the least amount of effort made such a lasting impression on his audience.
She also noticed that the closer she got to him, the deeper his scowl became.
The warlord obviously wasn’t in a good mood. She decided to humor him until she could regain her composure. Then she was going to run outside, jump into the hack with Nora, and race to the waterfront.
It was a fine plan, she told herself. The problem, of course, was getting the Viking away from the door first.
She realized she’d stopped to stare at him again when he motioned for her to move. She felt a restraining hand on her shoulder, glanced down at it, then heard the crack of the whip.
Sara was suddenly in full flight. She ran to him, determined to get there before her heart completely failed her.
She came to a swaying stop directly in front of him, tilted her head back, and stared up at those piercing green eyes until he finally looked down at her. On impulse she reached out and pinched his arm just to make certain he really wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
He was real, all right. His skin felt like steel, but warm steel. The look in those beautiful eyes saved her from insanity, though. The color was hypnotizing, intense.
Odd, but the longer she stared at him, the safer she felt. She smiled with acute relief. He raised an eyebrow in reaction. “I knew you weren’t a villain, Viking.”
Sara was suddenly weightless. She felt as though she were floating through a dark tunnel and on her way toward the bronzed Viking standing in the sun.
Nathan caught her before she hit the floor. His bride was in a full faint when he tossed her over his shoulder. He scanned the tavern for any leftovers he might have missed. There were bodies all over the wooden floor. That wasn’t good enough, he thought. He had an almost overwhelming urge to mark the bastard uncle who was cowering under the table. He could hear the choked sobs coming from the man.
Nathan kicked the table across the room in order to see his prey. “Do you know who I am, Winchester?”
Henry was locked in fetal position. When he shook his head his jowls rubbed back and forth against the floorboards.
“Look at me, bastard.”
His voice sounded like thunder. Henry looked up. “I’m the marquess of St. James. If you ever come near my wife or that old woman, I’ll kill you. Do we understand each other?”
“You’re . . . him?”
The bile had risen in Henry’s throat, making speech nearly impossible. He started gagging. Nathan gave him a sound shove with the tip of his boot, then turned and walked out of the tavern.
The barkeep peeked out from his hiding place behind the grill and looked at the devastation around him. There wouldn’t be any more ale purchased that dark night, for nary a one of his customers was in any condition to drink. They covered his floor like discarded peanut shells. It was a sight he wouldn’t soon forget. He wanted to remember every single detail so he could relate the happening to his friends. He already knew how he was going to tell the ending, too. The Winchester dandy crying like an infant would provide a good, hearty laugh for his future customers. The sound of gagging pulled the barkeep from his musings. The high and mighty Winchester was puking all over his floor.
The tavern owner’s shout of anger mingled with Aunt Nora’s gasp of fear. When she saw her niece draped over the stranger’s shoulder her hand flew to her bosom.
“Is Sara hurt?” she cried out. Her mind was already picturing the worst.
Nathan shook his head. He opened the door of the carriage, then paused to grin at the old woman. “She fainted.”
Nora was too relieved at that news to take exception to the fact that the man was amused over her niece’s condition. She moved over to make room for Sara. Nathan placed his bride on the opposite seat, however. Nora gave her niece a quick once-over to make certain she was still breathing, then turned to look at their savior again. She watched him recoil the whip and hook it to his belt.
Nora hadn’t expected him to join them inside the vehicle. When he did so she squeezed herself into the far corner. “Sara can sit next to me,” she offered.
He didn’t bother to answer her. He did, however, take up all the space across from her. Then he lifted Sara onto his lap. Nora noticed how very gentle he was when he touched her niece. His hand lingered on the side of Sara’s cheek when he pressed her face into the crook of his neck. Sara let out a little sigh.
Nora didn’t know what to make of the man. The carriage was in full motion before she tried to engage him in conversation.
“Young man, my name’s Nora Bettleman. The dear lady you just saved is my niece. Her name is Sara Winchester.”
“No,” he said in a hard voice. “Her name is Lady St. James.”
After making that emphatic statement he turned his gaze to the window. Nora continued to stare at him. The man had a nice, strong profile. “Why are you helping us?” she asked. “You won’t convince me you’re in the employ of the Winchester family,” she added with a firm nod. “Could one of the St. James men have hired you?”
He didn’t answer her. Nora let out a sigh before turning her attention to her niece. She wished Sara would hurry up and finish with her swoon so she could sort out the confusion.
“I’ve come to depend upon the child you’re cradling in your arms, sir. I cannot abide the thought of anything ill happening to her.”
“She isn’t a child,” he contradicted.
Nora smiled. “No, but I still consider her such,” she admitted. “Sara’s such an innocent, trusting soul. She takes after her mother’s side of the family.”
“You aren’t a Winchester, are you?”
Nora was so pleased that he was finally conversing with her, she smiled again. “No,” she answered. “I’m Sara’s aunt on her mother’s side. I was a Turner before I married my Johnny and took his name.”
She glanced over to look at Sara again. “I don’t believe she’s ever fainted before. Of course, the last two weeks must have been a terrible strain on her. There are shadows under her eyes. She obviously hasn’t been sleeping well. The worry about me, you see,” she added with a little wheeze. “Still, she must have seen something quite frightening to make her swoon. What do you suppose . . .”
She quit her speculation when she caught his grin. The man was certainly on the peculiar side, for he smiled over the oddest remarks.
And then he explained himself. “She saw me.”
Sara started to stir. She felt dizzy still, disoriented, yet wonderfully warm. She rubbed her nose against the heat, inhaled the clean, masculine scent, and let out a sigh of contentment.
“I do believe she’s coming around,” Nora whispered. “Thank the Lord.”
Sara slowly turned her gaze to her aunt. “Coming around?” she asked with an unladylike yawn.
“You swooned, dear.”
“I didn’t,” Sara whispered, clearly appalled. “I never faint. I . . .” She stopped her explanation when she realized she was sitting on someone’s lap. Not someone, she realized. His lap. The color drained from her face. Memory was fully restored.
Nora reached over to pat her hand. “It’s all right, Sara. This kind gentleman saved you.”
“The one with the whip?” Sara whispered, praying she was wrong.
Nora nodded. “Yes, dear, the one with the whip. You must
give him your appreciation, and for heaven’s sake, Sara, don’t faint again. I don’t have my smelling salts with me.”
Sara nodded. “I won’t faint again,” she said. To insure that promise she decided she’d better not look at him again. She tried to move off his lap without his noticing, but as soon as she started to scoot away he increased his grip around her waist.
She leaned forward just a little. “Who is he?” she whispered to Nora.
Her aunt lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “He hasn’t told me yet,” she explained. “Perhaps, dear—if you tell him how thankful you are—well, then he just might give us his name.”
Sara knew it was rude to talk about the man as though he weren’t even there. She braced herself before she slowly turned to look at his face. She deliberately stared at his chin when she said, “Thank you, sir, for coming to my defense inside the tavern. I shall be in your debt forever.”
He nudged her chin up with his thumb. His gaze was inscrutable. “You owe me more than gratitude, Sara.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “You know who I am?”
“I told him, dear,” Nora interjected.
“I don’t have any coins left,” Sara said then. “I used all I had to book passage for our journey. Are you taking us to the harbor?”
He nodded.
“I do have a gold chain, sir. Will that be payment enough?”
“No.”
The abruptness in his answer irritated her. She gave him a disgruntled look for being so ungallant. “But I don’t have anything more to offer you,” she announced.
The hack came to a stop. Nathan opened the door. He moved with incredible speed for such a big man. He was outside the carriage and assisting Nora to the ground before Sara had straightened her gown. The man had all but tossed her into the corner of the hack.
His arms were suddenly around her waist again. Sara had only enough time to grab her reticule and her gloves before she was hauled out of the carriage like a sack of feed. He dared to put his arm around her shoulders and pull her up against his side. Sara immediately protested that liberty. “Sir, I happen to be a married woman. Do remove your arm. It isn’t decent.”
He obviously suffered from a hearing impairment, for he didn’t even glance at her when she’d given that order. She was about to try again when he let out a piercing whistle. The moonlit area had been completely deserted until that moment. Within a blink of an eye she found herself completely surrounded by men.
Nathan’s loyal crew stared at Sara. They acted as though they’d never seen a pretty woman before. He looked down at his bride to see how she was reacting to their stares of obvious adoration. Sara wasn’t paying any attention to the men, though. She was occupied glaring up at him. Nathan almost smiled in reaction.
He gave her a quick squeeze to get her to quit her show of insolence, then turned his attention to the old woman. “Do you have any baggage?”
“Do we, Sara?” Nora asked.
Sara tried to shove herself away from her anchor before answering. “I told you I was a married woman,” she muttered. “Now unhand me.”
He didn’t budge. She gave up. “Yes, Nora, we do have baggage. I borrowed some of my mother’s things for you to wear. I’m certain she won’t mind. Nicholas stored the bags at the Marshall storefront. Shall we go and claim them?”
She tried to take a step forward and found herself hauled up against the giant again.
Nathan found his man Jimbo in the back of the crowd and motioned to him. A tall, dark-skinned man walked over to stand in front of Sara. Her eyes widened at the sight of the near-giant. She stared at him a long minute, then came to the conclusion that he might have been attractive if it weren’t for the odd-looking gold earring looped through his ear.
He must have felt her stare on him, for he suddenly turned his full attention on her. He folded his massive arms across his chest and gave her a good scowl.
She scowled back.
A sudden sparkle appeared in his midnight-dark eyes, and he gifted her with a full smile. She didn’t know what to make of that strange behavior.
“Have two men see to the baggage, Jimbo,” Nathan ordered. “We’ll board the Seahawk at first light.”
Sara couldn’t help but notice that the Viking had included himself in her plans.
“My aunt and I will be perfectly safe now,” she said. “These men seem to be . . . pleasant enough, sir. We’ve wasted enough of your valuable time.”
Nathan continued to ignore her. He motioned to another man. When a thick-muscled though squat-framed older man came forward, Nathan nodded toward Nora. “Take care of the old woman, Matthew.”
Nora let out a gasp. Sara thought it was because they were about to be separated from each other. Yet before she could argue with their unwanted protector Nora straightened her shoulders and slowly walked over to the enormous man.
“I’m not an old woman, sir, and I take grave exception to such an insult. I’m only one year past fifty, young man, and feeling as spry as can be.”
Nathan’s eyebrow rose a fraction, but he kept his smile contained. A strong gust of wind would topple the old woman, so frail did she appear to him to be, yet she had the tone of voice of a commander.
“You should apologize to my aunt,” Sara said.
She turned back to her aunt before he had time to react to that statement. “I’m certain he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Nora. He’s just rude.”
Nathan shook his head. The conversation was ridiculous to him. “Matthew, move,” he ordered in a clipped voice.
Nora turned to the man hovering by her side. “And just where do you think you’re taking me?”
In answer, Matthew lifted Nora into his arms.
“Put me down, you rascal.”
“It’s all right, lovey,” Matthew replied. “You look a might peaked to me. You don’t weigh more than a feather.”
Nora was about to protest again. His next question changed her mind. “Where did you get those bruises? Give me the name of the bloody infidel, and I’ll be happy to cut his throat for you.”
Nora smiled at the man holding her. She judged his age to be near her own and had also noticed what a fit man he appeared to be. She hadn’t blushed in years, yet she knew from the sudden heat in her cheeks that she was certainly blushing at that moment. “Thank you, sir,” she stammered out as she patted the bun back into place on top of her head. “That is certainly a kind offer.”
Sara was astonished by her aunt’s behavior. Why, she was fluttering her eyelashes and acting very like a flirt at her first ball! She watched the pair until they were out of sight, then noticed that the crowd of men had also vanished. She was suddenly all alone with her contrary savior.
“Is my Aunt Nora going to be safe with that man?” she demanded to know.
His answer was a low growl of obvious irritation. “Does one grunt mean yes or no?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered with a sigh when she poked him in his ribs.
“Please let me go.”
He actually did as she asked. Sara was so surprised she nearly lost her balance. Perhaps, she decided, if she could maintain her pleasant tone of voice, she could get him to obey other commands. It was certainly worth a try.
“Am I going to be safe with you?”
He took his sweet time answering her. Sara turned until she was standing face-to-shoulders in front of him. The tips of her shoes touched the tips of his boots. “Please answer me,” she whispered in a sweet, coaxing tone of voice.
He didn’t seem to be impressed with her attempt to have a pleasant conversation. His exasperation, on the other hand, was evident. “Yes, Sara. You’ll always be safe with me.”
“But I don’t want to be safe with you,” she cried out. She realized how foolish that statement sounded as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and she hastily tried to correct herself. “What I mean to say is that I do always want to be safe. Everyone wants to be safe. Even villains . . .”
&nb
sp; She stopped rambling when he grinned at her. “I want to be safe without you. You aren’t planning to sail with Nora and me, are you? Why are you staring at me like that?”
He answered her first question and ignored her second one. “Yes, I’m sailing with you.”
“Why?”
“I want to,” he drawled. He decided to wait a little longer before giving her the particulars. Her cheeks were flushed again. Nathan couldn’t decide if the cause was fear or temper.
His bride still had freckles on the bridge of her nose. He was pleased by that fact. It made him remember the little hellion he’d held in his arms. She wasn’t a little girl any longer, though. She’d grown up quite nicely, too. She was, however, obviously still a bit of a hellion.
She actually nudged him in his chest to gain his attention again. “I’m sorry, sir, but you simply cannot travel with Nora and me,” she announced. “You’re going to have to find another boat. It wouldn’t be safe for you to be on the same vessel with me.”
That strange statement gained his full attention. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Because my husband won’t like it,” she announced. She nodded when he looked incredulous, then continued. “Have you heard of the marquess of St. James? Oh, of course you have. Everyone knows about the Marquess. He’s my husband, Viking, and he’s going to pitch a fit when he finds out I’m traveling with a . . . protector. No, I’m afraid it won’t do. Why are you smiling?”
“Why did you call me Viking?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Because you look like one.”
“Should I call you shrew?”
“Why?”
“You’re acting like one.”
She felt like screaming in frustration. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”
“You still owe me, Sara.”
“Oh, Lord, are you going to harp on that issue again?”
His slow nod infuriated her. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. When Sara realized that fact her bluster of indignation evaporated. She knew then that she was never going to get him to make sense. The man was daft. The sooner she got away from this barbarian, she thought, the better. First, however, she would have to find a way to placate him.