little disquieting, but she kept her features carefully arranged as unobtrusive and attentive as possible.
“There have been a number of matters that have come to me attention which demand being addressed. Firstly, there was the unfortunate scene with me bunk.”
Now frowning slightly, Cate strained to follow his train of thought. It finally came to her: a few days after her arrival, Nathan had caught her dragging it outside. In her own defense, it had looked suspect and smelled worse; she had only wished to air it. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time, but in retrospect, she could see how he might have taken offense.
Her attempt at an apology was cut off.
“And then, there was the matter of the decks, in me own cabin, I might add.”
She harbored less guilt for washing the cabin floor. It had looked dirty, her intention to be useful.
“I’ll not have you slaving about like some scullery maid!” had been Nathan's comment at the time, and with only a small amount of discussion, she had agreed to resist such impulses in the future.
Nathan pivoted to jab an accusing finger so squarely at Cate's nose she ducked. She didn’t think he would deliberately hurt her, but given his mood, miscalculations came easily.
“And then there was the matter of the hammocks,” he said in a war-like declaration.
“They were stained and they smelled,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
“They are washed every Wednesday, each man being responsible for his own.”
In a rising heat, Cate wondered whether he was upset over the disruption of routine or that she had robbed the men of the opportunity to do it themselves.
“Am I being disciplined?” Cate said, ruffling. “If so, then put me off at the next port. I had no wish to be such a burden.”
“Hold your course and speed. You shan’t slip from under this so easily…and I’ve only begun!” Settling his shoulders, Nathan continued. “And now, out of the blue, without provocation or warning…”
His mouth moved wordlessly, unable to utter the words. Surrendering, he stood over her and glared down his nose. “I demand you explain yourself!”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you mean what you said?”
“I don’t know.” Baffled, Cate pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t…I mean…What are…?”
“You called me a friend. A friend, mind. What the bloody hell did you mean by that?” Vibrating with acrimony, Nathan commenced pacing, the rum geysering from the bottle.
“That was yesterday,” she sputtered
“Ah-ha! Exactly! Thought you could drop that stinkpot and it would go unnoticed?”
Cate's first reaction was to laugh, but thought that unwise; Nathan didn’t seem of a mind to be dallied with. She wished she knew him better, that she might more accurately read his moods and swings.
“If you had called me an ass or a sottish bugger or a Dutch-faced princock, I would know how to respond to that. Or even if you’d slapped me face, at least I’d know what I’d done, but this…this!” Nathan cried as he stormed about, the scarf jouncing at his knees.
He stalked the room, spewing a black tirade in a rapid succession of languages. Cate's neck grew stiff with visually following his circuitous path. Married to a Scot and living in the Highlands had given her a thorough education in dealing with tempers. Unless bodily harm was imminent, riding them out as invisibly as possible was usually best. Eyes down, she folded her hands in her lap.
“A stab to the heart, that’s what it is, and goddamned uncivil to boot. Friend! Tach!”
Nathan took a drink, and then took an angry swipe at the air. His shoulders jerked, elbows working at his sides. “I’m not alone on this, be assured. I’ve conferred with Pryce and he concurs. Blessed unseemly! I’ll have you know, madam, I am a pirate and under no circumstances does that allow—nor come with the expectations—of my being a friend to anyone!”
Cate turned her head to cover a smile that couldn’t be suppressed. It was endearing—another term she was confident he wouldn’t appreciate—that he was so upset. She was beginning to regret what had only been best intentions, but those often went unrewarded.
Nathan's pace slowed to measured strides. Timed to punctuate each word, he ticked his points off on his fingers. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been cordial. I’ve made polite conversation. Hell, I even gave you me bunk. I haven’t shouted or called you names—”
“Well, there was that one time…”
Nathan's lip took an ugly curl. “You were cleaning, madam. Cleaning, mind you. You had to be