Kat Martin - The Devil's Necklace

The captain looked stunned. For several seconds he just stood there with his mouth agape. Then his jaw clenched and his eyes turned the color of a frozen sea. “You’re going to be very sorry you did that, Grace.”

Eyes widening at the fury in his face, Grace bolted for the door. He was on her in an instant, dragging her back across the room and over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and hauled her over his lap. She was tall and fairly strong but he controlled her easily. Grace shrieked at the sting of his palm, coming down hard on her bottom, the sharp blow penetrating the thin fabric of her aqua silk gown.

“Let me go!” White-hot fury engulfed her. Another stinging swat landed before she regained her wits enough to grab hold of his leg and bite down hard on his calf.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Surging to his feet, he jerked her up beside him. He was breathing hard, his eyes full of fire.

Grace faced him squarely, her breath coming fast, every bit as angry as he. She had been itching for a fight since the night he had dragged her off the Lady Anne. She wasn’t about to back down now.

“I vow you are the damndest woman I have ever met! I am twice your size and you are my prisoner! God’s breath, woman—don’t you know enough to be afraid?”

“I am afraid! I am also sick and tired of your high-handedness. And I am sick unto death of being trapped in your bloody cabin! I think I am going mad!”

Ethan stared at Grace in disbelief. His cheek still stung where she had slapped him. He could feel the imprint of her teeth on his leg. There wasn’t a man on board this ship who would have the courage to fight him as she had.

His mouth twitched with unexpected amusement. He took in her dishevel, the slightly wild, utterly determined look in her eyes, and thought he had never seen a more beautiful creature. He could still remember the shape of her lush curves as he had dragged her over his lap, the warmth of her bottom beneath his hand. He was hard and aching for her. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman so badly.

“I can’t decide if you are the bravest woman I have ever met, or the most foolish. Do what you will with the clothes. Perhaps you can salvage enough to come up with at least something to provide yourself a change. I’ll see you have needle and thread, if you are interested.”

In their struggle, her hair had come unbound and now hung in thick curls around her face. Her gown was wrinkled and stained and yet she faced him regally, her head held high, looking more like a duchess than the criminal she was.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of authority. “Perhaps later on, if you wish, I’ll come and get you, escort you round the deck.”

Her shoulders remained stiff, but he could see the relief in her face. She managed a nod. “I would appreciate that.”

Ethan made a slight bow of his head, turned and left the cabin. Once outside, he took a deep, steadying breath. If Grace Chastain had confused him before, she had done an even more thorough job this afternoon. She had fought him like a tigress, as few men were willing to do, and yet some how retained her dignity.

He found himself smiling one of his rare, sincere smiles. He couldn’t help admiring her courage. Or enjoying her fierce display of passion. If only he could harness that passion, put it to a far more pleasant use.

It seemed even more urgent that he do so. The idea he had been mulling over the past several nights returned with even more clarity. As much as he desired her, he wasn’t the sort to use force. As he came to know her better, to appreciate her spirit, the idea appealed even less.

Seduction, however, was an entirely different matter.

He hadn’t forgotten her response when he had kissed her, or the sight of her nipples stiffening beneath the cloth when he had caressed her in the tub. The more he thought about it, the more the notion of seducing her appealed to him. In the end, the lady would warm his bed and having her there willingly would make the victory all the sweeter.

And there was the added possibility that once he had gained a little of her trust, she might confide the viscount’s current location.

His decision was made. He had promised her a stroll round the deck. Ethan intended to keep his word.

It would be the perfect time to put his plan into motion.

At the knock on the door, Grace sat up straighter in her chair. She had been working on the sapphire silk, using the black lace from the orange crepe, which matched the lace on the blue, to modify the neckline, adding a fichu and narrowing the silly puffed sleeves, making small capped sleeves that were much more flattering.

Still, it was a gown one would wear for evening, not day. Fortunately, at the bottom of the last box, she had discovered a simple gray muslin skirt and white cotton blouse, something her benefactor might have worn round the house when she wasn’t working. The hem would have to be let down but the waist fit perfectly. And the blouse had a drawstring, making it somewhat adjustable. She had donned the change of clothing with some relief and done her best to freshen the aqua silk.

Dressed in the clean skirt and blouse, Grace set her needlework aside and went to answer the knock at her door, wondering who it might be. She knew Freddie’s light knock and the captain did not bother.

She was surprised to find her nemesis patiently waiting in the corridor, as if he were a suitor instead of her jailor.

“I promised you a walk. The clouds have lifted and the stars are out…if you are still interested.”

She had already finished a heavy supper of roast mutton, cabbage, pudding with gravy, and ale. Getting out of the cabin sounded divine.

“Thank you, I would like that very much.” If he could be formal, then so could she. When he presented his arm, she placed her fingers on the sleeve of his coat and let him guide her up the ladder to the deck.

“I see you found something to wear after all.”

She smoothed the front of the skirt, reminding herself not to be grateful. If he had brought her trunks along, she wouldn’t have been without clothing in the first place. “Not exactly high fashion, but they are better than nothing.” There was also a serviceable woolen cloak that at first she had not seen. He took it from her hand and draped it over her shoulders. “I suppose I should thank you after all.”

He smiled, reached down and rubbed the spot on his calf where she had bitten him. “I only wish you had opened that box first.”

Her lips quirked reluctantly. He was teasing her—she could scarcely believe it—and she couldn’t help being amused. “I suppose it would have been better. In truth, it was the confinement not the clothes that was mostly the problem.”

“Then I’m glad I came to help in that regard.”

They strolled the deck, Grace on the captain’s arm, cir cling the perimeter of the ship at least three times. It felt good to stretch her legs, to feel the salt spray on her face and breathe the fresh sea air.

She studied the man beside her, taller than most of the men she knew. With his slashing black brows, straight nose, and sensuous mouth, she had to admit the man was incredibly handsome. His limp was barely noticeable as they walked companionably along, and she wondered how he had got it.

There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask. Who was he? How had he discovered her part in the prison escape? What was he going to do with her?

But she was afraid that if she did, they would argue and she would wind up back down in his cabin. She wasn’t yet ready to return.

“Freddie says you’re a privateer.”

They paused next to the rail. “Freddie talks too much.”

“A privateer is a ship or a man approved by the government to pirate enemy ships. Is that not correct?”