The Devil's Necklace (2 page)

The captain stopped dead in his tracks. “There must be some mistake. Miss Chastain is a young woman of quality. She couldn’t possibly be involved in something as heinous as—”

“Aiding the escape of a traitor? Freeing the man responsible for the loss of dozens of lives? That is among the questions that need to be answered. Now, Captain, if you would be so good as to take me to Miss Chastain, we will proceed with our business and you may be on your way.”

The captain still looked doubtful.

A few feet behind them, Angus McShane rested a thick hand on the grip of the pistol stuffed into his wide leather belt. Ethan made a faint movement of his head, telling Angus to signal the boarding party to be ready. Grace Chastain was leaving the
Lady Anne
—one way or another.

“This way, Captain Sharpe, if you please. Let us see what the lady has to say.”

Following the captain, Ethan made his way down the ladder to the main salon. Passengers sat in their opulent surroundings, three of them perched on a tapestry sofa, two of them seated in front of an ivory chessboard. Others read or played cards. A man rose as the captain approached the gaming table.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Naught that involves you, my lord. This is Captain Ethan Sharpe of the
Sea Devil.
Apparently the captain requires a word with Miss Chastain.”

For the first time, Ethan focused on the woman seated at the gaming table, a fan of cards spread open in a slender hand. He had expected the woman to be attractive. She was, after all, the paid companion of a wealthy man.

But Grace Chastain was far beyond pretty. She was
stunningly beautiful, with jewel-green eyes and skin like day-old cream. Her hair was auburn, dark copper streaked with gold, and even in her demure silk gown, a hint of full bosom rose enticingly above the modest neckline.

She was younger than he had imagined, or at least appeared so, yet certainly no girl just out of the schoolroom. Still, she didn’t carry the usual world-weary look of a seasoned whore.

No, Grace Chastain was beautiful and feminine, pale now as she rose to her feet, a tall, slenderly built young woman who, under different circumstances, he would have found incredibly attractive.

Instead, all he felt for her was loathing.

“Might we step outside, Miss Chastain?” Ethan asked, forcing a polite note into his voice, his faint bow only slightly mocking.

“May I ask what this is about, Captain Sharpe?” she asked.

He glanced at the tall aristocrat across from her ready to come to her defense. “As I said, I believe this conversation would be better spoken in private.”

Her face went even paler, and yet a delicate rose still bloomed in her cheeks. “Of course.”

“Perhaps I should come with you, my dear,” her companion volunteered.

She managed to give him a smile. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure this won’t take long. I shall be back very shortly to finish our game.”

Like bloody hell.

She started for the ladder and the captain and Ethan fell into step behind her. Once on deck, Captain Chambers briefly explained why Ethan had come.

“I’m sorry, Miss Chastain, but Captain Sharpe claims
you are wanted for questioning in a matter of national security.”

Her burnished brows drew together and a confused look appeared on her face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Ethan fought to control his temper. She knew why he was here, yet clearly she meant to continue her deception. Well then, so would he. “I’m sure you haven’t the slightest notion about any of this. Still, the matter requires clarification. I’m afraid you will have to come with me.”

The last hint of color drained from her face. She looked as if she might faint dead away, and he swore beneath his breath. A swooning woman would only make the inevitable result more difficult for all of them.

Grace Chastain did not swoon.

Instead, her shoulders subtly straightened. She had resolved to brazen it out, to play the innocent victim. In a way he admired her courage.

“I’m a passenger aboard this ship. I cannot believe you expect me to simply leave. That is clearly impossible. I am on the way to visit my aunt, Lady Humphrey, in Scarborough. Should I not arrive, my aunt will become quite distraught.”

“Captain Chambers can make your explanations. Once the matter is resolved to everyone’s satisfaction, you will be allowed to resume your journey.” He urged her forward, toward the rope ladder slung over the side of the ship that led down to a small wooden dinghy waiting to return them to the
Sea Devil
—eager to get her there before any real trouble ensued.

Captain Chambers stepped forward, blocking their escape. “I’m sorry, Captain Sharpe. I am forced to agree with Miss Chastain. I’m sure you have a valid reason for all of this, but I simply cannot allow you to remove this
young woman from my ship. As long as she is aboard the
Lady Anne,
Miss Chastain is under my protection.”

A noise sounded behind them, a shuffling of feet on the deck. Six armed members of the
Sea Devil
crew stepped from their hiding places, pistols loaded and pointed at the captain’s chest.

“I’m afraid, Captain Chambers, that you have no choice.” Ethan reached for Grace Chastain, slid an arm around her waist, and dragged her back against his chest. The guns remained leveled in the captain’s direction.

Ethan spoke to Grace Chastain. “As I said, there are questions you need to answer. The truth will be better ferreted out aboard my ship.”

He dragged her backward till he reached the rope ladder. He could feel her trembling, feel the icy chill of her skin, yet she made no attempt to escape. Perhaps she felt the captain’s life would be endangered should she make any sort of move.

Perhaps she was right. He intended to take the woman no matter the cost.

“What…what about my things?”

“There isn’t time. You’ll have to make do without them.” He hauled her the last few feet to the ladder. She gave a little gasp of surprise as he spun her around, bent and set his shoulder into her middle and hauled her over his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing? Put me down!”

“Take it easy. I’m just carrying you down the ladder. You’d never make it in that dress.”

She didn’t say more, though he thought that she wanted to very badly. She was afraid for the captain, somewhat of a surprise since Ethan hadn’t believed a woman of her morals would give a damn for anyone but herself.

It didn’t take long to reach the bottom of the ladder.
He plopped her down on one of the gunwales, draped a woolen blanket over her shoulders, and took his place at the stern of the boat. The rest of his men scrambled down the ladder, took their seats and picked up their oars.

“Put your backs to it, lads. We don’t want trouble if we can avoid it. The sooner the lady is aboard the ship, the better for us all.”

He glanced in her direction, saw that beneath the blanket her body still shook with a combination of shock and fear, but she stared toward his ship with a look of resignation. It was obvious she knew why she was being taken. If he’d had the least doubt—which he didn’t—her silence would have convinced him of her guilt.

They arrived at the ship without incident. The
Lady Anne
was an old, three-masted square-rigger, an ungainly old tub in the water. Once the
Sea Devil
got underway, there would be no chance of the slower boat catching up with them.

As the wooden boat came up alongside the hull, one of the crewmen tossed up a line to secure the vessel while they climbed the ladder to the deck.

“I can make it on my own,” Grace said, gazing up at the high rope ladder.

He was almost tempted to let her try. “You’ll go up the way you came down.”

She opened her mouth to argue but he didn’t give her the chance, just set his shoulder against her middle, hoisted her over his shoulder and started up the ladder to the deck.

The instant her slippers hit the holystoned wood, she spun to face him. “All right, I am here now, as you have commanded. You have spouted some sort of nonsense about national security. I presume you intend to take me back to London.”

A hard smile curved his lips. “Eventually. At present, we’re sailing south along the coast, then heading for France.”

Surprise widened those bright green eyes. “Wh-what!”

“I’ve business to see to before I deal with you.”

She swallowed, seemed to collect herself. “I demand to know why you brought me here. What do you want with me?”

It was the question he had been pondering since the moment he had discovered her identity back in London. The question foremost in his mind the instant he laid eyes on her aboard the
Lady Anne.

“That is the question, is it not?”

Instead of fear, her green eyes flashed with an unexpected fire. The color was back in her cheeks and in the moonlight her hair gleamed like flames. “Precisely who are you, Captain Sharpe?”

He looked into that beautiful, treacherous face and a sweep of lust rushed through him. “You want to know who I am? Well, I am the devil incarnate and you, my sweet, are about to pay the devil’s due.”

G
race stood rooted to the deck of the
Sea Devil,
fear a living thing inside her. She could hear the thunder of her heart, feel the tightness in her chest that made it hard to breathe. The captain stood in front of her, long legs braced against the roll of the sea, a cold, triumphant smile on his lips. It took sheer force of will not to let him know how terrified she truly was.

Dear God, she should have fought him! She should have refused to leave the ship, should have shouted for help, begged the passengers and crew to come to her aid. But there was Captain Chambers to consider and she didn’t want him harmed, perhaps even killed because of her.

She was guilty of a terrible crime, and in that brief, terrifying instant when the raven-haired captain had walked into the salon, it was obvious he knew what she had done.

Who was he? The devil, he had said, and Grace believed him. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the revulsion in his face as he had looked at her. And the
hatred. She had never seen eyes such an icy shade of blue, never seen a jaw so hard it appeared carved in stone.

He was tall, his legs long and sinewy, the shoulder pressing into her stomach as he had carried her down the rope ladder wide and solid. There was no extra fat over the lean muscles in his back, she knew, her face growing warm at the memory of the intimate contact.

His skin was dark, has face tanned, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sun lines, not laugh lines, she was sure. She couldn’t image the devil captain ever laughing at any thing except, perhaps, someone else’s pain. Instead, his features were hard and unforgiving, brutal, even cruel.

And yet he was handsome. With his wavy black hair, winged black brows, and well-formed lips, he was one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. “Follow me.”

The words sliced through her, breaking into her trance. Sweet God, why had she ever let him force her off the
Lady Anne?

She mustered her courage. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll need a place to sleep. You’ll be staying in my cabin.”

She stopped dead still, the deck rolling just then, causing her to stumble. “And where, exactly, do you intend to sleep?”

His mouth barely curved. “This ship isn’t all that big. I’m afraid you’ll have to share the cabin with me.”

Grace shook her head, unconsciously took a step backward. “Oh, no. There is no way you are sleeping in the same room with me.”

One of his black eyebrows went up. “Then perhaps you would rather sleep on deck. I can arrange it, if that
is your wish. Or you can bunk in with the crew. I’m sure there isn’t a one of them who would mind sharing his bed with you. What will it be, Miss Chastain?”

She stared at those unforgiving features and a wave of nausea hit her. She was completely at this man’s mercy. What in God’s name could she do?

She glanced frantically around the deck. There was no where to go, no place to run. Half a dozen crewmen stood in a semicircle around them. One man smiled and she noticed the black stumps of his teeth. One of them had a wooden leg, another man was big and dark and covered with tattoos.

“Miss Chastain?”

Surely the captain was the lesser evil, though she wasn’t completely certain. At the nod she barely managed, he turned and started walking. Grace forced her feet to move, her legs shaking as she followed him down the ladder that led to his quarters in the stern of the ship. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned and reached for her hand, helping her down with a chivalry that was more mocking than gallant.

He opened his cabin door to let her pass and she stepped into luxurious quarters far more impressive than the tiny space she had occupied with Phoebe aboard the
Lady Anne.

“I gather you approve.”

How could she not? The walls were fashioned of polished mahogany, as were the table and chairs, the desk and the bookshelves. A wide built-in mahogany berth stretched beneath a spread of small square windows looking out the stern, and a warm fire burned in a tiny hearth in the corner. The glossy wooden floor, covered with a thick Persian carpet, gleamed in the light of freshly polished brass lamps.

She forced her gaze to his face. “Your taste in furnishings is quite splendid, Captain Sharpe. One might almost say refined.” She couldn’t keep a trace of sarcasm out of her voice.

“Unlike my manners, is that it, Miss Chastain?”

“Your words, Captain, not mine.”

He picked up a silver letter opener on his desk and turned it over with long, tapered fingers. “I’m intrigued, Miss Chastain. Earlier, when we first met, you seemed only mildly surprised by my arrival. I presume that is be cause you were aware there might be consequences to the actions you took in London.”

She kept her expression bland and prayed he wouldn’t notice that her hands were trembling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I came with you because you made it clear your men would shoot Captain Chambers if I did not.”

“So you were concerned for the captain’s welfare, not your own.”

“That is correct.”

“Why do you think I came for you?”

“I have no idea.”

“Really.”

“None whatsoever.”

“Perhaps you thought I meant to solicit a ransom for your return.” He strolled toward her, tall and dark, a panther on the prowl.

“Do you?” Hoping her numb fingers would work, she reached up to work the clasp on her necklace. “If that is the case, perhaps you will take this in lieu of money. I as sure you the necklace is quite valuable.” And difficult as blazes to unfasten, as if the pearls had a will of their own.

The captain walked toward her. “Perhaps I can assist
you.” The clasp unfastened almost instantly, the necklace falling gently into the captain’s hand. “Lovely.” His fingers smoothed over the pearls. “I wonder how you got them.”

“The pearls were a gift. Take them as payment and return me to the
Lady Anne.
”

He laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. “
A gift.
From an admirer, no doubt.” He rolled them from palm to palm, testing their weight, feeling their creamy texture, then dropping them carelessly onto his desk.

“I’m not interested in your money, Miss Chastain.” Cold blue eyes swept her from head to foot, and a chilling smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “There are, however, other forms of payment I might consider.” His pale blue gaze came to rest on the curve of her breast, barely visible above the top of her aqua silk gown. “I’ll be busy for a while. I suggest you make yourself comfortable while I’m gone.”

He plucked the necklace up off the desk, his long fingers curling around it. “Until later, Miss Chastain.”

Grace watched him cross the cabin and close the door behind him. At the sound of the latch falling into place, she released the breath she had been holding. The tears she had been fighting welled up and began to roll down her cheeks. Grace hurriedly wiped them away, determined no one would see them and especially not
him.

She had thought he meant to take her back to London, that he intended to return her to the magistrates to face charges for aiding a traitor’s escape. She had known it could happen, that she could be caught and imprisoned for what she had done.

But she couldn’t abandon her father. Though she barely knew him and didn’t know if he were innocent or guilty, she simply could not stand by and let him hang.

Ethan stood with his legs braced apart and his hands curved round the rail. He stared out at the inky water, his mind filled with images of Grace Chastain. Thoughts of her mingled with memories of the men in his crew, brave men, some of them married with families, men who had fought beside him over the years.

He could still hear their screams through the walls of the prison.

“The girl is no’ what I imagined.” He hadn’t heard Angus walk up beside him. “Just a lass, is all, no’ much more than three-and-twenty, maybe even less.”

“Her age is hardly important. She set a murderer free. It is possible she was in collusion with him from the start. And there is a chance she may know where to find him.”

Angus nodded. “Aye, that seems ta be the way of it.”

Ethan stared back out at the water. A thin trickle of moonlight speared toward them as the ship cut through the sea. An icy wind whipped across the deck, slicing through his breeches, his heavy woolen coat and the full-sleeved shirt he wore underneath.

“Perhaps she loved him.”

Ethan’s jaw hardened. “The man had a wife and children. The girl is a whore.”

Angus leaned his thick body against the rail. “I suppose that’s true, as well.” He fiddled with a bit of lint on the front of his heavy wool coat. “Now that ye’ve got her, what will ye do with her?”

Ethan turned. “She was Jeffries’s whore. Tonight she’ll whore for me.”

Angus said nothing, but Ethan didn’t miss the look of disapproval in his eyes. “Will ye force her?”

He shook his head. “I won’t have to. She’s for sale, isn’t she?”

Angus tugged his stocking cap a little lower over his wide forehead. “If she pays yer price, will ye set her free?”

Ethan stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
“Set her free?”
He scoffed. “When I’ve had my fill—when I’m satisfied she can be no help in finding him—I’ll take her back to London and turn her over to the authorities. She’s committed a crime, Angus. She deserves to be punished for what she’s done.”

The older man grunted. “I’ve a feeling the lass will be punished well and good before she ever gets back ta London.” Angus turned away and ambled toward the ladder leading down to his quarters.

Ethan softly cursed. Angus hadn’t been with them on that last, fateful journey. Only Ethan and Long-boned Ned had fought alongside the crew of the
Sea Witch
against the thirty-five-gun frigate that had been hiding in wait off the foggy banks of France. The warship had known exactly where to find them. Her captain had been provided with secret information that would result in the capture of the
Sea Witch
’s captain and crew.

Harmon Jeffries had sold out his country, and his mistress had arranged his escape.

Ethan thought of the woman in his cabin. It was well after midnight. She would probably be sleeping. He imagined her lying naked in his bed, spread like an offering beneath him, and his body stirred to life. Desire pulsed through him and his shaft went hard.

He would have her. He would bargain for her favors and pleasure himself until she begged him to stop.

Until this night, he had never behaved as anything but a gentleman where a woman was concerned. The mis
tresses he had kept over the years had been treated well and fairly.

But Grace Chastain was different. She deserved to pay and he intended to see it done.

Frightened and uncertain and exhausted clear to her bones, Grace fought to stay awake. After the captain’s departure, she had curled up in a chair near the door and listened to every sound, certain her enemy would return any moment.

The devil had made his intentions clear. He meant to take her innocence, to ravage her like the barbarian he was. But she would not make it easy. He was tall and strong, but she was smart and determined. She would fight him to the last, resist him with the last breath in her body.

The hours ticked past. She could hear the chiming of the ship’s clock, marking every half hour, still he did not return. The roll and sway of the ship began to lull her, the soft rush of the waves against the hull. She tried to keep her eyes open, pinched herself to keep from falling asleep.

But time crept past and sleep beckoned like a siren calling to an unwary sailor. Her eyes slowly closed. She never heard the door swing quietly open, never heard the sound of the captain’s tall black boots as he walked through the door.

Ethan stood in the center of his cabin. If he had expected to find Grace Chastain undressed and comfortably settled in his bed he was sorely mistaken.

Instead the girl huddled in the hard wooden chair in front of his desk, his silver-handled letter opener gripped defensively in her hand. Her head slumped forward onto
her chest and the blanket around her shoulders had slid off onto the floor. Her hair was slightly mussed, her lips softly parted in slumber. She looked young and innocent and more enticing than any woman he had ever seen.

He told himself to wake her, to strike a bargain for the use of her luscious body, but something held him back. That she was exhausted was written in every line of her face. That she was frightened, though she had done her best not to show it, seemed more than clear.

He should be happy that she suffered, he told himself. It was what he wanted, the reason he had brought her aboard his ship. He meant for her to pay and he would not be satisfied until she did.

And yet he found himself crossing the room, slipping the letter opener out of her hand, lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed. He tossed back the covers, set her down on the mattress still fully clothed and pulled the blanket up over her.

He was nearly as tired as she. Perhaps it was better to wait, he told himself. Tomorrow they would strike their bargain and he could take what he wanted. Quietly undressing down to his smallclothes, bare-chested, he blew out the lamp and lay down on the opposite side of the bed, plumping the pillow behind his head.

Tomorrow, he thought, the image returning of her naked body spread beneath him. Anticipation mingled with fatigue as he drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow came earlier than he expected. The sun was not yet up when Ethan’s eyes cracked open and the feeling that something was out of place trickled through him. It took only an instant to remember that his lovely prisoner slept beside him, the soft, warm feel of a woman’s
body pressing against him not something that happened all that often.

Though she still slept like the dead, Grace Chastain’s bottom nestled snugly into his groin, her soft heat penetrating the thin layer of her aqua silk gown and his smallclothes. He was hard, he realized, aching with the need to be inside her. What would she do, he wondered, if he lifted her wrinkled dress and began to gently caress her? The woman had a temper as fiery as her hair. He wondered if he could arouse that same sort of passion in bed.