The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

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      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?”

      “I work in the interest of Britain, yes.”

      “You’re a pirate, then.”

      A corner of his mouth edged up. “Of a sort, I suppose.”

      “Freddie worships you. He thinks you are incredibly brave.”

      “Freddie’s a child.”

      “I was surprised when I first met him, surprised you would have a young boy aboard with such a disability.”

      He shrugged those wide shoulders. “The lad does his work. That is all that matters.”

      But she thought that few men would take on the care of a handicapped child and wondered if there might be a side of the captain that wasn’t as hard as he seemed.

      She looked up at the stars, determined to keep the conversation light, hoping to gain as much time on deck as she could. “Lovely night. Do you see that constellation there?” She pointed to the right. “That is Taurus, the bull. In Greek mythology, the bull is Zeus in disguise, swimming through the Hellespont to fetch Europa, his lady love.”

      One of his dark eyebrows went up. “You have an interest in Greek mythology?”

      “Only as it pertains to the stars. The heavens have long been an interest of mine. Believe it or not, I even know how to navigate using a sextant.”

      “How did that come about?”

      “My father’s brother was the navigator aboard a ship called the Irish Rose.” Not her real father, but Dr. Chastain, the physician married to her mother, the man who had raised her. “The ship carries passengers along the Irish coast. At any rate, Uncle Phillip taught me when I was much younger.” Her uncle, kinder to her than her father ever had been. It was only these past few months that she understood the reason why. Understood that another man had actually sired her, and that because of it, her mother’s husband had resented her all her life.

      “If you know the stars, then you recognize that group there.” He leaned close and her gaze followed the direction he pointed.

      “Perseus.”

      “Yes…” he said softly. “He lies close to his future mother-in-law, Cassiopeia.”

      She smiled, oddly pleased that he knew. “And also Andromeda, his future bride.” She could feel him beside her, tall and lean, exuding unmistakable power and strength. He was standing so close she could feel the heat of his body, see the gleam of moonlight on the inky hair at his temple.

      She was studying his profile when he turned and looked down at her. For an instant their eyes met and held. Grace wondered at the turbulence she read there the instant before his mouth settled softly over hers.

      Her entire body went rigid. She started to pull away, but instead of the hard, taking kiss she imagined, there was only the merest brush of his lips against hers before he ended the contact.

      He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “It is time I took you back,” he said.

      She hadn’t noticed how cold it was, hadn’t really felt the biting force of the wind that had begun to build as the evening progressed. “Thank you for bringing me up on deck.”

      “I keep my word, Miss Chastain. That is something you will learn. From now on, you may come up whenever you wish, as long as Mr. McShane or myself accompanies you.”

      A rush of relief swept through her. Her imprisonment, at least below deck, was over.

      She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.” It seemed a powerful concession. She was a criminal, after all. He could СКАЧАТЬ