The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

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      It wasn’t until well after midnight that she heard him enter the cabin. She was dressed in her borrowed night rail, lying on her side at the very edge of the bed. She heard him begin to remove his clothing and her heart started pounding at the thought of what he might do.

      But he merely removed his outer garments and climbed into bed on the opposite side of the mattress as he had done before. She tried not to think of his feather-soft kiss, or wonder at its meaning.

      But it wasn’t until just before dawn, after the captain was dressed and gone, that she finally fell into a troubled sleep.

      Angus McShane ambled across the quarterdeck on his way to speak to the captain, who stood behind the big teak wood wheel. He had known Ethan for years, served with him aboard his first ship. Eight years later, they were still together, though the captain had become a far different man.

      The months he had spent in France, beaten and tortured in a stinking French prison, had changed him, hardened him into the man he was today, made him seem far older than his years.

      He was troubled now, Angus could see on this cold February morning, had been since he had brought the lass aboard.

      Inwardly, Angus sighed. Revenge had a way of eating at a man. And it was never as satisfying as a man believed it would be.

      “Ye wanted ta see me, Capt’n?”

      “Aye. I wanted to let you know I told the girl she could come up on deck whenever she wished, as long as you or I came with her.”

      Angus raised one of his bushy gray eyebrows. “I thought ye meant to punish her.”

      He shrugged. “She hasn’t the disposition to stay cooped up. I suppose I understand that better than most.”

      And treating a woman badly, no matter how much she might deserve it, just wasn’t in the captain’s nature, Angus thought.

      “Ye did right, lad.” Angus turned to look out over the water. A flock of albatross winged overhead, heading for the coast. Sunlight glinted like jewels on the water and the sky was blue as the wildflowers in the highlands of a clear spring morning.

      “Ye’ve been sore-tempered of late,” Angus said. “I’m thinkin’ ye haven’t yet bedded the lass.”

      The captain raked a hand through his dark hair. “You said once, she is not what you imagined. Well, she is not what I imagined, either, Angus. She’s a good deal more naive. Jeffries must have seduced her. I’ll wager he’s the only man who’s ever touched her and not all that often.”

      “So ye plan ta leave her be?”

      The captain’s jaw hardened. “She owes me. She owes the dead men in my crew for aiding the traitor responsible for getting them killed. Her innocence is gone and I mean to have her. It’s only a matter of time.”

      “Then what will ye do?”

      He looked out over the water. A big silver fish arched into the air and splashed back into the sea. “I’ve got to find out if she knows where Jeffries is. And I need to know more about the woman herself. Then I’ll make up my mind.”

      A week crawled past. As the captain had promised, Grace was given free access to the deck, as long as the first mate, Mr. McShane, or the captain himself accompanied her.

      The brawny old Scot was sweet, she discovered, a longtime friend of the captain’s who wasn’t afraid to voice his opinions. Or ask probing questions.

      “Why’d ye do it, lass? Didn’t ye know what would happen if ye helped the man escape?”

      Grace sighed as they stood at the rail. “I had to help him. He was…a friend. I couldn’t just let him hang.”

      “Did ye love him, then?”

      She knew he was asking a far different question but the answer remained the same. “I suppose in a way I did.” It didn’t seem possible to love a father she had met only weeks before. But every year he had written a letter, telling her about his life, telling her how much he wished that they could be together.

      Though her mother had hidden the letters away, three months ago the truth had finally come out. Her real father had cared about her, sent money for her education. He had wanted to raise her as his own. Though he was never part of her life, he hadn’t forgotten her.

      How could she turn her back on him?

      Captain Sharpe asked questions as well, though he usually went out of his way not to broach too volatile a subject. “Do your parents live in London?”

      “Yes. My father’s a physician. We don’t really get on very well.”

      “Why not?”

      Because I’m not really his daughter and he hates me for it. “He doesn’t approve of me. He thinks I’m too outspoken.” Among other things.

      “You are outspoken. More than any woman I’ve ever met.”

      Her cheeks went warm. “It’s a bad quality, I suppose.”

      “Not necessarily.” He lifted her chin with his fingers. “I’m beginning to find I like a woman unafraid to speak her mind.”

      She looked into his eyes, wondering if what he said was the truth, or if he was merely trying to win her confidence in order to gain information.

      “You rarely mince words yourself,” she said, and he smiled. He seemed to be doing that a little more often, she thought, wondering at the cause.

      “I don’t suppose I do.”

      It wasn’t until the following afternoon that he brought up the subject of the prison escape. “We both know you’re guilty. You’ve admitted as much. If you would tell the authorities where to find Jeffries, they would be far more lenient in dealing with you.”

      She arched an eyebrow in his direction. It was the question she had expected him to ask long ago. “Is that the reason you let me come up on deck, the reason you’ve been so agreeable lately? Because you want me to tell you where the viscount is hiding?”

      He glanced away. “Part of the reason, perhaps.”

      “At least you are honest.”

      “Do you know where he is? If you do, for your own sake, you would be better off to divulge the information.”

      “I don’t know where he is. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. The truth is I haven’t the slightest clue.”

      He eyed her as if trying to decide whether or not to believe her. Then his expression subtly changed. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you? You have no idea where Jeffries is hiding.”

      “I never spoke to him after he was arrested. He has probably left the country. That is what I would do. Why is finding him so important to you? You believe he is a traitor. I can understand why the government would want to find him, but this seems personal in some way. What did the viscount do to you?”

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