The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

forces, but lately that concern had in creased. The military believed the Little Corporal was amassing an even larger armada and that once the ships were completed, the fleet would be used to invade English shores.

      It was Ethan’s job to prowl the coast, to search for information until he could discover the truth of the matter, one way or another.

      He glanced toward the coastline, saw tiny lights flickering in the windows of the distant town of Odds Landing, and thought of Grace Chastain. For the second night in a row, he would sleep in his first mate’s cabin. He imagined the purchases he would make on the morrow and the con cession he intended to receive in return for them, and vowed it would be the last night he spent in a bed other than his own.

      “I want to go with you.” Grace faced the captain as he collected his things and prepared to leave the ship. “I can’t stand another day confined to this cabin.”

      He glanced her way. “You would prefer a prison cell, perhaps?”

      She blanched but pulled herself together and held her ground. “I need some sort of exercise. I am unused to this kind of confinement.”

      “I thought most women preferred to stay in out of the sun.”

      “Yes, well, I am not most women.”

      One of his black eyebrows went up. “That is more than clear.”

      Grace ignored the note of sarcasm. “If I promise not to try to escape, will you let me go with you?”

      He scoffed. “How much is the promise of a traitor worth?”

      Her heart started pounding. “A traitor? That is what you think? That I am a traitor?” Dear God, she had never considered her crime would result in such a charge! For God’s sake, they hung traitors! As Grace knew only too well.

      The captain frowned. “Your face has gone pale. You did not realize that helping a traitor escape might lead you, yourself, to be viewed as a traitor?”

      She swallowed, shook her head. “No, I… He was…” She couldn’t tell him that Harmon Jeffries was her father, the man who had sired her, but not the one who had raised her. The viscount, her biological father, had a wife and children, and there was her mother and her husband to consider. The scandal would be unbearable for all of them. She had vowed to keep the secret to her grave and she intended to abide by her word.

      “He was a friend,” she said. “I couldn’t stand by and let him hang.”

      She couldn’t miss the hint of disdain. “He must have been a close friend, indeed, for you to take such a risk.”

      For the first time it occurred to her that she had just admitted her crime. Dear God, what had she been thinking? Ethan Sharpe was hardly a man to trust.

      She walked toward the row of windows above the bed, trying to calm her fears. The ship was anchored some distance offshore. She could see the tiny village on the hillside above the cove. “I should still like to come along. I am desperate for a little fresh air and a chance to stretch my legs.”

      “I can’t take the risk. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. From now on, at least once a day, I’ll take you up on deck. Will that make you happy?”

      She hadn’t really expected him to let her go ashore, not after the trouble he had gone to in order to get her aboard in the first place. She should be happy for the concession. “I suppose that is better than nothing.”

      He finished loading his gear and left the cabin, and Grace looked back out the window. A handful of crewmen settled aboard a pair of wooden dinghies and began to row for shore, undoubtedly to refill the ship’s larders. The captain sat in the stern of one of the boats and Grace wished again that she could have gone with them.

      Still, the fact that the ship was stopping gave her hope. Sea Devil had anchored in the cove to restock supplies. The vessel would certainly make other stops along the way to wherever it was headed. Eventually, the captain might agree to take her ashore. If he did, she might find some means of escape.

      It was obvious she couldn’t go back to London, but Lady Humphrey knew her circumstances and had agreed to help her. Perhaps the baroness could arrange a way for Grace to leave the country.

      Grace’s mother had explained that Lady Humphrey, Harmon Jeffries’s widowed aunt, had raised her father after his own mother and father had died. She loved him like a son, and though the viscount had never claimed Grace as his daughter, he had told his aunt about her. Grace wondered what the baroness would say when she discovered Grace had been taken from the Lady Anne.

      She sank back down on the captain’s berth. Whatever happened, she had survived thus far and she refused to give up hope.

      It simply wasn’t her nature.

      A damp, chill wind blew across the water as the small boats drew up beside the dock at the end of High Street. A cloudy, gray, overcast sky hung over the tiny village that morning, keeping people indoors, out of the in clement weather.

      With the collar of his woolen coat turned up against the wind, Ethan stepped out of the boat and left the men to complete their assigned duties. His first priority was his scheduled meeting with Max Bradley and he started walking up the hill toward their rendezvous spot, a tavern near the end of the main road called the Pig and Slipper.

      As he shoved through the tavern door, entering the smoke-blackened, low-ceilinged taproom, he spotted Bradley sitting at a battered wooden table in a corner near the hearth, finishing the last of his breakfast.

      Ethan crossed the room, pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair next to one he pulled out for himself.

      “Good to see you, Max.”

      “You, as well, my friend. I see you have finally put some meat on your bones. Have you had breakfast? The steak-and-kidney pie is excellent.” Max was as tall as Ethan, with the same black hair, though Bradley’s was straight, not wavy, and grew well over his collar. He was perhaps ten years older, somewhere near forty, his face weathered, his features harsh and gaunt. All in all, he had the look of a man other men avoided.

      “No, thanks, I ate before I left the ship. What news do you bring?”

      “Not much. No word of Jeffries, if that is what you are asking.” Max worked mostly on the Continent. His French was flawless and he moved like a wraith through the taverns, gaming halls and brothels of the French underworld, collecting information useful against Napoleon’s army.

      “The man’s a clever bastard,” Ethan said. “Probably tucked away, leading the good life in some château somewhere.” He considered mentioning Jeffries’s mistress, a prisoner aboard his ship, but Bradley was a government man, and the matter of Grace Chastain was personal, and not yet resolved to Ethan’s satisfaction.

      “What about you?” Max asked. “Have you run across anything new in regard to the growing French fleet?”

      “Nothing so far. I’m heading toward Brest. Rumor has it there is some shipbuilding going on down there.”

      “Word also has it there are ships moving toward the south, possibly as far as Cadiz.”

      “I’ll see what I can find out.”

      “Be careful, Ethan. Jeffries may no longer be a threat, but that doesn’t mean the French are uninformed. They have their spies, just as we have ours. You’ve enemies in France. Your escape made them look like fools. If they catch you again, they won’t let you live till sunrise.”

      “Sea Devil is the fastest ship I’ve ever sailed. She’s light and incredibly maneuverable. Still, I’ll not ignore your warning.”

      Max rose from his chair and clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “If you need me, leave word here. The owner is a friend and completely trustworthy. I check for messages as often as I can.”

      Ethan just nodded. He watched Max Bradley slip quietly out the door and disappear into the street as if he had