The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

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 lock her up in the ship’s brig if he wanted.

      He didn’t say more and neither did she. She steadied herself against him as he guided her down the ladder to the quarters they shared.

      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