The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

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.

      She wasn’t new to the game, which could help his cause or hinder it, depending on the sort of lovers she had known over the years. He skimmed a hand lightly over her hip, enjoying the sweetly feminine curves, the roundness of her bottom. He ran a hand along her thigh, down her calf, reached for the hem of her gown—

      The shriek of outrage that erupted from the opposite side of the bed made his ears start to ring. She leaped out of the bunk as if it were on fire and whirled to face him, slim feet braced apart, hands out in front of her as if she faced a monster from hell. He almost found himself smiling.

      “Don’t you touch me!”

      “I believe you’ve made your dislike of touching more than clear.” He rolled to the side of the bed and reached for his breeches, dragged them on over his hips and began to work the buttons up the front.

      She raced over to the desk and began a mad search for the letter opener. He cursed himself as she snatched it up and held it protectively in front of her.

      “You don’t need that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

      “You were…you were…trying to…to…”

      “Take it easy. The way you were curled up against me, I thought we both might enjoy ourselves.” God, she was beautiful. With her auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed with anger…Christ, just looking at her made him hard all over again.

      He moved a little closer but not enough to frighten her. “Actually, I was hoping we could come to some sort of an arrangement.”

      She eyed him warily, the letter opener still gripped in her hand. “What kind of arrangement?”

      “I’m a man, Miss Chastain. Men have certain needs. I’m sure you’re well aware of that.”

      The letter opener trembled in her fingers. “Are you…are you saying you expect me to service your…your needs?”

      His mouth faintly curved. “I wouldn’t put it exactly that way. As I said, I think it could be pleasurable for both of us. And beneficial for you, as well.”

      Her eyebrows drew warily together. “You’re talking about some sort of deal.”

      “I am. If you agree and I’m satisfied with your performance, I might be willing to intercede on your behalf with the authorities when we get back to London.”

      She swallowed. For the first time he realized she was fighting not to cry. Why that bothered him he could not say.

      She moistened her lips and he noticed that they trembled. “No.”

      “That’s it? Just no?”

      She simply shook her head. She looked innocent and vulnerable, and seeing her that way made his chest feel oddly tight.

      “If you try to force me, I’ll fight you with every ounce of my strength.”

      She would. He could see it in her face. The determination was there, behind the faint shimmer of tears.

      “I won’t force you,” he said softly. “That was never my intention.” But neither would he let her off so easily. She was Harmon Jeffries’s mistress and he wanted her. Badly. Sooner or later, he would have her.

      “How…how do I know you are telling me the truth?”

      “I’m many things, Miss Chastain, but a liar isn’t one of them. Put the letter opener down.”

      Her fingers merely tightened around the handle.

      “I said put it down.” He moved closer, beginning to get annoyed. He wasn’t used to people disobeying his orders. He wasn’t about to tolerate it from Grace Chastain.

      “Stay back—I’m warning you.”

      “And I am warning you. Put the letter opener down or suffer the consequences.”

      She bit her plump bottom lip and it made him want to kiss her. Christ, he couldn’t remember feeling such lust for a woman. That she belonged to Harmon Jeffries made him want her even more.

      He circled to the left and Grace circled right, the blade still gripped in her hand.

      “You are begging for trouble, Miss Chastain.”

      “Perhaps you are the one in trouble.”

      He did smile then. A rare, sincere smile that felt odd on his face. He feigned left, dove right, caught her wrist and snatched the letter opener from her hand. He tossed it across the room at the same instant he hauled her hard against his chest, buried his fingers in her heavy auburn hair, and dragged her mouth up to his for a deep, plundering kiss.

      Heat washed through him in a powerful sweep of lust. He kissed her a moment more, then let her go and stepped away, saw that her wide green eyes were huge with surprise and disbelief. His heart was pumping, his erection throbbing. He was pleased to note from the rise and fall of her breasts and the high color in her cheeks that he wasn’t the only one who had been affected.

      “Think about what I said,” he told her softly. “Perhaps a bargain with the devil wouldn’t be so bad.” Turning away from her, he snatched up the rest of his clothes, picked up the letter opener and headed out the door, closing it softly behind him.

      Grace stared at the door where her captor had disappeared. He was a savage. A barbarian. She didn’t trust him to keep his word, had no reason to believe he would.

      Dear God, how she wished she were back on board the Lady Anne.

      Unconsciously, her fingers came up to her lips. Though his kiss had been brief, it had been extremely thorough, a hard, punishing kiss that should have repulsed her. Instead, her heart pounded and her head swam until she feared she might swoon. There had been no gentleness, nothing sweet or tender. Still, it was a kiss she would never forget.

      How could that be?

      She thought of the bargain the captain had proposed. It was obvious he knew of the escape from Newgate that she had engineered and yet they sailed not toward London but away. She knew she should be frightened—and she was. But there was something inside her that refused to cower before him.

      Her stomach growled. Grace shoved back her tangled