The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin

a day or two, we’ll be stopping for supplies. I’ll see what I can do about finding you something to wear.”

      She raised her chin and looked into his face. “I have all the clothes I need—in my cabin on the Lady Anne.”

      The captain’s jaw hardened. “Unfortunately for you, you are no longer aboard the Lady Anne.”

      Four

      Two more days passed. Grace sat on the captain’s wide bed in her rumpled aqua gown, Schooner nestled in her lap. The big orange tabby purred loudly, an oddly comforting sound. She was trapped aboard what could only be called a pirate ship, sailing God knew where, her fate as yet undetermined.

      She couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t more afraid.

      Grace sighed as she absently stroked Schooner’s fur. Perhaps it was because she had survived thus far unharmed and her treatment had not been too ill. Wearing the man’s cotton night rail that Freddie had brought her, still unwilling to trust her captor, Grace had fallen asleep each night as she had the first, sitting in the straight-back chair behind the captain’s desk. Each morning she had awakened in his bed, curled on her side beneath the covers. The only difference was, each of those mornings, she had awakened alone.

      Grace knew he had been there, sleeping next to her as he had that first night. She could see the indentation of his head on the pillow, smell the faint, masculine scent of him, something that reminded her of the sea.

      Her real fear lay not in what the captain might do, but what would happen if he returned her to London and handed her over to the authorities. So far, the ship continued a course that carried her away from the city and as long as they weren’t sailing to London, there was always a ray of hope.

      At least he had been decent enough to loan her a brush and comb. It was an exquisite set, silver inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Probably a gift for one of his paramours. Grace was simply grateful to be able to brush and braid her hair.

      In the past two days, she had rarely seen the devil captain. She was grateful for that, as well. With his hot glances and cool disdain, the man was hardly fit company. Still, even with Freddie and Schooner to help pass the time, she felt restless and confined. She paced the cabin, feeling as if the walls were closing in, her irritation building. The cabin wasn’t a prison cell and yet it felt like one.

      The next time she saw him she was going to demand he take her up on deck. She was used to a good bit of exercise, walking along the shops on Bond Street or strolling in the park. During the day, she cracked open one of the portholes above the bed, but it wasn’t the same as being out of doors, feeling the salt spray against her face and filling her lungs with brisk sea air. If it weren’t for the motley crew aboard the ship, she would have gone up by herself.

      Grace made a turn at the foot of the bed and started pacing back the other way. She heard the light knock, recognized Freddie’s small hand and went over to open the door. Surprise hit her at the sight of the steaming copper tub being carried by two men in the crew, one of them the dark man with all the tattoos.

      “’Tis rainwater, miss.” Freddie stumped out of the way so the men could bring the tub into the cabin. “We hit a squall last night. Gave us a chance to refill the cisterns. Capt’n thought ye might like a bath.”

      She nearly sighed at the notion.

      “Where ye want it, miss?”

      “In front of the fire would be nice.” She hurried that way, stood back while the men set the tub on the floor in front of the low-burning flames.

      “There’s linen towels in the cupboard just there.” Freddie pointed. “Shall I get one for ye?”

      “I’ll get it. Thank you, Freddie.” The boy and crewmen left the cabin and Grace turned her attention to the tub. In the evening, she had been forced to remove her clothing in order to put on the night rail and done the reverse in the mornings. But sitting naked in a tub in the middle of the captain’s cabin would take far more courage.

      Grace eyed the small copper bathing tub. She could almost feel the heat shimmering up from the water, feel the steam against her skin. Her decision was made. Reaching behind her back, she began to unfasten the buttons closing up her dress, but the buttons were small and hard to reach.

      “Damn thing,” she muttered, wishing Phoebe were there to help her. She twisted herself into a knot, trying to work the last few buttons.

      “Perhaps I might be of assistance.” The deep voice reached her from across the cabin. She had been so preoccupied with her gown she hadn’t heard him come in.

      He didn’t wait for her answer, just strode toward her in his gleaming knee-high boots. There was a faint hesitation in his stride that she had noticed before, an old wound per haps. Though he hid the slight limp well, when he got angry or upset it became more pronounced.

      It didn’t seem to be bothering him now as he stripped away his woolen coat and tossed it onto the bed, leaving him in snug black breeches and a full-sleeved shirt. He looked like a pirate, a Black Bart or maybe Captain Kidd, and perhaps he was.

      He had taken her by force, had he not? Abducted her against her will from the Lady Anne?

      She felt his fingers on her gown, working the buttons with a skill that told her he was no stranger to the feminine wardrobe. The minute the gown fell open, she walked away from him, holding the dress up over her breasts.

      “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “Now if you will excuse me, I should like to enjoy the bath you so thoughtfully sent down.”

      He gave her one of his ruthless smiles. “Of course. I’ll just stand out of the way over here.”

      Her eyebrows shot up. “Surely you don’t intend to stay here while I disrobe?”

      But one look into those hungry blue eyes said that was exactly his intention. “I’ve provided the bath. I want something in return. As a man who appreciates the beauty of the female form, I wish to watch you bathe.”

      “You’re insane.”

      “Actually, I think I’m being quite reasonable. We’re sharing this cabin. Sooner or later, we will both need to use that tub.” She blushed, thinking she needed to use it now. She had never been so unkempt in a gentleman’s presence. Of course, the captain was scarcely a gentleman. “And it isn’t as though you have never been naked in front of a man before.”

      The blush deepened. How dare he think such a thing! She had been kissed by two different men—three including him. She had wanted to know what it felt like. But that was as far as her physical experience went.

      She could tell him that, though he probably wouldn’t believe her. So far she had been holding her cards close to the vest. It was beginning to look as if he knew less about her than she had first thought. For the present, it might be to her advantage to keep it that way.

      “Well, I have never been naked in front of you and that is the way I wish to keep it.”

      He shrugged those wide shoulders. “As you wish. I’ll have the men remove the tub.” He started for the door.

      “Wait!” She worried her bottom lip, eyeing the tub, yearning to be fresh and clean again. “Perhaps we could compromise.”

      One dark eyebrow went up. “How so?”

      “Well…if you turned round until I got into the tub, per haps I wouldn’t feel quite so exposed.”

      He glanced from her to the water, looked at her and smiled. “All right, if it makes you feel better, I’ll turn my back till you get in the tub.”

      He did so, crossing his arms over his chest. Grace closed her eyes, trying to summon her courage. She needed that bath. She wasn’t about to let the devil captain keep her from it.

      Hurriedly stripping off her clothes, she climbed into the small copper tub, drawing her legs up beneath her chin. The splash of water alerted him. He