The Devil's Necklace (9 page)

For the first time she felt embarrassed. Talking about lovemaking in the light of day was more difficult than the dreamlike state she had been in last night.

“I was never with the viscount or anyone else. You were the first, Ethan.”

He frowned, his slashing black brows drawing nearly
together. “What are you talking about? You were Jeffries’s mistress.”

Some of the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. So that is what he thought, the reason he had tried to bargain for her favors.

“I was never his mistress.” She hesitated a moment, but she had gone too far to stop now and it was time he knew the truth. “Harmon Jeffries—Viscount Forsythe—is my father.”

Ethan shook his head. “That can’t be. I don’t believe you.”

“He was never married to my mother. He never claimed me, but he is my father just the same.”

“Are you telling me…are you trying to convince me that you were a virgin?”

“I thought a man would be able to tell.”

He was breathing a little too fast, his jaw set. Reaching down he took hold of the covers and ruthlessly stripped them away. Grace drew her legs up beneath her chin and wrapped her arms around them, trying to hide her nudity, hating the look on his face.

He stared down at the sheets and there it was—the bloody proof of her virginity.

“No. It isn’t possible.”

“I thought in some way it might please you.”

He looked down at the sheets and she could tell he was trying to gather his thoughts, to replay what had happened between them last night. She saw the exact moment he remembered her cry of pain as he had breached her maiden head.

“My God, you’re telling the truth! You’re Jeffries’s daughter, not his whore! That is the reason you helped him escape from prison!”

She hadn’t imagined he would be so upset. “Only a few
people know. The viscount, of course, and my mother. His family would be ruined by the scandal and so would mine. I swore I would carry the secret to my grave. You must promise that you will never tell anyone, Ethan.”

He was shaking his head, backing away. “After last night, I thought that perhaps we could come to some arrangement. I thought we might continue giving each other pleasure, and once we reached London I would help you set things right.”

“Why must that change?”

“Because you’re
his.
Because his blood flows through your veins. Because from now on, every time I look at you, I will think of the men he sent to their graves.” Turning, he grabbed his shirt up off the floor and started for the door.

Grace watched him and her heart began to squeeze. “Ethan, please don’t go.”

He paused only a moment. Then he lifted the latch and walked out into the passage. The door slammed solidly be hind him as he walked away.

Grace stared at the place he had been, a fierce ache building inside her. Her eyes were burning, tears beginning to well.

She had given Ethan her body. Somehow he had also claimed her heart and a little of her soul.

For the first time, Grace realized the folly of what she had done.

Ethan stood at the wheel in the cold gray light of dawn, his mind on the night before. Not a whore but an innocent. How could he not have known? Because, as he had told her, he had never met a woman like Grace Chastain.

He hadn’t known an innocent young woman with her kind of courage, or one with her strength, or boundless
determination. He had come to respect her, even admire her. And because he had, his hunger for her had grown out of all proportion.

Now that he’d had her, his desire had not lessened. He wanted her more than ever and he could no longer have her.

“Ye wished ta see me, Capt’n?” Angus swaggered up beside him, scratching his thick gray beard.

“Aye. There’s been a change of plans. We’ll be turning back, sailing north as far as Scarborough. If we set a direct course, shouldn’t take long to get there. Once we’re rid of our passenger, we’ll head south again, finish our mission and go home.”

Angus was frowning. “Ye’ve decided ta let the lass go?”

Ethan looked past Angus, out across the water. “She isn’t Jeffries’s mistress. Grace is his daughter.”

“What? Are ye certain?”

Ethan looked back at him, trying to ignore the bleakness building inside him. And the guilt. “Until last night, she was an innocent. I took her virginity. She’s his illegitimate daughter.”

Angus eyed him a moment, reading him all too clearly, sensing the distress he did his best to hide.

“Ye didn’t know, lad.”

“No, I didn’t know, and I wanted her so badly I refused to consider any other possibility.”

“Ye canna blame yerself. The lass could ha’ told ye.”

Ethan made no comment.

“At least ye know why she helped the man escape. Not that I woulda done the same. If my drunken ol’ sod of a father had been facing the three-legged mare, I wouldn’ta lifted a finger.”

“No one knows Grace was involved except the two
of us and the man I paid for information. McPhee won’t talk. If we keep silent, the girl will be safe.”

Angus stroked his beard. “The lass’s younger than we thought. Freddie says she told ’im she was but twenty years old.”

Ethan’s stomach tightened. Every time he thought of Grace, guilt washed over him. And yet he knew it wasn’t wholly his fault. She should have been honest, should have told him the truth from the start, though it was possible he wouldn’t have believed her.

Still, in the end, it was she who had initiated their love making, she who had invited him into the cabin and offered him the pleasure of her sweetly luscious body.

Ethan’s fingers tightened around the teakwood wheel. “Call out the orders, Mr. McShane. Let us get this ship turned round and our passenger delivered.”

“Aye, Capt’n.” Angus began shouting at the crew, sending men into the sails to bring the ship about.

They had been prowling the French coast, searching for anything they might find that would tell them if Napoleon was amassing a fleet large enough to invade English shores. As fast as
Sea Devil
was, sailing round the clock it would take the schooner less than three days to make the five-hundred-mile trip to Scar borough, the same amount of time to return and resume their mission.

Until he was able to see Grace safely settled with her aunt, as she had originally planned, Ethan meant to stay completely away from her. He would sleep on the uncomfortable sofa in his salon. Angus could escort her round the deck when she needed fresh air, and Freddie could continue seeing to her needs.

The next time he set eyes on Grace Chastain would be the day she left his ship.

Grace spent a miserable day in her cabin. A hundred times, she called herself a fool. A hundred times, she fought back tears and damned Ethan Sharpe to perdition. The rest of the time she spent working to compose herself, determined that he would never find out the extent of her misery, never guess how badly he had hurt her.

Earlier she had felt the ship changing course, seen the sun change position through the windows above the bed. The boat was sailing in the opposite direction and the only reason she could imagine was that Ethan had decided to return her to London.

Her chest squeezed. She had given him what he wanted, allowed him the use of her body. He had slaked his lust for her and now that he knew her true identity, he was turning her over to the authorities.

Oh, dear God, what a fool!
Why she had ever believed she could trust him she could not imagine. Worse yet, how had she ever been so insane as to fall in love with him?

She was paying for her folly and would soon pay even more dearly. Perhaps the cost would be her life.

Night finally descended. Though she crawled beneath the covers, she couldn’t fall asleep.

All the next day the ship continued its northward journey and Grace’s nerves continued to build. Worry tightened a knot in her stomach and she started to pace the cabin. She had to know the truth, had to know what Ethan planned.

Dressing in her aqua silk gown, braiding her hair and carefully arranging it in a simple coronet, Grace left the cabin in search of the man who held her fate in his hands. When she couldn’t find him on deck, she descended the ladder and knocked on the door to his private salon.

For long seconds, there was no answer, then the door
jerked open and Ethan stumbled into view. When he saw who it was, a grim smile curved his lips.

“Well, what a surprise.” He took an unsteady step and she spotted the near-empty bottle of brandy on the sideboard. “You’re foxed!”

“True, but that is hardly your concern.”

“I need to speak to you.”

He made an extravagant bow. “Then by all means, come in. I’ll pour you a drink and we can take up where we left off the last time we were together.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson. “If you think I would be mad enough to let you touch me again, you are sorely mistaken. I came to find out what you are planning to do with me. Are you…are you taking me back to London?”

He seemed to sober a little at her words. Ethan shook his head. “I’m taking you to Scarborough. That is where you wish to go, is it not?”

The relief she felt made her weak. She hated the sweep of gratitude that followed. “That is the truth? You aren’t…you aren’t sailing for London? You are delivering me to my aunt instead?”

“I took your innocence. In exchange, I am giving you your freedom.” He gave her a ruthless smile. “You see, Grace, you made a bargain with the devil, after all.”

Her throat felt tight. The closeness they had shared last night was gone. The great yawning distance between them now made her ache inside. “I wanted you to make love to me, Ethan. I didn’t expect anything in return.” She started to leave, but Ethan caught her arm.

“I’m sorry, Grace, for the way this all turned out. I’m sorry you are who you are and I am who I am. I wish we could have met under different conditions.”

She gave him a bitter smile. “Well, at least you got
what you wanted. You were after revenge from the start. I hope you enjoy it, Ethan.” Grace turned away and left him standing in the door of the salon.

All the way back to the cabin, she kept seeing him in the eye of her mind, his dark hair mussed, clothes disheveled and smelling of liquor, the bitterness in his face, the need for vengeance that would eat at him until it destroyed him.

As she crossed the cabin and sank down on the bed, she thought how insane it was that she still cared.

F
lat gray clouds hung over the Scarborough harbor. Standing at the rail next to Angus McShane, Grace felt the sting of the biting wind flattening the skirt of her aqua silk gown against her legs, tugging at her upswept hair.

“How far ye say ’tis to yer aunt’s?”

“Just up the hill to the east. In her letter, my aunt said one could walk there from the quay or catch a hackney, but if I sent a note, she would send the carriage to pick me up.”

“Yer trunks is likely there. Capt’n Chambers would ha’ seen they got there safely.”

“Perhaps my maid is there, as well.”

“Aye. Most likely, she is.”

Freddie came up just then, leaning on his crutch, carrying Schooner under one arm. “We come to say goodbye, miss. Me and Schooner.”

She reached down and stroked the big tom’s thick fur, heard him start to purr. Grace managed to smile. “I’m going to miss you, Freddie. I’m going to miss you both.”

Freddie seemed pleased. “Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

Hardly likely, she thought, though she dearly wished they would. As she had said, she would miss the boy and his big orange tabby. “Perhaps someday we will.”

“Run along now, lad.” Angus gave him a nudge toward the galley. “Cook’ll be needin’ a hand.”

Freddie waved and stumped away, and Angus began shouting orders to the crew. The ship made a slight change of direction and Grace watched the small seaport village appear on the slopes of the hill in the distance, getting larger as the boat approached. On the headlands between two sandy beaches sat the towering remains of an ancient medieval castle, its ramparts crumbling now, the moat no longer filled.

Unconsciously Grace’s hand came up to her throat. Ethan had taken the ancient necklace. She wondered if he would return it. She hadn’t seen him in days. She knew he was avoiding her, but perhaps that was best.

Thinking about him now seemed to summon his appearance. Watching his long strides carrying him toward her along the deck made a lump form in her throat. He was dressed as he usually was, dark breeches tucked into tall black boots, woolen coat whipping in the wind. His limp seemed a bit more pronounced but then perhaps it was her imagination.

Ethan stopped directly in front of her and though his expression was carefully guarded, there was no mistaking the turbulence in his eyes. She wondered at his thoughts.

Her own were in turmoil. Anger at Ethan for his callous treatment of her. Anger at herself for being such a fool.

Regret for everything that had happened.

Uncertainty.

Heartache.

This latter she refused to dwell on. She should have realized the danger, should have better understood what she would be feeling when she left him.

Should have realized that she would love him still.

Around her, sailors climbed like monkeys up and down the rigging, trimming the sails, working the lines as the ship neared the dock, but Grace barely noticed. Her attention was fixed on the man in front of her, tall and commanding, a man she would never forget. His pale blue eyes were on her face, beautiful eyes, she saw now, eyes that held a well of pain.

“Once we’ve tied up, Angus will take you ashore,” Ethan said, “see that you reach your aunt’s house safely.”

She nodded. “I gather Humphrey Hall is not that far away.”

He pulled something from the inside pocket of his coat and she caught the glitter of diamonds. “This is yours, I believe.” He draped the necklace round her throat and fastened the clasp. The brush of his fingers against the nape of her neck made her heart clench.

“Thank you.”

He took her hand, turned it over and placed a pouch of coins in her palm. “I want you to take this, as well.”

“Money? Surely you don’t mean to pay me for—”

“For God’s sake, Grace! This has nothing to do with what happened between us. I just want you to have some money in case you should need it.”

She only shook her head and handed the heavy pouch back to him. “I don’t want your money, Ethan. I don’t want anything from you at all.”

He straightened a little, making him appear even taller,
and even more remote. “Then this is farewell. Take care of yourself, Grace.”

“And you, Captain Sharpe.”

For long moments, he just stood there looking down at her. What possessed her to lean toward him, to go up on her toes and press a soft kiss on his lips, she would never know. Something fleeting appeared in his eyes. He caught her shoulders and kissed her long and hard, then turned and walked away. He strode off down the deck with those same long strides and Grace’s eyes filled with tears.

It was ridiculous. The man was a rogue who cared nothing at all for her. It was insane to feel the least remorse that she would never see him again.

She turned at the sound of a rusty male voice, saw Angus McShane arriving on the deck beside her. “Time to go, lass.” He was carrying her small bundle of clothes, her sole possessions on the ship.

Grace tried to smile, but failed. “Yes…it is well past time for me to leave.” Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she let the big, gray-bearded Scotsman steer her down the gangway off the ship.

Grace never looked back.

She knew if she did, Ethan would not be there.

At the sound of the butler’s voice announcing the arrival of guests, Dowager Baroness Humphrey let the quizzing glass she wore on a silver chain round her neck fall back down on her sizable bosom. Setting the newspaper she had been reading aside, she rose from the sofa in the drawing room.

“Miss Grace Chastain is arrived, my lady. In company with a Mr. Angus McShane.”

“Oh, dear!” She flicked a glance across the drawing room to her friend, Elvira Tweed. “Grace is here. I can scarcely believe it.”

“Well, let us go and greet her,” Elvira said, heaving her bulky figure to her feet. “You can’t just leave her standing in the hall.”

The two older women made their way out of the drawing room toward the entry, following tall, bone-thin Harrison Parker, Matilda’s butler of more than thirty years.

As she stepped through the arched entry, she caught sight of her great-niece and paused for a moment, only a little surprised by her startling beauty. Harmon had been a very handsome man and though this daughter of his wore a wrinkled silk gown that had seen better days, the girl was tall and as slenderly built as Harmon, with the same bright green eyes and the most glorious dark copper hair Matilda had ever seen.

“My word. My dear girl, you are surely a welcome sight to these poor old eyes of mine. Grace, dear, I am so happy that you are here at last and safe.” Matilda enfolded the girl in a hug and felt the tension in her slender frame. Some of that tension melted at the warmth of Matilda’s embrace and the older woman blinked against the faint burn of tears.

“It’s all right, dearest. Now that you are here, everything is going to be all right.” She looked up at the big, gray-bearded man, Grace’s companion. “Do we have you to thank, Mr. McShane, for bringing Grace safely home?”

“Ye’ve the capt’n ta thank fer that, milady. Capt’n Sharpe o’ the
Sea Devil.
”

“And where is Captain Sharpe now? As I recall, he is the man responsible for Grace’s abduction, is he not? I should certainly like a word with him.”

She saw Grace’s spine slightly stiffen. “Captain Sharpe is a very busy man, my lady,” Grace said. “I’m afraid it is a rather long story, one I shall be happy to tell you once Mr. McShane has gone.”

Matilda managed a smile. “You must call me Aunt Matilda and this is my good friend, Lady Tweed.”

Grace sank into a curtsey. “A pleasure, my lady.”

Matilda returned her attention the burly old Scot. “Thank you for returning my niece. I am in your debt, sir.”

Angus made a faint nod of his head, then looked at Grace. “Take care o’ yerself, lass.”

“You as well, Angus.”

“He’s no’ a bad man,” he said.

No, not bad.
Just mired in the quicksand of his past. But then, didn’t she suffer a little of that, as well? It was part of the reason she’d felt obligated to help a father she barely knew. “Watch after him, will you, Angus?”

“Aye, that I will.” His beard parted as he smiled. “Yer a bonnie lass, Grace Chastain. One this ol’ Scot won’t soon forget.” Turning, he made a polite bow to the ladies, ducked his head and made his way out the door.

“Well…” Matilda moved back to Grace, reached out and took her hand. “First we’ll go upstairs and get you settled. Your trunks arrived earlier, along with your maid. I’m sure you would like a bath after so much time aboard a ship.”

“I would love a bath…Aunt Matilda.”

“Afterward, you may come down and we will talk about all that has happened.”

Grace’s face went a little bit pale and Matilda worried what might have occurred during her days as a captive on Captain Sharpe’s ship. “You mustn’t worry, dear. You are a very brave young woman and we are extremely proud of you.” She looked over at her friend. “Aren’t we, Elvira?”

“I should say so, yes, indeed.”

Grace swayed a little on her feet and Matilda realized the girl was running on sheer will alone. Whatever had happened to her on board the ship had affected her greatly.

Lord above, Matilda wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Grace let her aunt guide her up the stairs and into the bedchamber, a large, airy room with French doors leading out onto a balcony that overlooked the sea. There was a big four-poster bed, and though the pale blue satin counterpane and matching bed curtains looked a little faded, the Oriental carpet a little thin in places, it was a warm, cheery room that made her feel welcome.

Phoebe arrived, dark hair neatly drawn into a bun at the nape of her neck, her simple gray gown freshly laundered. Phoebe, six years Grace’s senior, raced over and caught Grace’s hand, gave it a very firm squeeze. It was clear the maid had believed she would never see Grace again.

“Thank God you’re safe, miss. I heard all about it. They said Captain Sharpe was a pirate who stole you right off the ship!”

She managed a smile. “There was a mix-up, is all. Eventually, the captain realized it was all a terrible mistake and brought me here. That is all that happened.”

“He didn’t…he didn’t hurt you, miss? Mrs. Cogburn said she seen him that night, said he were a handsome devil, but the man had the coldest eyes she’d ever seen.”

Grace swallowed, remembering how those ice-blue eyes had turned hot and fierce and seemed to burn right through her. “The captain was an absolute gentleman.” Now there was a lie. The man was a pirate, a complete and utter rogue. And he had broken her heart.

The bathwater arrived just then, and Phoebe scurried around the room, laying out towels and fetching a bar of lavender-scented soap. The fragrance reminded Grace of an other, more intimate bath, but she forced the memory away.

She helped Grace bathe and wash her hair, brushed out the tangles in front of the small coal fire that burned in the hearth, then braided it into a single plait.

“Thank you, Phoebe. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m awfully tired. I would like to rest for a while. I’ll call you when I’m ready to dress and go downstairs.”

“Yes, of course, miss.” Phoebe left the bedchamber, and as soon as the door was closed, Grace sank down on the bed and started to cry. Stretching out on the mattress, she buried her face in the covers and sobbed into the pillow, hoping no one would hear.

Grace didn’t wake up when her aunt knocked on the door then peeked inside to check on her.

“Exhausted. Poor little lamb.” Matilda left her sleeping and returned downstairs to join her friend for supper. “I hope the dear girl’s all right.”

Elvira took a spoonful of oyster soup. “She’s here and she’s safe and she has you to look after her. The rest will all work out.”

Matilda set her spoon down beside her plate, no longer hungry. She was getting too old for these sorts of problems, and yet she was glad Grace had come. “I would have liked to speak to that captain. I wonder what Grace will have to say about him.”

“I cannot imagine. At least she was able to convince the man to bring her here instead of returning her to London.”

“Yes, I suppose that is something.” But Matilda couldn’t help wondering what Captain Sharpe might have demanded in return for seeing Grace safely home.

Ethan stood at the wheel. The seas had grown heavy since they had left the safety of Scarborough harbor, and freezing waves washed over the deck. An icy wind swept down from the north, tossing up foamy spray, and his oilskin coat provided scant protection from the damp air slicing through his clothes.

He had been out here for hours. Twice, Angus had come to take the wheel, but Ethan had refused. He would rather face the wind and the chill than his empty cabin, where Grace’s presence seemed to surround him wherever he looked. He had told her the truth. He had never met any one like her. And already he missed her sorely.

It was impossible. Ridiculous. She was just a woman and he had known dozens over the years.

“Long-boned Ned is comin’ ta take a turn at the wheel,” Angus said, walking up beside him. “The fires ha’ been doused, but ’tis warm and dry in the galley.”

Ethan started to protest, but Angus was pulling on his arm. Long-boned Ned walked up to the wheel, and Angus gave him a nod.

“I know what’s going through yer head, lad,” Angus said as he led Ethan away. “She were a bonnie lass, and I miss her, as well. Perhaps in time, yer mind will find peace and ye kin see the lass again.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m who I am, and she’s Jeffries’s daughter. Nothing can ever change that.”

Angus sighed. “Still, she was a bonnie lass.”

A corner of Ethan’s mouth edged up. “Aye, my friend. That she was.”

Grace slept through that first day and late into the morning of the next. Even then, her limbs felt heavy with fatigue. She knew she had to get out of bed, knew it was past time she faced her aunt, but couldn’t seem to rouse herself. When Phoebe arrived with a tray that held a small pot of chocolate and a platter of honeyed cakes, Grace forced her self to eat though she wasn’t the least bit hungry.