The Devil's Necklace by Kat Martin

him no? That she had no interest in his lovemaking? She wasn’t his wife and she didn’t belong in his bed.
    Instead, when he kissed her again, for an instant she pressed herself against him. She breathed in the scent of salt spray and man and tasted the depth of his hunger. An answering need arose, so strong she had to force herself to pull away.
    “Thank you again…Captain Sharpe.”
    His smile turned hard at her obvious attempt to put distance between them. “My pleasure…Miss Chastain.”
    She started to turn and go into the room, but he caught her wrist. Turning her back to him, he reached for the clasp on the necklace.
    “I’ll just take these.” He unfastened the clasp and the pearls slid into his palm. “For now…just for safekeeping.” He tucked the pearls into the pocket of his silver-threaded waistcoat, turned and walked away.
    Grace stepped into the cabin and closed the door, wondering if later that night he would occupy his side of the bed. She wondered if he would try to make love to her.
    And what she would do if he did.
     
    Ethan spent the night on the sofa in the salon, his make shift berth more than a foot too short for him, worseeven than the bunk in Angus’s cabin. Still, he didn’t dare return to his own.
    Today he had saved Grace’s life and something indefinable had changed between them. For the past few nights, he had lain beside her, torturing himself with her nearness, aching with lust for her. Tonight he thought that if he went to her bed, perhaps he could have her, but something held him back.
    Lying on the uncomfortable sofa, if he closed his eyes he could see her standing near the rail, beautiful and defiant, her fiery hair whipping around her face. Sensing his anger, she had moved away from him, a few unconscious steps, then been helplessly washed into the sea.
    It was a moment that burned crystal clear in his mind, the sharp stab of fear, the absolute terror that she would drown in the raging waters. Nothing could have kept him from going in after her. She is mine, the insane thought had occurred. I can’t let her die.
    Afterward, with Grace once more safely aboard, he had said a silent prayer of thanks that he had been able to save her.
    Even then, he had never thought to allow her into his inner sanctum—she was a criminal, after all—yet he found himself inviting her to supper. The hours had been far more pleasant than he had imagined, a lively discussion of sailing and the sea, along with a bit of science. She was smart and full of life and he wanted her with a passion he hadn’t known he had.
    He told himself that tonight he would have her. He would walk her down to his cabin, kiss her into submission and press her to give in to his wishes. Remembering her earlier responses, he’d believed that she would agree.
    According to plan, he had kissed her in the corridorout side his cabin and then pressed his suit. But the look in her eyes, the innocent sweetness of her refusal, made anything less than obeying her wishes impossible for him to do.
    Ethan sat up on the sofa, damning himself and women in general. He hadn’t pressed her because he didn’t want to destroy her trust. Why that seemed important, he couldn’t imagine. Still, he wouldn’t make love to her unless she invited him into her bed.
    Christ.
    She had aided the escape of a traitor. The man was responsible for the loss of his ship, his crew and a year of his life. He had brought her aboard to make her pay.
    He must be losing his mind.

Seven
    “A ny word of your cousin?” Victoria Easton, countess of Brant, walked up behind her husband, who sat behind the wide mahogany desk in his study.
    Cord turned a little, looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Colonel Pendleton says the mission shouldn’t take all that long. He thinks Ethan will be back in London by the end of the month.”
    Tory blushed. Cord was tall and handsome, broad-shouldered and square-jawed with a hard, muscular body. All she had to do was