The Devil's Necklace. Kat Martin
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were away at boarding school. She could see faint light near the top of the water. If only she could reach it.
But the dress pulled her down, seemed to undo each small gain she made. The air in her lungs began to burn. She couldn’t hold her breath much longer. Dear God, she didn’t want to die! She gave another frantic set of kicks and for an instant her head broke the surface. She caught a breath of air before beginning to sink again. She thought she heard something swimming around in the water beside her, but her air supply was diminishing and she was growing dizzy.
She fought madly for the surface one final time, but couldn’t quite get her head above the water and the last of her strength began to wane. Something brushed against her. She felt the strength of a man’s hand at her waist, shoving her upward. Grace kicked with all of her strength and together their heads popped out of the sea.
One of the ship’s cork life rings floated nearby and the captain grabbed it and wrapped her arm around it.
“Hold on!” he shouted. “We’ve got to hang on until they can reach us!”
She gasped and sputtered, managed a nod, and hung on with all of her strength. She could see the ship in the distance, one of the wooden dinghies being lowered over the side as the ship came about, trying to stop its forward momentum through the turbulent seas.
She could see the small boat pulling away from the hull, beginning to head their way, the men rowing with all of their might. It took a while for the dinghy to reach them, plowing through the whitecaps, disappearing into a trough, then reappearing again. The big second mate, Willard Cox, a sailor named Red Tinsley, and the thin sailor, Long-boned Ned, manned the oars.
They spotted her and the captain clinging to the life ring, and drew the boat up alongside. Working together, the three men hauled Grace into the boat, then reached down for the captain. He sprawled next to her in the bottom of the dinghy, both of them shivering uncontrollably.
Ned tossed a blanket over them. “We’ll ’ave ye back aboard the ship quick as we can,” he said to her. “Ol’ Angus backed the sails and hove to. He’ll slow ’er down and be waitin’ fer us to catch up ta him.”
She swallowed and nodded, the fear she had held back beginning to creep over her, clogging her throat with tears. But the minutes in the icy sea had sapped her strength and she was too frozen to make her lips work.
And grateful just to be alive.
It took a while for the dinghy to battle its way through the pounding waves and reach the ship. Angus paced near the rail, his rugged face lined with worry as the men helped her aboard.
He came to a stop just in front of her, reached out and touched her cheek. “So ye made it, did ye, lass?”
Her eyes welled with tears as she thought of how near death she had come, how Ethan Sharpe had risked himself to save her.
“Aye. The lad saved yer life. Coulda been the death o’ ye both.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the seas were still so rough or the decks quite so slippery.”
“Ye need ta get out of those clothes,” Angus said, guiding her down the ladder to her cabin. She looked back for Ethan, saw him right behind her.
“I’ll take care of her,” he said, following her into the room. “Send down a hot bath. She needs to get warmed up.”
“And ye, as well, lad.”
“Soon,” Ethan said. He closed the door and turned to face her.
“I’m sorry,” Grace said again, tears burning.
Instead of the anger she expected, he simply reached out and swept her into his arms.
“Sweet God, Grace, I thought we’d lost you.”
She clung to him, grateful for his warmth, the solid feel of his body, the steady beat of his heart, holding him as tightly as he was holding her. “I’m so sorry. Oh, Ethan, you could have been killed.”
He tipped her chin up and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Christ…” And then he was kissing her, taking possession of her mouth, and he crushed her against him. He molded his lips to hers, shaped them, tasted them, kissed her one way and then another, as heat washed over her. His tongue plunged in and fire seemed to scorch through her veins. She found herself clinging to his neck, kissing him back as wildly as he was kissing her.
She told herself it was just that she was alive. That he was a man and she was a woman and they had survived death by inches. Whatever it was, heat and need swept over her, unlike anything she had known. He was tall but so was she, and they seemed to fit perfectly together. His chest was a hard wall pressing into her breasts and beneath her wet garments, her nipples tightened and began to throb.
She felt light-headed, almost giddy, and her heart was racing, pounding so hard she wondered if he could hear. Her fingers slid into his wet black hair and she could feel its silky texture, the soft wisps curling against the nape of his neck.
He kissed her and kissed her, and insane as it was, she didn’t want him to stop.
“Dear God…Ethan…”
A noise sounded and awareness began to sink in. Someone was knocking at the door. He turned, his blue eyes full of emotion. For a moment, she thought he might send them away.
With his body heat gone, she began to shiver. Cursing, he walked over to the door and pulled it open.
“The lady’s bath,” one of the crewmen said.
He flicked her a glance, must have noticed how pale she was. “Set it in front of the hearth.”
The two crewmen set the steaming tub on the carpet and quietly left the room. Ethan walked over to where she stood shivering and pulled the string on the front of her blouse. “The bath will warm you,” he said softly, and she thought of the first time that she had undressed with him in the room.
He must have read her thoughts for he sighed. “All right, I’ll turn my back if it makes you feel better.”
Her fingers were cold and clumsy. When she didn’t manage to undress fast enough, he walked over to where she stood, caught the hem of the blouse and pulled it off over her head, leaving her in only the skirt and her wet lawn chemise. She covered her breasts as he unfastened the button at the waist of the skirt and slid the clinging fabric down over her hips, leaving her in a garment so transparent he could see right through it, so short it barely covered her bottom.
His eyes were dark and hot. She had always thought them pale and glacial, but there was nothing cold about them now.
“I would advise you to get into that tub before I do what I am thinking.”
With his breeches wet and plastered to his body, she couldn’t miss the thick ridge that marked his desire. Cheeks flushed from more than just embarrassment, she climbed into the water quickly, leaving the chemise in place even after she was seated in the tub.
She looked up to see Ethan pulling fresh garments out of his wardrobe. He strode toward the door with the clothing draped over his arm. “If I had my way, I would lift you out of that tub and carry you over to the bed. I wouldn’t leave you until morning. But you have had a very bad experience and you need to rest. Sleep for a while and once you are feeling better, perhaps you will join me for supper.”
She looked up at him from the tub. She could still feel the lean strength of his body, taste his mouth as it moved over hers. He wanted her. He had made the fact no secret. She should be frightened. Somehow she was not.
“I would like that very much.”
Ethan seemed pleased. He made a slight bow and quit the room. Grace sat in the tub till the water turned cold, trying to understand what had just happened.
He was standing in the passageway, freshly bathed, his hair clean and neatly combed, when Grace answered his knock several hours later and opened