The Devil's Necklace (18 page)

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “One can’t pine for a lost love forever. It’s time I set up my nursery, as my relatives keep pointing out. What do you think of the little blonde?”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Mary Rose Montague. She’s the earl of Throckmorton’s daughter. She is well bred and well schooled, attractive in a quiet sort of way and extremely biddable.”

“Are you interested in finding a wife or a horse?”

“Very humorous. Just because you like a fiery woman like Grace—”

“I don’t like a fiery woman. Now that you mention it, I should have preferred to wed a more biddable creature myself.”

Rafe chuckled. “Liar.”

Ethan said nothing more. In truth, he had discovered he liked a woman with the kind of spirit Grace had. If only she weren’t who she was…. Of course, nothing was ever going to change that.

“Did Grace ever have a come-out?” Ethan asked, suddenly curious about her past.

“When she was seventeen. Her mother was determined she should marry a peer.” He grinned. “Amanda Chastain must be ecstatic.”

Ethan grunted. “So why didn’t Grace wed? She must have had any number of suitors.”

“Grace is quite the romantic,” Rafe said. “She was determined to marry for love.”

His gaze swung to Grace and his stomach instantly knotted. “I suppose some dreams are simply not to be.”

Rafe just looked at him. “Or perhaps they still might come true.”

The music resumed before he could reply and he returned his attention to the dance floor. The music of the orchestra swelled, blotting out the distant chatter of the crowd, and couples moved gracefully around the floor.

“Your wife seems to have found an admirer,” Cord said, taking a drink of his champagne.

“So I see.” Ethan cast a dark look at the tall man with the light brown hair partnered with his wife in a contra dance. “He has already danced with her twice.” Ethan studied the man and frowned. “There is something familiar about him. Who is he?”

“That is Martin Tully, the earl of Collingwood,” Cord answered. With Victoria forced to stay home, he would remain at the ball just long enough to make clear his support of the newly married couple.

“Tully stays most of the time on his estate near Folkestone,” Rafe put in. “Doesn’t usually spend much time in the city.”

Ethan watched as the man made an elegant turn, all the while smiling at Grace. And Grace was smiling back at him.

The image sparked a memory in his head. “Now I remember where I’ve seen him. He’s the man on the ship, the fellow she was talking to the night I took her off the
Lady Anne.
”

One of Rafe’s dark eyebrows went up. “Collingwood?”

“I had no idea she knew him,” Cord said.

“Well, he certainly seems to know
her.
”

Rafe cast him a glance. “Perhaps if you paid a bit more attention to her yourself…”

“Good idea. If you two will excuse me…”

The dance came to an end just as Ethan strode up be side Grace. He didn’t like the way she was laughing, smiling up at the earl, who still held on to her hand. He didn’t like it at all.

“Thank you for taking such good care of my
wife,
” he said pointedly. “I’ve been remiss in not spending more time with her myself.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the earl said with a smile that looked slightly forced. “Martin Tully, earl of Collingwood.” He made a very formal bow.

“Actually, I believe we are acquainted. Ethan Sharpe, marquess of Belford, captain of the ship,
Sea Devil.
Perhaps you recall the meeting.”

Lord Collingwood’s face drained of color. He looked from Grace to Ethan as if he couldn’t quite believe what Ethan had just said. “You…you are the man who abducted her?”

Ethan flicked a glance at Grace, who was staring at him as if he had just grown horns, her face turned deathly pale.

“What happened was a simple mistake,” he explained, “one quickly remedied and the lady delivered safely to her aunt.” He gave the earl a predatory smile. “A simple mistake. However, not one I entirely regret.”

He slid an arm possessively around Grace’s waist and drew her against him. “You see, that is how I first met my lovely wife.” He bent and pressed a brief kiss on her mouth. “It was actually quite a stroke of good fortune.”

The earl’s light brown eyebrows drew nearly together. “Yes, I can see that it was, indeed.” He turned to Grace. “I’m sure we will see each other again. Enjoy your evening, my dear.” And then he was gone.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” Grace asked, the color returning to her cheeks.

“I had no idea you and the earl were so closely acquainted.”

She shrugged. “I met him on board the
Lady Anne.
Later, he came to visit me in Scarborough the night before your arrival.”

“Is that so? It’s obvious the man is smitten. I’d prefer you don’t encourage him.”

“The earl was merely being polite.”

“Well, now I am being polite in his stead. Shall we dance, my love?”

Her mouth thinned. For an instant, he thought she might actually refuse him.

“Remember why we are here, Grace. To still the wagging tongues? Surely you don’t want to give them fresh fodder by refusing to dance with your husband.”

Her chin jutted into the air. Turning, she walked stiffly in front of him out onto the dance floor. The orchestra struck up a waltz and her lips parted as he drew her into his arms, a little closer than he should have. He led her into the steps of the waltz and after several turns, she began to relax.

His own body tightened. The scent of lavender drifted up from her bare shoulders. The rhinestones nestled among her soft auburn curls reflected the gold glints in her hair and matched the sparkle in her eyes. The pearl-and-diamond necklace glittered and he wanted to press his mouth against the pulse beating softly in the hollow of her throat.

He drew her a little closer, until her breasts lightly grazed his chest. Sweet God, he wanted to haul her out of the ballroom, to carry her into the garden and lay her down among the blooming flowers. He wanted to rip off her emerald silk gown, wanted to part her legs and drive himself inside her.

She looked up at him and he could see the question in her eyes. “I didn’t know you waltzed, and quite well at that.”

For some strange reason, his limp became less noticeable when he was moving in time with the music. “You thought that perhaps my sea legs would not hold me in good stead on the dance floor?”

She smiled and his heart skipped a beat. “I thought that perhaps you wouldn’t wish to waltz with me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you would have to hold me in your arms, as you are doing now.”

His body pulsed and he began to go hard as one of her legs brushed between his thighs. “Aside from making love to you, there is nothing I would rather do than waltz with you, my love.”

The color swept into her cheeks. “If you want me, Ethan, why don’t you have me?”

For days it was the question that had been rolling around in his head. He wanted her. She was his wife. Was making love to her really a betrayal, or merely a means of satisfying his body’s natural urges?

Once he had believed she was Forsythe’s mistress. He hadn’t the least qualms about taking her then.

What did it matter if he took her now?

“Perhaps you are right.” For an instant, he actually considered tossing her over his shoulder as he had done aboard the
Lady Anne,
but there was the baby to consider. And of course, the undo gossip it would stir. Instead, as the waltz came to an end, he simply bent and lifted her into his arms.

“Ethan! What on earth are you doing?”

“Excuse us, please. It is very warm in here and my wife has begun to feel a little faint.” With a smile fixed
on his face, giving a series of the same brief explanation, he carried her through the crush, out the front door of the mansion, along the gravel drive to where his carriage was parked.

“Home, Jennings,” he said to the coachman as a footman opened the door. “And don’t spare the horses.” Settling her swiftly on the carriage seat, he climbed in and took a place beside her.

“Are you insane?” Grace stared at him with disbelief as the matched pair of grays stepped into their traces and the coach jolted forward. “We can’t just leave. We’re the guests of honor! What will people think?”

“They will think that I am ravenous for my wife’s lovely body, and I am.”

“But—”

“Another word, Grace, and I swear I will take you right here.”

Her eyes widened for an instant, then she sat back on the seat of the carriage, careful to keep facing forward, casting him only an occasional sideways glance.

If his body hadn’t been throbbing with such urgent need, he might have smiled.

It didn’t take long to reach his town house only a few blocks away. As they walked into the entry, he scooped her up again and carried her up the stairs, enjoying the feel of her arms around his neck. He was hard and aching, his blood running hot. Entering the room, he kicked the door closed behind him and set her on her feet.

“I can’t believe this.” Temper still high, she planted her hands on her hips. “For weeks, I have imagined you making love to me. I even tried to seduce you.” So he had been right about that. “Now—when we are in the middle of the Duke of Sheffield’s ball—you decide you want me.”

“I’ve never stopped wanting you, Grace.”

She started to back away. “You made me look like a fool.”

Ethan stalked her, matching her step for step. Now that his mind was made up, he intended to have her and soon.

“You didn’t look the least like a fool. You looked like a woman whose husband desired her.”

Her back came up against the door. “You…you are still the pirate you were aboard your ship!”

“That’s right. And I intend to plunder the treasure I acquired the day we were wed.”

G
race stifled a shriek as Ethan hauled her into his arms and very soundly kissed her. He tasted faintly of brandy and his lips were hungry and hard, softening as he ravaged her mouth. For an instant, she resisted, telling herself he had behaved like the pirate he was and embarrassed them both.

But already she was weakening, wanting him so much she didn’t care.

Ethan kissed the side of her neck, rained kisses along her jaw, over her throat and along her shoulders.

“I want to be inside you, Grace. God, I’ve never wanted anything so much.”

She felt his hands on the buttons at the back of her gown, popping them open one by one. Freed of its binding, the bodice sagged open, giving him access to her breasts. He kneaded and caressed them, bent his dark head and took the fullness into his mouth.

He suckled her hard, rasped his teeth over her nipple, and her legs went weak. She felt the gown sliding off her shoulders, over her hips, into a pool at her feet. The chemise went with it, leaving her naked except for her
garters and stockings, and the necklace encircling her throat, while Ethan remained fully clothed.

“It’s been too long,” he said, claiming her mouth in a series of hot, wet kisses that had her clinging to his shoulders. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Easing her back against the door, he moved closer, a hard thigh slipping between her legs, lifting her a little. She rubbed herself against it, the fabric of his breeches abrading her damp, sensitive flesh, a little purring sound escaping from her throat. Reaching down, she found his hardness, a long, heavy ridge beneath the fly of his breeches. Tentatively, she smoothed her fingers over the stiffness, felt it harden even more. With a soft, hissing sound, Ethan caught her hand and moved it away, began to open the front of his breeches, and she realized he intended to take her right there.

Sweet God in heaven!
Grace squirmed a little as his fingers found her softness, slid deeply inside, and began to stroke her. Hot sensation washed over her, desire and unbearable need. She was wet. Slick and hot and ready, and she didn’t want to wait, either.

“You’re my wife,” he said as he lifted her a little and she felt his shaft at the entrance to her passage. “You belong to me.” With a single deep thrust he impaled her, and Grace nearly swooned at the incredible pleasure.

“Ethan…” Clutching the nape of his neck, she dragged his mouth down to hers for a kiss. The contact turned deep and hungry, his tongue plunging in, taking her fiercely, gliding out and then in, matching his rhythm to the powerful thrusts of his shaft. Again and again, he drove into her, took her until she hadn’t the strength to stand, then picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist and continued his erotic assault. She was open to him,
exposed, filled with him, and her head was spinning, her body on fire.

Grace clung to his shoulders as the world slipped away and stars burst behind her eyes. She cried out his name at the sweet vibrations pouring through her, the fierce wash of pleasure. Beneath her fingers, she felt his muscles tighten then contract as he pumped his hips and spilled his seed inside her.

For long seconds neither of them moved. Ethan held her, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and she felt the starch of his cravat against her cheek. Slowly, he eased himself out of her body and released her legs, but he didn’t move away, just stood there holding on to her, his shaft still hard where it pressed against her belly.

He bent his head and his forehead touched hers and she felt his hand smoothing gently over her hip.

“All right?” he asked and slowly she nodded.

“You’re with child. I should have been more gentle. I wasn’t thinking, I—”

“The baby is fine. It is yet months away.”

His smile was wide and beautiful in the moonlight slanting in through the window, and the sight of it made her heart clench. Sliding an arm beneath her knees, he lifted her and carried her over to the bed. He turned her around and unclasped the necklace, laid it gently on the bedside table, removed her garters and stockings, then settled her in the middle of the bed.

He left her only long enough to strip away his clothes then joined her on the deep feather mattress. They lay together for a while, hands clasped, his leg resting possessively over hers. The covers shifted as he leaned over and kissed her and desire wove its spell around them again.

He took her slowly this time and afterward curled her against his side. Pleasantly sated, Ethan beside her, Grace closed her eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she knew Ethan lay awake in the darkness, trying in vain to make peace with his conscience.

Seated at his desk in the study the following morning, Ethan immersed himself in the business of assessing his investments and running his estates, determined to keep his mind off the night before.

“Beg pardon, sir.”

He glanced up from the stack of paperwork in front of him. “What is it, Baines?”

“There is a gentleman to see you, milord. A Mr. Jonas McPhee. He says you are expecting him.”

Ethan stood up from his chair. “Send him in.” He had received a note from McPhee late yesterday afternoon requesting a meeting this morning. Distracted by the night’s events, he had forgotten the engagement.

McPhee walked in, hat in hand, and Ethan waved him over to the chair in front of his desk. Though a man only in his thirties, Jonas was already going bald, just a fringe of brown hair around his ears and a few thin strands combed over the top of his head. The Bow Street runner was average in height and wore small wire-rimmed spectacles. It wasn’t his appearance but his scarred hands and muscular shoulders that betrayed the sort of work he did.

“You have news, I gather.”

“Yes, my lord.” McPhee sat down in a brown leather chair in front of Ethan’s desk.

“Word of Forsythe?”

“In a way. You asked me to find out if there was any connection between the viscount and your wife’s aunt, the Dowager Baroness Humphrey. In fact, there is.”

Ethan’s senses went on alert. “What is the connection?”

“When Harmon Jeffries was ten years old, both his mother and father died of a contagious fever just a few days apart. Lord Forsythe was raised by his aunt on his mother’s side, Lady Humphrey, along with her husband, the baron.”

“What else?”

“From what I could gather, Jeffries and Lady Humphrey have remained quite close over the years, but she rarely comes to London and the fact that she was his surrogate mother was never really that well-known.”

But Grace had known. She had been staying with the viscount’s aunt. With Forsythe spotted in York, Ethan couldn’t help wondering if a meeting between father and daughter had been planned. “Anything else?”

“Not at present, my lord.”

“You’ll keep this matter private.”

“Of course, my lord.” McPhee was paid well for his services, but it went unsaid that part of his fee was earned by his silence.

“Let me know if you come up with anything more.”

McPhee stood up from his chair. “Certainly, my lord.”

Ethan waited till the runner left the house, then summoned Grace into his study. He hadn’t seen her since he had left her sleeping in his bed, her body soft and pliant from their early morning lovemaking.

For a moment, his thoughts drifted in that direction and a sliver of desire snaked through him.
Bloody hell.
He had never been so randy for a woman before.

Grace’s soft knock sounded and Ethan invited her into the study. When she looked at him, standing behind his
desk, a slight flush rose in her cheeks and he thought that she was remembering their lovemaking, too.

“You wished to see me, my lord?”

The reason for his summons returned to the forefront of his mind. “Your aunt…Baroness Humphrey…it would seem she is also Lord Forsythe’s aunt on his mother’s side.”

Her face went a little bit pale. “How…how did you find out?”

“The same way I discovered your involvement in the viscount’s escape. The question is, was your father planning to join you in Scarborough? And if that was, indeed, his intention, were the two of you planning to leave the country together?”

Her shoulders subtly straightened. “Aunt Matilda raised my father after his parents were killed. She loves him very much. He told her about me when I was first born and she offered her help should ever it be needed. As I told you before, I have no idea where my father has gone and I certainly had no plans to meet him or leave the country with him.”

He studied her face. Grace would never make a very good liar. She was simply too straightforward. “There is a problem with this information.”

“What is it?”

“If I’ve discovered the connection between your aunt and Forsythe, someone else might also find out. If they do and they discover that you went to stay with her shortly after the viscount’s escape, they might wonder why you went there. They might dig deeper, discover you are his daughter. That would give you a motive for helping him escape and place you under suspicion.”

She looked even paler. “I can only hope that doesn’t occur.”

But it might, he thought, remembering that the men in his crew had overheard his conversation with Angus McShane and also knew she was Forsythe’s daughter. They had been loyal to him thus far, but they hadn’t sailed with him long enough for him to trust them completely.

For the first time, he was sincerely glad that he had married Grace. As the wife of a marquess, she would be far less likely to fall under suspicion.

“We will take things as they happen. If we’re lucky nothing will come of it. For now that is all.” He looked back down at the papers, but Grace made no move to leave and he looked up at her again. “What is it?”

“What happened between us last night…making love, I mean. It was wonderful, Ethan.” The color washed back into her cheeks an instant before she turned and fled the study.

Ethan watched her go and found himself smiling.

Then he thought of finding the viscount—as he was determined to do—and the heartache it would cause Grace, and his smile slid away.

The week dragged past. On Monday, Victoria’s sister, Claire Chezwick, stopped by, looking radiantly lovely, as always. There was something almost otherworldly about Claire’s extraordinary beauty, though she didn’t seem to realize it.

“I’m sorry to just pop in this way, but I wanted to invite you to a soiree at the earl of Louden’s town house.”

“Lord Percy’s older brother?”

She nodded. “You met him and his wife last week at the ball. Christina asked me to invite you personally.”
Claire grinned. “My sister-in-law is very romantically inclined. I think she was quite impressed when the marquess scooped you into his arms and carried you out of the house.”

Grace’s cheeks colored. “Ethan behaved like an utter rogue.”

Claire rolled china-blue eyes that turned half the dandies in London into stuttering fools. “He certainly did. It was really quite wonderful, wasn’t it? Though I should die of mortification if my Percy did something like that.”

Grace laughed. Percival Chezwick was the youngest son of the marquess of Kersey. He had Claire’s same blond hair and blue eyes, was sweet and a little bit shy, the perfect husband for Claire. And odds were, he would never behave as boldly as Ethan.

Ethan was a man who obeyed his own set of laws, which, in truth, was one of the things Grace found so attractive about him. He wasn’t like any other man she had ever met. There was simply no one else like him.

“I’m not sure we will be able to go,” she said to Claire. “Ethan isn’t much for that sort of thing.”

Claire reached over and took her hand. “But don’t you see, Grace, you must go. The ball was a start. You only have to think what happened that night to know Tory’s plan is a good one. You must go, and look radiant, and dance with all the gentlemen, and in time your husband will realize how desperately he loves you.”

Grace mulled that over, remembering how possessive Ethan had been that night. “What if he won’t go?”

“Then you will come with Percy and me. The duke of Sheffield will also be in attendance. His grace has entered the marriage mart, you know. It is the talk of the
ton.
”

“I hope Rafe marries for love.”

“Gossip has it, at one time the duke was deeply in love with a woman named Danielle Duval, but something went wrong and he called off the wedding. I think this time he is more concerned with finding a biddable sort of a wife, someone who will help him fill his nursery.”

Grace had heard hints of the scandal, something to do with Rafe’s fiancée and one of his friends. It made her sad to think the duke had given up on love.

Then again, she wasn’t doing so well in that department herself.

“So what do you think about the soiree?” Claire asked.

“Perhaps you’re right.” The plan had certainly worked well the first time. She thought of Ethan’s bold lovemaking and tried not to blush. “I shall put the question to him tonight. If he declines the invitation, I shall be happy to ac company you and Lord Percy.”

The music of a string quartet drifted across the earl of Louden’s drawing room. The scent of flowers in crystal vases mingled with burning wax from the long white tapers in the silver candelabra on the sideboard.

Ethan stood at the door of the drawing room, surveying the crush of guests. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He had declined the earl’s invitation, though he could tell Grace wanted to go. He told himself the less time he spent with her the better, though he had to admit, he had enjoyed his nights in her bed.

In truth, he couldn’t imagine why he had denied himself so long. She was his wife. She was supposed to satisfy his physical needs, and it was clear he satisfied hers in the bargain. During the day, he kept himself busy. He
was cordial, polite but distant. As long as he didn’t let his attraction go any further, he could live with himself.

Still, tonight after she had left for the soiree, the house had seemed so empty. He had found himself pacing the study, then roaming the empty drawing rooms in search of her.