The Devil's Necklace Read Online Free PDF

front of his desk, his silver-handled letter opener gripped defensively in her hand. Her head slumped forward ontoher chest and the blanket around her shoulders had slid off onto the floor. Her hair was slightly mussed, her lips softly parted in slumber. She looked young and innocent and more enticing than any woman he had ever seen.
    He told himself to wake her, to strike a bargain for the use of her luscious body, but something held him back. That she was exhausted was written in every line of her face. That she was frightened, though she had done her best not to show it, seemed more than clear.
    He should be happy that she suffered, he told himself. It was what he wanted, the reason he had brought her aboard his ship. He meant for her to pay and he would not be satisfied until she did.
    And yet he found himself crossing the room, slipping the letter opener out of her hand, lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed. He tossed back the covers, set her down on the mattress still fully clothed and pulled the blanket up over her.
    He was nearly as tired as she. Perhaps it was better to wait, he told himself. Tomorrow they would strike their bargain and he could take what he wanted. Quietly undressing down to his smallclothes, bare-chested, he blew out the lamp and lay down on the opposite side of the bed, plumping the pillow behind his head.
    Tomorrow, he thought, the image returning of her naked body spread beneath him. Anticipation mingled with fatigue as he drifted off to sleep.
     
    Tomorrow came earlier than he expected. The sun was not yet up when Ethan’s eyes cracked open and the feeling that something was out of place trickled through him. It took only an instant to remember that his lovely prisoner slept beside him, the soft, warm feel of a woman’sbody pressing against him not something that happened all that often.
    Though she still slept like the dead, Grace Chastain’s bottom nestled snugly into his groin, her soft heat penetrating the thin layer of her aqua silk gown and his smallclothes. He was hard, he realized, aching with the need to be inside her. What would she do, he wondered, if he lifted her wrinkled dress and began to gently caress her? The woman had a temper as fiery as her hair. He wondered if he could arouse that same sort of passion in bed.
    She wasn’t new to the game, which could help his cause or hinder it, depending on the sort of lovers she had known over the years. He skimmed a hand lightly over her hip, enjoying the sweetly feminine curves, the roundness of her bottom. He ran a hand along her thigh, down her calf, reached for the hem of her gown—
    The shriek of outrage that erupted from the opposite side of the bed made his ears start to ring. She leaped out of the bunk as if it were on fire and whirled to face him, slim feet braced apart, hands out in front of her as if she faced a monster from hell. He almost found himself smiling.
    “Don’t you touch me!”
    “I believe you’ve made your dislike of touching more than clear.” He rolled to the side of the bed and reached for his breeches, dragged them on over his hips and began to work the buttons up the front.
    She raced over to the desk and began a mad search for the letter opener. He cursed himself as she snatched it up and held it protectively in front of her.
    “You don’t need that. I’m not going to hurt you.”
    “You were…you were…trying to…to…”
    “Take it easy. The way you were curled up againstme, I thought we both might enjoy ourselves.” God, she was beautiful. With her auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed with anger…Christ, just looking at her made him hard all over again.
    He moved a little closer but not enough to frighten her. “Actually, I was hoping we could come to some sort of an arrangement.”
    She eyed him warily, the letter opener still gripped in her hand. “What kind of arrangement?”
    “I’m a man, Miss Chastain. Men have certain needs.