This is the second book in Kat Martin's trilogy, The
Bride's Necklace was the first and The Handmaiden's
Necklace is due out in January, 2006.
Very few people know Grace is the bastard daughter of the
Viscount Forsythe, Harmon Jeffries. Most believe she is the
daughter of Dr. Chastain. He knows, however, has never let
her forget that she is a bastard. After finding some
letters her mother had hidden, Grace realizes her father
never forgot her and paid for her schooling and clothes all
along. He has written to her yearly and if not for the fact
she would have been ostrasized by the ton, he would have
acknowledged her.
Because information was leaked to the French, Ethan Sharpe
was captured and his crew were either killed or thrown in
prison. Ethan escaped and is now the captain of the Sea
Devil. His whole purpose in life is to re-capture Harmon
Jeffries.
Viscount Forsythe, convicted of treason, escaped the hangman
noose with Grace's help. Ethan finds out that she is aboard
the Lady Anne sailing for Scarborough. Not knowing the
connection between Grace and Jeffries, Ethan believes that
she was his mistress. His plan is to capture the ship,
take Grace as his prisoner and make her reveal where
Jeffries is hiding.
Ethan is very attracted to Grace and decides to seduce her
because he wants her in his bed. The morning after, Ethan
realizes he has taken her innocence which means there is no
way she was Jeffries' mistress. Grace tells him that
Jeffries is innocent, but even if he hadn't been, she would
have helped him since he is her father. Ethan is stunned
and cannot believe that he has ruined his enemy's daughter.
When their night together is revealed, Ethan has no choice
but to offer marriage, so he tells himself. The thoughts of
marrying Grace is not as revolting as he thinks and once the
decision is made just feels right.
The torment that Ethan faces is heart breaking - he wants to
love Grace, but her father's treason is first and foremost
in his mind. How can he want Grace when the blood of his
enemy runs through her? Grace realizes that before they can
build a life together Ethan has to stop living for revenge
and must put his past to rest.
When it looks like things might be looking up for the couple
Grace's father comes to her again asking for help to prove
his innocence.
The love scenes are hot especially when Ethan is jealous. I
didn't feel like the Ms. Martin just stuck the love scenes
in just to have a love scene. The conflict Ethan goes
through to love Grace is something you can relate to -- it
is real.
I will definitely read the next book just to seen how
everyone is doing. The characters really grow on you.
The necklace promised great happiness or great tragedy -
and nobody could elude its power...
To British privateer Ethan Sharpe, Grace Chastain was
nothing but a pawn for vengeance against Harmon Jeffries,
the traitor responsible for his brutal years in prison.
Believing Grace to be Jeffries's mistress, he plans to
humiliate his enemy by seducing her.
Grace fears her priceless heirloom necklace has begun to
live up to its curse when Captain Sharpe makes her his
prisoner aboard his schooner. Defiantly she resists his
coarse advances, and suspects there is more to this
complex
sea captain than his brooding anger and silent
accusations.
But Ethan quickly realizes that she is not the wicked
woman
he imagined her to be. Grace is as headstrong as she is
lovely, and the battle of wills that ensues weakens his
resolve. Now Ethan must decide: can he settle the demons
of his past and follow the destiny his heart commands?
Excerpt
London 1805
The hour of her rendezvous was nearly upon her.
Worry made Grace's heart pound and her hand tremble as she
stepped into her bedchamber and quietly closed the door.
The music of a four-piece orchestra drifted upward from
the drawing room downstairs. The house party, a gala event
that had cost a small fortune, was another of her mother's
unending attempts to fob her off on one of the ton's aged
aristocrats. Grace had stayed as long as she dared,
forcing herself to make dreary conversation with her
mother's guests, then pled a headache and retired
upstairs. She had urgent business to attend this night.
Outside the window, a winter wind whipped leafless
branches against the sill as Grace stripped off her long
white gloves. Her palms were sweating. Uncertainty coiled
like a snake in her stomach, but her course was set and
she refused to turn back now.
Hurrying toward the bellpull, she kicked off her kidskin
slippers along the way, rang for her lady's maid, then
reached up to work the clasp on the diamond-and-pearl
necklace around her neck. Her hand lingered there, testing
the smoothness of the pearls, the rough facets of the
diamonds set in between each one.
The necklace had been a gift from her best friend,
Victoria Easton, countess of Brant, and Grace treasured
it, her only possession of any real worth.
"You rang, miss?" Her maid, Phoebe Bloom, was a bit of a
featherhead at times but good-hearted nonetheless. She
poked her dark-haired head through the door, then hurried
in.
"I could use a little help, Phoebe, if you please."
"Of course, miss."
It didn't take long to get out of the gown. Grace managed
a nervous smile for Phoebe, pulled on her quilted wrapper,
and excused the girl for the balance of the evening. The
music downstairs continued to play. Grace prayed she could
complete her mission and return to the house before anyone
discovered she was gone.
The moment Phoebe closed the door, Grace tossed aside her
robe and hurriedly changed into a simple gray wool gown.
She blew out the whale oil lamp on the dresser and the one
beside the bed, leaving the room in darkness. Stuffing a
pillow beneath the covers to create the illusion that she
was sleeping if her mother chanced to look in, she grabbed
her cloak and swung it around her shoulders.
As she headed for the door, she picked up her reticule,
the purse heavy with the weight of the money she had
received from her great-aunt, Matilda Crenshaw, Baroness
Humphrey, along with a ticket for a cabin aboard a packet
sailing north at the end of the week.
Raising the hood of her cloak to cover her auburn hair,
Grace checked to be certain no one was out in the hall,
then slipped down the servants'stairs and left the house
through a door leading out to the garden.
Her heart was pumping, her nerves on edge, by the time she
reached Brook Street, hailed a hackney carriage and
climbed into the passenger seat.
"The Hare and Fox Tavern, if you please," she said to the
driver, hoping he wouldn't hear the tremor in her voice.
"That be in Covent Garden, eh, miss?"
"That is correct." It was a small, out-of-the-way
establishment, she had been told, chosen by the man whose
services she intended to purchase. She had gleaned the
man's name from her coachman for a few gold sovereigns,
though she didn't tell him the nature of her business.
It seemed to take hours to reach her destination, the
hackney winding through the dark London streets, wooden
wheels whirring, the horse's hooves clopping over the
cobbles, but finally the painted sign for the Hare and Fox
appeared.
"I'd like you to wait," Grace said to the driver as the
coach pulled up in front, pressing a handful of coins into
his palm. "I won't be inside very long."
The driver nodded, a grizzled old man whose face was
mostly hidden beneath a growth of heavy gray beard.'see
that ye aren't."
Praying the man would still be there when she returned,
and careful to keep the hood of her cloak up over her
head, she made her way around to the back of the tavern as
she had been instructed, opened the creaky wooden door and
stepped into the dimly lit taproom. The place was low-
ceilinged and smoky, with heavy carved beams and scarred
wooden tables. A fire blazed in a blackened stone hearth
and a group of hard-looking men sat at a nearby table. At
the back of the room, a tall, big-boned man in a slouch
hat and greatcoat sat at another of the tables. He stood
as she walked in and motioned for her to join him.
Grace swallowed and dragged in a courage-building breath,
then made her way toward him, ignoring the curious glances
of the men in the tavern as she took a seat in the ladder-
back chair he offered.
"Did ye bring the blunt?" he asked without the least
formality.
"Are you certain you can see the job done?" Grace was
equally forward.
He straightened as if she'd insulted him. "Jack Moody
gives his word, ye can count on it.Ye'll get what ye pay
for."
Grace's hand shook as she pulled the pouch out of her
reticule and handed it to the man named Jack Moody. He
poured a fistful of golden guineas into his palm, a dark
smile lifting a thin pair of lips.
"It's all there," Grace said, trying to ignore the bawdy
jokes and coarse laughter of the men at the table next to
them, glad they were mostly occupied with their drinking
and the lusty tavern wenches who seemed to keep them
entertained. The smell of greasy mutton made her stomach
roll and Grace felt a sweep of nausea. She had never done
anything like this before. She prayed she would never have
to again.
Jack Moody counted the coins, then dumped them back into
the pouch. "As ye say, seems t'all be there." He rose to
his feet, his features partly shadowed by the narrow brim
of his hat. "The plan's been set. Soon as I give the word,
t'will be done. Yer man'll be well outta London come
mornin'."
"Thank you."
Jack hefted the pouch, making the coins rattle. "This be
all the thanks I need." He tipped his head toward the
door. "Best get along now. Later it gets, more chance of
trouble findin' ye."
Grace said nothing to that, just rose from the chair and
cast a cautious glance at the door.
"Mind ye keep yer silence, lass. Them what talks when they
shouldn't don't live very long."
A chill went through her. She would never mention Jack
Moody's name again. With a faint nod of understanding, she
drew her cloak around her and made her way silently out
the back door.
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