A Woman Made for Sin (39 page)

Going to Millie’s uninjured side, Bessie helped Millie to her feet and asked, “Where
should we go?”

Millie pointed to the park. “Inside. We’ll have to stay near the trees, but I know
a place where we won’t be found. The good and the bad news is that it is not close.”

An hour later, Bessie half dragged, half carried Millie into the hidden clearing.
She fell down next to where Millie lay. They were safe from their attacker for now,
but in a few hours it would not matter. Lady Chaselton would be dead from her wound.

“My lady?” she asked, praying Millie was still conscious enough to tell her what to
do next. But she feared otherwise, for she was looking very pale and her breath was
extremely shallow.

“I’m still here,” Millie whispered.

“I need to go for help, but I can’t leave you alone.”

“I’m safe here,” Millie said, trying to reassure her. “Get the money from my dress.”
Bessie immediately did as she was told and was surprised to find not the pennies and
farthings that filled her own pockets, but a couple half crowns and several guineas.
It was more than she made in several months. Swallowing, she clutched the coins in
her fist and said, “I have it.”

“There’s a ranger. Stays here. Should be near the lake. Look for a lodge. Tell him—”
Millie paused to catch her breath. She was running out of energy. “Tell him to take
you to Hembree Grove. Providence Court. Let Chase know . . . I’m waiting in our spot
. . . and that—”

But before Millie could finish, she went limp, leaving Bessie to do as much as she
could.

Only years of practice enabled Chase to hide all the anger he felt inside as he listened
to Randall Greery tell him about yet another failed attempt to verify whether or not
the woman at Six Belles was his wife. He was about to go against his initial instincts
and look for Millie himself, even if his presence did stand out.

When he looked at the situation intellectually, Chase knew the barmaid could
not
be Millie. To live and work that way
for weeks . . .
he just could not fathom it. It was hard enough imagining his sister Aimee enduring
the discomforts of being aboard a ship. To think of Millie living by the docks, assimilating
into the lives of people who worked and barely survived there, he just could not accept
it. But Randall Greery was sure of it. That confidence, mixed with Jennelle’s fear
and his own firsthand experience of dealing with Millie’s determination regardless
of the danger it put her in, gave Chase reason to think the runner was correct.

But after what Greery just told him, the situation had become far more than just unfathomable,
it had become terrifying.

The night following his visit to Six Belles, he had sent Greery to personally follow
the barmaid in question. What neither he nor Greery had anticipated was that the tavern’s
owner would start escorting the women home while another man followed, watching for
anyone like Greery who might be tailing them. Chase had made it clear that on the
next night, Greery was to do whatever he had to, including barging into the tavern.
But Devlin MacLeery had been waiting. He had recognized Randall and had a few men
escort him far from Six Belles.

The third night, Greery again had waited, this time with several other runners. He
had intended to waylay the women and delay them just long enough to verify their identities.
But before Greery could do so, he saw yet another figure following the group. And
from the way the shadow limped as it moved, it was not just anyone, but Chaselton’s
thief. In an effort to trap and capture the elusive felon, one of Randall’s men had
nearly been killed. The boy was still unconscious and it would be a while before he
would be able to describe his attacker.

Chaselton had reached the limit of his tolerance and that was
before
Greery told him that both women had just disappeared. No one knew where or how, but
the tavern’s owner was frantically calling the constable, who was being far from cooperative.
Without evidence of a problem, he was not eager to actively search for two missing
barmaids in the middle of the night.

“Leave,” Chase ordered.

Randall Greery turned to do as instructed. He had been given no more instructions
and he had no advice on what to do next. And while Chase had not given him any reason
why Lady Chaselton would be pretending to be a barmaid near the London Docks, both
knew she was.

Just before he opened the study’s doors, a cry from the front hall pierced the air.
“Lord Chaselton! You need . . . you need to come here right now!”

Chase stood momentarily transfixed at the shrill-sounding voice screaming for him
from the entranceway of his home. It was nearly five in the morning. Few souls were
up and not a person he knew or knew of him would ever call for him in such a manner.

Randall Greery opened the door for Chase and then followed him out of the study. At
the end of the hall was a woman. She was filthy and her clothes and chaotic hair looked
to be matted with blood. Behind her stood a sleepy servant, looking perplexed. “I
tried to send her away, my lord, but you heard what she did when I tried.”

“Who are you and what do you want with me?” Chase demanded, trying to recall how he
recognized her.

“Edward . . .” Bessie stammered, out of a mixture of fear and exhaustion. “Your wife
told me to . . .” Bessie collapsed onto the marble floor, unable to stand any longer.

Chase knelt down and grabbed her arms. “Millie! Where is she?”

Bessie shook her head. “She . . . she shot him and we jumped out, but that man, one
she called Edward, stabbed her. Please believe me there was nothing I could do!”

Hearing her words, fearing what they meant, Chase shook her. “She is not dead! Tell
me she
is not dead
.”

“Not dead,” Bessie said, still gasping for breath. “Least not when I left. She told
me to find you.”

Chase let Bessie go. His eyes caught the shocked look of the servant. “Go get the
doctor. Greery, you get your men.” Then he looked back at Bessie. “Where is she?”

“I . . . I . . . I really don’t know. We were somewhere in the park. Said to tell
you she’s waiting at your spot.”

That was all Chase needed to hear. He flew out the back door toward the stable and
minutes later, the sounds of a horse being urged into a gallop could be heard.

November 15, 1816

She knew.

Dripping wet from a brief, cold bath—his first since they left Savannah—and feeling
damn close to naked, there was no doubt in Reece’s mind that the current state of
his clothes was
not
an accident or a coincidence. Lady Aimee Wentworth knew he was on board and what
he had been doing. The woman had obviously decided to retaliate and no doubt begged
the insipid Haskin to help.

Reece should have recognized the signs two days ago when he kept falling out of his
hammock. The slight change in one side’s height had not been enough to visually detect
there was a problem, but it was more than enough to be very disruptive to sleep. He
had been so frustrated that he almost announced his identity and demanded a real bed.
But Reece had not wanted to see the I-told-you-so look on Shay’s face.

Reece had initially thought his idea to play the role of a carpenter working directly
under the captain’s supervision a clever one. It gave him the freedom to be where
he wanted to be and when, without having to explain himself to Shay’s officers or
bosun. Unhappily, he had not considered what it would be like living as one of the
men. He had told himself that bad food, no baths, and an uncomfortable hammock would
all be worth it once he and Aimee were together again. Of course, that was when he
still thought her to be a heavenly vision and not a fiendish sprite taking joy in
making him miserable.

He should have seen the truth upon Aimee’s sudden interest in Mr. Haskin. And yesterday,
each time he had tried to return to the cramped area he slept in, Aimee had mysteriously
appeared in or near every convenient entry point. Eventually, he had no choice but
to go down into the foul-smelling hold and crawl up the base of the mainmast steps
to avoid being seen.

Now that he knew Aimee was aware of his presence, Reece suspected sleep was not the
only thing she had been depriving him of, for he had not been able to finish a meal
either. Each time he sat down to eat, some kind of interruption occurred, resulting
in a mishap that rendered his food inedible. One time it had simply disappeared. He
had sat down, placed a large slice of bread and a chunk of meat next to him, and hearing
a scream, he looked up. When he glanced back down, the bread and the meat had vanished.
At the time, Reece had thought it a prank being played on him as a new crew member,
but now it seemed much more likely Aimee had put someone up to the task. Damn woman
was using the same charms on Captain Shay’s crew as she had his own.

It was the only thing that made sense.

The difference was,
his
mischief was aimed at keeping her mind
on him
while driving the trite Haskin away from her side.
But this
, he thought to himself as he put on his shirt and pants,
is going too far
.

Lady Aimee Wentworth had wanted him. Well, she got him. And even if she was a ship
captain’s worst nightmare, she did not have the option to throw him back.

It was time she realized it.

“Mr. Haskin, I am just fascinated by ships and all that is required to run them. The
big tall poles with the sails—” Aimee remarked as she put her fork down to break off
a piece of bread.

Haskin arched a dubious brow, not at all deceived by her wide eyes and green-chit
remark. “They are called masts, Miss Wentworth,” he finally replied, wishing Miss
Aimee Wentworth was as interested in him as she pretended.

Aimee formed an O with her lips and tried to avoid the puzzled looks on the faces
of Captain and Mrs. Shay. Collins had told them about her little foray as a rigger,
but per her request, they kept it to themselves. She would have to explain to them
at some point the reason behind her deceit, but at the moment, she needed to focus
on Mr. Haskin. If Reece was loitering about, she wanted him to know that his mischiefs
were not going to work. She just wished that there was someone else aboard with whom
she could flirt.

It was not because she was not attracted to Mr. Haskin, for she was. Any woman would
be. He was pleasant, unquestionably good-looking, and had a mysterious element about
him that one desired to expose. Unfortunately, Mr. Haskin was also incredibly reserved.
He made her brother Charles seem carefree and outgoing. Aimee was still amazed she
had convinced the chief mate to help in some of her efforts against Reece.

“Ah—masts,” Aimee said, drumming her fingers on the table as she tried to think of
another engaging question that would irritate Reece. “Um, how does it feel to climb
so high? Is it frightening? Is there a lot of wind?”

Haskin opened his mouth to tell Aimee that such ploys were never going to work but
before he could, Reece stepped through the doorway. His blue eyes pierced her green
ones. “Aye, tell us, Lady Wentworth,
just how did it feel when you climbed a mast
? Do not tell me you forgot! You only did it
yourself
just a few weeks ago and during a storm at that!”

Haskin jumped to his feet and was about to come to Aimee’s defense and throw the intruder
out when the words sank in. “
Lady
Wentworth?” he murmured, clearly looking at her in a different way.

Aimee swallowed the guilt she was feeling and pursed her lips. Feeling intimidated,
she rose to her feet as well. “There was no choice. I am an excellent climber and
the three men who could have unfurled the sails were seriously injured. So I did what
was required to stay alive, just as anyone at this table would have done.”

“You almost
died
, Aimee,” Reece hissed, taking a step forward, but Haskin’s large hand whipped out,
stopping him from coming any closer.

Haskin snapped, “You, seaman, are out of order and . . .” Then his eyes grew wide
as he took in Reece’s state of dress. “. . . you have been for some time,” he mumbled,
finishing his thought. Then finding his voice again, Haskin barked, “
Just what the hell are you wearing?
”

Reece crossed his arms, and the tension emanating from his body filled the room. His
light blue eyes had turned icy, and danger radiated from him like an aura. Haskin
was tall, but Reece had at least two or three more inches on him. Other than that,
the men were similar in physique and strength, and it was not exactly clear who would
win a brawl between the two of them.

“I’m
wearing
what that angel-like hellion over there gave me!” Reece yelled back.

From the corner of her eye, Aimee could see Mrs. Shay assess her handiwork and raise
an eyebrow at her. Aimee bit her bottom lip, but deep down she did not feel guilty
for cutting his pants off above the knees as well as leaving him only a couple of
inches for sleeves on his shirt. She had done nothing else to any of his other clothes.
It was not like he had nothing else to wear, and besides, she had spent weeks in garments
that did not fit. She had made do. So could Reece.

Haskin, who was used to being in constant control of his crew, looked back and forth
between them. It was clear that he no longer saw her as innocent and sweet, which
was fine with Aimee, as she was neither. But Haskin’s expression also was one of disgust
that she would desire to be tied in any way to a lowly, unmannered seaman. Unfortunately,
Reece was seeing it too. He was mad at her, but his anger toward Haskin had increased
exponentially. Soon he was going to lose his self-control and fly into a rage.

To Aimee’s relief, Captain Shay stood up and said in a low but commanding voice, “Haskin,
stand down and wipe that look off your face before Hamilton here removes your good
looks and feeds them to the sharks.”

Haskin remained transfixed but did look at his captain. “You know him?”

Shay nodded. “He’s the co-owner of W & H Shipping,
and
he’s also engaged to Lady Wentworth.”

Mrs. Shay, feeling left out, stood up, hooked her arm in her husband’s, and said in
a tone that indicated she thought the whole scene quite entertaining, “I believe our
Mr. Haskin is in shock and could use some time to digest everything, my dear. Shall
we take our leave and let these young ones have some privacy?”

Captain Shay gave his wife a wink and pointed to the bottle of wine on the table.
“Grab it, Haskin. You need it, by the looks of you.”

Haskin did as told, and without a word turned and left. The Shays followed him but
on their way out, Aimee could hear Captain Shay say to his wife, “’Twould be a shame
if the two of them worked it out. They were actually quite entertaining the past few
days, weren’t they, my dear?”

Reece could only stare at her. His anger could not be squelched, but neither could
his desire. For days now, he had been getting only glimpses of her from afar or had
only been able to hear her voice. Now that Aimee was standing in front him, her green
eyes blazing, all he could think of was that she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Why are you here, Reece?” Aimee finally asked, breaking the silence.

“You missed our wedding and I am here to correct that.”

“I did not
miss
our wedding. I canceled it.”

Reece tilted his head and pursed his lips. “And I am un-canceling it.”

Aimee’s jaw tightened and her spine straightened. “I will
not
marry you.”

Reece took a step back, shrugged his shoulders, and leaned against the doorframe.

Aimee waited for him to say something, start an argument, or just bark out an order,
but he infuriatingly remained silent. “I mean it, Reece. I do not want to marry you.
It’s not going to happen. I don’t know what drove you to follow me . . . injured pride,
misguided sense of decency, a need to right a wrong that doesn’t exist—”

“More like obsession.”

That caught Aimee off guard. “Obsession?”

He nodded. “Mixed with quite a bit of possessiveness, as it turns out.” He shrugged
his shoulders again. “Who knew that I was the jealous type? But I am. Haskin may not
know it, but he’s lucky to be alive. For if I had thought for even one instant that
your interest in him was real, I’m not sure what I would have done.”

Aimee swallowed. Reece’s tone came off as lighthearted, but there was something quite
serious about it as well. Then realizing just what he was trying to do, she shook
her head. “Charming words will not work this time. I know the truth, Reece.”

He pushed himself back to a standing position. “And just what might that be?”

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Aimee replied, “You fear that you will regret
marrying me.”

Reece cocked a brow, took a step forward, and said, “I fear regret. Still do. But
it was not mine that causes me concern . . . it’s yours.”

Aimee licked her lips. She could remember his words to Mr. Collins as if they had
just been spoken. It was much more than just fear of possible regret that had caused
her to turn her back on their future. “You feel forced into marrying me. That you
have no choice.”

Reece took another step forward. “Again, what you say is true. The situation demands
we marry. And since you are not leaving this ship until we
are
married, you now can sympathize with my initial reaction.
But
, if I did have a choice about marrying you, it would be an easy one to make. I’d
choose you.”

Aimee could feel her heart pound. She instinctively took a step back and pointed her
finger at him. “You are just saying that. You . . . you think anyone
but
you would be lucky to have me. For you, I’m a tragic mistake you made.”

With a roll of his eyes, Reece argued, “Those are your words, not mine. And only for
a short while did I think I was unlucky. Can you imagine the hell of being married
to a person you want but who does not want the real you? But I’ve decided you are
more than worth the risk.”

Taking another step back, Aimee’s back came up against the wall. Reece was only a
couple of feet away. Part of her wanted to flee, but part of her wanted to stay and
give in to her heart’s desire. But that was something he had yet to give her. She
had given him her heart, but he had never given her his. “You want me.”

“I do,” he said, inching forward.

“You may desire me.”

“Beyond imagination.” Another step.

“But I want more, Reece,” she whispered, looking into his eyes boring down on her.
“You were right. What we have is not enough, and I will regret marrying you.”

Undeterred, Reece leaned down until his lips were inches from her own. “Don’t you
know? You have captivated all of me, body and soul. Not even my love for the sea can
compete with how I feel about you. I don’t just desire you, Aimee Wentworth. I love
you. And without you in my life, I will never again be complete.”

His love for her shone in the depths of his sky-blue gaze. He meant what he had said.
He loved her. More than that, he loved her in the same way she loved him. Completely.
Aimee felt the wound inside her start to close. Happiness had found her. “I love you,
Reece. I always have and I always will.”

With a groan, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The volatile emotions that
had been raging through him suddenly became a wild, desperate hunger. Lifting her
in his arms, he carried her down the two flights of stairs to the wardroom, kicking
the door closed behind him. Without lifting his mouth from hers, Reece eased her back
onto the soft bed.

Finally alone with no fear of being interrupted, his long fingers delved into her
hair, loosening the pins that held it. “Tell me you are not a dream. That I really
do have the most beautiful woman in my arms,” he mumbled against her lips before brushing
a kiss across them once more.

Aimee basked in his loving attention. “I am real and I am yours,” she whispered softly
into his ear. Her warm, caressing breath flooded him with hot images of their nights
together, sending another rush of desire through his veins.