A Woman Made for Sin (10 page)

“Exciting, my lady? Did you say
exciting
? No, that was nothing compared to later, when the captain accused me again of bringing
someone on board because he could smell her—
your
—scent!”

Tilting her head back, Aimee peered at his face. “But, Mr. Collins, you spoke truthfully.
You did not bring anyone on board.”

Collins ran his hands roughly over his face. “My lady, I think by the time this is
over, I will be ready for sainthood. Half of the men are besotted with you. Bloody
hell, you even converted JP! He hates everyone!”

“Mr. Collins, you do exaggerate.”

“Do I? Because I don’t think I do.”

Aimee exhaled. The man was obviously frustrated and needed to unload his burdens,
so she moved to sit down and quietly pay attention to his ranting.

“I bet even Kyrk,” Collins snapped, throwing his hands up into the air, “who truly
despises women being on ships, would take a liking to you given enough time. Maybe
I should sprout a few blond curls so that I could bend the crew’s will to my every
whim.”

“Now, Mr. Collins, you know that I am not trying to bend anyone’s will, and if I am
being such a bother, then perhaps it would be best to take me to Mr. Hamilton right
now.”

“Oh no!” Collins said, waggling a finger. “It was you who asked to see him
after
you are healed, and that is what’s going to happen. But starting now, I’m going to
put down some rules, and you will follow them.”

Aimee pulled her legs up and under her to give the broad man some room, for it seemed
he needed to pace. “I think that is a splendid idea.”

Collins stopped for a brief second to see if she was being sincere. Unable to decide,
he continued. “Rule One. We work on four-hour shifts, so you will have to be ready
to leave any cabin with only a moment’s notice. When you hear a double knock, open
the door and be prepared to leave. Second rule—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Collins. But what if I am asleep? I am by nature a morning person,
and find it difficult to wake in the early evening hours if I’m asleep.”

Collins stared at her, dumbfounded, for several seconds. “Aboard this ship, you’ll
be what you need to be. Now for the second rule.”

“And why a double knock? How about a triple or just one solid thump? What made you
decide to choose a
double
knock to indicate immediate departure?” Aimee couldn’t help it. She knew she was
egging the man on, but he reminded her of Charles, who tended to command instead of
persuade.

Collins was flummoxed the woman was daring to make light of his . . . her situation.
“The
second rule
, my lady, is to never, under any circumstances, go into the captain’s quarters.”

Aimee scrunched her brows. She had not considered doing such a thing, but now that
it was forbidden, she suddenly wanted to.

Collins hurried on before she could ask some silly question as to why. There were
more reasons than just the obvious. For if she did go in, she would see pictures of
herself, and there was no telling how she would react. “Third rule, unless being escorted
to and from the kitchen, you are to remain in this cabin.”

That decree caused a dark shadow to pass across Aimee’s eyes, and Collins instantly
knew that the even-tempered woman was no longer amused by his rules. Her icy expression
could freeze the sea. However, he too was not someone easily influenced. Ask Rosita.

Aimee found her voice. “I expect you put some thought into your rules, Mr. Collins,
but perhaps they could benefit from a little more consideration. For example, I suggest
we revisit your third rule about me being confined
as a prisoner
on this ship.”

Collins clenched his jaw. “I did not ask for you to come aboard. My men did not ask
for you to come aboard, and
for certain
my captain didn’t ask for you to be here. In your own words, you hoodwinked Petey
and Gus into capturing you. And since I am the one who is in the uncomfortable position
of saving you and my men, the three rules stand!”

Aimee rose fluidly and straightened her back. Collins was taller than she, but somehow
she knew how to make her presence formidable. “I assume Mr. Hamilton sleeps predominantly
at night?”

Collins felt like he was a puppet on a string, and he doubted he would ever get used
to her calling his captain “mister.” “Aye, he does. After the night reading,” he answered
hesitantly.

“Then I shall go above after he descends, Mr. Collins. It is unwise to lock someone
up for too long in a small stuffy room, even one as comfortable as yours.” Aimee could
see she was making little headway and was not close to persuading him. “Perhaps it
is time to discuss Rosita.”

It sounded ludicrous, but she immediately got a reaction. “What about Rosita?”

Aimee shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and again sat down on the bed. God bless
JP. He had been right. “Simply put, Mr. Jean-Pierre and I were having a lovely discussion
when you entered. One of the more interesting topics was Rosita and how—”

Collins threw up his hands. “Fine! You can leave the cabin. But only after you are
assured that the captain has retired for the night!” And then quickly added, “
And
it won’t be this cabin, but one of the crew’s.” It would be cramped and it would
smell, but he felt no guilt. The lady deserved both.

Aimee’s smile was full of satisfaction.

“My lady, you are nothing like you look, all soft and sweet. The captain would be
wise to stay clear of you.”

Aimee’s smile grew, unfazed by his assessment. “I am honestly not that bad, Mr. Collins.
By next week, you might even be glad I was aboard.”

Collins shrugged and crossed his arms. “You might want to save all your charm for
the bosun.” Aimee knew from what she had studied about ships that the boatswain had
many jobs, from overseeing maintenance and rigging to foreman of the deck crew. “It’s
now Carr’s responsibility to decide which of the crew is to watch over you and ensure
you are never where you shouldn’t be.”

Aimee rolled her eyes. She suspected that was pretty much everywhere.

“Oh, and one more rule . . .
stop singing
.”

October 12, 1816

Reece leaned back in his chair and, using the heels of his palms, he vigorously rubbed
both eyes. He had been in his cabin for the last couple of hours, studying one of
the new nautical charts he had procured in London. Of the latest design, it not only
mapped out the current that ran from south of England toward the western coast of
Africa, but it more accurately laid out how the current of Atlantic Ocean water moved
parallel to the equator. Once across, he used the warm eddies that spun off from the
current to push the ship northward along the eastern coast of America. It was the
route Reece had used for years, but learning just where and when to turn could add
or remove days from a trip.

The map was much larger than the ones he was more familiar with, in that it not only
showed the currents, but the depths of the water near the coast, seabed descriptions,
details of the coastline, navigational hazards, as well as information on tides and
currents. All information he needed if he intended to improve his normal route.

Reece inhaled and rubbed his scalp. Blowing the lungful of air out, he heard the sound
of someone singing. It was faint, melodic, and haunting. He closed his eyes and just
focused on the sound. It was the one from his dreams. Aimee was on board the
Sea Emerald
, humming wherever she went. And when she stopped singing, the dream always ended
with her waking him with a kiss.

Ten months
, he muttered to himself. After all this time, it seemed no matter where he was or
what he was doing, his thoughts kept coming back to her. Frustrated, he got to his
feet and headed to the upper deck to get some fresh air.

The sun was sinking on the horizon. It was always cool on deck without the sun, but
they were now close enough to the equator that it was comfortable to be out at night.
It also helped that the weather had been agreeable, with scattered clouds and no showers.
Although it was rare they were able to get across the ocean without encountering at
least one sizeable storm, it did not look like it would happen tonight.

“Collins,” Reece said as he stepped onto the afterdeck.

Collins swallowed, gave Reece a brief acknowledging look, and then snapped his brown
eyes to the main deck. “Captain.” His gaze was focused on the two men staring at each
other.

Reece took in the scene. Both seamen were standing, fists clenched, glaring at each
other. The dogwatch crew had all stopped their duties and were eagerly waiting to
see who was going to strike whom. “What happened?”

Collins pursed his lips. “Nothing much. Gilley was backing up to tighten the brail
on the lower sail when he tripped over the ropes Bean was coiling.”

Reece nodded in understanding. Bean was mad at having his work ruined and Gilley probably
had a mean rope burn after losing control of the brail. Accident or not, the inevitable
conclusion of such a mishap was a fight. Upon looking at the two men, Gilley looked
to be the more likely winner. He was far taller and had several missing teeth due
to years of working—and fighting—on the seas. But Bean was not to be underestimated.
Though the shortest on his crew, he was far from the weakest.

Collins started to walk around Reece. “Better go stop it before it gets bad.”

Reece held out a hand and stopped him. “Stay. The weather is calm, so it’s safe enough
for them to have it out. Besides, the men have been too quiet the past couple of days.”

In truth, Reece was glad there was about to be a fight. He even hoped some others
would join in. Experience had taught him that it was far more dangerous when men could
not release their frustrations and pent-up energy. But Bean and Gilley had yet to
throw a punch. They were not even cursing. The only thing they did was stare at each
other, periodically looking down at their feet.

“What the hell are they doing?” Reece grumbled.

Collins squeezed his jaw shut. He knew exactly why neither man had delivered the punch
they both desperately desired to throw. Aimee was belowdecks and her cabin was close
to where Gilley and Bean stood. And like every other fool on this ship, they had fallen
for her charms. Collins had given up his attempts to prevent it from happening.

He had tried to keep her in her cabin. He had even assigned one of the ordinary seamen
to stand guard and make sure she did not leave. But later that night, he found the
infuriating woman on the main deck—with Smiley right at her side. Collins had been
about to go over there and explain to the man that he had been ordered to be her guard,
not her escort, when Collins saw that they were not alone. There, for all to see,
was Aimee, sitting and talking with several seamen who were off shift. He had gone
over to put a stop to it, knowing how much the crew coveted their free time and sleep,
but by the time he got close enough, he realized the seamen not only accepted her
presence; they desired it.

Deadeye was playing his violin, something he had not done in weeks, and all of the
men—along with Aimee—were singing. Softly, but the tune was one with which he was
familiar. It was called “The Wrecked Ship,” about a ship that sank and had no survivors.
He had intended to interrupt and remind them that Aimee was not just any woman but
a titled lady, but instead found himself joining in, helping the others teach her
the lyrics to another three or four sea songs. He probably would have been there all
night if it had not been for the early morning watch coming on deck to assume their
shift.

It was then Collins realized Aimee Wentworth was no angel. She was a menace, able
to remove the good sense God gave men. It was up to him to put an end to her escapades.
His intentions must have been obvious because Carr had come to his cabin in the morning
and asked Collins to let things be. The bosun had many responsibilities, but one of
the most important was being the deck crew foreman. And Carr was one of the best.
So when his bosun had explained how he was getting more work out of the men than ever
by allowing those who completed their duties to go up on deck at night, Collins had
given in, despite his gut telling him that giving Aimee such freedom was dangerous.

Reece looked over his shoulder at his chief mate. The damn man had gone just as mute
as the two men glaring at each other on the main deck. The whole crew was acting strange.
It was as if they had all become pacifists while in London. The curses that could
be heard all throughout the day and night were a fraction of their normal volume and
vulgarity. After a week at sea, he should have heard Collins threaten bodily injury
to at least one of the able-bodied seamen. And yet nothing.

Reece was about to demand an explanation for why everyone was acting like their mothers
were on board when he saw Carr step up onto the deck.
Finally
, Reece thought to himself. Carr was one of those bosuns who knew just when men needed
to be separated and when they needed to be let free to settle things physically.

Reece watched, half anticipating for Carr to order the two men to fight it out. But
upon hearing what the bosun did order, Reece lost his balance and would have fallen
had he not been holding on to the side rail.

Apologize?
Asking a seaman to apologize was about as ludicrous as asking JP to offer lessons
in cooking. It was possible but so unlikely it was a waste of time. Reece turned and
was about to head for the main deck when he heard Carr again make the demand.

“Ya heard me! Shrug ’er off and get back to what yer supposed to be doin’. And you
men, stop your shilly-shallying and help Gilley and Bean get things right and clean
before
nightfall
comes.” Not until he said
nightfall
did every man in sight perk up and start to work, helping to reset the sail and straighten
up the deck.

Reece stopped in his tracks. His mind started to whirl. “Collins, if I didn’t know
better, I would think my whole damn crew fell in love while we were anchored in the
Thames.”

Collins took a deep breath and exhaled. “Highly, uh, doubtful, Captain.” Reece was
about to say that he did not
actually
believe his crew was in love but that something unusual was definitely going on,
when Collins nervously stretched his neck and added, “Maybe, uh, Captain, I should
just go down there and, um, have a talk with the bosun.”

Reece blinked, stunned. His initial concern had been born from puzzlement, but now
that Collins was acting just as jittery as the rest, Reece was actually concerned.
Normally, his chief mate worried enough about the crew’s behavior—explained and unexplained—for
the both of them. It was one of the reasons Reece relied on Collins as much as he
did.

Reece rocked back on his heels and shook his head, trying to decide just how to handle
his crew, when he heard one of the men on deck begin to hum. Others started to join
him—including Carr and Collins. The haunting melody was the same damn tune Reece had
been hearing in his dreams!

Squeezing his eyes shut, Reece shook his head back and forth. A large grin overtook
his features as the feeling of relief flowed through his veins. He was an idiot. Someone
had snuck a woman on board. Now, everything made sense.

He had not
imagined
a woman singing. A woman
had
been singing. It explained why the men acted as though they were in love. It even
vindicated the mysterious mood swings Collins had been having. The last time a woman
was on the
Sea Emerald
, it had been because of his chief mate. His relationship with Rosita had ended in
disaster, just like all the others. First Blackie had tried, and even Jolly George
had coaxed a woman on board, thinking himself in love. Most captains banned such activity,
but not Reece. While things always started out fine, it was not long before hell of
some nature broke out; that, more than any sanction he could impose, kept the women
away.

However, Reece would give his men credit. They had been at sea nearly a week, which
was the longest time a woman had been aboard without being the cause of some incident.
Reece chuckled to himself, wondering just who it was who had smuggled her aboard.

He considered looking for her but immediately decided against the idea. Right now
she was not a disruptive presence. In fact, as long as the crew was trying hard to
keep her a secret, she was just the opposite. It was unfortunate that such peace and
quiet would not last all the way to the Americas. The men would eventually explode
and the woman would go from fascinating to annoying everyone around her.

Women were just not made for small spaces. The constant rocking made them dreadfully
seasick and they were easily bored. They belonged on land, not at sea. Only there
could they enjoy all those things—shopping, walking, stability, visits from friends—they
constantly needed. So it was impossible the peace would last, but as long as he delayed
“discovering” who she was, it remained Collins’s problem to deal with.

Reece turned to go back to his cabin and once again heard the faint musical sound
of a woman’s voice reach his ears. He sighed. While it was good to know the reason
behind his men’s bizarre behavior, he just wished the damn woman’s singing didn’t
remind him of Aimee. It was bad enough she plagued his dreams; he did not need her
plaguing him while he was awake.