A Woman Made for Sin (2 page)

Jennelle glanced back and forth from Millie’s wan, uneasy expression to Aimee’s expectant
and determined one. “She is going to do this, with or without us, Millie,” she whispered.

“I know, I know. I also know that we could stop her if we really wanted to.”

“True, but she would never forgive us, and then she would only try again with a plan
even more dangerous. But next time she would not ask for our input, help, or even
let us know.”

“Jennelle, sometimes your reasoning leads to the most dreadful conclusions,” Millie
grunted. She turned to Aimee and pointed to a newly emptied wagon. “I’m going to move
toward the
Zephyr
. When I give the signal, follow my lead. And watch out for the laborers. There seem
to be several out tonight.”

Jennelle trailed Millie as they advanced around the wagon and slowly crept up to the
Zephyr
. A minute later, they verified the entry was clear and began to tread softly up the
wooden planks. Aimee followed, stepping past an unconscious man posted as a guard.
Charles would be angry if he knew the men were asleep, allowing any thief easy entry.
She slipped by the sprawled figure and located the hiding spot Millie and Jennelle
were crouching behind. Quietly, she hunkered down with them and waited for what she
knew her friends hoped would never come.

But it did.

After a half hour of waiting, Jennelle snaked out her finger and pointed to a dark,
lone figure crouching low. At first Aimee thought he might be a sailor, but his movements
were those of someone unfamiliar with the ship as he moved in and out of view. Then
he began peering into boxes and containers that had not yet been stowed below. Aimee
elbowed Millie and pointed. Millie nodded to indicate that she and Jennelle were also
witnessing what was happening in the shadows.

The figure neared, hunched over as if trying to mask his height with a limp. Then,
he leaned into the faint moonlight, unrolled the paper he was holding and briefly
scanned the parchment before curling it back up and putting it in the bag he was carrying.
Regrettably, in those few seconds, Aimee realized that the skulking man was not Reece
playing a prank on her brother. Not only was Reece much bigger than the creeping thief,
but unlike the dark, unruly strands she was seeing, Reece’s hair was the color of
sand kissed by the sun. More than that, Reece was tall—incredibly tall—which was initially
why Aimee had been drawn to him as a child. She had inherited her unusual height from
her mother, and Reece had always made her feel petite and beautiful rather than tall
and awkward. Now, at one and twenty, she possessed a slender figure, pale gold tresses,
and large green eyes every Society matron wished her unwed daughter possessed. And
yet, around most men, Aimee retained the uncomfortable feeling that she just did not
quite belong.

“That’s definitely not Reece,” Jennelle whispered. “As soon as he is gone and it is
safe, we need to leave.” Aimee nodded, saddened to know her plan, which had been going
so well up until now, was not going to work.

They waited almost another half hour, watching the man as he hobbled in and out of
the shadows. Then, hearing a noise that sounded as if it could be an approaching dinghy,
he turned around swiftly, and in doing so was unaware that the paper he had looked
at earlier fell out of the bag he was carrying. Millie was afraid he was going to
lean over and pick it up, and in doing so, see them, but instead he quickly slinked
away, finally enabling them to vacate their niche.

“Follow me,” Millie murmured, indicating the direction to disembark, and exited their
secluded hole.

Leading the way, she slowly crept alongside the same containers the thief had hid
behind in an effort not to capture any attention. She paused only to pick up the dropped
document and glance back to verify her friends were not far behind. Jennelle trailed
carefully, tracing her friend’s footsteps and quiet manner. But as soon as Millie
was past the warehouse, she began to run. Jennelle cursed under her breath. Millie
might possess the shortest legs of the three of them, but Jennelle tended to forget
that she also possessed the fastest. “Come on, or we will lose her,” Jennelle hissed,
and sprinted after Millie’s shadow.

Aimee was about to follow when she spied someone coming over the bow. The moonlight
briefly caught a bright blue-and-gold scarf before it was hidden again behind a cloak
in the shadows. Aimee recognized that scarf. It was the one she had given Reece at
Christmas. Later she had overheard him telling her mother that he never wore such
items and would give it to one of his men. And the lucky man who had received her
scarf was currently weaving his way around the deck. He might not be Reece, but Aimee
had no doubt that the man worked aboard his ship.

Quickly, she improvised a new plan, wishing she had the opportunity to at least relay
it to her friends, but by tomorrow they would have discovered it for themselves. Jennelle
might not understand, but Aimee was positive Millie would support her decision to
seize the opportunity to confront the man she loved.

And with that last thought, Aimee did the unthinkable and deliberately got herself
captured.

Millie stopped suddenly, aware that something was amiss. She spun around and grabbed
Jennelle’s shoulders. “Where is Aimee?”

Jennelle’s blue eyes grew large at the alarm registered on her friend’s face. “Bloody
hell,” she replied, using one of Millie’s standard phrases. “I don’t know. She was
right behind me.”

Millie whipped past her, heading back to the ship. “Come on, we have to find her.
Some men were still on the ship, just on the other side. I thought we could sneak
out without their noticing. Hopefully, Aimee is just hiding from them.”

Jennelle heard the worry laced in Millie’s low voice and it frightened her. Millie
rarely became flustered in tight situations. She was courageous and
always
had a plan. “What are we to do if they did see her?”

Millie swallowed. “Stay here and hide. If anyone—and I mean
anyone
—comes near you, Jennelle, scream as loud as you can. I’ll whistle twice, just like
we used to as kids, when I return.”

Jennelle’s eyes grew wide when Millie pulled out a small pistol and checked it to
make sure it was ready to fire. She adjusted the hood of her cloak, and two seconds
later she was gone. Jennelle watched in awe as the petite figure moved silently with
such speed, darting in and out of view as she moved around the ship. For twenty minutes,
Jennelle waited, wondering what could have happened to her friends.

Two low-pitched whistles came from nowhere and then Millie appeared, lines of fury
and panic etched in her face. “She’s gone, Jennelle. They took her in a small boat
and she is now far offshore, headed for one of the ships anchored in the Thames.”

“But you said there are a hundred ships out there!”

Millie looked down at the miniature gun still clutched in her hand and murmured, “I
could have stopped them. But I was afraid. It was so hard to see. They were so close
together. I was afraid I might hit her, but now I don’t know.” Looking back up, her
large lavender eyes had grown dark with fear. “I’m to blame. I should never have agreed
to come. She would not have if I had refused.”

Jennelle shook her head vehemently and swallowed. “No, Millie, she was coming anyway.
You and I both knew it. And deep in our hearts
that
is why we came.”

Millie squeezed her eyes shut. “I led her straight into danger. I was the one who
decided when to leave, and then I went first instead of watching out for you both.
I was unprepared, and if
anything
happens to her I will never forgive myself, Jennelle. Never.”

Jennelle took a deep breath and forced calm into her voice. “There must be something
we can do.”

“There is. I can tell the only person with the speed and the resources needed to find
Aimee.” Tears began to fall down Millie’s cheeks. “Good God, Jennelle! What am I going
to do? Charlie will never forgive me for putting his sister in danger. How could he?”

Aimee heard the splash of oars and wondered again at the wisdom of her decision.
No, this is the only way
, she told herself for the umpteenth time and braced her legs as the pinnace cut through
the choppy water. The man on her right passed gas and the smell was even worse than
the stink of the sack over her head. She rested against the side of the small boat
and tried to think about anything other than where she was.

Her mind floated to Reece.

If all went well, she would be standing in front of him within the hour. Oh, she would
have to do some explaining. And of course, Millie would most likely get a stern lecture
from Charles when he found out, but it would be worth it.

If she could just
talk
with Reece—and if possible throw herself in his arms—he could not deny her. She had
never told her friends just how serious a kiss Reece and she had shared last winter.

On that fateful day, she had not even been looking for him when she found him alone,
sleeping. They had just exchanged Christmas gifts. Aimee gave him a rich blue scarf,
on which she had embroidered with gold floss a ship sailing on the windy seas. She
thought he could wear it when aboard his ship, and possibly think of her. He accepted
it graciously and then gave her and her mother matching pearl combs from some island
he had visited. Aimee wished Reece well, knowing he would soon depart again, and excused
herself to go and enjoy some time painting before dinner. Aimee was not yet out of
earshot when she heard him mention the gift she’d given him. The next words she would
never forget.

“Aimee spent hours designing and sewing that for you, Reece,” her mother had explained,
educating him on just how much energy was spent on a gift meant specifically for him.

“I can tell. That is why I didn’t tell her that I don’t wear scarves. Never have.
I find them a nuisance whipping at my neck, and I prefer my hat when wearing something
on my head. But many of my men enjoy a nice scarf. Maybe I’ll give it to one of them.”

Aimee had no idea how the conversation ended. She rushed up the stairs and into her
room so that no one could witness her tears. After several hours, Aimee decided that
Reece Hamilton was a silly little girl’s dream, and that dreams were seldom realized.
She rose and donned a new dress, a simple light green frock that was not nearly heavy
enough for the winter cold but made her feel pretty and confident. Whenever she wore
it, men always turned and stared. Of course, she pretended not to notice—but she did.
Aimee smoothed the silk, added some pearls, and gazed at the lovely woman in the mirror.
“You can go back to your sea, Mr. Reece Hamilton. If you cannot appreciate me as a
woman, then I shall no longer look at you as a man.”

Realizing that she still had over an hour until dinner would be called, she had decided
to adhere to the original plan and paint. Aimee entered one of the unused bedrooms
that had large windows and captured the afternoon sun, but realized immediately that
she would have to paint elsewhere. She had forgotten to ask one of the servants to
light the fireplace, and the room was frigid. She decided to move her paints and canvas
downstairs to what she had termed the “indigo” salon as a child.

The room was decorated in various rich shades of blue, ranging from dark to the color
of bright sapphires, including indigo—her favorite color. As a child, whenever she
did not want to be found or interrupted, she would collect her things and closet herself
in the back, out-of-the-way room in the house.

As she descended the staircase, Aimee had heard her mother leave to visit a friend.
She had hoped Reece had departed at the same time and was on his way to Southampton,
where the ship he owned and captained was anchored. She never dreamed she would find
him asleep on the large settee in the indigo salon.

Every night since finding him there, Aimee had relived the moments, from when she
entered the salon until the moment Reece left. Unaware of his presence at first, she
had strolled in, propped open her easel, and placed her paints on a nearby table.
It was when she turned to go back and retrieve her brushes and canvas that she saw
him.

Reece was stretched out, sleeping. He had stripped off his coat and waistcoat, so
that he wore just a white linen shirt, breeches, and boots. His arm was thrown casually
above his head and the other lay comfortably across his stomach. His legs were crossed
at the ankles, stretching the tan fabric of his breeches so that it outlined every
muscle, every bulge, every part of his lean and powerful lower body.

Aimee stood still and stared at Reece, letting her eyes slowly wander up his hard,
rippled stomach to the dark hair poking out from the opening of his shirt. His face
was perfect. Not the pretty bone structure of the men who flirted with her in Town
or at the country dances, but rugged, bronzed by the wind and the sun. It spoke of
strength and stamina and a passion that Aimee longed to experience. Her eyes reached
his lips, pausing to remember his smile and how it reached his sky-blue eyes.

It had not been a conscious decision to kiss him. It had been compulsion. A need to
end her childhood fantasies. She had intended it to be brief, soft, and exploratory—to
know what his mouth would feel like under hers. Never did Aimee dream that he would
awake and kiss her back.

At first, his lips had moved lightly across hers, urging her to do the same. They
were warm and worked an instant magic as Reece cupped her cheek and whispered, “Ahh,
Aimee. My beautiful Aimee, how you torment me. Open your lips and remind me what a
fool I am for going back to sea.”

Instantly Aimee complied and felt his tongue probe her mouth as he slid his hands
slowly up and down her spine. He deftly shifted to a sitting position and lifted her
onto his lap, never letting her lips be free of his. Her arms found their way around
his neck and he deepened the kiss, searing her mouth forever to his. Aware of her
violently racing pulse, Aimee held on, praying Reece would not realize what he was
doing and pull away. But he did know.