A Woman Made for Sin (40 page)

Reece devoured her lips with another slow, seductive, mind-numbing kiss to which Aimee
submitted willingly, eagerly. His hands splayed over her back, pulling her against
him. Aimee clung to him, reveling in his power and his need. Hot little ripples of
pleasure slid down her thighs as she felt the hard bulge beneath his cropped pants
and moved sensuously against it.

Wrapped in the haven of her love, for the first time Reece could feel his mind at
peace. “I need to be inside you. I need to feel you around me, shivering in pleasure.
I need to know exactly how much you need me.”

“I do. Reece, I do need you.” She said no more as he cut off her words with another
kiss.

His fingers tangled in her hair, crushing the silky strands as if he couldn’t get
enough of the feel of her. Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt until his
torso lay exposed, powerful, well muscled, and perfect. Aimee sighed and bent her
head to flick her tongue in smooth strokes over his skin.

Reece’s arousal surged higher into insistent fevered pulsations. He nuzzled her neck.
The scent of her filled his head. As he slid her gown off her shoulders, his lips
followed, wondering anew how a woman could be so warm and soft.

He slowly made his way down to the valley between her breasts, pausing for short moments
to remove the rest of their garments. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as his mouth
found the first ripe berry. He laved it with his tongue, taking the hardened nipple
into his mouth and teasing it until she squirmed with want of him. Turning his attention
to the other breast, his hand lowered, parting her thighs.

Aimee moaned. Reece was kissing her with exquisite passion and touching her in all
the right places. She arched her back, desperate to feel his lips glide farther down
her body. When he finally lifted his head, she reached for him, but he caught her
hands and guided them to his shoulders. He grinned as he slid slowly down her body,
bringing his hands up the insides of her thighs.

Aimee’s heart began to pound. Her body burned and clenched as she trembled with anticipation.
Reece leaned down and kissed the inside of her knee. Then he moved forward and kissed
the inside of her thigh.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and her hips bucked. That was all the
invitation Reece needed. Bending down, he took her in his mouth, his tongue hot and
rough and insistent. Aimee moaned a soft whimper. The primitive erotic sound nearly
drove Reece insane with desire. He cupped her hips and lifted her tighter against
his mouth as his tongue plunged into her in an almost savage quest to mate with her.

Aimee thought she was going to die from the pleasure. His mouth was urgent, demanding
everything, and she gladly surrendered to his claiming.

It had turned painful holding back, and Reece could no longer wait. He needed to be
inside her. To fill her body and her soul completely. Aimee moaned his name and begged
him with her hands and mouth to end his torment. Rising up, he lifted her hips and
thrust into her with one powerful surge. She was more than ready for him.

Aimee gasped at the feel of him. His size and girth shocked her as he filled her,
but as always she reacted primitively to his bold, aggressive hardness and surged
to meet his thrust. Reece urged her into a passionate rhythm. He made love to her
until his back was slick with sweat and his muscles trembled beneath his skin. Aimee
felt her body clench around his with each stroke. She could not seem to get enough
of the hot, thick feel of him inside her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist. Then, suddenly, her whole body was pulsating
with erotic release. Reece tried to pull out a short distance but ended up surging
back into her hot sheath, unable to resist the pull of Aimee’s climax. It sparked
his own, a bolt of lightning shot through him, and he gave a shout of exultant satisfaction
that echoed against the cabin walls. Reece then collapsed beside Aimee, too exhausted,
too satisfied to apologize.

Long minutes passed before either was capable of speaking. He had taken her, possessed
her, claimed her, as he had never done before. By giving himself so completely, by
trusting her, he had made her his own. He had imprinted himself on her heart and on
her soul. Aimee did not think it possible to love him more, but she did.

She settled her head on his shoulder and stroked his chest, loving the feel of his
crisp hair.

Reece captured her hand and brought it to his mouth. He kissed her palm. “So I guess
you think your little scheme of sneaking on board the
Emerald
a successful one. The Daring Three win again,” he murmured against her hair in a
playful but sarcastic tone.

Curled in his arms, Aimee nodded her head against his chest. “Our schemes always work.
Maybe not the way we plan, but in the end, we figure out a way.”

November 16, 1816

Chase heard the door open but did not turn around to see who had entered. For the
past day and a half, maids and servants had been coming in to check on him and bring
him food, though he ate very little. The doctor had agreed to stay, but had just left
to take a nap in the guest room. Chase refused to fall asleep and was not sure if
he could, even if he tried. Staying by Millie’s side, holding her hand, praying for
her recovery was all he knew to do. Everything else within his power had been done.

He had no recollection of how he arrived at the hidden clearing in Hyde Park. He could
only recall seeing Millie, unearthly pale and unconscious by the bench. Her body had
been cold and limp, but she was breathing. He rushed her home and the doctor was waiting
for him. The wound had been treated and it was decided that bloodletting would not
be necessary since she had already lost a significant amount.

As expected, Millie had developed a fever. She called out for him, for Aimee and Jennelle,
so often that he sent word to Jennelle to come. He told her only that Millie had been
found but was injured. Part of him knew he should have explained just how dangerously
near death Millie was, but he could not do it. It was as if putting it down on paper
made it even worse . . . and anything worse would mean death.

The fever had finally broken early that day, but it had now been several hours and
she had yet to wake up. When the doctor mentioned that she might have become too hot
during her feverish state and might never wake up, Chase had ordered him from the
room. He had to be wrong. Millie was his soul, his life. She had to remain in this
world, for if she did not, then he would soon perish as well.

“Me . . . lord?” The voice was not one Chase recognized, which caused him to turn
around. A tall, thin youth who was in that stage where he was neither boy nor man
stood before him.

“Who let you in?” Chase demanded, but its normal bite was missing.

“The one seein’ to your front door,” Stuart replied, as if the answer was fairly obvious.

Chase grimaced and returned his focus back to his wife. He pulled her soft hand into
his and kissed it. He was exhausted and he had little energy to care just what else
was going on in the house. “I assume you and my wife crossed paths during these past
few weeks.”

Stuart stepped closer and took a look around the room. To him, it matched the palatial
quality of the rest of the house. He had not realized just how many luxuries Millie
had given up while staying with Madame Sasha and her tenants. “Me name’s Stuart. She
sure must have loved her friend a lot to leave all this.”

Chase looked at him pointedly. “Say what you came to say to her and leave.”

Stuart was not ruffled by the brisk tone. He had honestly not expected to be let in
the front door, and was probably pretty lucky that the doorman answered. “Didn’t come
to talk to her. Her ladyship looks in a bad way, but I came to say don’t let anyone
tell you that she won’t make it. They said it to me when my father was ill, but they
were wrong and they’re wrong about her ladyship too. She’s too pushy to allow death
to take her if she don’t want to go.”

With a furrowed brow, Chase reassessed the young man standing at the end of his wife’s
bed. “Your father was ill?”

Stuart shrugged. “Some say he still is, but he’s alive.” He handed him a bound book.
Chase reached out and took it. It was
Waverley
by Sir Walter Scott. “I thought I might come to read to her. My father woke up when
I read to him and this is one of my favorites. But perhaps you should be doin’ the
readin’.”

Chase opened it up and saw that the novel had been borrowed from Hatchards. The boy
obviously had no idea that he had a library twice the size of the bookseller. But
it did not matter. The book was not of any import, it was the idea of reading to stimulate
thought. Chase swallowed. “Thank you. I will do just that.”

Stuart exhaled the breath he had been holding. “I’ll be going now, my lord. But when
her ladyship awakens, can you tell her I came by?”

Chase nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need a job? Income?”

Stuart’s eyes narrowed and he backed up a step. His demeanor instantly became defensive.
“I did not come here for a job, and I certainly don’t want to work for any man who
thinks to change me. I told that to her and now I’m tellin’ you.”

Puzzled, Chase asked, “What do you mean, change you? Why would I do that?”

“Like you don’t know,” Stuart scoffed. “First it would be me clothes, then me speech.
Titled men like it when blokes like me copy you and such. You get an idea in your
head about someone becomin’ a thing and then you go and start tryin’ to change them.
I don’t want no part of it.”

Chase sat quiet for several seconds. “I never thought about it like that.”

“Didn’t expects you would.”

“I don’t necessarily agree with you, young man. There are a myriad of reasons why
people choose certain positions and lifestyles, but I do agree there should be some
choice in the matter. Someday you may set yourself a goal and
you
will want to change and take my offer. Know that it will still be there if you do.”

Waving one hand to dismiss what he obviously thought an impossibility, Stuart headed
for the door. “I do hope her ladyship gets better. She was nice to me and my kind,
even when we weren’t so friendly to her.”

Chase nodded and said, “I will tell her you were here when she awakens.”

Stuart pointed at the book. “It’s a good story. I’d wake up to hear it.” And then
he was gone.

Chase fingered the worn copy. He suspected he had at least one leather-bound version
downstairs somewhere in his library along with the other novels Sir Walter Scott had
written. But instead of going to get them, he opened the cover, turned to the first
page, and began to read.

November 17, 1816

“Edward wants far more than just the maps,” Millie said, leaning back against the
pillows. “He wants revenge.”

Chase stood with his arms crossed, looking out the window. “He won’t have it and I
won’t discuss it any further. You are still weak and are far too fragile to be worried
about such things.”

Millie sighed audibly. Though she did not consider herself fragile, Chase was right.
She was tired and weak. She had woken up last night to him reading, and at first had
trouble believing she was really alive and back home. But seeing Chase cry—something
she had never seen before—was enough for her to realize that she was finally where
she truly belonged.

He had told her his conclusions concerning his sister. He assured her that Jennelle
was aware she was now safe and would most likely be arriving in another day or two.
He had even told her about Stuart and what he had come to say. But the one topic Chase
refused to discuss was Edward.

“I am tired,” she admitted. “And I will only grow more weary if you continue refusing
to tell me what I need to know. Is Edward alive? Are you close to apprehending him?
Do you know what he wants?”

Chase pivoted and ran his hand through his hair, rubbing his scalp. “I offer a compromise.
I will tell you briefly what you want to know and then no more until you are completely
healed.”

Millie twitched her jaw. Compromising was something Charles Wentworth never did. And
if it did not work this time, she suspected he might never offer another concession
on any topic in the future. “I agree. But only if you will tell me
all
I want to know. Not just the parts you want to tell me.”

Chase dropped into one of the chairs close to her. “The parts I want to tell,” he
grumbled, “are none.”

Millie clasped her hands in front of her and looked at him pointedly.

“Did you kill him?” Chase began. “I doubt it, as we have not found a body. Are we
close to finding him? Unfortunately, no, and we have no leads as to where he was staying
or where he went. I doubt we will until he resurfaces to get what he wants.”

“And just what does he want?”

“What you already know. Some old maps that Reece and I purchased along with several
other items. And, no, I do not know what they represent or why they are important.
I am waiting for Reece to return to help, which hopefully will be before the end of
the month.”

“I want to see one of the maps,” Millie said, hoping that he would concede but prepared
for him to say no.

Chase rubbed his temples. “Millie, you are ill. You were
stabbed
. You do
not
need to be getting involved with something with which you cannot possibly help!”

Millie felt a tear slip down her cheek and wiped it away, praying that another did
not follow. “So, I am assuming you intend to send me away again to keep me from even
seeing
what it is Edward wants so badly.”

Chase shook his head. “I admit that I want to do that very thing—not to keep you from
seeing the maps, but to keep you safe. Can you blame me? I almost lost you for the
second
time.”

“I don’t know . . .” Millie began and then stopped, hesitating before trying again.
“I do not know if I can be what you need in a wife. I understand what you want—even
why—and while so much of me wants to be that for you, at some point I will revert
to my nonconforming ways. I love you more than I will ever love anyone. But I am not
sure that I am capable of changing . . . even for you.”

Changing.
There was that word again. Why did everyone think that he wanted them to change?
Minor adjustments perhaps, but he did not want Millie to be anyone other than who
she was. He
needed
her to be herself. Did she not understand that?

“I never wanted you to change who you are, Millie. It’s more about wanting you to
accept me and who I am.”

Millie’s jaw went slack. “I have
never
given
you
lectures about how to act as a proper husband. Not a single conversation have we
ever had about what is expected of you as the Marquess of Chaselton now that you have
a wife.”

Chase rolled his eyes, something he could not recall doing a year ago. “Maybe not
in
those
words, but you have not been quiet about your thoughts on my ‘rule-loving’ ways.”

Millie winced as she heard him parrot one of her favorite descriptions of him.

“I wonder how you would feel about me if I did change, became some carefree husband,
indifferent to your whims. Do you truly want me to just shrug my shoulders when I
am told that you are doing something that might put you, Aimee, or Jennelle in danger?”

“No, I wouldn’t but—”

“But what, Millie? You want to remain yourself, but cannot I ask the same? I
like
rules. I like the clarity they bring. In general, they generate security, which is
something I desire for those I love. And while I might not always agree with every
rule, I understand the consequences to those that I break—and I
do
break them from time to time.”

Millie felt another tear fall and then another. This time she did not try to stop
them as it would be pointless. “Is it hopeless then? Are we just to accept that while
we love each other, we cannot be together and be ourselves?”

“Who says we cannot be ourselves?” Chase countered, rising up to his feet. “We just
proved that we can compromise when we decide to, even on serious topics. Why can we
not on other things?”

Millie bit her bottom lip and considered the question. In her mind, she had been compromising
for months now, but after hearing his point of view, so had Chase. But had they really
been
compromising
? Compromise consisted of concessions by both parties. What she had been doing was
surrendering to what she thought he wanted. Giving up all for him, and based on what
Chase just said, he had often felt the same. But if they compromised, it would be
acknowledgment of the other’s desires and an agreement on just where those desires
could be tempered. “I want to try. More than anything, I want to try.”

Chase walked over to the side of the bed, sat down, and pulled Millie into his arms.
He held her for a long moment before pulling back to kiss her. His lips were tender
and full of the love he held for her. It filled Millie with hope, for she did not
think she could live without him in her life. She had to be herself, and yet too much
of herself now included him.

“I love you. We will find a way to make things work,” Chase said. “But know this:
I will work with you on any topic save one. I will never, ever compromise on your
being in my life. I need you too much, Millie. More than I should have ever allowed,
but it is too late. You are my soul, and I shall perish without you.”

Millie leaned over and brushed her mouth across his. “That is one compromise I can
live without.”