A Woman Made for Sin (6 page)

He looked about the empty room. Never had the world seemed so lonely.

As the carriage began to move, Jennelle watched the house from the window and saw
the gold curtain swish back into place. So Charles had at least watched his wife leave,
if only from a distance. Was it regret he felt, she wondered, or had he just been
ensuring his orders were followed?

Never will I marry
, Jennelle silently pledged. She had seen what Millie endured for the sake of love
and what Aimee had done to pursue it. Jennelle was positive no man in the world was
worth bearing such pain, despite the brief wisps of pleasure she had witnessed. With
every passing moment, she became more determined to be the only one of the Daring
Three smart enough to stay away from the things that can cause the most pain to a
woman.

I vow never to fall in love, and I absolutely will never marry.

October 9, 1816

Consciousness came back slowly and painfully. Aimee tried to open her eyes, but the
world was dark . . . and rolling. She moaned and felt the gag, the rough cloth biting
into her lips, which were now dry and cracked. Her head felt like it had been broken
into several pieces and then put back together incorrectly. Unfortunately, it did
not make her unaware of certain things, like how she was aboard a ship that was continuously
rocking back and forth. It also did not obstruct her ability to smell. If possible,
the stench was more dreadful than what the sailor had produced. Aimee had no idea
where she was or what she was smelling, but she prayed to every saint she could remember
for it to end.

Planting a foot down on something solid, she shoved herself to a sitting position
and slowly inched along the floor until she felt a sack containing something with
large lumps behind her and then leaned back, hoping it would support her.

She had no idea how long she had been on the ship. It could have been just a few hours
or a day—maybe even two, according to her stomach. It was possible her captors had
left her to starve to death. Her only hope was to free herself.

Aimee fought against the bindings with renewed strength. After several minutes, her
skin had become raw and she could feel blood running down her fingertips. The rope,
however, had not loosened at all. Tears began to fall.

Millie and Jennelle had been right. No intelligent plan would ever allow this level
of failure. Since she’d been separated from her friends, she had experienced practically
every emotion except the one she had been seeking. The residual anger, fear, and despair
were now morphing into misery.

She was going to die, and only a few feet below the man she loved.

Aimee wondered how Reece would react when he learned she had died trying to reach
him. At the very least, she hoped he would regret refusing to see or talk to her.

“Eh, you there. You still alive?”

Aimee awoke with a start at the sound.

Petey witnessed the movement and smiled. It had been just over two days since they
put out at sea. Captain Hamilton had been in a fierce mood, keeping his men working
until they fell asleep at their posts. The captain was the best of leaders, and Petey,
as well as the rest of the crew, would follow him into the pits of hell, knowing that
each time, Captain Reece Hamilton would see them to the other side. But not a man
on his crew wanted to see the Thames anytime soon. They would go to any port in the
world as long as it was not in England. The last two times they had anchored there,
it was pure hell for several days afterwards, and this visit had been no different.

Aimee felt rough hands reach behind her head and begin to loosen the knot holding
the gag tightly in place. “Now, if you make a noise, I’ll be putting the rope back
and leavin’. You hear me?”

Aimee nodded her head and her mouth was free seconds later. She licked her lips, knowing
she would never again be unappreciative of the ability. Then she felt the rough cloth
covering her face being yanked off, allowing her hair to tumble free down her back.

Aimee blinked several times and inhaled deeply, thankful to breathe in what felt like
fresh air. The room was dimly lit but it still took her eyes several seconds to adjust.
She was finally able to discern that the faint light came from the small doorway adjacent
to some stairs across the way. She looked around and realized that she was in some
dank hold that contained crates and food—some of which smelled as if it was already
rotting.

Petey watched in total shock as the beaten beauty looked around and took in her surroundings.
He had kidnapped a bloody
female
! There was no way he was going to tell the captain that this girl was the one thieving
their ships. He would skin him alive, even though it was true. The captain came from
nobles and took their gentlemen’s code to an extreme.

The girl glanced around the dank room, licking her lips, when suddenly her green eyes
settled on him and darkened dangerously. Petey held his breath. He had seen plenty
of women. Those who worked by the docks or around them were either old and worn ragged
from years of hard labor or young and scraggly. This one was neither.

Dirt was smeared on her face and she was wearing men’s clothes, but none of it could
detract from the beauty that sat bound in front of him. It was as if an angel had
come down from heaven. And what had he done? He had taken her prisoner. He was surely
going to spend eternity with the devil now.

“Blimey, what’ve I done?” His question was barely a whisper, mixed with both shock
and horror.

Aimee’s emerald gaze flashed with anger as she studied the squat, unshaven man holding
on to the doorframe for support. From his voice, she knew he was not Gus, but Petey.
He had short bowlegs, straggly light brown hair, and bloodshot eyes that made him
look more pitiable than wretched. He was dressed in ankle-length pants with a pocket
on the side and a dirty, long-sleeved linen shirt that closed in the front. A well-worn
dark wool coat hung open to reveal a single-button vest that came just below his waistline.
His tarred hat was clutched in his right hand while his left was attempting to loosen
the handkerchief tied around his throat.

“You kidnapped a lady, Peter. That is what you have done,” Aimee replied crisply and
waited for him to repent and move to release her. After several seconds, she realized
the man was transfixed and unable to move. Petey was never going to stir until she
told him what to do.

“Peter, please untie my hands.” As if hypnotized into doing what he had been told,
Petey ran over and cut the bloody ropes. Spellbound, he watched her gracefully stretch
her fingers as if she had a cramp from doing embroidery.

The golden angel looked up at him—her expression unreadable as her green eyes assessed
him. “Peter, I could use some water and some food.” She saw his bushy brows fly up
and then, with a nod, he dashed out of the room.

Suddenly free and able to see, Aimee waited for the resentment and anger to rise anew
but found that every emotion, every bit of loathing, every wish for harm to fall on
those who did this to her was simply gone. Maybe she was too tired. Maybe she was
too hungry to put out the effort, but whatever it was, all of her immediate desires
were focused on getting a warm meal, fresh air, and, if possible, some clean clothes.

Aimee looked up as she heard two sets of footsteps approach. She assumed Petey was
bringing the same friend he’d had with him the night of her abduction.

“I hope, Peter, that you were able to fetch some water along with who I assume is
Gus,” she said, eyeing the much heavier man who appeared to be in his late forties.

Petey nodded in awe before handing her a small bucket with a ladle inside. Aimee took
the metal scoop and dipped into the water, bringing the contents to her lips. At first
it hurt to drink, but as the cool liquid went down it became easier. She took several
more scoopfuls before stopping to study her two captors. They were completely different.
One large, the other small. Where Petey had light brown hair, Gus’s was dark.

“Gus, is that bread you have in your hand perchance for me?” Aimee asked in a serene
voice as if she were a guest at tea.

Gus’s hazel eyes grew round with surprise. He had been staring at her bloody wrists,
frozen with fear and shock. “Uh, aye, miss, ’ere you go. Cook made it fresh dis morning.”

Aimee took a bite, closed her eyes, and smiled. Fresh bread was another thing she
would never undervalue again. She finished the whole thing, never moving from the
sack of potatoes she had been leaning on. She licked her fingers and said, “If you
would both help me to stand, I would like to leave this room and go somewhere a bit
more comfortable.”

Petey took a tentative step forward. “Miss, we didn’t know ya was a . . . a . . .
female
when we took you. I swears I didn’t know.”

Gus nodded vigorously in agreement. “Ye even fought like a tar, kickin’ and movin’
all wild and crazy. Never did I dream a girl could move so mean.”

Aimee lifted her hands to the men. “I believe you, especially as I was dressed to
disguise my gender and aboard a ship at night, hiding in the shadows. Like you, I
and two friends were attempting to catch the thief who has been sneaking aboard Wentworth
and Hamilton ships while they are in port.”

Rising to her feet, Aimee leaned on a large crate for support, happy to see Gus’s
and Petey’s cautious smiles at her unexpected ability to understand their gross blunder.
For some odd reason, Aimee felt inclined to put the men at ease, not berate them for
the pain she even now felt in her limbs and head. Millie had always ridiculed her
for her innate desire to see that everyone around her was comfortable, even if they
did wrong by her. Aimee had no doubt that when she saw Millie again and relayed this
story, she was sure to receive an “I told you so” from her friend.

Suddenly, the ship lurched and Aimee fought to keep her balance despite holding onto
a crate. It was then she heard the waves lapping against the ship’s hull and realized
such a sound would not be heard if they were still in the harbor—or moving slowly
upriver. Aimee’s gaze darted from Petey, then to Gus, and then back, not really focusing
on either before she closed her eyes and let out a small wail. “Good Lord! I’m at
sea!”

Petey and Gus did not know what to do. She had seemed fine, but without warning, her
face had become very pale. As she collapsed on a box of tinned beef, Gus blurted out,
“This
is
a ship. Where did ye think ye were, miss?”

“Millie! Jennelle! They must be going crazy with worry right now. And Charles . .
. oh, he must be apoplectic, sending every ship he has to chase me down.” Then capturing
Gus’s mystified gaze, she asked, “Is there
any
chance we are still in or near London’s harbor?”

Gus took a step back as the flurry of questions kept coming from the bedraggled beauty.
“I don’t know most of what ye said, but we’s nowhere near England anymore, miss. This
here’s the
Sea Emerald
. It’s mighty fast, and right now we are headin’ to the Americas.”

Aimee assimilated that bit of information and came to one conclusion. If no ship was
capable of catching up with them, then the
Sea Emerald
would just have to turn around. Reece would be furious, but she would have a day,
maybe two, to not only calm him down but force him to see reason about their relationship—though
at the moment, she could hardly even call it that.

Aimee was just about to tell Gus that he needed to take her to his captain, when another
idea struck her. She might not know how long it took a ship to get to the Americas
and back, but Aimee knew she needed far longer than two days to recover her current
debacle of a plan. “If this is the
Sea Emerald
, then is Mr. Hamilton aboard?”

Petey’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Ya mean the cap’n? Is he aboard ’is own ship?
Of course, miss. Where else would ’e be?”

Aimee smiled, relieved to hear at least one objective in her plan was still possible
to achieve. She could and would speak with Reece. However, she hoped not to do so
looking like a bedraggled mess. “Would it be possible to go somewhere more comfortable,
so that I can clean my face and hands? And if possible, would you have something that
I could use to wrap my wrists?” she asked, gritting her teeth to hide the pain.

Petey grabbed one arm and Gus the other as they helped her walk until her legs became
accustomed to working again. They approached the stairs as the boat rocked one way
and then the other. Aimee reached for the wall to steady herself.

“Careful there, miss. Are ya all right?” Petey asked, his voice full of concern. He
had seen many cases of seasickness, and in his years of being on the water, only a
rare few were naturally immune.

Aimee frowned, not understanding his question. “Yes, Peter, I am fine. I am just not
accustomed to walking on a moving floor.”

Gus elbowed Petey and whispered, “Why does she keep calling ye Peter?”

Aimee stopped at the top of the stairs to answer the question. “Because that is his
Christian name. And am I correct to believe that yours is—Octavius or Augustus?”

Gus grunted, refusing to answer, and marched around her before Petey could ask another
question. “This way, miss,” Gus grunted. “Follow me and I’ll take ye back to Petey’s
and mine’s quarters without anyone seein’ ye. Our place is cramped, but it’s a sight
better than the hold.”

Anyplace is a sight better than the hold
, Aimee thought to herself as she followed his large but surprisingly nimble body
through a narrow hall and up another staircase. She was just about to ask if he was
lost, when they went down a few steps and into a very small but livable room containing
two bunks that consumed most of the space.

Gus lit a lantern and hung it on a nail protruding from the wall across from the beds.
When he turned around, he saw Petey repeatedly making the sign of the cross. Gus glanced
in the direction that was causing Petey such alarm and immediately joined him in prayer.

Below, in the hold, the room had been dark and barely lit. Gus could not deny that
Petey had captured a girl and that she looked to be fairly pretty. It was hard to
miss the long blond hair and large green eyes, but now, in the lamplight, they could
truly see the damage they had inflicted two days ago.

Gus immediately thrust a small wooden stool, nestled in the corner, toward her. “Here,
miss. Uh, please sit down.”

Aimee turned and smiled at him as if he had given her a throne and not the shiner
radiating underneath her left eye.

Feeling left out, Petey wanted to give Aimee something as well. “Is there somethin’
else ya need, miss? Anythin’ at all, just name it and I’ll get it for ya.”