A Woman Made For Sin

by Michele Sinclair

  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.

  Reece’s powder-blue eyes burned as he caught her face between his palms. “God, how could I help but fall in love with you? You are like an angel, soft and perfect. If only you weren’t Charles’s sister,” he whispered, stroking her cheek.

  Warmth welled up inside Aimee, mingled with a sense of love that was so acute it brought tears to her eyes. “Reece, don’t send me away. Please don’t send me away. You have to leave so soon, but not yet. Let me stay with you for a little while,” Aimee pleaded as she reached up and twined her fingers in his thick hair.

  “God, Aimee, how I have fought to keep myself away from you, but I don’t think I have the strength to send you away now.” And then he kissed her again. But this time hard and deliberately, letting her feel the need and desire she had aroused in him.

  Aimee felt his arms pull her even closer. They were strong and secure and she never wanted to leave them. His hot, sweet, sensuous lips moved against hers, creating a growing, aching need for more. She felt her hair tumble out its pins as Reece’s strong hands dived in. Her lower lip trembled as he moaned aloud. Suddenly she needed to be even closer to him. Feel his skin on her palms. Tentatively she slid one hand under the freed hem of his shirt and felt his warmth permeate her fingertips. Tingling with the sensation, she sought more as his tongue slipped away from her mouth and down her nape to her shoulder.

  Aimee could still feel his hot breath trailing down her arm as his mouth slid down the light green sleeve of her dress. When he cupped her soft breast, she knew then that no other man would ever touch her like that again. If she could not be with Reece, she would be with no other. She gasped as his thumb drew lightly across her nipple, causing it to harden instantly. But the inexplicable sensation only grew when he bent his head and took the firm fruit into his mouth.

  “Perfect,” he moaned, flicking his tongue over the sensitive flesh. When he began to suckle, Aimee thought she would expire from pleasure as her senses started spinning out of control.

  “Reece, what is happening to me?” she managed to ask as his mouth began to lathe her other nipple. She shivered. His touch was everything and more than she had dreamed it would be. She could feel his hand on her leg and wondered how it got there, but she didn’t care.

  Slowly his fingers caressed her soft skin, moving up her leg with each stroke. “God, Aimee, you are so soft. Nothing in the world can be as good as you. Are you even real?” he whispered into her mouth before she could answer affirmatively and that she felt the same way about him.

  Never had she imagined being with a man could make her feel so alive, so wanted, so beautiful. But the sensations Reece was causing continued to build, making her want only more. Involuntarily her body began to writhe with unknown need. She thrust her tongue into his warm mouth and kissed him with an almost violent demand, unconsciously flexing and arching her hips as his hands drew closer to her heat.

  Slowly his fingers closed around the heart of her fire. Aimee cried out softly as a deep tremor shook her. She could hear Reece calling to her, pleading for her to forgive him. “Stay with me, Aimee, and don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I just want for one brief moment to know what heaven is like. Can you remember that later and forgive me?”

  Aimee nodded and tried to remember how to breathe. His fingers were moving in a gentle rhythm, and when she thought she could stand no more, he parted her and slid a finger into her warmth. He had groaned in what seemed to be part pain, part pleasure, and began to create a magic Aimee could never have dreamed existed. He was touching her, and it felt wonderful. Better than wonderful, it felt like what he wanted to find. It felt like heaven.

  He moved his finger gently within her, easing it slowly out of her tight passage. He added another finger and entered her again, caressing the tiny mound of sensitive flesh that was concealed by her mass of soft curls. Again and again, he entered her, massaging and stroking and building a force within her that soon exploded into a million stars. Aimee heard herself gasp and he immediately reclaimed her mouth, swallowing her moans and searing her forever to him as uncontrollable waves of pleasure rippled through her body.

  He held her for a long time afterwards, kissing her forehead, stroking her brow. She remembered his every touch, whether on her arm, neck, or cheek; each was a tender caress showing that he loved her. They had not said a single word the rest of the afternoon. They had just sat and held on to each other, knowing he had to leave later that day.

  Then he had left and she had not seen or spoken to him since. He had had opportunities. She had provided him multiple chances and ways to speak with her and even meet privately, but he had intentionally avoided all of them. That was why she had jumped in front of Reece’s man. The fool had stood dumbfounded for a moment, and Aimee wondered if he was going to take her with him or if she was going to have to throw herself into his boat. But then, as if he could read her thoughts, he had grabbed her and hauled her close, quickly binding her hands behind her back.

  Aimee had been about to announce that she was not going to fight him, that she would willingly go with him if he would allow her to see his captain, when a rotten-smelling bag was thrown over her head. Suddenly she was being roughly manhandled and then hauled over the side of the ship.

  “That ’im, Petey? Pretty skinny, isn’t he?”

  “Be careful with ’im. Had to track ’im careful-like and sneak up on the feller to catch ’im unawares. Fought me terrible for a time.”

  Aimee had almost laughed aloud at the lie when she felt herself being lowered down into something rather unstable. She was shoved down and made to lie on something wet. When she heard the oars splash down, she realized immediately where she was—in the bottom of a pinnace heading toward Reece’s ship.

  The man nearest to her passed gas again and Aimee decided she had had enough. She sat up as best she could, but before she could announce who she was and again offer to go with them willingly, a gag was tied behind her head over the foul bag. This was not at all going according to plan.

  “There, that’ll keep ’im quiet. Don’t want nobody knowin’ what we did till we tell the cap’n. I’m still not positive that he’s goin’ to be happy about your plan, Petey.”

  “Gus, I caught ’im! I caught the bastard that’s been stealin’ the cap’n’s things. Right from the boss’s own cabin. He’ll give us a bonus for sure for bringin’ the thief in.”

  Aimee heard Gus snort. “Well, maybe yer right and maybe yer wrong, but you better ’ide ’im below for a day or two until we think up a real good way tae let the cap’n know.”

  “Good plan, mate. Good plan. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll hide the bloke below. Tell no one, mind ye. Don’t want no one else gettin’ the credit for our find. This one’s mine.”

  Aimee felt her heart race. She was to be held for two days before she got to see Reece! This was not at all what she had planned. She had to get back, now. What would Millie do? Aimee asked herself. She would fight. Aimee started kicking and writhing and twisting and doing anything she could to get them to let her go.

  “Ow!” she heard someone yell. The same voice turned mean. “Stop that or I’ll throw ye overboard, and tied up like ye are, I doubt you’d go far.”

  Hearing the threat, Aimee immediately stopped fighting, but she could not stop her racing heart. Don’t panic, Aimee, she told herself. Don’t panic. When they move you, wherever down below is, they will remove your gag and you can tell them who you are. It was not ideal, but it was still possible that in less than an hour she would be sitting across from Reece, trying to convince him not to kill
her two kidnappers, Peter and Gus.

  The oars stopped and a minute later Aimee felt the small boat bang on the side of a much larger object. She hoped it was Reece’s boat, the Sea Emerald.

  Another minute went by when she heard a bunch of scuffling. Suddenly, one of her two captors was leaning over her, pressing her farther down into the pinnace. It was then that she heard a different voice, this time from far above.

  “Petey, you should thank your sorry arse you showed up. Hurry up now and get aboard. The boss wants to pull up anchor and leave—now.”

  “Now?” Gus asked, punching Aimee’s leg as she tried to maneuver to a less painful position.

  “Yes, now,” the deep voice replied in hushed tones. “Seems that a few boats are leaving on the morrow to catch the winds, and Captain Hamilton wants to beat them out of the harbor. Remember last time we had to wait?”

  “Aye, I remember,” Gus replied in a huff. “The cap’n was in a foul mood for days. Fairly destroyed all of our leftover Christmas cheer.”

  “Well, he’s going to be in a high dudgeon if he finds out you and Petey left the ship so close to us pullin’ up anchor. Hurry and get up here.”

  Aimee felt like this might be her last opportunity to stop this nightmare, and began to kick and fight as best she could against the bindings. “He better be worth it, Petey,” were the last words she heard before pain shot through her jaw and darkness swallowed all thought.

  Chapter 2

  October 7, 1816

  The Marquess of Chaselton sat behind his desk and quietly prepared himself for Millie’s arrival. Though most peers and associates had shortened his title to Chase, his family and close childhood friends whom he had known before he inherited his title called him Charles. His wife had several names for him, depending on her mood, but his favorite would always be Charlie, an old, and once despised, childhood name. It seemed whenever she used it, he found himself agreeing to whatever desire flittered through her mind.

  But not tonight, he promised himself. I refuse to be vulnerable to any form of persuasion. Whatever mess you have found yourself in, Mildred, I will not get you out of it. This time, you will have to learn your lesson.

  The moment when Millie’s very dour but cherished maid, Elda Mae, had interrupted his biweekly dinner with his shipping company’s investors, he had known something was wrong and that Millie was at its center. Thankfully, the hour had been late and it was possible for him to suggest that he and his business associates continue their conversations during their next meeting. He had an uncomfortable feeling that it would be best if no one learned of Millie’s indiscretion.

  He drummed his fingers on his father’s old writing desk, repeating to himself the need to remain calm and that he had known this moment had been coming for some time. In fact, it was overdue, for he had been expecting Millie to become ensnared in some uncomfortable predicament since the moment his sister and her other best friend arrived in London for a visit. For more than two weeks, the Daring Three had been together, chatting about whatever nonsense women do and going to see whatever women wanted to see. And during the entire time, he had been awaiting news of a mishap.

  Married for only a few short months, Chase recognized that the expectations of a wife and marchioness would be foreign to Millie, and therefore he continually pressed upon her the weight of her new responsibilities. He had hoped that as Millie became adjusted to her role, she would realize that it was now time for her to adopt a more mature and sensible attitude and overcome her seemingly constant desire to seek out reckless adventures.

  It was not that he desired to squelch her spirit—far from it. Millie’s exuberance for life filled him in a way nothing or no one could. But he never would admit it to anyone, especially her. Despite wishing he were otherwise, Chase was well aware that he was far too pragmatic for a man of his age. He might be only thirty, but the last ten years of his life had been oftentimes brutal, hardening him in countless ways.

  As the Chaselton heir, he had been raised to be practical and outwardly sedate. As a war spy, he had learned to suppress every emotion while cultivating caution and vigilance as constant companions. As a result, most people believed him indifferent to the people and events around him, thinking him cold, calculating, and unfeeling. And while he often was just as others saw him, little Mildred Aldon—the bane of his childhood—had somehow broken through every shell he had built around his heart. It amazed him how she continually found ways to remind him of what a sheer joy it was just to be alive.

  Not long after they were married, he realized his need for her was growing in intensity, and it frightened him. As a result, he had an overwhelming desire not just to make her happy but to keep her safe, secure, and away from the dangers with which he had too long been associated.

  This past spring he had almost lost her, and though Chase knew the men behind the ordeal were dead, he could not stop the nagging feeling that something had been left undone. Too many questions had yet to be answered.

  Sir Edward Lutton—the treasonous mastermind—had drowned near the rocky cliffs of the Chaselton country estate. And though the violent waves had pummeled his body into fish food, Sir Edward’s death had not ended the ordeal. The aftermath of dealing with a treasonous plot led by a key intelligence officer was long and arduous. It would be several more months before the full extent of the damage his one-time mentor had caused would be known.

  Thankfully, nothing found so far had been determined to be permanently harmful to the men serving in uniform or to the homeland and her allies. And yet, Chase remained unsettled. And he was not alone in the feeling and found himself needing to meet somewhat frequently—and discreetly—with those in parliament and the war department. So, when his mother suggested letting his sister Aimee stay with Jennelle while they went to Town for the Little Season, Chase had quickly agreed. Many in Society migrated back to London during the autumn months finding it easier to entertain and be entertained than at their country estates. Because the unofficial Season was much smaller, Chase believed it would provide the perfect opportunity for his mother to educate Millie on her new role as marchioness. Too late did he realize that his mother had plans of her own.

  Soon after they arrived, he and Millie began accepting invitations to meet with those of similar status. As expected, his mother had helped introduce Millie into Society, this time not as a debutante, but as a peer. And while inexperienced, Millie had proven she was quite capable of comporting herself as a marchioness. She had hosted her first party and it was such a success that his mother—Dowager Lady Chaselton—had announced that she was now Millie’s largest impediment. She needed to leave in order to give Millie the chance to begin building a legacy of her own. Then, without warning, she promptly left London to visit friends in northern Scotland; a distance he suspected quite intentional as it was too far for him or Millie to reach out for assistance even if they should desire it.

  Chase had no illusions then or now that his mother had long been planning the trip north. But if his mother’s intentions were to provide Millie and him some time alone, she had an unusual way of going about it. Because at the same time his mother announced her decision to leave, she had also revealed her already-delivered-and-accepted invitation to Aimee and Jennelle. They would join Millie in London, so that both girls could benefit from Millie’s station and find a husband. Chase had openly snorted at that comment, for every man and mother in Town knew his sister had no interest in finding a husband. And though hard to believe, Jennelle had also made her disinterest in the state of matrimony quite well known.

  He had almost elected to use his rank and refuse the invitations, but seeing the anticipation on Millie’s face, he had been unable to make even an empty threat. Long ago, he had offered silent sympathy to the man who would claim Millie’s heart, and he had been right to do so. For every day, he battled with himself and every day he lost. His need to constrain his wife’s audacious inclinations rarely won over his desire to make her happy. So th
e moment Aimee and Jennelle arrived, he had been waiting for the inevitable chaos that always followed the Daring Three.

  A knock on the door made his head spring up and he straightened in his chair, readying himself for the despair he would see on her beautiful face. He also knew that despite his earlier promises, he would be immediately affected by the expression, needing to right whatever wrong that may have happened. “Come in, Millie, and tell me what happened.”

  Chapter 3

  October 8, 1816

  Chase flung the front doors of Hembree Grove wide open and marched down the halls, barking orders for someone to find Lady Chaselton and have her immediately join him in his study, uncaring how openly angry he appeared. When Elda Mae had come in the previous night, her face drained of blood, he had assumed one—if not all—of the Daring Three had been goaded into something innocuous, like gambling, and had lost quite a tidy sum of money in a bet. But upon seeing Millie bedraggled, dressed like some street urchin, her hair askew and tears streaking down her face, he had known something far more serious had occurred.

  Entering his study, he tossed his coat onto the couch and wrenched off his cravat. He then rubbed his scalp vigorously, unaware of how it made his chocolate brown hair unruly and his overall appearance fearsome. A large man, with hard, dark features, he was a naturally imposing figure. But when he detached himself from his emotions, his eyes, despite their warm golden color, grew distant and quite cold.

  Since last night when Millie haltingly explained how the three of them had gone to catch Reece pretending to be W & H Shipping’s mysterious thief, Chase had continuously berated himself for his naïveté, for it was he who had given Millie the idea. That previous morning, Chase had accused his friend of being the one sneaking around taking odd items from the office and ships. Reece had then cheerfully returned the allegation, thinking the prank a rather unusual one, but deciphering its purpose would have to wait until after his return.