A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  Chase grabbed the man’s ankles and arms and tied them with Marston’s own clothing. Carefully Chase pivoted, moved to his horse, and retrieved some rawhide. He returned to Marston and expertly retied and secured the unresponsive man’s limbs to a tree.

  Once finished, Chase looked at the wound beginning to throb painfully in his thigh. Using his last strip of leather, he bound the injury tightly to reduce the blood flow. He hobbled back to his horse and swung into the saddle.

  The pain in his leg was increasing. There was no exit wound. Chase knew the bullet was still lodged in his thigh. Unless removed, he had only a few hours to find and retrieve the items before a fever set in.

  Chase awoke to a throbbing headache. The air was damp, it was dark, and the ground beneath him was hard and rocky. He reached up and felt a horse blanket cushioning his head.

  He could barely make out his surroundings, but he knew where he was. He was in one of the caves that littered the Wentworth cliffs. Lifting his head, Chase saw a small man hovered over a fire. The man turned, and Millie’s face came into focus.

  “What the devil!” Chase shouted.

  Millie’s expression instantly changed from one of concern to exasperation. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed, walking over to him with something in her hand. She set the cup down and helped him to a sitting position. “Here, drink this. It’s tea. I have some bread if you think you can eat. It’s stale, but passable.”

  Chase took the tin cup. His amber eyes focused on the vision before him, but lost none of their displeasure. “Millie, what in God’s name are you doing here? And how did I get in here?”

  “Why, I brought you here to hide, of course,” Millie said matter-of-factly. Retrieving a cup for herself, she sat down and began to sip its contents. “Hmm, this is good. The stuff I was swallowing on the way here was deplorable.” She looked at Chase and motioned for him to drink. “Whatever happened to the unexcitable Charles Wentworth I used to know? So indifferent to any emotions such as joy, grief, pleasure, or pain. He would never bellow as you have grown into the habit of doing.”

  Chase continued to lock eyes with Millie. “He met you and has never been the same.”

  Millie smiled at his reply. “How fortunate for you, then. Life is much more pleasurable when you experience it rather than watch it go by.”

  Chase finally sipped the hot tea and partially relaxed. “Why is it that I have not changed you, as you have me, love?”

  Millie moved beside him and stroked his brow. “Why . . . I guess I never realized you wanted someone dull and spiritless. Now that I know, I will see what I can do about turning into the woman of your dreams,” she said, smiling impishly.

  Chase grasped her arm. He reached with his other hand and pulled her toward him with surprising strength. “Don’t you dare, Mildred Aldon. Don’t you dare change a thing,” he said, his voice barely above a soft whisper. And then he crushed her mouth roughly beneath his own. Millie’s soft cry of startled surprise was quickly muffled. Chase’s mouth was voracious, his tongue stroking, plunging, beseeching.

  Millie groaned deeply. His mouth was like a warm drug on her lips. It soothed her, teased her, and then created a desire within her that only he could satisfy.

  Chase could feel his body becoming tight and hard with arousal. His fingers moved slightly on her throat, pushing aside a loose curl of her brown hair. He released her lips and looked into her eyes. This mesmerizing beauty had the power to ignite the blood flowing through his veins.

  With his lips almost touching hers, he said, “What I would give to have you in a soft bed right now.”

  Millie was breathless and anxious and exhilarated all at the same time. She was desperate for sleep, but at the same time completely alive with sensations and needs. Needs that must be put aside, for even if they were in a soft bed, he would not be seeing to them. “Chase, you shouldn’t exert yourself right now. You lost a lot of blood before I found you.” She sat up and forced herself to back away from him.

  For a long moment, Chase thought to argue, but finally acquiesced. “That explains the pounding sensation in my head.” Chase looked down to see his thigh cleaned and bandaged. “But who worked on my leg?” he asked as he watched a lock of Millie’s hair fall down her back as she searched for something near the fire. Chase clenched his fingers, fighting an almost overpowering need to see the entire mass of dark brown softness loose about her shoulders. His muscles tensed, and his abdomen tightened.

  Millie returned and knelt beside him, offering him bread. Her hands were shaking. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from getting shot again. I am not too sure which was worse, retrieving the ball from the wound or cleaning it with drink. Your reaction to both was rather intimidating. I’d like to never go through it again.”

  Chase accepted the bread with a quizzical expression. He didn’t remember her doing either. “How did you know to do that? To cleanse the wound with spirits?” Chase knew it was a controversial practice among physicians. Some believed the same whiskey used to make elixirs and poultices could be just poured on the wound; others believed the liquid damaged the exposed tissue. Regardless, Chase had seen firsthand in the field that men who received such painful treatment were more likely to survive.

  Millie shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Remembering him cry out almost brought her to tears again. “Jennelle read it someplace,” she murmured, moving back toward the fire.

  The flames illuminated her face and Chase could see the tension and stress in her features. “My God, Millie. How long have I been out?”

  Millie wiped away a stray tear and stoked the fire. “Hercules and I found you late in the morning. That was more than twelve hours ago. If you are able, we will need to leave as soon as the sun rises.”

  Chase calculated that Millie must have ridden Hercules all of yesterday and last night to catch up with him. “Millie, what happened when I left?” He saw her head snap up. “You are impetuous, but you would never risk Hercules by riding him all night unless something or someone drove you here.”

  Millie lowered her eyes. She had been dreading this very conversation. “I was visited by someone you know, the morning you left. The man came to see me, and while he pretended to be looking for you, he asked about those.” She pointed at a small mound covered by a blanket.

  Chase lifted the cover and spied a book and a chest. The woman was a miracle. She had not only saved him, but managed to safely retrieve the precious items without getting hurt. Something he had not been able to do.

  Chase ignored the burning pain coursing through his thigh. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, no. He never realized I had discerned his identity. I hinted that you and the items were at Hyde Park and encouraged him to leave. You should lie back down.”

  Ignoring her, his face took on an ominous expression. “Did he believe you?” His low tone spoke volumes.

  Millie picked up a nearby stick and threw it on the fire. “I thought he did, but this morning, just after I passed Shaftesbury, I realized I was being followed. I doubled back a few times and lost him, but no doubt he will find Lord Marston in the morning and follow your trail as I did.”

  Her comment reminded Chase of what had happened right before he blacked out. Millie could read his thoughts, though he gave them no voice. “Don’t worry. Lord Marston is still bound quite securely. Though now he is gagged and a much quieter captive. There is a chance he will not be found.” Her lack of belief in that possibility was evident in her tone.

  Chase stared at her. Millie was trying so hard to spare his feelings. He reached for her and pulled her to his side. “Who is he, Millie? Who visited you?”

  Tears filled her eyes, and he could feel them splash on his arm as he attempted to soothe her. “Sir Edward. He told me everything. How your father was a Rebuilder. How you are a part of it now.” She moved out of his embrace and again wiped away her tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Chase considered forcing her back into his
arms but decided against it. “What I told you was the truth, Millie. There is an Expansionist movement, and my father was one of five Rebuilders working against it. At first, it was just a philosophical difference between the two groups. But then more and more signs appeared that England’s participation in war, and its actions after war, were being influenced by a shadow leader within the Expansionist movement. Five Rebuilder nobles searched for proof, and for the identity of the Expansionist conspirator. Each conducted his own investigation, very carefully and, even more importantly, privately.”

  “You went into the war.”

  “My father was positive that someone inside the war department was a traitor. He needed someone inside to discover who it was.”

  “Blast it to bloody hell . . . Sir Edward.”

  Chase smiled and stroked her cheek with his knuckle. “For once, I agree with your . . . coarse expression. Somehow, my father must have found something tying Sir Edward to his traitorous acts. Something irrefutable. Do you have any idea what it is?”

  Millie sat back, shocked at the seriousness of the question. “Heavens, no. How could I?”

  “Because you, Aimee, and Jennelle have possessed the truth for some time.”

  Millie’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “If you are referring to those,” she said, pointing, “then you are mistaken. Your father hid nothing in them, Chase. Believe me. What he bestowed made no sense. He gave Jennelle a large journal with blank pages, and Aimee an old, empty wooden chest.”

  “I thought you said my father gave you a key.”

  “‘Key’ is the name of the book. I assure you there is nothing in the chest or the book. And my amulet, well . . . it is just that. An amulet. The only thing they have in common is the crest. It appears on all three items.”

  “There must be something there, Millie.”

  She shook her head. “How can you be so sure?”

  “My father wrote of three markers, unmistakable to any Rebuilder who knew to look for them, that when put together, would give undeniable proof of the traitor’s deeds.”

  “Bloody hell,” Millie mouthed and rocked back, hugging her knees.

  “When Eischel found my father’s letter, he immediately reached out to his contacts, Viscount Darlouney and—since my father was dead—me. Darlouney sought Brumby and Edward. Never did anyone realize they were setting off a chain of events that would eventually lead to their deaths.”

  “That was why you wanted me to ignore Lord Brumby. He knew it was Sir Edward, didn’t he?”

  “Not at first, but I think by the time I met with him, he suspected Edward. That was why if anyone saw you watching Brumby, they might have wondered why and assumed you knew more than you did.”

  “But if Brumby knew who the traitor was, why didn’t he tell you or anyone else?”

  “At first, I think he was unconvinced and didn’t want to taint a man’s reputation solely upon suspicion. Later, fear drove him to irrational decisions. Three men had already lost their lives. I think he wanted to tell me at Alstar’s, but he got spooked. I believe, given time, he would have confided in me. Edward must have suspected my ability to influence Brumby and silenced him before we could meet again. I should have realized who it was then. Only Edward could kill a man in a crowd and disappear without being seen.”

  “Oh my,” was all Millie could whisper. Chase’s father, Lord Brumby—all those men. How could anyone be so filled with hate and self-importance? How were they going to find Sir Edward and stop him?

  Millie let go of her knees and leaned back against the rock wall. She rested her head against the uncomfortable stone surface and closed her eyes. She was so tired. So much had happened.

  She heard a scraping sound from the other side of the cave and stirred. Her brow crinkled in confusion. She was lying where Chase had been sleeping. She sat up and looked around, spotting Chase on the other side of the fire. He was struggling with Aimee’s chest.

  “Chase, whatever are you doing?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  Chase raised his head, concern filling his expression. “Are you all right, love? You fell fast asleep as you were attempting to complete a thought.”

  Millie pushed the loose hairs away from her eyes. “When did you move me? How did you move me?”

  Chase glanced at his watch fob. “Hmm. It’s nearly ten in the morning. So I would estimate nine hours ago. And as for moving you, I would not say my leg is completely repaired, but I have survived being shot before, and I will do so again. At least long enough to do what must be done.”

  His admission jolted her, and she shot to her feet. “You’ve been shot before! How many times?”

  “Twice. You saw the scars on my back,” he answered nonchalantly, continuing to examine the chest.

  “Those were gunshot wounds?” Millie asked in horror.

  An inexplicable grin appeared as Chase remembered the shots and the fight following them. “Indeed. An unfortunate misjudgment on my part of exactly when an ambush was to occur.”

  Millie shook her head. “You knew men were laying a trap for you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why the bloody hell did you allow yourself to get shot? Twice?”

  “No one allows himself to get shot, love. But sometimes it does happen.” Chase pointed to his leg to validate his comment and again focused on the chest.

  It was obvious Chase was not going to admit any wrongdoing or profess any promises to be more careful in the future, especially when most of his energy was focused on Aimee’s lap-size wooden box. Beside him were various odds and ends Aimee, Jennelle, and she had put in the box as their most treasured possessions. One of which was a small handkerchief she recognized as belonging to Reece.

  “Why does that chest interest you so?”

  “It has a hidden compartment.”

  Millie bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Hidden sections were hard to disguise and the chest, while not small, was about the size of a large hat box. A false bottom or side, even a small one, would be easily recognizable.

  Chase grunted and continued playing with the golden crest on the chest. It was embossed, giving one the idea that something might fit into it. Chase was trying unsuccessfully to fit her amulet into the grooves of the crest, just as Aimee, Jennelle, and she had done when they first received the items.

  “I interpreted the ‘Key’ while you were asleep,” he continued. “I am now attempting to follow its instructions. Unfortunately, after all these years, the lock must have rusted.”

  Knowing otherwise, Millie knelt down and looked closer. “You said the Key told you to do this?”

  “Read the dedication on the inside.”

  Millie sat down, picked up the unusually large book, and fingered the hand-sized crest on the cover. It was a bigger version of her amulet. Surrounding the amethyst were two gold stags, one standing on a sword, the other on a rock, with a knotted ring of gold encircling them. She flipped open the book. She had read the words countless times, and still, she could decipher no special meaning.

  To Lady Jennelle Gent,

  I give you this Key and its crest that it

  may forever be used to turn and bring forth

  what you seek.

  Lord Chaselton

  Millie watched Chase fit her pendant into the chest’s impression of the crest and try again to turn the item. Suddenly the embossed crest loosened and fell onto the earthen floor.

  Chase examined the box, but it remained unchanged. “It cannot be,” he mumbled softly, pressing each side again to affirm its solidity. “It has to be here.”

  Millie reached down and retrieved the fallen crest, turning it over in her hands. “Charles, look here.”

  He put down the empty box and came closer. Millie showed him the crest that had fallen off and turned it over. On the other side was a jeweled amulet, similar but not the same size as her own.

  Chase picked up the book and read its inscription aloud. “‘I give you the key
and its crest.’”

  He looked up. As he gazed into her purple pools sparkling with wonder, he marveled at their ability to become more captivating with each hour. Millie read the desire in his eyes and met him halfway as his mouth closed roughly over hers, searing her forever to him.

  He released her lips. He wanted so badly to make love to her, but he needed to know she was safe. “Millie, the amulet—the one from the chest.”

  She handed over the golden item and saw him place it easily into the book’s larger version. With a small twist, it popped and then the book’s large gold emblem sprung open. Inside were three folded papers.

  Chase carefully picked them up one by one and read them. Silence filled the cave as he refolded each item and wrapped it in a piece of protective leather.

  “We need to leave, Millie. Collect only what is necessary.”

  Nodding, Millie gathered the few items, including her amulet and Reece’s handkerchief, and put them into her pouch before following Chase farther into the cave. “Chase, I do not think we can get out this way. I used the boulder as an anchor for the rope to lower you in here. Your weight pulled it back over the opening. I tried several times, but it would not budge.”

  Chase approached and saw a dangling rope wedged between the rock and the jagged lip of the entrance. He handed the makeshift torch to Millie and used his shoulder to try and shove the large barrier.

  “Damn,” he muttered, reaching back for the torch. “I have no leverage.” He brought the torch closer and examined the boulder for several more minutes. He rubbed the thickening stubble on his face. “Well, my dear, if we are not quick we will have to wait until the tide has turned before we can leave.”

  “But wouldn’t that be best? It would give you more time to rest. No one knows we are here.”