Samantha

by Andrea Kane

  A deep chuckle rumbled in Rem's chest. "Once wed, am I to expect my poor body to be repeatedly ravished by my innocent bride, then?"

  "I'm afraid so, my lord. I find myself becoming quite addicted to your extraordinary skill and stamina. Do you mind very much?"

  "I'll adapt." He caressed the smooth slope of her back. "With astounding ease, in fact." Abruptly, he rose onto his elbow and twisted around to gaze soberly down into Sammy's face. "I love you, imp. You've given me joy and laughter and enough love to heal wounds I always believed fatal. I want to give you the world, with all the magic you believe it holds ... to be every bit your hero." Rem stroked his knuckles across her cheek. "Dawn will be here in an hour. We need to talk."

  Sammy regarded him with solemn understanding. "You're going to share all of yourself with me, aren't you? To tell me whatever it is you've been keeping from me?"

  "This information has been undisclosed to anyone prior to tonight. To divulge who I am, what I do, could endanger countries, lives." Rem shook his head, negating the frightened widening of Sammy's eyes. "I'm not saying this to frighten you, imp. I'm just explaining why I've kept myself from you and why it's crucial that you understand the highly confidential nature of what I'm about to disclose."

  "All right," Sammy whispered. "I won't tell a soul."

  "I know you won't." A tender smile touched his lips. "I trust you with my life," he added, intentionally repeating the very words she'd used to him. "I work, not only for the Admiralty, but for the Crown. Since they approached me a decade ago, I've taken on numerous inflammatory missions, some on English soil, some abroad, all of which, if not successfully completed, could have meant disaster for our country."

  "Oh my God." Reflexively, Sammy clutched Rem's arms. "You're telling me you're a spy."

  "I'm telling you I've had the opportunity to preserve England's strength and to right some very ugly inequities, during both war and peacetime."

  Sammy's mind was racing. "During our recent war with America ... ?"

  "I moved among our fleet, assessing strengths, recommending tactics. On other occasions I performed a similar role in Europe."

  "Europe? I don't understand. Napoleon's navy is no longer a threat."

  "But Napoleon himself is." Rem's jaw set. "Was," he amended. "I've alerted Wellington to Napoleon's strategy for his recent insurrection. In short time, Bonaparte's reign will end ... this time for good."

  "My head is spinning," Sammy whispered.

  Gently, Rem ruffled her hair, trying to soften the impact. "Do I surpass even your Gothic novels?"

  "Rem." Sammy pushed herself to a sitting position. "My novels are inventions of the mind. This is real... and dangerous." She swallowed. "I'm afraid."

  "Don't be." He gathered her against him. "I'm completing my final mission. Once it has been resolved, I plan to resign."

  "Because of me?" Sammy blinked back tears.

  "Until now, my life didn't matter. Now it does."

  "I should be noble, insist that you continue to serve England as brilliantly as you obviously have been." Sammy's voice quivered. "I can't. I love you too much. I can't lose you."

  "You'll never lose me, imp. Never." He raised her chin, kissed her damp cheeks. "Don't cry." His dimple flashed. "Not unless your tears are spawned by passion or pleasure."

  "Oh Rem." She flung her arms around his neck. "I'll fill your life with so much love ... I swear you'll never regret your decision."

  Fiercely, he held her warm, soft body in his arms. "Ah, imp, from the moment you smiled up at me from that seedy counter in Boydry's, there was no decision to make. I was yours, body and soul ... even if I was too dull-witted to recognize it. The past is over, and I'm more than ready to let it go."

  Sammy drew back, drying her eyes. "You said something about a final mission. It involves the missing ships, doesn't it?"

  "Your novels have stood you in good stead," he teased softly. "Yes."

  "And that's why you began visiting me, taking me to Hatchard's, dancing with me at Almack's—you thought I might know something. Why? Because of Barrett Shipping; because I'm Drake's sister?"

  "Yes. But you made quick work of that plan. Once I tasted your sweet, beautiful mouth, I was lost."

  Sammy sat back on her heels. "I asked you this the other night at Boydry's. I'm asking again. Does your investigation include Drake?"

  "It didn't then. It does now." He silenced her protest, placing a forefinger across her lips. "I've elicited your brother's help in exposing the culprits."

  "You've ..." Sammy's eyes widened. "Does that mean you told Drake who you are?"

  "Yes. I didn't give him all the details I just gave you, but I did tell him I'm an agent of the Crown. I also disclosed the specifics of this particular mission. He is being tremendously helpful."

  "Do you know who's responsible for the sinkings, and why?"

  "We know several of the offenders and their motives."

  "Is Viscount Goddfrey one of them?"

  Rem gave her a quizzical look. "That's the second time you've brought Goddfrey's name up. Are your suspicions based solely on the conversation you overheard at Almack's regarding Goddfrey's disappearance?"

  Sammy fingered the bedcovers uneasily.

  "What aren't you telling me, imp?"

  "Well, 'tis true I overheard Stephen and Lord Keefe discussing Viscount Goddfrey's disappearance, expressing their concern over the viscount's vast number of lost vessels and depleted fortune ... plus the increased dangers of sailing in British waters. But I was privy to another conversation which I haven't had occasion to mention to you."

  "In other words, I'm going to throttle you when I hear these details. Go ahead."

  "Well, I couldn't clear my mind of what Stephen and Lord Keefe had said. I kept worrying about the effect these perils could have on Drake. So ..." Sammy chewed her lip, stalling as she pondered Rem's reaction.

  "Samantha..."

  "I did a little investigating of my own," she blurted out at last. "The morning after the Almack's ball I slipped away at dawn and made my way to the docks, where I waited and listened."

  "You visited the docks at dawn ... alone." Rem inhaled sharply. "Surely someone must have recognized you as Drake's sister and demanded that you return home?"

  "I'm sure I was spotted, but I don't believe I was recognized." Sammy steeled herself for the explosion. "I was garbed in one of our gardener's clothes."

  "Hell and damnation," Rem ground out, his teeth clenched to stifle the outburst that would doubtlessly awaken the whole household. "Am I going to have to tie you up in Gresham's sitting room once we're wed, to prevent you from darting about on these impulsive excursions of yours? The London docks, Shadwell... what next?"

  "I was terrified for Drake. What if he'd been captaining one of those missing ships? I went to the docks to protect him, just as I went to Shadwell to protect you."

  "Samantha." Rem framed her face. "Are there any other little jaunts you've taken that I should know about?"

  "No."

  "Then in the future, would you mind sharing your worries with me and allowing me to take the risks?"

  "Unless they threaten you, my lord. Then I'll do whatever I must to shield you."

  All Rem's fury dissipated at the earnest honesty of her reply. "I suppose I cannot argue with that," he murmured tenderly. "I'll have to instead make certain that I'm never again in danger."

  Sammy smiled. "That would be ideal."

  "So ... in your travels along the Thames, you overheard a conversation about Goddfrey that prompted your suspicions?"

  "Yes." Sammy relayed the conversation of the two dock workers. "So I thought, having never met the viscount, that his personal circumstances might have been enough to provoke the crimes. His family relationships were strained, he'd run off without a word. It further occurred to me that, even if Goddfrey weren't responsible, perhaps he was the target of the sinkings, and that all the other attacks were merely being done to cast aspersion elsewhere." S
he frowned. "Now that I say it aloud, I realize how utterly ludicrous it sounds. Perhaps I have read too many novels."

  "Your reasoning is not ludicrous." Rem smoothed the pucker from between her brows. "And there is truth to it—Goddfrey was in trouble. He was being blackmailed by an unscrupulous scoundrel who, at one point, I suspected was involved in the sinkings. He wasn't. He also won't be extorting money from anyone again."

  The triumphant gleam in Rein's eye struck Sammy instantly. "You apprehended him yourself, didn't you?" she guessed.

  "With some help." Rem grinned. "Remember that meeting at Annie's you accompanied me to, uninvited? That's what we were discussing. 'Tis also why I had to feign financial difficulties ... even to you. Although I must admit I found your compassion more moving than I can say."

  "You were setting the stage for this scoundrel's downfall!"

  "Precisely."

  Rem's earlier revelation precipitated another question. "With some help," Sammy repeated. "Is Boyd working with you as well?"

  "Boyd will be offering his resignation along with mine. And, despite our long-term friendship, I suspect I have little to do with his decision."

  "Cynthia." Sammy's eyes twinkled.

  "Indeed."

  "They'll be wonderful together. I know it." A pause. "Rem, if Lord Goddfrey isn't involved, then who is?"

  Rem's features hardened to granite. "We haven't yet discovered all the conspirators. The identity of at least one is still an enigma to us. We do know that his two other partners have employed a privateer to attack the vessels ... and we have a thorough description of that pirate."

  "Two other partners? Do you know who they are?"

  "We do." Rem's probing gaze met Sammy's. "They are Arthur Summerson the merchant and the Viscount Anders."

  A harsh gasp escaped Sammy's lips. "Stephen?"

  "Stephen."

  "Dear Lord." Sammy pressed her palms to her cheeks, "You're certain?"

  "Very certain. Why do you think I didn't want you anywhere near the bastard?"

  "I assumed it was purely jealousy, because Stephen wanted me." Sammy's eyes widened, not with dismay, but with realization. "Was his interest in me all a sham?"

  "Unfortunately, no. The scum really does want you. Which makes me want to kill him all the more. I nearly did so that night at Devonshire House when you interrupted his little tete-a-tete with Summerson."

  "You were there?"

  "A mere fifteen feet away, imp, in the bushes to your right. I followed Anders from Devonshire House. I'd been observing him all night—all week, in fact—trying to fathom his inexplicable and sudden affluence. For a man my sources claimed was nearly destitute, he seemed to be affording some rather extravagant diversions: a high-stake game of whist at which he cheerfully lost thousands of pounds, and an enormously expensive necklace."

  "The one he gave me."

  "Yes. So, when I saw how jumpy he was at the Devonshire ball, I became curious. I followed him across the grounds and hid in the bushes while he met with Summerson ... which is where I was when you came looking for me. As for Summerson, that was a revelation. Until that moment I had no idea he was involved. Speaking of Summerson"—Rem took Sammy's hands in his—"upon your intrusion, he behaved rather oddly. He watched you scurry off and threatened to go after you, muttering something about this being the second meeting of theirs you'd interrupted and about your looking familiar—and I don't mean as Drake Barrett's sister. Think, imp, do you know what he meant?"

  Sammy lowered her eyes. "I know exactly what he meant ... and it will explain to you why I 'scurried off,' as you put it. The morning I visited Stephen's office—do you recall; it was the day you and Boyd came upon Cynthia and me at the docks ... ?"

  "I remember. The morning after Anders's ship went down."

  She nodded. "When I first entered Stephen's office, another man was there talking with him. I had the distinct feeling I'd interrupted a heated discussion."

  "Arthur Summerson."

  "Yes. Even then Mr. Summerson was uncomfortable around me, staring at me as if we'd met before. I convinced him it was because I was a Barrett."

  "But it wasn't?"

  "No. The dawn I snooped around the wharf in my gardener's clothes, I accidently stumbled upon Lord Hartley deeply immersed in conversation with another gentleman. I knew the marquis would recognize me, boy's clothes or not; he's known me since birth. So I darted between the warehouses and made my escape. I eluded Lord Hartley's detection ... but not his companion's. At the time, I had no idea who that other gentleman was ... until Stephen formally introduced us in his office. It was Arthur Summerson. Evidently, although he'd only spied me beside that warehouse for an instant, he remembered my face."

  "What you're telling me makes me twice as grateful that I got you away from London when I did—before Summerson could hurt you."

  "Do you really believe he would?"

  "He's a murderer, Samantha. A murderer, a thief, and an immoral animal. If he had the slightest glimmer of a notion that you were suspicious of him, he wouldn't hesitate to silence you, permanently. But that's never going to happen." Rein's brows darted together. "Why would Summerson be meeting Hartley at dawn?"

  "Oh, Rem, no." Following Rem's line of thought, Sammy shook her head emphatically. "Lord Hartley is the kindest, most gentle man I've ever known. He and my father fox-hunted together, made their fortunes together, spent holidays together. He would never commit the kind of crimes you're suggesting."

  "Every man is capable of committing crimes if pushed far enough, imp. True, some motives are uglier than others. But the fact remains that, until I seize every man involved in this conspiracy, no one is above suspicion."

  Sammy stared at Rem for a long moment. "I can see now why the Admiralty depends upon you. You do battle with a clear head and a brilliant, logical mind."

  "If you're implying that I'm brutally unfeeling, you're right," Rem replied grimly. "But remember, imp, until you came into my life, emotions were unneeded. I'm firmly convinced I was heartless."

  "You're so wrong." Sammy stroked his jaw. "That's not what I meant at all. To the contrary, I'm impressed by your ability to remain unbiased. As for being heartless, your heart is—has always been—extraordinary. The problem was, it belonged to the world, leaving no part of it for yourself. Now, it belongs to me. But fear not, my lord, I intend to take excellent care of it... forever."

  Reverently, Rem pressed Sammy's palms to his lips, first one, then the other. "I'm relieved to learn that my heart is in the finest, most loving of hands."

  Sammy swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Now ... tell me everything. We must resolve this case in record time so I can begin ministering to your poor, neglected heart."

  "We

  are not going to resolve anything, imp. I am." "I was just speaking figuratively," Sammy amended at once. "What is the reason for Stephen's and Mr. Summerson's hateful scheme? Who is the mysterious privateer, and how do you plan to expose him? How many others do you suspect are involved, and what is Drake doing to assist you in your search?"

  "Another bevy of questions. I should be accustomed to them by now, shouldn't I?" Rem teased tenderly. Wrapping Sammy's hands tightly in his, he told her everything: beginning with the insurance money Anders and Summerson would procure from their fictional losses, progressing to Captain Towers and the conversation he'd overheard about the conspirators' mysterious partner, and culminating with the odious fact that, not only was Towers's ship annihilated, but his men sold as slaves, earning additional profits for Summerson and his accomplices.

  "You and Boyd have no idea who this horrid pirate is?" Sammy asked, white-faced.

  "I have a detailed description of him. Now he must be unearthed ... which is where your brother comes in." Seeing Sammy's puzzled look, Rem continued. "Drake is giving me the access I need to the docks. As of tomorrow night. I'll be assuming the role of Barrett Shipping's night watchman, strolling the docks from Barrett to Anders Shipping and back. The moment t
hat privateer shows his face, I'll grab him. At which point I'll convince the bastard to summon his cohorts. All of them. That should nicely resolve the question of how many men are involved, and force them all to surface. The rest should be easy."

  "Easy? To confront a roomful of dangerous—probably armed—men? Rem ..."

  "I won't be alone. Boyd will be there to back me up, along, with several other reliable men—men I've worked with for years. I'll be safe, imp." He smiled. "And then I'll be yours."

  "All these years I've been a child and you've been putting your life on the line for England," Sammy whispered incredulously, the full impact of Rem's position hitting home. "No wonder you found me so foolishly amusing."

  "You, my darling, are my savior, my heart and my future ... all of which are far from foolish. If you had any idea how much I need you, you would understand how desperate I am to keep you safe." Rem framed her face between his palms. "Promise me you'll do as I asked. Let me take the risks. I'll have Boyd bring you word of my progress each time he visits Cynthia. And the moment I've apprehended the culprits, I'll return to Allonshire ... and you. Promise me."

  Sammy nodded. "I promise. I'll do just what I vowed." Silently, she recalled that vow: to share her worries with Rem and allow him to take the risks.

  Unless the danger threatened him.

  At which point, she would act.

  21

  The watchman's stance was infinitely relaxed.

  His gaze, however, was that of a tiger stalking its prey.

  Wary, acute, it enveloped the entire wharf, end to end, absorbing all that was visible, plus a good deal of that which was concealed.

  Three days into his vigil, Rem had witnessed more two-bit crimes than he cared to recall: wharf rats passing stolen goods from hand to hand, pickpockets slithering up and down the docks counting their night's spoils, smugglers carrying bags of tobacco from anchored ships. More than once Rem had found himself lunging forward to seize them, and had to forcibly exert self-restraint, reminding himself that he was a mere night watchman, not a Bow Street runner.

  And still there was no sign of the privateer.