A Woman Made For Sin

by Michele Sinclair

  October 20, 1816

  Collins twisted his mouth humorlessly. His inability to find anyone he needed was getting to be more than just frustrating. It was damn infuriating. It was one thing for the seamen to be distracted, but now it was his idlers who had disappeared.

  Tomorrow they would turn west and more than likely encounter at least one good storm before they reached Savannah harbor. They were not ready. He and Kyrk had completed a brief inspection of the sails earlier that morning and found some problems, one of which was going to need some help from the carpenter to ensure it was secured properly. Collins had no intention of waiting, and wanted the idlers to begin working immediately. With specialized skill sets, the two sailmakers and carpenter did not have to stand regular watches, but that did not give them leave to disappear.

  When Collins had asked the bosun where they were, the man had been blunt in his reply. He had no idea where they were and it wasn’t his job to know, but the chief mate’s . . . something he thought Collins claimed to be.

  Collins went down the companionway and prayed that what his gut was telling him was not true. That wherever he found his three idlers, he would also find a tall, green-eyed blonde. Turning right, he went down another set of stairs into the lower hold in the aft part of the ship where cargo was usually stored. He was almost there when he could hear Ray talking about something gruesome and sighed in relief. He had not only located his missing men—they were alone.

  As a seasoned carpenter, most of Art Rayburn’s stories dealt with woodwork, and all of them were full of grisly details about how some limb or extremity was mangled. The one he was telling now Collins had heard before, and was especially macabre. Something about how a doctor tried to sew a man’s thumb back on, but did so backwards.

  He was just about to step inside and ask how the story was going to end this time, when he heard a soft voice gasp. A second later, a familiar feminine voice said with far too much interest in the horrific story, “Alas, if only I had been available to help.”

  Collins clenched his fists and stared at the wood planks above him. What was I thinking? Of course she would be with them.

  “You, miss?” Ray asked incredulously.

  “Indeed, Mr. Rayburn. I am far from exemplary with a needle, but I am sure I could sew an appendage back on so that it faced the right direction.”

  Collins took in a deep breath. Mr. Gilbert, Mr. Miller, Mr. Willnon, Mr. Stuart, Mr. Solomon and now Mr. Rayburn. She spoke to all the men like they were fine gentlemen who had joined her for tea. And Ray was far from a gentleman.

  He had spent most of his youth in Liverpool, but his Irish ancestry was evident in his dark red beard and the wild hair that covered his body. Collins had never seen a man hairier than Ray, and he hoped he never would. But the carpenter was not just Irish in looks, the man had a temper as well. Strong, wide, and thickset, Ray loved a good fight. He had been kicked off more than one boat for onboard scuffles. Yet he had a rough but steady code of ethics. Once a man earned his trust and respect, Ray would be loyal to them until his dying breath.

  Collins stood still, trying to think when he heard the distinct melancholic Scandinavian accent of Lamont Poulsen. “I tink te man was drunk.”

  “Probably not even a doctor.”

  Collins grimaced. That had been Lamont’s brother Shiv Poulsen, the second of the Sea Emerald’s two sailmakers.

  “Mr. Heilsen!” Aimee called out gleefully. “Please come look, for I do believe I found another one.”

  Just where am I? Collins asked himself. He felt as if he were frozen in limbo, where all people had mysteriously transformed into someone else. There was no other explanation. Kyrk Heilsen never allowed anyone to call him by his last name, except other Scandinavians because they were the only ones who knew how to pronounce it properly.

  Unable to stomach any more surprises, Collins removed all expression from his face and walked into the room. He took in the scene before him and had only one thought. I’m not about to lose control. I’ve already lost it.

  A large sail covered the floor and was draped high over the barrels and boxes that had been stacked in each corner. A Poulsen brother was at each end, moving in opposite directions to examine the sail’s hem, inch by inch. They had been listening, but it was clear they were also focused on their task.

  On the other side of the sail was Aimee, who was standing on an unstable barrel. To keep her from falling as the ship rocked, Ray was holding her hips. Right next to her, standing on another barrel, was Kyrk Heilsen, who was leaning in close to see what had made her shout out with joy.

  Never in his imagination—never in his worst nightmare—could Collins have conjured what he was seeing.

  Next to himself and the captain, Kyrk was the best sailor on board. He was young, but the Scandinavians had the sea in their blood, and Kyrk had known since childhood just what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

  His first job on the Sea Emerald had been cabin boy, during which time he began to idolize the captain, imitating him however he could. He kept himself clean, took pride in his work, was willing to learn, and had eventually become a highly skilled rigger. The men respected him and listened to him, making Kyrk an exemplary second mate. But most of all, he had been immune to Aimee’s charms.

  He had told Collins that he had a job to do overseeing the supplies, the sails, and the seamen while he was on duty, and he had no time for her. So it had seemed natural to put him in charge of the night shift, and it had worked. Kyrk kept his distance from Aimee and all had been fine . . . or as close to fine as Collins could expect under the circumstances.

  Just what in the hell had happened?

  Unable to see just what Aimee was pointing at, Kyrk stepped onto her barrel. His whole body was now practically touching hers as he leaned in close to take a better look. A second later, he stepped back and gave her an infectious grin. “Ah, Lady Aimee, are you sure you do not have Scandinavian blood in your veins? Fan, if you are not right. Shiv, come here and take a look. I need you to take care of this and any others she finds.” Then Kyrk winked at Aimee. “I’m going to have a talk with the chief mate about keeping you around. As the only rigger, I could use some backup.”

  Aimee’s grin grew even more devastating, and she was unaware of the captivating picture she made when she smiled. “Just remember, Mr. Heilsen, this makes the third one I’ve found. You promised.”

  Kyrk shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll keep my promise, but only if you find something else to wear besides a skirt.”

  Collins stood there in shock. No one yet had noticed him, but he doubted it would have made any difference. He had no idea why Kyrk told this obviously genteel noblewoman to wear pants—at least that was what Collins hoped he meant. And he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted to know the reason why, for he knew in his gut the answer would take years off his life.

  “I already have something,” Aimee promised, as Ray helped her to jump down off the barrel. “I’ll leave now to find Gus and see where he put the things I wore aboard.” She turned to leave. “Mr. Collins! I did not know you were standing there!”

  Collins crossed his arms, hoping he appeared more authoritative than he felt. It did not help when all four men looked up but refused to look guilty. It confirmed what he already knew. He was not losing control. He had lost it a long time ago.

  His whole crew had deserted every rule he had laid out. No longer did Aimee’s injuries worry Collins. It was the men and her effect on them. Everyone who met her fell under her spell. When the captain finally did find out about her, it would not be the injuries to her wrists that would anger him the most—it would be his crew, the moment the captain saw how they looked at her. After all this, they might still find themselves stranded in Savannah, hoping to find a post on another ship.

  “I thought you were going to have dinner tonight with Mr. Hamilton.”

  “Damn,” Collins muttered. She was right. At least he could tell the captain that the idlers were
already working on the sails, preparing them for the storms.

  Reece waved at Collins to come in and sit down. JP had just dropped off dinner and tonight’s fare looked to be a good meal. The cook usually waited a little longer before killing one of the chickens, but Reece was glad he did not delay this time. He needed the break from salt beef and hardtack.

  Collins sat down and started in on his meal. He looked exhausted and no doubt was. Being chief mate was hard enough, but when it included the burden of keeping the men contained when there was a woman on board, it could seriously strain one’s nerves. Reece knew he could step in, but he also knew that the chief mate was an able sailor and leader. If he did not want the men to ever bring aboard another woman, then Collins would prevent it from happening.

  “Waves are picking up,” Reece offered, hoping to spur some sort of conversation.

  “Storm brewing. Bound to go through one this far south.”

  Reece nodded and swallowed the piece of meat he had been chewing. “We turn west tomorrow. There’s a chance it will go south of us.”

  Collins scowled and stabbed a potato with his fork. “Trust me. We aren’t that lucky.”

  Reece almost wanted to laugh at his chief mate’s surliness. Nothing more needed to be said. Reece was now positive a woman was not only on board, but the source of Collins’s irritable disposition. “Well, if you’re right and we are not lucky, then in a few days it will finally get exciting on board. It’s been a little dull around here lately. What do you think?”

  Collins squirmed and kept his focus on his food. “Guess it all depends on your point of view,” he finally muttered.

  Reece knew he should give his second-in-command a break, but it was just so rare to see Collins—a man almost as unflappable as himself—fidget in discomfort. “Not just mine,” Reece said, keeping his tone lackadaisical. “The crew as well. Or haven’t you noticed how strange their behavior has been?”

  Collins’s face contorted.

  “When was the last time men shaved in the middle of a voyage?”

  Reece watched his chief mate’s jaw grow considerably more tense.

  “And I wouldn’t say any of them smell good, but I noticed our onboard water level has dropped more than usual. Are some of the men actually bathing?”

  Collins still kept quiet, but Reece knew that a woman on board usually inspired the men to take cleaning themselves a little more seriously than usual.

  “But what has me really perplexed is the singing. I like my men to be happy, but I know something is up when the bosun isn’t complaining about having to stop a continuous stream of fights, but about having difficulty getting men for the day shifts. Seems the night shift has become quite popular.”

  Collins’s shoulders sank and he dropped his fork. He raked his scalp hard. The man looked like he was both relieved and panic-stricken. “You know.”

  Reece leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “God, Collins, I’m not a fool. Of course I know you brought a woman aboard. And she must be one hell of chit too. None of the others lasted this long before some kind of hell broke loose on the ship.”

  Collins lost all expression and it made Reece only more curious. “So who brought her on board?”

  Collins snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “So what’s she doing? By now the other females you took on board were getting pretty anxious to get back on land.”

  Collins rolled his eyes as if he actually wished he had that problem. “She’s been trying to learn everything she can about the ship. She understands she cannot do the jobs, but she still insists on learning what there is to do and how to do it.”

  That information caught Reece by surprise. In a way it was refreshing to learn that at least one woman out there was interested in learning about ships and sailing, but it also was disturbing. Sailing was dangerous. There was not a job on the ship that did not carry some risks, and some of them were just plain perilous. “Why not send her to JP so she can learn about cooking? That’s something women can do.”

  Collins looked Reece dead in the eye and shook his head. “You know JP.”

  “Couldn’t even take a step in the kitchen, eh?”

  Reaching back, Collins linked his fingers behind his head. “Oh, JP let her in. Let her cook a little while too. But as I said, her interests lie not with the domestic chores, but with the ship.”

  Reece sat immobile. Just who was this woman? He had not thought to meet her, but now he was more than a little curious. “Sure she is a woman?” he asked, thinking how some girls were unladylike, boisterous females who tended to look and act more like a boy than a girl. It was hard to believe a hoyden would entice one of the men to bring her on board, but then again it was not beyond the realm of possibility.

  Collins broke out into chuckles that led to a coughing attack. When he could finally speak, he said, “Uh, no, Captain. She’s many things, but she is definitely a woman.”

  Reece offered Collins a wry, tight-lipped smile. “Think I just might have to meet her.”

  “Just say the word,” Collins whispered, leaning back in his chair.

  Reece could have sworn he saw a shiver of fear go down Collins’s back. The man was obviously at odds. “No need. Things are good with the men so far. Let’s not mess with that, especially with a storm coming. Don’t need another storm on the boat.”

  Collins rocked forward. “And just what about the storms we leave back at home?”

  Reece blinked. Collins was not a man to pry into another man’s privacy without reason. “Just what do you mean?”

  Collins shrugged. “I mean the woman who drives you to leave your home so often. I like the sea as much as you—all the men do. But that don’t mean we don’t want to spend at least some time on land. A few of the men have homes . . . wives . . . families. Something you should consider starting.”

  Immediately, the image of Aimee swam before Reece. He had hoped avoiding her when he was in London would help him to forget, but even after ten months, he could remember every second of his last encounter with her, as if it had just happened. More than anything, he wished it were possible to have her as his own, but he was made for the sea. Aimee was not. She would never understand the pull of the open water. It left him no choice. He would stay away until Aimee was happily married to some nobleman with a title, a fancy home, and a pretty purse to match. Only then, when she was permanently out of reach, would he risk seeing her again.

  “Then those men are lucky, Collins. My luck ran out with the war. I came out alive. I also was able to gather enough money to build this boat and start a shipping company. But that’s where my luck ran out. Pretending otherwise is a fool’s errand.”

  “You know, Captain, a lot of men in your position bring their wives on board.”

  Reece scoffed. The idea of bringing Aimee aboard a ship was ludicrous. He could not envision it. Beautiful women belonged in Society, not away from creature comforts. And his crew. Some of them would undoubtedly fawn all over her, but others would eat her alive. Aimee was no match for these hardened men. One hour in their company and she would be miserable. “If you knew the woman keeping me away, Collins, you would know how impossible that notion is.”

  “How do you know that, Captain? Have you asked?”

  “I just do,” Reece growled out. “You don’t know her background, but trust me, she does not belong on a ship.”

  Collins refused to back down. “Women are a surprising lot. They are used to harder work than we realize.”

  Reece’s laughter filled the cabin, but it held no joy. “You talk as if I am interested in a farmer’s daughter. Hell, Collins, it would be unthinkable if she was the daughter of a gentleman.”

  Collins furrowed his brows. “I don’t understand.”

  Reece leaned forward and rested his arms on either side of his dinner plate. “Then let me be clear. My best friend fell in love and became besotted—and when I say besotted, I mean completely incoherent. He thin
ks I don’t understand, but he’s wrong. I do. For I did the same damn thing just a few months before he did. I fell in love and every damn day I crave to be with her again, but I cannot. Even if I was willing to give up the sea . . . I cannot. She is not only the sister of my best friend but the daughter of the late Marquess of Chaselton.”

  Silence filled the cabin as Collins digested what he’d just learned. He had known most of what the captain said through snippets of earlier conversations. But marquess? That was damn close to a duke, and that was practically royalty. Hell, if she was the daughter of a marquess, Aimee probably had been presented in court and knew the royals personally.

  “Lady Wentworth would no more set foot on this ship than the Queen of England,” Reece continued. “If you ever saw her, you would realize I am not exaggerating when I say she could have anyone.”

  “But . . . but what about her? I had the impression that you thought she felt something for you in return.”

  “Even if she wanted to, her brother and I would prevent it. This way of life is dirty and somewhat dangerous. And as the second son of a lord, I have no title. I have nothing to offer. I’m just a man fortunate enough to be able to make money in a trade he loves. She is a dream that I hope will fade with time.”

  Collins stared into Reece’s despondent blue eyes. He had thought to perhaps guide the captain into thinking of the possibilities—the positive aspects of finding Aimee on board—but the more the captain spoke, the more he made one thing clear: He and everyone else on board his boat was soon going to be dead.

  And the deaths they were going to endure were going to make hell look like a welcome reprieve.

  Sasha lit another candle to counter the dark shadows in the room. She had hoped Millie and Evette would have arrived earlier in the day, but with the uncooperative weather it was lucky they made it in at all.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” Sasha asked. Tonight they’d had some leftover bread and meat, but it was not enough to feed three people. Thankfully, Bernard had volunteered to go out and get something.