"I didn't know he had a fleet."
"He doesn't. This will be his first ship ... an odd time to be taking such a risk, considering the unsettled status of British waters. I fully intended to delve a bit further into the reasons behind his unexpected purchase. However, given the circumstances, I hadn't the chance. I bolted the moment Humphreys broke in to tell me . . ." Drake's voice trailed off.
Alex understood at once. "Lord Gresham was with you," she finished quietly. "Gray . . ." Hooking a forefinger beneath her son's chin, she asked, "Did you mention to the gentleman—Rem—that you wanted a brother?"
"Yes, but he was right. I don't want one now. I want Bonnie."
"I know, darling. And you have Bonnie. We all do." Alex inclined her head in Drake's direction. "What a sensitive thing for the earl to do."
"Yes, it was, wasn't it? I'll have to remember to thank him. I think."
"You think?"
"I'm not sure why, princess, but I have a nagging feeling that my association with Gresham is going to be a turbulent one. Oh, he's charming as hell. Intelligent, too. Still. . ." Drake shook his head, bemused. "Underneath all that inherent charm, I sense a core of calculated planning and rigid discipline; almost as if I were the fly and he the spider preparing to snare me in his web."
"He sounds a great deal like you," Alex commented dryly.
"True." Drake didn't smile. "But there's one difference."
"Which is?"
"I know my motives. I have yet to figure out his."
13
Rem never considered going home. Totally off balance, his emotions raw and unsettled, he ordered his driver to take him directly to Abingdon Street. To Abingdon Street... and Samantha.
"Good day," he greeted the Town house butler. "Please tell Lady Samantha the Earl of Gresham is here to see her."
Hatterly didn't budge. "Is she expecting you, my lord?"
"Actually, no. I've come directly from a business meeting and had no opportunity to alert her to my imminent arrival. But I'm certain she'll receive me."
Hesitating an instant longer, the butler shrugged. "Follow me, my lord."
As they approached the sitting room, Rem heard the sound of melodic laughter. Samantha's laughter. Like a haven from the storm, it beckoned him, offering him the solace he craved, the cause and the cure for his inner turmoil.
The butler had not yet completed his formal announcement of Rem's arrival when Rem strode into the room, nearly tripping over the carved armchair that held Cynthia and her needlepoint.
"What the ... ?" Rem's glance slid from Cynthia's startled face to the room's large settee, which currently held Samantha and Viscount Anders ... several feet apart, but beside each other nonetheless.
"Remington!" Sammy's eyes lit up as she rose to greet him. "I didn't expect you."
"Evidently not." Rem's fists clenched at his sides and he counted slowly to ten, simultaneously planning the viscount's sudden, violent demise. "If you recall, I did say I'd be here late this afternoon."
"You said you'd see me later today," she corrected, glancing uneasily from Rem to Stephen. "You never mentioned what time, nor that you intended to visit me at home." Attempting to defuse the tension permeating the room, she smoothed the folds of her gown and walked toward Rem. "But I'm delighted to see you. May I offer you some refreshment?"
"Why is the viscount here?"
Sammy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. She should have known better than to think Rem would make this easy, she realized. "Stephen only just arrived. He came to ... that is . . ." Self-consciously, her fingers flew to the heavy gold and diamond necklace at her throat.
The viscount stood in one fluid motion. "I brought Samantha a small token of my esteem, Gresham," he said with a smug smile. "It looks lovely on her, does it not?"
Rem's icy gaze dropped to the glittering gems. "Yes. Very lovely. And very costly."
"Samantha is more than worth the cost, no matter how high."
"Please, Stephen, you're embarrassing me." A faint tinge of color stained Sammy's cheeks. "And, if you recall, I also told you the necklace was far too extravagant."
"Nonsense, my dear. 'Tis but a mere trinket." Anders straightened his waistcoat. "I'll take my leave now. But rest assured, I'll be calling again tomorrow."
"Good day, Anders." Rem's voice was menacing.
"Cynthia, would you show the viscount to the door, please?" Sammy asked.
For the first time, Cynthia spoke. "I really don't think—"
"Please, Cynthia." It was not a request.
"Fine. I'll be but a moment." Cynthia's eyes flashed Sammy a warning.
The instant they were alone, Rem caught Sammy's elbows, dug his fingers demandingly into her skin. "Take it off."
"Pardon me?"
"The necklace. Take it off. I don't ever want to see you wearing it again."
"Remington—"
"Samantha, I'm going through a gamut of emotions right now, none of which I'm enjoying. I want to kill Anders in cold blood, smash that necklace into a thousand fragments and haul you off somewhere where Anders will never find you again." Rem ravaged her with his eyes. "I need and I ache and I hurt."
"So you came to me," she whispered, tenderness softening her features. "Thank you, Remington." She lay a trembling hand on his jaw. "I'd want it no other way."
With a muffled oath, Rem dragged her into his arms, kissing her with a clawing, bottomless hunger. The raw vulnerability that had accompanied him from Allonshire merged fiercely with the primal possessiveness now raging through his blood. He wanted to absorb her into himself, ease the gnawing ache in his soul with the sweet balm of her body, bury his pain, his jealousy, and his bewilderment deep inside her, along with his seed.
Sammy twined her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to lean into his kiss and give him hers. Her tongue glided into his mouth, stroked slowly along his, then ran lightly over the tingling surfaces surrounding it.
Cupping her soft bottom, Rem lifted Sammy up and against him, hard and fast and fully, pressing his rigid arousal between her thighs in such a way that it burned right through the ineffective barrier of her gown.
"Rem ..." Half moan, half sigh, it was enough, when combined with the inadvertent, tantalizing motion of her hips, to strip away the last of Rem's control.
"Christ... I want to lock that bloody door and take you right here. Right now. On the floor." Rem rasped the words into her parted lips. "I couldn't even make it to a bed, that's how badly I want you. Samantha ..." Kneading her buttocks through the layers of silk, Rem urged her closer, melding their lower bodies into one. He rocked his hips against hers, delving as deep into her softness as their clothing would allow, so frantic to brand her that he was shaking. "Tell me you want me," he demanded hoarsely. "Say the words."
"I want you," she managed. "So much, Rem."
"Only me."
"Only you."
Rem lifted his head, stared into her magnificent jade-green eyes. "I can't wait anymore."
Not even a whisper of fear crossed Sammy's face. "I don't want to wait. Please, Rem, find a way."
He felt her heart pounding against his. "Samantha ..." There was so much to say, and no words with which to say it.
"The necklace means nothing," Sammy tried, mistaking Rem's silence for brooding. Easing out of his embrace, she reached behind her neck to unclasp it. "I'm not even certain why Stephen gave it to me."
"Oh, I know exactly why he gave it to you."
"You're suggesting that Stephen used the necklace as a tool to win my affections?"
"Among other things, yes."
"Then he failed miserably. It's your arms I want around me—not his diamonds. So please don't feel badly."
"I don't feel badly—I want to kill him."
Placing the necklace on a nearby table, Sammy said, "I'll return it. The next time I see Stephen."
"The next time ... and the last time," Rem instructed her. "Tomorrow when the viscount comes to call, I want you to i
nform him that you can no longer receive his visits, or his gifts. From now on you'll see each other only in public."
"I assure you, Lord Gresham, Viscount Anders was a perfect gentleman," Cynthia said coldly, hovering in the doorway. "In fact, I would venture to say that his intentions are far more honorable than yours."
"Cynthia, stop it," Sammy directed instantly, sensing Rem stiffen.
"The viscount has taken his leave," Cynthia reported in clipped tones.
"And so have you," Sammy returned. "Please excuse us."
"I don't think you and the earl should be left unchaperoned."
"Well, I do." Sammy raised her chin decisively. "And, should Smitty chastise you for abandoning your post, I take full responsibility for my actions. Please, Cynthia," she added, her gaze appealing, seeking her friend's understanding. "Trust me, if not Remington."
A flicker of tenderness softened Cynthia's dark eyes. "Very well, my lady. I'll await you in your bedchamber."
Rem watched Cynthia's departure, frowning. "She's so damned convinced I mean to hurt you."
"It isn't you. It's men."
"Then why not Anders?"
"Because she knows I care nothing for Stephen, so I'm not vulnerable to his charms." Gently, Sammy lay her palms on the front of Rein's waistcoat. "Whereas you . . ." She reached up to kiss his chin.
With a will of their own, Rem's arms closed around her, enfolding her against his chest. "Whereas I," he interrupted, "am so bloody possessive that I cannot bear the sight of another man giving you gifts. Or you accepting them."
"I should never have taken the necklace," Sammy murmured, inhaling Rem's wonderful masculine scent. "Nor would I, had Stephen not been so insistent. I'm terribly inexperienced at rejecting men while sparing their feelings."
"Damn his feelings."
"Rem ... I simply didn't know what to say. By the time I'd found my tongue, the necklace was fastened and Stephen was beaming from ear to ear." Sammy tilted her head back to gaze into Rem's smoky gray eyes. "I understand your bitterness; truly I do. But in this instance, it's totally unfounded. I do not require lavish gifts. In fact, I don't require any gifts at alt." She stroked the hard line of his jaw. "In truth, a mere smile from you would be preferable to a deluge of gems from other men. So please don't berate yourself."
"Berate myself?" Rem was totally at sea.
"I'm aware of your financial difficulties; you confided in me at the opera, remember? And I admire your relentless attempts to overcome the situation. Why, just this week you had two business meetings at Annie's. Surely something lucrative will come of those." Sammy's voice rang with conviction. "In any case, I want you to know I have faith in you. I know in my heart all your efforts will pay off and your luck will change very soon. I want that for you... desperately, but only because you want it for yourself. To me, it matters not. Rich or poor, you'll remain a hero. My hero."
For a moment Rem said nothing. Overcome, he just stared down into Samantha's earnest face, humbled by the selflessness of her words. Samantha thought his jealousy stemmed from the fact that he couldn't afford to heap expensive gifts upon her like her other suitors. And she was consoling him, telling him his monetary status wouldn't alter her feelings, assuring him he would soon recoup his losses, but that, should he not, her heart would remain his.
Too moved to speak, Rem turned his lips into Sammy's palm.
"I meant every word I just said," she reiterated, assuming his continued silence implied skepticism.
Slowly, Rem raised his head. "Did it ever occur to you, imp, that my jealousy has nothing to do with money and everything to do with you?"
"To some extent, yes. You did make it clear that you don't want me with other men. But you already know you have nothing to fear on that score. As I told you, I don't want other men. So naturally I assumed—"
"Even if they want you?"
"Even if they want me." Her eyes twinkled. "And even if they're incomprehensibly affluent."
Rem's dimple flashed. "No gifts, you said. Does that mean I needn't take you to Hatchard's again?"
"No, it definitely does not mean that," she teased back. Abruptly, her laughter faded. "What it does mean is that you needn't agonize over your lack of funds. Your temporary lack of funds," she corrected herself. "One of your investments will prosper; you'll see." Another radiant smile lit her face. "Heroes always prevail."
Heroes. Investments.
Abruptly, Rem remembered he had important news for her. "You may be right about one of my investments proving successful. I entered into a business arrangement today that I think will be a long and profitable one."
"Oh, Rem, that's wonderful!"
"I think you'll be interested to learn more about it, not to mention the name of my colleague."
Sammy's brows drew together quizzically. "Why? Do I know him?"
"Quite well,"
"Who is it?"
"The Duke of Allonshire."
"Drake?" Sammy clapped her hands together. "You met with Drake today?"
"I did. But before I tell you the details, there's a small bit of news I think you'll want to know." He grinned. "You're an aunt again, imp. As of approximately two hours ago you have a niece."
"A niece!" Sammy clutched Rem's forearms. "Is the baby well? Is Alex well? What's the baby's name? Who does she look like? How did Gray take the news? Is Drake ecstatic? Is Alex exhausted? Is Humphreys telling all the world yet? Does Smitty know?"
"Enough!" Rem's shoulders were shaking with laughter. "I can scarcely remember your questions, much less think of answers to them. My information is sketchy at best; I left the moment your brother received the announcement."
"Received the announcement? Wasn't he at Alex's bedside?"
"No. Evidently, Alexandria felt things would go easier if Drake weren't present."
"In other words, he was a nervous ninny and Alex tossed him out."
"Precisely. I can tell you that both baby and mother are well, and your brother is euphoric. If my suspicions are correct, your nephew—whom incidentally I met and found to be a thoroughly enjoyable little lad—is thrilled with his new sister, long having abandoned the foolish notion of wishing for a brother. Your butler, Humphreys, did appear to be bursting with pride, so I assume he began notifying the world of the babe's arrival immediately following my departure. As for Smithers, I rode here directly from Allonshire, so, unless someone's carriage is faster than mine, your brother's valet couldn't possibly have received the news yet. Lastly, so far as the infant's name and physical attributes, I wasn't told." Rem paused to inhale deeply. "Have I covered everything?"
"Oh, yes! Oh, Rem how wonderful!" Sammy threw her arms around his neck. "I'm so happy ... I can't wait to meet my new niece!" Leaning back, Sammy smiled delightedly up at Rem, a magnificent idea dawning in her eyes. "Would you take me to Allonshire?"
"Sweetheart . . ." Rem hesitated, trying to think of a way to present the reality to his naive Sammy. With her customary exuberance, she could see naught but the rightness of his accompanying her to her brother's house.
He, fortunately, could see beyond.
"Samantha." He caught her hands, easing her away from him. "I don't think Drake would think kindly of my escorting you to his home."
"But you said you're conducting business with him ... surely you must be on good terms?"
"I am and we are. I've commissioned Barrett Shipping to construct a brig for me."
"You did?" Sammy chewed her lip, perplexed. "But how will you pay for it?"
A brief pause. He hated lying to her. But to tell her the truth meant to justify his original He, which in turn meant to jeopardize his identity and his mission. "I managed to secure a loan."
"Why do you want a brig?"
"I plan to begin my own fleet. Hopefully, my ships will succeed in safely traversing British waters."
"I see. And is Drake enthusiastic about the idea?"
"He appears to be, yes."
"Then why won't you escort me?"
Color suffused Sammy's cheeks. "What did he say?"
"Oh, a few pointed comments about my reputation ... and a few others about your innocence. He subtly—but emphatically—warned me to stay away from you."
"Did you tell him that we—"
"I told him nothing."
Sammy sagged with relief. "Then there's no reason why you can't accompany me to Allonshire."
"There's every reason why I can't accompany you to Allonshire, sweet." Rem trailed his fingers up the side of Sammy's neck, feeling her inadvertent shiver. "Samantha, I want you. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming to be inside you. And you want me. It's in your eyes, your touch, the intimacy of your gestures. Drake is one of the most astute men I've ever met. Do you honestly believe we could hide this"—Rem brushed his lips slowly, heatedly across hers, capturing her soft sigh with his mouth—"from him?"
Anxiety clouded Sammy's face, another worrisome thought intruding. "Rem, you're not changing your mind? I mean, you haven't decided not to ..." She blushed.
Brushing wisps of sable silk from Sammy's nape, Rem smiled at her enchanting honesty. "I couldn't walk away from you if my very life depended on it," he replied huskily. "Not for your brother. Not for anyone. Does that satisfactorily answer your question?"
"Yes." Relief surged through her.
"However," Rem rubbed his thumb across her moist lower lip, "that doesn't mean I should flaunt my desire for you in Drake's face. I admire the man. And he and I are working together, yes. But working with me is one thing. Approving of my involvement with his little sister is quite another."
"I'm a grown woman," Sammy defended hotly.
Rem's smile made her bones melt. "Yes, imp, I know." He buried his lips in hers for another long, drugging kiss. "God, how I know."
"Very well," Sammy acquiesced, languorous and dreamy. "I'll make arrangements to visit Allonshire myself, Smitty will escort me first thing tomorrow morning... if I can restrain him that long. He'll be nearly as eager to hold the new baby as her father is."
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