Samantha

by Andrea Kane

  "Despite Drake's incessant worrying, I feel wonderful and have been up and about for days. As for your twinges of guilt"—Alex took Sammy's hand in hers—"anything that troubles you, troubles me as well. In all ways but blood, we're sisters."

  "I know. I..." Sammy's eyes filled with tears and she launched herself into Alex's arms. "I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "I'm home ... and yet I'm not. I've only been away a fortnight, and yet it was a lifetime. I'm the same, and yet I've changed." She drew back, wiping her cheeks self-consciously. "I never used to cry, and lately it seems that's all I do. You must think I'm quite mad."

  "No, Sammy." Alex stroked Samantha's hair tenderly. "I don't think you're mad. In fact, I've felt very much the way you're feeling right now."

  Sammy stared at her beautiful, self-assured sister-in-law. "When?"

  "When I fell in love with your brother."

  Silence.

  "You're in love with Remington Worth, aren't you?" Alex pressed gently.

  "So much that it hurts. But every time I try to say it, Drake flies into a rage. I don't want to anger him, but I can't stop loving Rem."

  "Drake worries about you, Sammy. And so do I. But it's different for me; I'm a woman, and I remember what it feels like to fall in love with an overpowering, disreputable man. Unfortunately," Alex grinned, "Drake remembers what it's like to be that overpowering, disreputable man. And he's terrified that Lord Gresham will hurt you."

  "I understand. Drake wants to protect me. But why won't he give Rem a chance? Why does he refuse to even see him? I'm not so naive that I don't know what Rem's life was like before we met; how many women there were. But all that's changed now, Alex. He loves me; I know he does. His intentions are entirely honorable. Why won't Drake believe that?"

  "He will... in time. But Drake still thinks of you as a child. You recall how vehemently he opposed the idea of your being brought out even one day before your eighteenth birthday."

  "Well, I'm eighteen and two months now. And he hasn't improved."

  "My point exactly. He's brooded since you left for London; over Smitty's competence as a guardian, over your inexperience at rebuffing the immoral blackguards of the ton. And now, in Drake's mind, his worst nightmare has been realized. One of those immoral blackguards has won your heart."

  "So what do I do?"

  "Try to call on just a small amount of the patience that you and I are so severely lacking. Drake will soften; I promise."

  "If you say so."

  "Tell me about him."

  Sammy's head came up. "Rem?" Her eyes glowed. "Oh, Alex, he's so wonderful."

  "I've met him several times. He's very handsome."

  "Yes ... he is." Sammy grinned impishly. "I fell in love with him the moment I saw him, even before we spoke. Was it that way for you and Drake, too?"

  Alex's lips twitched. "Actually, I think Drake and I would have killed each other if we could."

  "Yes, I know, but underneath it all, you were drawn to each other from that first instant. You probably fell in love right then and there but never realized it."

  "I won't argue with you—our feelings for each other were certainly intense. But then, Drake is a very volatile man. Is Remington?"

  "Yes ... and no. Like Drake, Rem is a force to be reckoned with. But unlike Drake, Rem keeps his power carefully restrained. Outwardly, he's so charismatic he makes women melt. Yet there's something almost dangerously controlled about him, as if there's a volcano inside threatening to erupt. At the same time, I know he'd never hurt me. Does that make sense?"

  "He sounds much like your long-awaited hero."

  "He is."

  Silently, Alex contemplated Sammy's radiant face, her own worry unappeased. After three inseparable years, she, better than anybody, understood Sammy's innocent, fanciful mind. She also knew that if Sammy's loving heart went astray, the results could be disastrous.

  Taking a deep breath, Alex plunged right in. "Sammy, you say Remington is in love with you. How do you know?"

  "He's told me so ... in words and in actions."

  "Then why didn't he declare his intentions to Drake the day he was at Allonshire?"

  "He was shielding me; he wanted to wait for the right time."

  "He told you this?"

  "Yes."

  "But if he loves you, why has he made no attempt to reclaim you?" Alex raised her hand to stave off Sammy's protest. "I know Drake ordered you back to Allonshire. But the way you described the earl, he doesn't sound like the kind of man who could be deterred, even by Drake, if he wanted you—loved you—enough."

  Sammy had opened her mouth to reply, when Rem's words resounded clearly in her head. Imp ... you're going to have to forget everything you overheard here tonight. ... Tell them anything you want. Just stay at Allonshire until I come for you. And Samantha ... I will come for you.

  Slowly, Sammy exhaled. "Rem hasn't come for me because I asked him not to ... at least not right away."

  Alex looked puzzled. "When did you speak with him?"

  "I ran straight to his Town house after my argument with Drake."

  "Samantha, it was the middle of the night!"

  "I barely noticed. Not that it would have made any difference. I could never have left London without seeing Rem." She raised her chin. "Were you in my position, you would have done exactly the same thing."

  "You're right. I would have." Alex gave her a wry smile. "Or perhaps worse."

  "The decision to comply with Drake's command was mine. Rem agreed to give me some time to talk to Drake and, hopefully, to change his mind. But he won't wait forever. Any day I expect him to explode into Allonshire and come to blows with my brother."

  "Not a pleasant thought," Alex commented dryly. "Speaking of waiting forever—" She broke off, unsure of how far she dared trespass.

  "Rem has had scores of women," Sammy responded to the unasked question. "But all that ended the day we met. He's told me so himself... and I know it's true every time I'm in his arms. Oh, Alex, I see the wonder of discovery in his eyes; as if he never knew he could feel these things, as if we're both experiencing them for the first time—together."

  Alex cleared her throat. "Sammy, no matter how I phrase this next question, there's no way to alter the fact that I'm prying. My only excuse is that I love you. So forgive my boldness. And if you choose not to answer, I'll understand."

  "All right."

  "How far has this relationship progressed ... physically?"

  Sammy rubbed her skirt between her fingers.

  "Pretend I never asked."

  "No, Alex, I want to answer you." Sammy looked up, her expression tender, open. "You're the one who explained to me what happens between a man and a woman, and how beautiful it can be when love is involved. Watching you and Drake—the way you look at each other—I could only imagine what you meant. Well, now I know."

  "I see." Alex chewed her lip. "Did he seduce you?" she blurted out.

  A grin. "Actually, I'm afraid I seduced him." Seeing Alex's stunned expression, Sammy explained, "Rem was being entirely too noble, worrying about my reputation and my inexperience. He did everything he could to discourage me. But to no avail. Finally, he just surrendered to the inevitable." She leaned forward. "Alex, he arranged things so no one would suspect we were together, including the servants. He filled the room with flowers and wine. He was so incredibly tender, so loving ... as if we were the only two people on earth. Seduction is born in the mind; making love in the heart. This was making love in its truest form."

  Alex's eyes were damp. "You really have grown up, haven't you?"

  "I want to be Rem's wife more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. Please, Alex, help me."

  Rising, Alex squared her shoulders and squeezed Sammy's hand. "I'll talk to Drake again. Between us, you and I will make him see reason. And then, Lord help us, we'll both have our heroes."

  * * *

  "No. Definitively, unequivocally no. Samantha will not marry the Earl of Gresham."


  Drake tossed one Hessian boot to the floor, sending the other crashing after it.

  "You're being completely irrational." Alex propped her chin on her knees, regarding her husband calmly from the center of her bed.

  "I don't give a damn. Sammy is a child. She knows nothing about falling in love and less about unprincipled rakes."

  "That description sounds remarkably familiar." Alex frowned as she allegedly pondered that thought. "I know! Three years ago. You remember—the innocent girl who collided with the impenetrable rogue? The rogue who tried to seduce her the first night on his ship?"

  "All right, princess. You made your point." Drake shot Alex a dark look.

  "You can't change Samantha's feelings. Nor can you undo what's been done."

  Drake's fingers paused on the buttons of his shirt. "What's been done? What the hell does that mean?"

  "It means she loves him, Drake."

  Swearing softly, Drake sent his shirt sailing to the floor beside his boots and sank down wearily on the edge of the bed. "I don't want to hear any more." He dropped his head into his hands, vulnerable in a way only Alex was permitted to see. "I'm at a loss, princess."

  Alex lay her cheek against his bare back. "Do we have the right to deny Sammy the same joy we share? She told me today that everything she's learned about love, she's learned from us."

  With a groan, Drake turned, tugging Alex against him. "You really believe this is right, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  A prolonged silence hovered as Drake grappled with his doubts. "What do you want me to do?"

  Smiling softly, Alex kissed the taut muscles of her husband's chest. She knew how much this concession cost him, and she loved him all the more for it. "For now, nothing. Except perhaps to cease stomping around like a wounded bear. But whenever the earl does descend on Allonshire, I want you to listen to what he has to say. It's going to be difficult... for both you and Lord Gresham. But you owe it to Sammy to listen with your heart as well as your mind. Do it for her"—Alex raised her face to gaze up at him—"and for me."

  Conflicting emotions warred on Drake's face before he relented, tangling his hands in his wife's tawny hair. "You know I'd take on the devil himself for you, princess."

  Alex caressed his nape, drawing his mouth down to hers. "It's too late, Your Grace. I've already tamed him."

  "Templar turned up nothing." Rem crumpled the note Boyd had handed him and flung it across his sitting room. "Anders's house is as void of clues as his office, dammit."

  Boyd rubbed his unshaven chin. "So we're right back where we started two days ago."

  "You look like hell. You and Harris have spent forty-eight bloody hours at the docks. Neither of you has spotted that privateer yet?"

  "No. But we knew this tactic was a gamble, Rem. For all we know, he could have taken to sea by now. He could also have disguised himself in any number of ways. It wouldn't take much to become unrecognizable to us; I've never laid eyes on the bastard, and Harris only caught one fleeting glimpse of him that night he met Towers."

  "What about Towers's description?"

  "Despite the captain's belief that he'd committed the culprit's face to memory, his actual description was weak. Average height, heavyset, black hair, beard."

  "That sounds like every bloody sailor in London."

  "Exactly."

  "Perhaps I should talk to Towers myself."

  "I think that's wise," Boyd agreed. "You have a way of helping people remember information they never knew they possessed."

  "Fine. I'll visit Towers tonight." Crossing the room, Rem retrieved the discarded note only long enough to tear it to shreds and toss the remains into the fire.

  Boyd's glass paused halfway to his lips. "You're going to Harris's place? Wouldn't it be safer to follow our usual procedure and meet at Annie's? Harris could bring Towers with him."

  "No. I can't risk Captain Towers showing himself in public. If Summerson or his privateer were to spot him, his life wouldn't be worth a damn."

  "Neither will your position with the Admiralty if you start visiting the Bow Street men at their homes. Meeting them for a drink is one thing, calling on them socially is another. If anyone sees you—"

  "Maybe it doesn't matter anymore," Rem replied softly. His vital proclamation hung in the air like the charged aftermath of gunfire.

  Boyd's sober gaze met Rem's, astute but unsurprised. "No, maybe it doesn't," he agreed.

  Silence permeated the room as the significance of what was occurring sank in.

  At last Rem gave an ironic laugh. "I never would have believed this if it weren't happening. An eighteen-year-old romantic innocent... and I can barely get through each day without her. Me; the skeptic, the impervious rake. Inconceivable, wouldn't you say?"

  "No. Miraculous, I would say. You're a lucky man, Rem."

  "I won't dispute that fact." Rem didn't smile. "It's as if Samantha is pouring all the good back inside me."

  Boyd nodded his understanding. "Based upon your inference that protecting your identity is no longer important, I presume you've been giving thought to the future ... to what you intend once you and Samantha are wed."

  "I think of little else. I can't put her at risk, Boyd, and you know she would be if she were privy to my full involvement with the Admiralty. Nor can I stash her away at Gresham, keep her separate from what I do, as I once thought I would."

  "Because she's suspicious of your activities?"

  "Because she's Samantha." Rem savored each word as he uttered it; a decision he'd come to days ago but was only first giving voice to. "Because I love her too much to place her second in my life. Hell, because I want her with me all the time, every day, everywhere. Because I want to give her everything she needs, everything I need: my heart, my future, my children." Rem broke off, wonder in his eyes.

  "It's time, isn't it?" Boyd pronounced gently. "Finally, my friend, it's time. For both of us," he added.

  The implication of Boyd's final phrase struck home.

  "Cynthia?" Rem questioned.

  "Cynthia." Boyd grinned. "Of course, she doesn't know it yet, although I'm arrogant enough to believe she cares. And as I've said, I'm a patient man. A few months is a small price to pay for a lifetime."

  Peace, unimaginable but absolute, pervaded Rein's soul. "Fate works in strange ways, doesn't it?"

  Boyd nodded. "It's time to rebuild our lives."

  "I agree. And not only because of Samantha and Cynthia, although, Lord knows, they're the finest of incentives." Seeing Boyd's quizzical look, Rem clarified, "Instinct tells me we've beaten the odds too many times, my friend, and that discovery is no longer eventual but imminent. Ten years is a long time to flirt with danger in our own backyard."

  "You're saying we should quit while we're ahead ... or, in this case, alive?"

  "That's exactly what I'm saying. We've trained Harris and Templar well. With occasional guidance from us, Briggs will scarcely notice we're gone." Rem's lips set in a grim line. "But first we're going to uncover the plot behind those missing ships and put Anders and Summerson in Newgate where they belong. Them, their privateer friend, and whoever else they're working with. I'm half tempted to seize Anders and beat the truth out of him. But enticing as that prospect might be, it's too risky. If assaulting Anders doesn't scare him into giving us the names we need, we'll have alerted his anonymous partner, who will then escape unpunished. If only we could find a way to make them surface on their own—" Abruptly, Rem stopped, a steely light dawning in his eyes.

  "I know that look. You've thought of something."

  "As a matter of fact, I have. Of course, my plan hinges on what I learn from Captain Towers. If I can get what I need from him tonight, I'll be riding directly to Allonshire. There, I'll elicit Drake Barrett's cooperation."

  "Does that mean you intend to tell Drake Barrett of your work for the Crown? Prior to our fulfilling our mission?"

  "Yes. I trust the man. His actions both at sea and at home have shown him to be
irrefutably loyal to England. Moreover, for what I have in mind, his assistance will be not only invaluable, but necessary."

  "I see." Boyd coughed tactfully. "May I ask, is your newly conceived plan the only reason you're riding to Allonshire to speak with the duke?"

  "I think you already know the answer to that question. No. I have another, all-important purpose for my trip. I intend to leave Allonshire with Drake Barrett's blessing to marry Samantha." A muscle flexed in Rem's jaw. "Not that His Grace—or anyone—could prevent me from making Samantha my wife. But Drake means the world to Samantha, and without his approval, our wedding cannot be the magical fantasy I intend for my starry-eyed bride. So, for Samantha's sake, I'll swallow my pride and make a proper request. But if he fights me ..." A poignant pause. "Who am I kidding?" Rem amended softly. "I'll grovel if that's what it takes to ensure Samantha's happiness." Roughly, he cleared his throat. "In any case, with Drake's assistance and a modicum of luck, my plan should work nicely. Then, you and I will have our culprits and Briggs will have our resignations." The shutters of the past lifted as Rem spoke. "At which point, Boyd, the war will finally be over."

  Two hours later the final battle plan commenced.

  "Gresham ... come in." Harris looked totally stunned to see Rem standing in his doorway ... and thoroughly exhausted from his forty-eight-hour vigil with Boyd.

  "Sorry to barge in like this," Rem apologized, shrugging out of his coat. "But I'd like to try speaking with Towers."

  "I don't know how much good it'll do. Between all my questions and his unfounded dread that the privateer who captured the Bountiful will somehow discover his whereabouts, I'd say Towers is at the end of his rope."

  "Evidently." Glancing past Harris, Rem watched Towers pace anxiously about the sitting room. "It's a damp night, Harris. Coffee would be just the thing to warm the chill from my bones. Would you mind making some?"

  Rem's offhand request needed no further explanation.

  "Right away." Harris disappeared into the kitchen.

  Draping his coat over his arm, Rem strolled into the sitting room and lowered himself into an armchair. "Good evening, Captain."

  "If you've come to ask me about the privateer, I've already described him to Harris," Towers replied abruptly. "I can't remember anything more specific." Haggard and drawn, Towers continued pacing, running a shaking hand through his hair. "I wish to God I could—the bastard took my ship, my crew—but I can't even give you a decent enough description to ferret him out." With a guilty look, Towers paused. "In truth, I'm sure I'd recognize him if I saw him again. But, Lord forgive me, I'm too terrified to find out."