Read Online A Woman Made for Sin by Michele Sinclair - Free Book Online
Authors: Michele Sinclair
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sat bound in front of him. It was as if an angel had
come down from heaven. And what had he done? He had taken her prisoner. He was surely
going to spend eternity with the devil now.
“Blimey, what’ve I done?” His question was barely a whisper, mixed with both shock
and horror.
Aimee’s emerald gaze flashed with anger as she studied the squat, unshaven man holding
on to the doorframe for support. From his voice, she knew he was not Gus, but Petey.
He had short bowlegs, straggly light brown hair, and bloodshot eyes that made him
look more pitiable than wretched. He was dressed in ankle-length pants with a pocket
on the side and a dirty, long-sleeved linen shirt that closed in the front. A well-worn
dark wool coat hung open to reveal a single-button vest that came just below his waistline.
His tarred hat was clutched in his right hand while his left was attempting to loosen
the handkerchief tied around his throat.
“You kidnapped a lady, Peter. That is what you have done,” Aimee replied crisply and
waited for him to repent and move to release her. After several seconds, she realized
the man was transfixed and unable to move. Petey was never going to stir until she
told him what to do.
“Peter, please untie my hands.” As if hypnotized into doing what he had been told,
Petey ran over and cut the bloody ropes. Spellbound, he watched her gracefully stretch
her fingers as if she had a cramp from doing embroidery.
The golden angel looked up at him—her expression unreadable as her green eyes assessed
him. “Peter, I could use some water and some food.” She saw his bushy brows fly up
and then, with a nod, he dashed out of the room.
Suddenly free and able to see, Aimee waited for the resentment and anger to rise anew
but found that every emotion, every bit of loathing, every wish for harm to fall on
those who did this to her was simply gone. Maybe she was too tired. Maybe she was
too hungry to put out the effort, but whatever it was, all of her immediate desires
were focused on getting a warm meal, fresh air, and, if possible, some clean clothes.
Aimee looked up as she heard two sets of footsteps approach. She assumed Petey was
bringing the same friend he’d had with him the night of her abduction.
“I hope, Peter, that you were able to fetch some water along with who I assume is
Gus,” she said, eyeing the much heavier man who appeared to be in his late forties.
Petey nodded in awe before handing her a small bucket with a ladle inside. Aimee took
the metal scoop and dipped into the water, bringing the contents to her lips. At first
it hurt to drink, but as the cool liquid went down it became easier. She took several
more scoopfuls before stopping to study her two captors. They were completely different.
One large, the other small. Where Petey had light brown hair, Gus’s was dark.
“Gus, is that bread you have in your hand perchance for me?” Aimee asked in a serene
voice as if she were a guest at tea.
Gus’s hazel eyes grew round with surprise. He had been staring at her bloody wrists,
frozen with fear and shock. “Uh, aye, miss, ’ere you go. Cook made it fresh dis morning.”
Aimee took a bite, closed her eyes, and smiled. Fresh bread was another thing she
would never undervalue again. She finished the whole thing, never moving from the
sack of potatoes she had been leaning on. She licked her fingers and said, “If you
would both help me to stand, I would like to leave this room and go somewhere a bit
more comfortable.”
Petey took a tentative step forward. “Miss, we didn’t know ya was a . . . a . . . female when we took you. I swears I didn’t know.”
Gus nodded vigorously in agreement. “Ye even fought like a tar, kickin’ and movin’
all wild and crazy. Never did I dream a girl could move so mean.”
Aimee lifted her hands to the men. “I believe you, especially as I was dressed to
disguise my gender and
come down from heaven. And what had he done? He had taken her prisoner. He was surely
going to spend eternity with the devil now.
“Blimey, what’ve I done?” His question was barely a whisper, mixed with both shock
and horror.
Aimee’s emerald gaze flashed with anger as she studied the squat, unshaven man holding
on to the doorframe for support. From his voice, she knew he was not Gus, but Petey.
He had short bowlegs, straggly light brown hair, and bloodshot eyes that made him
look more pitiable than wretched. He was dressed in ankle-length pants with a pocket
on the side and a dirty, long-sleeved linen shirt that closed in the front. A well-worn
dark wool coat hung open to reveal a single-button vest that came just below his waistline.
His tarred hat was clutched in his right hand while his left was attempting to loosen
the handkerchief tied around his throat.
“You kidnapped a lady, Peter. That is what you have done,” Aimee replied crisply and
waited for him to repent and move to release her. After several seconds, she realized
the man was transfixed and unable to move. Petey was never going to stir until she
told him what to do.
“Peter, please untie my hands.” As if hypnotized into doing what he had been told,
Petey ran over and cut the bloody ropes. Spellbound, he watched her gracefully stretch
her fingers as if she had a cramp from doing embroidery.
The golden angel looked up at him—her expression unreadable as her green eyes assessed
him. “Peter, I could use some water and some food.” She saw his bushy brows fly up
and then, with a nod, he dashed out of the room.
Suddenly free and able to see, Aimee waited for the resentment and anger to rise anew
but found that every emotion, every bit of loathing, every wish for harm to fall on
those who did this to her was simply gone. Maybe she was too tired. Maybe she was
too hungry to put out the effort, but whatever it was, all of her immediate desires
were focused on getting a warm meal, fresh air, and, if possible, some clean clothes.
Aimee looked up as she heard two sets of footsteps approach. She assumed Petey was
bringing the same friend he’d had with him the night of her abduction.
“I hope, Peter, that you were able to fetch some water along with who I assume is
Gus,” she said, eyeing the much heavier man who appeared to be in his late forties.
Petey nodded in awe before handing her a small bucket with a ladle inside. Aimee took
the metal scoop and dipped into the water, bringing the contents to her lips. At first
it hurt to drink, but as the cool liquid went down it became easier. She took several
more scoopfuls before stopping to study her two captors. They were completely different.
One large, the other small. Where Petey had light brown hair, Gus’s was dark.
“Gus, is that bread you have in your hand perchance for me?” Aimee asked in a serene
voice as if she were a guest at tea.
Gus’s hazel eyes grew round with surprise. He had been staring at her bloody wrists,
frozen with fear and shock. “Uh, aye, miss, ’ere you go. Cook made it fresh dis morning.”
Aimee took a bite, closed her eyes, and smiled. Fresh bread was another thing she
would never undervalue again. She finished the whole thing, never moving from the
sack of potatoes she had been leaning on. She licked her fingers and said, “If you
would both help me to stand, I would like to leave this room and go somewhere a bit
more comfortable.”
Petey took a tentative step forward. “Miss, we didn’t know ya was a . . . a . . . female when we took you. I swears I didn’t know.”
Gus nodded vigorously in agreement. “Ye even fought like a tar, kickin’ and movin’
all wild and crazy. Never did I dream a girl could move so mean.”
Aimee lifted her hands to the men. “I believe you, especially as I was dressed to
disguise my gender and
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