Chapter 1

Chapter One

1815 LANTIC BAY, CORNWALL

T he hair on the back of Ben’s neck rose as he watched partners step lively during a reel at the Lantic Bay Christmas assembly. It was the same sensation he had for the past seven years anytime she was near. He shifted to see Jemma enter the gathering with her mother, father, and two younger brothers. The young men already looked bored, and Ben suspected they would soon slip outside with others their age and braze the frigid air to imbibe. Jemma glanced in his direction, then studiously turned away. It had been the same ever since their second encounter.

They’d seen each other a month after they met along the coast, at an event like the one they now attended. Ben had taken his father’s words to heart and intended to keep his distance. Jemma attempted to make her way toward him when their gazes met, but Ben sought another dance partner when Jemma stood only a few feet from him. He’d given her the cut direct, and she hadn’t forgiven him since. It likely didn’t help that he never explained, despite having many chances. He’d embarrassed himself; then too much time went by not to look like a cad.

They encountered one another at least once every three or four months when Ben made deliveries or picked up recently arrived goods. They were polite when forced to interact, but Jemma gave him a wide berth. Her coldness had done little to dissuade his interest. He’d watched her with the Lantic Bay and Polruan village children, often telling stories about her childhood in India. He saw her offering charity to those who struggled when the villages’ smuggling slowed. He’d heard her sing during Sunday morning chapel. He’d observed her with her family, how she doted on each member.

Watching the Rowes reminded him of his own family. He was the second youngest of six. Steven was the oldest, then he had three older sisters, and one younger sister. It was that youngest sister, Charlie, who was in attendance with her husband and nieces, during one of their regular visits from Exminster. Charlotte de Redvers, now the Countess of Devon by marriage, was expecting their first child, her rounded belly slightly visible beneath her gown.

His sister had ventured to London to become a governess since she lacked a healthy dowry with three older sisters ahead of her. It had been happenstance that she should meet her husband, Rajesh, at the home of a former employer then wind up applying to be the Earl of Devon’s governess for his two nieces. The man was a second son of a second son who’d not only inherited an earldom from his deceased brother but the man’s two young daughters when both the Earl’s brother and sister-in-law passed away from suspicious circumstances.

“Your eyes shall fall out of your head one of these days for how hard you stare,” Charlie whispered as she rocked her niece through marriage, a slumbering one-year-old Anjali. “Talk to her. It’s been seven years by my count. It’s not a grudge she holds. She thinks you rejected her for a reason I’m certain you didn’t.”

Ben looked at his sister, who wore a gown that flattered her coloring. They shared the same shade of red hair and pale green eyes. The gown was an empire waist like that worn by most women, but she draped over her shoulder what he’d learned was called an odhni, the long piece of fabric that served much like a shawl. It was what he’d seen Jemma wear the day they met. It was the elaborate stitching that truly set his sister’s gown apart. It was reminiscent of India, an acknowledgment of the heritage into which she married.

Rajesh de Redvers had grown up in India, much like Jemma. He’d traveled on his Grand Tour throughout Europe, but he’d always planned to return and remain in India. However, his family was summoned home when Rajesh’s uncle passed away, and his grandfather unexpectedly inherited the earldom. He’d begrudgingly moved to England with his family, but he’d never intended to make it his home. He’d resented his grandfather denouncing Rajesh’s mother as being an unworthy bride, especially after her death during their voyage from India to England. He’d wanted no part of his English family’s life, but now that he’d married Charlie and started a family with his wife, nieces, and a baby on the way, Ben knew Rajesh felt like he was where he belonged.

“She’s thought all these years I rejected her because she’s Indian?”

“What else was she supposed to think? From what you told me, you flirted with her. Then the first chance you had to talk to her again, even dance with her, you chose a fair-haired, fair-skinned English woman. You made no attempt to talk to her after that. But you watch her like a hawk. She probably thinks your intentions are not appropriate for a maiden or a lady.”

“She would really think so poorly of me? Or is that merely what you assume?”

“Perhaps I’ve dug a little.” Charlie turned toward her husband, Rajesh, as he came to stand beside her. Ben and Rajesh greeted one another before Ben forced himself not to look for Jemma again. The crowded assembly room veritably overflowed with people celebrating the approaching end of Advent and the beginning of the Christmas season, the holiday only two weeks away. Evergreen bows and holly decorated nearly every surface that didn’t move. The scents of his favorite holiday foods would normally make his stomach rumble, but there were too many people with their overheated odors mixed with the foods’ aromas. It nearly overpowered him.

“Still pretending?” Rajesh murmured.

“I could speak to her for you, Ben,” Charlie urged. “Explain what really happened.”

Ben turned aghast to his sister. That was the very last thing he wanted. He’d rather be skewered by the entire British Navy than that. “I shouldn’t need my baby sister to woo a woman for me.”

“It’s not as though you’re doing well on your own.” Charlie waggled her eyebrows to take away some of the sting.

Ben sighed. Perhaps I should let her talk to Jemma. If she thinks the color of her skin is what’s kept me away, she couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve spent too many nights dreaming about running my fingers and tongue over it, exploring if it’s as smooth as it appears, wondering what she looks like beneath all those layers.

Jemma accepted an offer to dance from a local farmer, pulling Ben from his musings. He gritted his teeth anytime he watched her dance with someone else. Each man enjoyed an experience Ben wished was solely his. His misery compounded when he watched the handsome and eligible Captain Edward Poulson ask for a dance. The man riveted his attention on Jemma as though she were the only woman in attendance.

She wore a deep sapphire gown that flattered her trim physique. The skirts spun away from her legs with each turn the couple made. She smiled at the captain, and Ben could practically hear her laughter. It made him consider slipping out to join Jemma’s brothers and begging a tipple or three of brandy from them. His stomach churned as he feared Poulson would soon ask Jemma’s father, Sir Theodore Rowe, for the privilege of courting Jemma. Ben knew Poulson frequently danced with the woman Ben wished he’d claimed years ago.

“Pedrick.”

Ben wanted to groan as the deep voice belonging to Jemma’s father reached his ears. He wasn’t at the assembly to ogle Jemma. He was there to collect casks of brandy he would transport to Portsmouth. He was one of the most successful couriers, so Theo often used him to carry goods to his wife’s sister. Sarla had married an English baronet, much like Vinita Rowe had. Her husband, William Abbington, was a former East Indiaman like Theo, and Rajesh’s deceased father, Robert.

“The syrup is ready.” It was the code word they used for brandy. Their arrangement was no secret to anyone in Lantic Bay, but it meant anyone who overheard and was later questioned by excisemen could honestly say they didn’t know they referred to smuggled brandy.

“The pepper is ready.” Gunpowder. Steven Pedrick was a scientist by training and had mastered the formula for saltpeter. The East India Company held a monopoly on the trade from Bombay. They knew Cornish and Devonian smugglers were creating their own saltpeter and selling gunpowder, but they hadn’t captured the perpetrators. The East India Company came close days after Rajesh and Charlie married, but the smugglers evaded capture. Rajesh extinguished their most imminent threat.

His intervention allowed Ben to keep his head and his family to keep their livelihood. The fishing near Bedruthan Steps long ceased generating the income families in the area needed to survive. They’d turned to an alternative source once the fish grew scarce, but the illicit goods grew plenty.

“Excellent. Between our feud with that pint-sized frog dictator and our skirmishes with the Yanks, we have plenty of demand. When can your brother finish the next batch?”

“A fortnight. He started a new soup yesterday.” Saltpeter. It was a combination of ingredients that needed stirring around the clock while in production. Men and women in Bedruthan Steps took their turns in shifts during the weeklong process. Much like in Lantic Bay, the community in Bedruthan Steps worked together for their mutual benefit. Fortunately, the volunteers were many to keep the combustible concoction from becoming too gelatinous or exploding.

“And what are you four coozing about?” Grandma Smith joined Ben, Theo, Rajesh, and Charlie as she raised her mug of eggnog in salutation. She was an integral part of Lantic Bay’s smuggling economy. She was a fount of knowledge and the hub of most transactions. She wasn’t known to forgive those who excluded her, so she wished to know about what they supposedly gossiped.

“Names for our baby,” Charlie answered. “Miles for a lad and Georgiana for a lass.”

While it was true those were names she and Rajesh considered, they’d hardly decided. However, it turned Grandma Smith’s attention to Charlie as she struck up a conversation filled with old wives’ tales. Theo and Ben exchanged a speaking glance before Ben turned toward the door. He needed to check on his gunpowder. His cart was outside the local stables, and he’d stored the illegal explosives in a hidden cellar nearby.

Just as he moved to sweep his gaze over the crowd a final time, searching as always for Jemma, the doors burst open. A dozen men poured in with muskets held at the ready. The icy blast of December wind caught people’s attention as much as the threatening new arrivals. The weapons appeared surprisingly new and of high quality. Ben suspected the East India Company supplied them to the excisemen as an incentive and as security while tracking the gunpowder.

Lord Tobias Pencarrow, the local viscount, stepped forward. Nothing happened along his strip of coast of which he wasn’t aware since he had his hand in the smuggling ring. Beside him happened to be his longtime compatriot and former spymaster, the Duke of Harrelson, whose former nanny was Grandma Smith. Harrelson lived close to Lantic Bay, so he was a recognized presence.

While the two noblemen contended with the interruption, Ben watched Jemma slip outside, once again without a chaperone. He wondered if she headed to a secret assignation. Would she stand beneath mistletoe with some unknown suitor? Ben’s heart pounded, and he clenched his fists. It was none of his business, since he had no claim, but he couldn’t stop his feet from propelling him forward. He inched out of the door, glad to be away from the very men who could arrest him. He quickened his pace as he watched Jemma move toward the path down to the beach. She glanced back and spied him, but rather than stop, she hastened. Ben sprinted to catch her.

“Where are you going?” Ben caught her upper arm and pulled her to a stop. Her teeth already chattered in the blustery night air. She had her odhni , much like the one Charlie wore, but she hadn’t grabbed her cloak before beating a hasty retreat from the Christmas assembly.

“Home.”

“Along the beach? There are likely excisemen crawling along the shore, looking into every nook and cranny. Where were you really going?”

Jemma tugged at her arm, so Ben released it. It gave him the chance to cross his arms. He possessed an impressive physique from years of lugging and hauling heavy cargo. But when he stood as he did now, he was breathtaking. Jemma forced herself not to sweep her eyes over the length of him or to stare at his bulging arms. His expansive chest looked like the perfect place to rest her head or her lips. Both would be fine with her.

“I have nothing to say to you, Benjamin. Leave me alone.”

“To have someone snatch you? No.”

“I am not your concern. I was hoping to find a nook or cranny to hide in.”

“From the excisemen?”

“You.”

“Do you fear me, Jemma?”

“Jemima. And no. I don’t fear weak men.” It seemed like an absolute contradiction, given his size and his stance. But she’d thought him weak for years, too ensnared by public opinion to pursue the foreign-born, dark-skinned woman.

“You think me weak. What about me appears weak, Jemma?” He ignored her correction and how she used his full name.

“Pff,” she scoffed. “You might not appear weak, but you’ve proven you are.”

Ben unfolded his arms and raked his hand through his hair, tousling the red strands. “Charlie was right.”

“I’m certain she was. We’re very much alike, so I don’t doubt it.” Jemma’s lips twitched, but she suppressed her smile.

“If you’re headed home, will you let me walk with you? No matter what you think of me, I cannot countenance you walking in the dark and alone. Weak you may think me, but I’d prove you wrong in a fight.”

Jemma sighed and nodded, her good sense prevailing. She’d grown restless being so near Ben but unable to approach him. Each assembly they attended, she wished he would finally approach her. She’d attempted once, and he’d walked away. Her pride couldn’t handle another rejection, and if anyone saw him leave her behind, the gossip would tarnish her name. Both outcomes were wholly unappealing. The excisemen’s arrival gave her an opportunity to escape. They turned away from the beach and toward the path that would take them to the Rowes’ manor house.

Ben inhaled and mustered his courage. His confession was far too long overdue. Perhaps he would usher in the New Year with a clean conscience.

“Jemma, that day we met, my father warned me you were too young and far too high above my station. The next time I saw you, I didn’t talk to you because it hurt too much.”

“So you watched me while you asked another woman, one who clearly was completely English, to dance instead?” Jemma loathed recalling the hurt she’d felt, but it rushed back to her every time she saw Ben over the seven years since their unexpected introduction. She’d wasted more than one Christmas wish, hoping he’d reconsider his disinterest in her.

“She was an excuse to avoid you, yes. But it had nothing to do with where she was from—or what she looked like.” At Jemma’s disbelieving snort, Ben stepped in front of her, bringing them both to a halt. He wrapped his arm around her waist and yanked her against his chest. She landed with an oomph, followed by a gasp as his lips landed on hers. He tunneled his hand into her silky tresses and tightened his hold. She rested her hands on his chest, discovering that his muscles were harder and more chiseled than she’d imagined.

The heat he generated pushed aside the cold that was rapidly numbing her fingers and toes. Being wrapped in his arms was like sitting beside a cheery fire with a warm drink and soft blanket. However, the longer her body pressed against his, the more certain Jemma grew that there was nothing soft about Ben’s body.

She was tentative at first, unsure what to do. Ben’s hand slid from her hair and cupped her jaw, his thumb pressing against her chin, encouraging her to open. When she did, his tongue slid past her lips. He eased it in, not wanting to frighten her, unsure if she would welcome it. Instead of pulling away, she opened wider, a soft moan escaping. It was all Ben needed. He increased the pressure and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and flicked her tongue at his. His groan emboldened her to tangle her tongue with his, giving and receiving. He wanted nothing more than to thrust his aching cock against her, and he was certain she could feel his length pressed against her belly. When she shifted restlessly, her mound brushing his rod, he feared he would explode.

When they were finally breathless and pulled apart, Ben kept her in his arms, kissing her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her neck just behind her left ear, and back to a series of rapid pecks on her lips. He eased her back to her feet, feeling as though he’d just floated outside his body. Her glazed eyes stared up at him in wonder.

“It had nothing to do with how you look or where you’re from, Jemima.” It was the only time he’d ever thought of her as such, but he wanted to convey the gravity of what he said. “It has only ever been about you being the daughter of a princess, and in the beginning, far too young.”

“Too young? Plenty of women marry at six-and-ten. I’m practically on the shelf.”

“Why haven’t you married?”

“Why haven’t you, Ben?”

“Because there’s only one person I’ve ever wanted. I won’t take a woman to be my wife while I pine for another.”

“Then we are alike. I’ve refused offers and ignored my father’s suggestions.”

“Does he know why?”

“Yes.”

Ben stepped back, surprised by her answer. It made him wonder what Theo really thought of him if he believed Ben refused his daughter because of her appearance or heritage. He wondered if the man only tolerated him for the sake of business. His heart sank to his boots, thinking the man he respected didn’t respect him. Worse, the man he respected might think Ben didn’t respect his daughter.

“Ben, he understands not all men are like him.”

“You mean willing to marry a woman far above his station, marry a princess as a lowly baronet? Or worse, the second son of a baronet.” Ben knew that wasn’t what Jemma meant, but it gave him a chance to further his explanation. He’d erred for the past seven years, but he would make his meaning clear now. He would disabuse Jemma of the impression he’d made.

“I know many of the men who asked over the years only wished to marry me because they think me exotic. I suppose you not wanting me, or at least thinking you don’t want me, for that very reason keeps me drawn to you. It’s a twisted notion that shouldn’t make any sense.”

“I think I understand.” But it was a knife to the heart to hear her imply the only reason he held her interest was because of his feigned disinterest. He’d hoped she saw more in him than that.

“They also want to say they married a princess’s daughter who comes with a substantial dowry. It’s not me they wish to marry, but the notoriety they believe I will bring. You seem so disinterested in that, that it appeals. But at the same time, I was certain it was also what drove you away.” Jemma’s voice hitched with her last thought.

She’d been so sure she understood Ben and his reasons. She’d never considered anything else. She never imagined he’d perceive a difference in their social status since she no longer saw herself as a princess’s daughter. She’d left that behind years ago when they left India. She saw herself as a baronet’s daughter, which made her socially equal to Ben.

“I wonder if you’ve been as heartsore as I have.” Ben brushed his thumb over her cheek.

“I think I have. Why are you telling me this tonight?”

“Because Charlie told me what you’ve believed. When I saw you alone, I couldn’t bear the thought of you being unprotected or that you would go another night not knowing the truth. This is a festive time of year, yet I no longer enjoy the holiday since the only gift I give myself is a broken heart year after year. I’ve been so oblivious to your belief because I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you. It pains me that you’ve spent all these years believing I didn’t pursue you for something so superficial as your skin. You are kindhearted, generous, funny, intelligent, possess a wickedly sharp sense of humor, and your smile makes my belly quiver.” Ben snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to admit that last observation.

Jemma ran her hands over his pectorals before linking her arms around his neck again. “There is much about you that makes my belly quiver. You’re brave, daring, funny, determined, loyal, and I enjoy seeing you with your father and brother. You and Steven appear so much alike and yet are so different. But I get the sense you are also very close.”

“We are. I never knew you thought those things about me. I was certain you disliked me.” Jemma’s revelation overwhelmed Ben. Relief coursed through him, and perhaps Father Christmas was granting his holiday wish after all.

“But why would I?” Jemma wondered. “What did I do to make you think that?”

“Never forgave me for giving you the cut direct.”

“That hurts still whenever I think about it. I stayed away because I feared that rejection again. I couldn’t face it.”

“What a mess I’ve made.” Ben spoke more to himself than aloud. His sea-foam orbs locked with her onyx ones. “Can you forgive me?”

“I did before you kissed me.”

“Can I make up for all our lost time? Will you let me court you?”

Jemma nodded. “I hope you are as decisive about me as you are when you negotiate with my father.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, practically disappearing beneath his curls. “Does that mean you’ve already decided about me and what you want?” Jemma nodded. “What do you want, sweetling?”

“You,” Jemma mouthed. Ben’s lips captured hers once more. The kiss combusted, making their first one pale in comparison. The arm still around her waist slid lower, his hand resting just above her backside. She drew her hands down over his ribs and up around his back, hooking them beneath his arms. Held so tightly against him, there was no way she didn’t feel his arousal. She tilted her hips forward, wanting more contact. Dew moistened the inside of her thighs as she shifted, rubbing them together hoping she could ease the ache taking root in her core.

“How long will your father make me court you before I can ask?”

“Ask tomorrow if you wish. He knows what I want.”

“Are you certain we suit?”

“I think so. Do you have doubts?”

“No.” How could he hold doubts about the one thing he’d prayed over for years? “Jemma, your father may know what you want, but would he accept me?”

“Yes. Ben, he respects you and appreciates your dedication and bravery. He knows your honorable, even if he thought you didn’t want a woman like me as your wife.”

Ben loathed hearing those words: a woman like me. He realized his sister was not only right, but the damage he’d done as an immature lad could have jeopardized his family’s entire enterprise if Theo had taken offense.

“How could any man not want someone so charming, intelligent, and often-times saucy? That’s the woman you are, and the only way I’ve ever seen you.”

The wind whipped through the trees, whistling and making them both shiver. Jemma huddled against Ben, once more soaking up the heat he exuded. He was glad to hold her, even if he feared she grew too chilled.

“It’s freezing, Ben, but I don’t want to move. Why couldn’t we have made amends over the summer?” Jemma tucked her nose into a fold on his double-breasted tailcoat. His responding chuckle made his chest rumble.

“We need to get you out of the wind. You don’t have nearly enough layers on.”

“I should have retrieved my cloak, but I didn’t think there was time. I knew the excisemen would detain my father, and he’d worry about me if I was trapped among the crowd. My brothers and I know to go home, so Father can remain undistracted when they question him.” Jemma looked around, wondering why her brothers hadn’t crossed their path yet.

Ben stepped back, and Jemma immediately wrapped her arms around her waist, twisting to put her back to the cutting wind off the sea. He hurried to unbutton his coat and shrug out of it. He wrapped it around Jemma, holding it in place as she slid her arms into the sleeves.

“Let’s circle around the hall and see if it’s safe to return. We can fetch your cloak, then I’ll escort you home. If it’s not, you can wear my coat until we arrive at your manor.”

“You’ll perish in this temperature.” Jemma didn’t approve of Ben’s chivalry if it risked his life. Her impetuous flight now endangered Ben’s health and hers.

“Come. We’ll see what’s afoot. We’ll decide once we know.”

“Don’t you need to check your cart? What if they’ve discovered what you hid?”

“I’m not going near the stables until I’m certain you’re safe. I won’t lead you to those men.” Ben knew his strength and his skill with a sword. But he’d seen a dozen men flood the gathering. He’d struggle to protect them both on his own. Avoiding anywhere the government representatives could corner them was crucial if he wished to see Jemma home unscathed. He wrapped his arm around her back and drew her against his side as they walked back the way they came. The sight that greeted them was anything but merry.