by Vella, Wendy
He wondered if one day he’d forget what she smelled like. Forget the smile she gave him when she thought she’d got the better of him.
She’d turned down his offer of marriage, but he’d had to make it. Would need to make it again when they returned to Rossetter . She was right, honor told him he must do this, no matter how much he wanted the opposite.
“I liked them.”
“I want you to stay here, Primrose.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. “Will you let me do this? I will be back in no time to collect you.”
“No. I am part of this now,” she said quietly.
He knew her intimately now. Knew the body that walked at his side, and the noises she made when he made love to her. Surely he could marry her and not love her? Surely they could live a good life together?
I’m unlovable.
She deserved to be loved, Benjamin realized. Guilt sliced through him that he’d taken her innocence when he’d had no intention of giving her his heart. He needed her to understand that would never happen.
“Primrose—”
“I’m coming with you, Benjamin.”
“Very well, but you must stay out of sight,” Ben said, relieved he did not have to say what he’d been about to. “Come, we must get moving. The others will be in position.”
Primrose followed him once more.
“Wait. It is Sanders.”
“He is going to board,” Primrose said, looking over Benjamin’s shoulder at the man striding down the incline.
“I believe so.”
They waited until he was out of sight, then hurried to follow, watching him take the gangway up and disappear aboard the ship.
“It is to leave shortly,” the Duchess of Raven said as they reached the place Primrose was to wait with her. “As Sanders is now on board and has the book, I fear it may be hard to retrieve it.”
“How do you know that he has the book?” Primrose asked the woman.
“I overheard two men talking.”
She and Ben exchanged looks, both remembering the conversation they’d just had about the Sinclair siblings.
“Primrose, stay with the duchess.”
“Where are you going?” She grabbed his hand.
“To retrieve the book.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you are not. Stay with the duchess, and I will return soon.”
“You are going aboard, aren’t you?”
Her pallor increased, but Ben had no time to comfort her; he needed to get on that ship, and fast, so he could retrieve the book and get off before it left.
“You can’t, the ship is sailing. Look, they are removing ropes as we speak!” She grabbed his arm.
“Change of plans,” Ben said, forcing her back a few paces. “Stay,” he added.
Ben ran and hoped she wouldn’t follow. Ducking behind several crates, he watched the men going through the preparations for departure.
You can do this, Ben.
A whistle had him looking left; he saw Lord Sinclair with his hand raised. His eyes were a vivid and almost unreal green as he focused on the deck of the boat. Ben waited, unable to see anything. Lord Sinclair lowered his hand and ran to where Ben crouched.
“Sanders is in a cabin to the left. The book, I suspect, is with him. He is alone.”
“I’m not asking how you know that.”
Lord Sinclair smiled. “It’s best that you don’t. There are plenty of sailors up there, and possibly men who will recognize you, so have a care, and at the first sign of trouble, call or run. Go now, and I will be watching. Cam is there.” He pointed to several barrels. “Here.” He handed Ben a pistol.
Taking it, he thrust it into his waistband.
“The ship is preparing to leave, Ben. There is no time to wait. You must grab the book and return.”
Ben hurried to the gangway.
“Can’t board, sir, the ship is leaving.”
“And I’m supposed to be on it.” Ben motioned the man to one side. He hesitated, but eventually moved, and Ben took the gangway in a hurry. Once on board, he walked slowly, appearing as if he was meant to be there. Around him was a hive of activity.
“Can I help you, sir?” One of the deck hands approached him.
“Where is Sanders?” Ben said, raising a brow.
“Are you to sail with us?”
Ben nodded.
“I was not aware of that. I will need to speak with the captain.”
“Of course, but in the meantime, I wish to speak with Mr. Sanders. He is a friend.”
The man studied his face but said nothing further. He pointed to a cabin below a set of stairs. Ben nodded and headed that way. Once there, he knocked on the door, took out the pistol, and entered.
“I believe you have something that belongs to a friend of mine,” he said to Sanders. “I want it back… now.”
“I should have shot you!” Sanders snarled from his position behind a desk. “You won’t get off this ship alive.”
“Give me the book now.” Ben held out his other hand.
Sanders picked a wrapped parcel up off the small desk and thrust it at him. Ben tucked it under his arm.
“I should have just shot her. That idiot woman brought you here and caused all this trouble.”
“Miss Ainsley is no idiot, and say another word about her and it will be to your detriment. My anger has not cooled over the mark you left on her face. Were it not important for me to leave, I would set about teaching you some manners.”
“She deserved it, meddling bitch,” Sanders snarled. “You have the book, now go!”
A jolt had both men stumbling. Ben managed to retain his grip on the pistol and the book, but fell to his knees.
“We are moving,” Sanders said, laughing. “What now, Hetherington? Will you hold me captive all the way to France?”
Ben ran to the window. They were moving, although slowly.
“Open the door.” He waved Sanders toward it. “Walk out and hold your hands high. I will follow.”
The book was wrapped in a thick skin, which relieved him slightly. If Ben had to throw it, surely this would protect it from too much damage. It was strange how much it had come to mean to him suddenly.
“Stay back!” he ordered the men on deck. “Move to the railing, Sanders.”
They walked slowly. Holding his pistol in Sanders back, he looked over the rail. He found Primrose running along the dock with the Sinclairs.
“Ben!” Her cry of desperation carried to him on the wind.
He couldn’t jump yet; he would end up crushed between the dock and the ship’s side.
“Catch!” He threw the book as hard as he could. Cambridge Sinclair ran backward several feet and caught it.
“No!” Sanders roared. But he could do nothing to stop the book staying in England.
“Ben!” Primrose screamed his name again. He could see the desperation on her face. Thank God she couldn’t reach him. He knew she’d try if she could.
Foolish and brave, he thought.
“What now, Hetherington? You cannot travel the entire distance like this, and I will have you gutted and thrown overboard should you remain,” Sanders snarled.
Ben nudged Sanders away from the rail. He had no wish for Primrose to see anything that happened on board the ship, especially if he took a bullet. He had one chance at this, and it was not something he could hesitate over.
Sanders moved to stand a few feet before Ben, facing him, the crew at his back.
“You’re trapped. Say goodbye to your friends now, Hetherington. In fact, say goodbye to England and your life,” the man said, looking far too happy with himself.
He could shoot one of the men, but it may not be fatal and would not stop all of them from grabbing him.
Lowering his pistol, Ben slumped his shoulders in apparent defeat and took several slow steps to where Sanders stood. Dropping the weapon, he drew back his fist and slammed it into the man’s jaw.
“That was
for Primrose!”
Running along the deck, he evaded the hands that reached for him, then leaped over the side.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Primrose couldn’t stop sobbing. She’d never felt such despair before. Seeing the ship leave with Ben on board, her heart had nearly stopped beating. If he left on there, he would not return, she was sure of it. Those men were Sanders accomplices and they would kill him.
And this is all my fault.
Dear Lord, the pain nearly doubled her over, but she kept her eyes on the ship. She’d seen Ben at the railing, looking down at her.
He had not answered her desperate cries, but he had seen her, she was sure of it.
“I have never felt so helpless,” Mr. Sinclair said, wrapping an arm around Primrose’s shoulders and holding her close. “We should not have let him board, but I thought there was time.”
“Y-you could not h-have stopped him,” Primrose whispered.
“What is being said?” Cambridge asked his sister.
“Just threats from Sanders— Wait!” the duchess held up a hand. “I just heard what sounded like a bone breaking.”
“Benjamin, dear lord, don’t let them hurt him!” Primrose cried.
“No, it is not Ben, I believe—”
“He’s running,” Lord Sinclair said, moving along the dock to the end. “I can see him running.”
“Christ!” Cambridge Sinclair started tearing off his jacket. “He’s diving overboard.”
She watched, horrified, as Ben appeared. He leaped over the railing and was soon plummeting toward the water. He hit close to the stern of the ship.
“Can you see him?” Primrose ran to the edge. “Benjamin, dear God, tell me he is all right!”
“I’m going in.” Cambridge Sinclair pulled off his boots.
“I can see him below the surface!” Lord Sinclair roared.
Primrose tore off her bonnet and shoes, then her shawl. Taking a huge breath, she then dived into the water. Using her arms to propel her deeper, she opened her eyes and tried to find Benjamin. It was an impossible task; there was only darkness wherever she looked, but she had to try. When her lungs threatened to explode, she felt hands pulling her up to the surface.
“What the hell are you doing, you idiot woman!”
“Benjamin!” Primrose lunged at him, sinking them both. They came up spluttering.
“Desist!” he roared, grabbing her around the waist. “God’s blood, you couldn’t have waited for me to surface?”
“I could not be sure you would.”
His hair was flattened to his head, and he’d never looked more wonderful to Primrose.
“Primrose”—he pulled her close, almost cracking her ribs as they sank again—“I-I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
She kissed him. Right there in the water, in front of the Sinclair siblings and anyone else who cared to watch.
“Bloody hell, Hetherington, that was a spectacular dive.” Mr. Sinclair appeared beside them.
“Come to the edge!” Lord Sinclair yelled from the dock.
Ben pushed Primrose upward so Lord Sinclair could pull her out, then he and Mr. Sinclair followed.
“Dear lord, how wonderful you were, Miss Ainsley,” the duchess cried.
“Wonderful?” the three men roared.
Primrose did not say anything further. Ben was safe and on English soil, as was the book, and the boat carrying the perfidious Sanders was drawing further away. She was happy…, well, as happy as a person could be with three angry men glaring at her.
Things happened quickly after they were all dry and clothed. They hired a carriage for Ben and Primrose. It was also arranged that the maid accompanying the duchess would travel with them.
“Mary will come back to London after you are safely back at Rossetter , Miss Ainsley,” the duchess said. “It is best you arrive with another woman in the carriage,” she whispered.
“Of course, thank you.”
The duchess gave her a firm hug.
“We shall catch up again in London. I will introduce you to my family; they will love you.”
Primrose nodded, then yawned. Everything had caught up with her, and all she could think about now was sleep. Hugging the book close, she waited for Ben. He may let her sleep using him as a pillow. She had to say the idea made her smile.
He ran out of the lodgings they had stayed in last night, worry etched in every line of his face. “Something is wrong.”
“What?” Primrose tensed, looking around her.
“Not here. Something has happened to Alex. Come, we must leave at once!”
“Twins,” Lord Sinclair said, hurrying them to the carriage. “They know things about each other. My sisters are the same. God speed, my friends, and we hope whatever awaits you at Rossetter House is something minor.”
Ben clasped his hand and nodded to the others, and then they were inside.
“I’m sorry, Ben.”
He didn’t reply. Face grim, he looked out the window.
The journey was fast. They stopped regularly to change horses, but said very little. They ate, stretched their legs, and then they were on the road once more.
He was solicitous to her needs, but his touch impersonal. Primrose reasoned this was because he was worried for his brother. But she wanted him to talk to her, wanted him to confide his fears so she could soothe them.
She slept off and on, and Ben sat silently, fists clenched on his thighs.
She tried to talk to him several more times, but he’d respond in curt one-syllable replies, so she gave up. Primrose knew he feared for his brother, but it felt like he was shutting her out.
“Ben, he will be all right,” she said when Mary, the maid, slept. Not wishing her to overhear the conversation.
“You can’t know that.” The look he turned on her had Primrose pulling back. “I left him.”
“You can’t have known—”
“I left him to chase after you and that bloody book!”
“You’re not being rational. You have no way of knowing—”
“My brothers have always been there for me. I should have been there for Alex. He is in pain, I can feel it.”
“I-I’m sorry.” Something cold and dark lodged inside her. She knew it was fear and worry making him speak this way, but it hurt.
“Thank God!”
Primrose woke to Ben’s words. Looking out into the early evening sky, she saw the silhouette of Rossetter .
“Please, dear God, let my brother be alive.”
“He will be all right. We will watch over him and help him to heal.”
His eyes passed over her briefly, and the look in them was cold and unemotional. Gone was the man who had shown her such infinite tenderness and care.
“I will care for my brother.”
“Oh, of course. I just meant that I will be here—”
“I will need nothing from you. Return to London, and I will come when I can.”
“Benjamin, please….” Her words fell away as he looked right through her.
“I told you I will never let a woman into my heart. Told you no woman will ever mean more to me than my brothers. Return to London and await me there.”
“You have never spoken those words to me, nor I have not asked anything of you,” Primrose felt she needed to say. In fact, he had told her nothing of a personal nature about himself, but she had guessed how he felt. “I have no wish for your love,” pride had her adding.
“Good, then you will have no foolish notion that love will grow between us either, because it never will.”
“I understand you are scared for your brother, but there is no need to be mean,” Primrose said with what dignity she could muster. She would not let him see how much his words hurt her. “I had hoped we could at least be friends,” she said as he reached for the door.
He didn’t reply, instead throwing open the door as the carriage stopped and leaping from it, leaving her to follow more slowly.
“M
iss Ainsley, how pleased we are to have you back safely with us.”
“Thank you, Alders.” Primrose kept her chin up as she walked up the steps toward the Rossetter House front door. She would not show that inside, her heart was breaking.
Mother of God, she’d fallen in love with Benjamin Hetherington. Only that could explain the pain she was feeling.
“Primrose!”
“Heather.” Primrose ran into the arms of her friend as she appeared on the top step.
“Are you all right? We have all been so worried for you.”
“Tell me first how Mr. Alexander Hetherington is?”
Heather’s face seemed to crumple in her distress.
“He fell from his horse—a deer startled it—as he galloped to help you and his brother. Viscount Levermarch brought him home. He has yet to regain consciousness. His wife is of course devastated.”
Taking her hand, Heather led Primrose inside.
“What are the doctors saying?”
“They are doing what they can, but are saying it is possible he will not regain consciousness.”
Dear Lord, Benjamin will be devastated.
The Duke and Duchess of Rossetter were in the entrance way waiting for Primrose.
“Miss Ainsley, we have been worried for you.” The duchess hurried to greet her.
“I am well. Please, Duchess, could Mary, the maid who has accompanied me home, be cared for? She is then to return to London to the Sinclair family.”
“Of course, she will be taken care of at once. Alders.”
“I shall see to it immediately, your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mary.” Primrose squeezed the maid’s hand. “I have your book, Duke.” She held it out to him.
“You and Benjamin were more important, Miss Ainsley, but I am grateful to have it returned. I will ensure that this time it stays here. We are indebted to you for what you have done and endured on our behalf.” His smile was genuine and made Primrose want to weep, which told her how exhausted she was.
“Come, you must be tired.” Heather took her arm.
“I shall have a bath drawn and a tray sent to your room,” the duchess added.
“Lady Jane?”
“Will be relieved, as she has been very worried for your welfare,” Heather added.
