Jemma glared at him. She could build her own fire, but she believed setting one for her was the least he could have done. But then she reminded herself she dealt with a glorified pirate. The Crown might condone his right to plunder, but he was the marauder he was named. They reached a chamber, and Keith pushed the door open. It surprised Jemma to find it well-appointed and clean. It was a little musty, so she assumed no one regularly occupied it, but it was as though it awaited someone. She wondered if perhaps Keith kept a mistress from time to time. As she gazed at the bed, a wave of exhaustion crashed intoher. She cared not whose room it was, as long as she could sleep in the plush bed before her.
“Sleep, Lady Jemma. I don’t doubt your husband shall arrive soon.”
“Ben?” Jemma spun toward Keith, the cloak she still wore twirling around her.
“He recognized me. If he didn’t already know this was my home, a few questions to your father or cousin would quickly inform him.”
“You hide in plain sight.”
“I have no reason to hide. I have letters of marque from Prinny himself.” Keith shrugged his right shoulder. “There’s wood beside the hearth, a chamber pot behind the screen, and food belowstairs in the kitchen. I bid you goodnight, my lady.”
“What? How do I find the kitchen? Where’s the flint? I see no candles.” For the first time since disembarking Keith’s ship, she felt panic welling in her chest. She’d built a false sense of security while Keith watched over her. Now she feared falling apart.
“The flint is by the wood pile. There are candles in a crate beneath the bed. And you can reach the kitchen by going back downstairs, turning left, then right, then right, and down another flight of stairs. Goodnight, Lady Jemma.” Keith didn’t wait for her to say anything else before he departed. Left alone, Jemma hurried to build a fire. She lit several candles, placing them in a candelabra on the bedside table. She swept her gaze around the chamber before locking the door. She crawled into bed, drawing the cloak around her since the fire hadn’t taken all the chill from the air yet. She calmed her mind by picturing Ben coming for her. She was asleep before she realized it.
Chapter Nine
Ben burst into Rowe House and ran into the foyer. “Father! Steven! Theo! Rajesh!”
He followed the sound of voices into the dining room where he found both families seated, waiting to eat.
“We thought—” Theo began.
“She was taken. Windsor-Clive hired the Blond Marauder to take her.” Ben stepped fully into the light, and Anna gasped. She pushed back her chair so hard it toppled. She rushed to her son, her eyes fearful as she took in his battered face. There were bruises and cuts marring nearly every inch. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right appeared like it would be soon. Ben glanced down at his mother, seeing her tears. He pulled her into his embrace and dropped a kiss on her crown. “I’m fine, Mama. But I need to get to Jemma.”
“I know where he went.” Raj rose from his seat. He squeezed Charlie’s hand before walking to Ben. He glanced at the other men and tilted his head to the door. They filed out of the dining room, Theo leading the way to his study. Raj looked at Ben. “Do you know who he really is?”
“Yes.” Ben nodded before he looked at his father. The Pedricks were proud of their smuggling legacy and proudlyretold the story of how Caragh Pedrick once ran a smuggling ring and fought the great pirate, the Blond Devil. She was captured when the seafarer thought she was a lad and would make a fine cabin boy. Theirs was a love for the ages, their story known well in Cornwall and the Hebrides. “He’s Keith MacNeil.”
“MacNeil?” Charles, Ben’s father, asked.
“Yes, Father. Those MacNeils, though he sounds thoroughly English.”
“He is,” Raj confirmed. “He’s a MacNeil on his father’s side, but he’s a Gwyn on his mother’s. His moniker appeared in many of my father’s and brother’s correspondence. They traded with him countless times over the years.”
“I’ve done business with him too,” Theo interjected. “I know you know him, Charles.”
“I do, but I never knew his true name. Where would he go?”
“I don’t know.” Ben shook his head. “He sailed into the inlet two miles from here. He made it clear he worked for Windsor-Clive. He took Jemma to the bastard.”
“They’ve made a grave error.” Theo’s face hardened, the viciousness for which he was known when it came to protecting his wife and daughter gleamed in his eyes.
“He promised more than once she wouldn’t be harmed. It made no sense, but I believed him.” Ben shook his head. “I don’t think he will hurt her, which makes me think he’s not really going to turn her over to Windsor-Clive. But that doesn’t mean the little bugger won’t take her. I trust that miscreant not at all.”
“He owns Forde Abbey,” Raj spoke up.
“That’s Lyme Regis. He lives practically in Abbington’s back garden.” Theo ran his hand through his hair. “Jemma will recognize where she is. If she can get free, she’ll go to her aunt and uncle.”
“Do you think he went there?” Ben asked Raj.
“If he doesn’t intend to hand her over, then he’ll go where he can control the setting. He’ll go to his home and have Windsor-Clive meet him there.”
“I want to know why,” Charles said. “How much money did Windsor-Clive offer him to get him to agree? And why would he cross the Earl?”
“I don’t know, but I will find out.” Ben turned to Raj. “You seem to know about him.”
“Because I know him nearly as well as I knew my brother.” No one expected that pronouncement. “We sailed together frequently when I was a privateer. I’ve been to Forde Abbey countless times. It was one of the few places in England I was willing to drop anchor. He knows I’m related to Jemma, and he knows I’m related to the Abbingtons. Something more is afoot here. I’ve never had reason to distrust him. Just the opposite. He’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met, hard as that may be to believe of a privateer.”
