“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 walkingin 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 wascertain 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?”
