by Jody Hedlund
Except the letter to Ben . . .
Of course she’d used the pseudo-names they’d previously decided upon, and she’d tried to remain as vague as possible about Dotty’s situation and hadn’t mentioned the girl’s name. But that wouldn’t explain why she had such an incriminating letter on her personage.
“I really must be going, Lieutenant.” She shifted into a proper riding pose in the sidesaddle, hoping she appeared more collected than she felt. She mustn’t allow the lieutenant to discover her letter to Ben. He might be on a mission to catch smugglers, but she doubted he would turn a blind eye if he found out she was harboring a runaway indentured servant.
Lieutenant Wolfe didn’t move but focused now on her face as if reading the guilt written clearly there.
The young soldier who had reined his steed next to the lieutenant nodded at her. His face was pale in contrast to his red hair, yet his eyes were bright and kind. “Take care that you don’t stay out overly long this afternoon, Miss Smith. From the way the wind is blowing, I sense a storm brewing.”
The distant horizon of the ocean was the calm blue of the now-fading hydrangeas that grew along the parsonage.
But just because there wasn’t a sign of a storm didn’t mean one wasn’t coming. The storms could arise seemingly out of nowhere and unleash dangerous fury.
“Thank you.” She gave her mare a nudge with her heel. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
She urged her horse past the soldiers, even though Lieutenant Wolfe didn’t offer her the courtesy of moving aside. As she trotted away, she didn’t have to look to know the lieutenant was watching her, searing her back with a hundred questions.
By the time she’d ridden north along the coastal road and dismounted at Arnold Tavern, she’d put plenty of distance between herself and the soldiers. Yet her heart still pounded loudly, and she berated herself for not finding a better spot to secure the letter.
The plain weathered tavern stood along a rocky section of King’s Cove where steep cliffs and jagged shoals made navigation by water difficult and treacherous.
She breathed in the sea air laden with moisture and peered at the crashing waves on the rocks far below. How could Lieutenant Wolfe have reason to believe anyone was engaging in smuggling here? There were stretches of beach that were smooth and sandy elsewhere along the coast. But the Weymouth shores were less than ideal for unloading goods.
Hopefully the lieutenant would realize his mistake and return to Boston soon.
With a shudder, Susanna pushed open the tavern door and was greeted by the musty odor of tobacco smoke.
She stopped short at the sight of the empty taproom, the wooden tables cleared and the benches deserted. Along one wall an iron pot hung in a huge stone hearth, and the waft of bubbling stew permeated the room. On the opposite wall sat barrels of beer, rum, and cider with a shelf above them lined with tankards.
Perhaps the usual crowd of men had been scared away by the lieutenant and his men. Or perhaps they’d sensed the coming storm and had gone home to take refuge.
If no one else found the afternoon conditions fit for riding, what was she doing out? She oughtn’t to have left home. She should have waited to give Ben the letter on Saturday, that is, if he came calling with Mr. Cranch.
She took a step backward to exit, but hurried footsteps in the kitchen behind the taproom halted her.
Mr. Arnold’s head peeked around the doorframe, his expression wary. “Miss Smith?” He straightened and made a pretense of wiping his hands on his apron, although they were neither wet nor soiled. “Mighty surprised to see ye out today, that I am.”
“I was . . .” What could she say? She couldn’t very well tell him she needed to deliver a letter to Ben Ross.
“The good reverend, yer father, has already left some time ago,” he continued. “And as ye can see, the rest of me customers have already gone home for the day, what with the squall brewing and all.”
Behind him, slabs of ham and beef dangled from the ceiling. The kitchen was crowded with barrels of salted fish, jars of honey, and wheat in sacks—all of the many provisions he needed to run his tavern.
“I shouldn’t have come.” She put her hand against the door. “It’s just that my father mentioned he’d talked with Mr. Ross, and I’d hoped to find him here.”
Mr. Arnold cast a glance over his shoulder.
Of course, she hadn’t seen Ben’s horse tied out front. He’d likely already gone on his way.
She started to open the door. She’d been a fool to attempt to track him down. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Arnold. I’ll be on my way—”
“Susanna.” Ben stepped around Mr. Arnold. He glanced to the dusty window and to the coastal road that ran in front of the tavern.
“Ben,” she breathed with relief. She let the door close with a thump and crossed toward him.
The anger radiating from his eyes brought her to an abrupt halt. “What are you doing here, Susanna?”
“I heard you were in town and—”
“You shouldn’t have come here.” He looked out the window again.
“But I needed to see you.” For a reason she couldn’t explain, his tone and his attitude left an embarrassed sting upon her cheeks. Maybe she hadn’t expected him to jump for joy at the sight of her, but she hadn’t anticipated his anger.
Hadn’t they moved beyond the past hurts?
“Don’t seek me out here again,” he said curtly.
Her shoulders stiffened. “Very well.” If that’s the way he wanted to be . . .
Mr. Arnold moved across the room to one of the big multi-paned windows and peered down the road. “They’re coming.”
With that, the tavern owner rushed to the barrel of cider, grabbed a tankard from the shelf, and began filling it. His hand shook, and splashes of cider spilled onto the already sticky floor.
Ben gave an exasperated sigh. Then he strode toward her, seized her arm, and dragged her to the nearest table.
“Who’s coming?” she asked, too surprised by his actions to resist.
“Lieutenant Wolfe and his assistant.” Ben plopped onto the bench.
Before she knew what was happening, he’d tugged her down, leaving her little choice but to land upon his lap.
“Mr. Ross!” She gasped. “Whatever is the meaning of such familiarity?”
He slid one arm around her and at the same time began unbuttoning his waistcoat.
Heat crept up her neck into her cheeks. She pushed against his shoulders and attempted to rise.
“Stay put.” His arm around her waist pinned her, holding her prisoner.
Mr. Arnold plunked two tankards down on the table before them, sloshing the frothy liquid onto the table in his haste. “They’re tying their horses.”
“Who’s tying horses?” She squirmed to dislodge herself from Ben’s lap, her mortification increasing with each passing second.
Mr. Arnold skittered out of the room to the kitchen where he proceeded to bang pots together, clearly wanting to give the impression that he was in the midst of fixing the evening repast.
Ben glanced at the window and then grabbed both her arms. “Stop fighting me,” he whispered harshly. “Put your arms around me. I need you to pretend we’re lovers.”
“Lovers? I absolutely will not—”
“We have no other choice.” He reached up to her chin and yanked at the ribbon of her wide straw hat. “Lieutenant Wolfe has followed you. What other reason can you give him for seeking me out here?”
Her mind spun but came up with nothing. She certainly couldn’t tell the lieutenant she was delivering a letter about a runaway indentured servant.
At the heavy slap of boots on the front step of the tavern, Ben lifted her hat, flung it on the table, and dug his fingers into her loose hair. “I hope you’re a good actress, Miss Smith.” His warm breath fanned her cheek, and his eyes turned stormy.
The seriousness in each of his clipped words sent a tremor through her. “Of cours
e I am.” Had she brought them both to danger with her foolish trip?
“Then put your arms around me and act like you’re enjoying my attention.”
Hesitantly she lifted her hands to his shoulders.
The door scraped open.
And even though Ben had warned her, she was unprepared for the swiftness with which he brought his mouth against hers and the force of his lips as they crushed hers.
One of his hands pressed against the small of her back, giving her little choice but to arch against him. The other hand was intertwined in her hair, capturing her head and maneuvering her against the pressure of his lips.
The force of the kiss sent a torrent of flutters to her belly. Even though they were only acting, there was something about his fervor and the intensity of his hold that made her want to respond and almost made her forget she was only pretending.
She leaned against him, wrapped her arms around him, and let his lips guide hers with a passion that seemed almost more dangerous than facing Lieutenant Wolfe.
He broke away from her only to make a trail of kisses across her chin to the hollow of her neck. She closed her eyes and wanted to gasp.
The door slammed.
His mouth hovered in her ear, and his voice was strained and hoarse. “You have to hop up and act embarrassed.” He nudged her.
She broke away from him and jumped to her feet. With true mortification cascading over her, she took a rapid step away from Ben.
In their crimson coats, Lieutenant Wolfe and his assistant stood at the entrance of the tavern. The young redheaded soldier had the grace to divert his attention to his shiny black boots. But Wolfe stared with frightening boldness.
“Lieutenant Wolfe,” she said breathlessly, trying to infuse her words with surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“We decided we should make sure you delivered your supplies safely.” His gaze loitered overlong upon her lips, which tasted of Ben and were swollen from his kiss. “But you weren’t really delivering supplies, were you, Miss Smith?”
How could she answer the lieutenant without giving away the truth of the situation?
“What do you expect, Lieutenant?” Ben grabbed the tankard of cider and took a slurp. “She wanted to see me. You don’t blame her, do you?”
“And she must sneak around to do this?”
“What would you have us do when her parents oppose a poor country lawyer like myself?”
“You told me you were leaving town.”
“If I came here to see her, why would I leave before I’ve had the chance to do so?”
“You would have me believe the sole reason you came to Weymouth today was to meet with this woman?”
“I told you earlier when you rudely dispersed Mr. Arnold’s customers that I came to deliver the riding boots my father fashioned. For Miss Smith.”
Susanna trembled, whether from her contact with Ben or her fear of the lieutenant, she couldn’t tell.
The look in Ben’s eyes beseeched her to help him in the charade they were playing.
Her normally quick tongue felt stuck, and she fought to loosen it. “Lieutenant Wolfe, I don’t understand this line of questioning. We’ve done nothing to provoke you, and yet you’ve treated us without any respect.”
The lieutenant fingered the hilt of his saber sheathed at his side.
She lifted her chin and hoped he couldn’t see the alarm running through her limbs.
His lips twitched with a semblance of a stiff smile. “The king has given me the mission of eradicating illegal activity and weeding out dissidents. I’m sure one as loyal as yourself can understand just how difficult and unpleasant that task can be at times.”
“I’m sure it can be very difficult—”
“And it will go much easier for you, Miss Smith, if you have nothing to do with those who are involved in treason.”
“If I learn that anyone is involved in treason”—her gaze slid to Ben before she could stop it—“then I shall indeed heed your warning.”
Ben took another gulp of his cider.
The clatter of a kettle in the kitchen echoed in the emptiness of the taproom.
Mr. Arnold was obviously listening to them. She tried not to think about how much fodder she was giving him to share with his guests, including her father, next time he came to smoke his pipe. She would be utterly mortified if he learned she’d been sitting on Ben’s lap, kissing him.
Ben lifted his tankard toward the lieutenant, toasting him and giving him what was nothing less than a smirk. “And of course I shall heed your warning as well.”
Wolfe’s saber inched out of its sheath.
The young soldier cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, might I suggest that we be on our way before the storm hits?” He nodded his head to the window. “From the way the wind is blowing, I’m afraid we’re in for a dangerous squall.”
Through the hazy glass, Susanna could see that dark, billowing clouds had begun to amass over the bay. She knew she ought to return home at once, but since she’d already put herself at risk to deliver the letter about Dotty, she may as well see it safely into Ben’s hands before she left.
With a last threatening glare at Ben, the lieutenant spun on his heels and stomped out of the tavern. The redheaded soldier tipped his hat at them and then followed.
For several moments after they were gone, Susanna couldn’t move. She watched them mount their horses and start down the coastal road, the wind whipping at the tails of their coats as the beginning fat drops of rain splattered the road.
Ben didn’t budge from his spot either.
In their quiet, peaceful community of Weymouth, she’d never had much interaction with the king’s soldiers. And now after her encounters, she had to admit, being around them was much more intimidating than she’d imagined.
She supposed she wouldn’t have anything to fear if she hadn’t been breaking the law. After all, the lieutenant was only trying to ensure obedience to the king as he rightly should.
With trembling fingers she combed back her wild tangled hair.
Was God trying to tell her she’d gone too far in her efforts? Perhaps she needed to issue more caution as Tom had suggested. On the other hand, Phoebe had admonished her that the only thing to be done was to help the young runaway.
Mr. Arnold stepped out of the kitchen and once again wiped his dry hands on his apron. “That was a close one, I’d say.”
Ben’s shoulders slumped. “Very close.”
“Do ye think he believed ye was here to visit Miss Smith?”
Only then did Ben turn to look at her, staring directly at her mouth.
She focused on the floor to prevent him from seeing her embarrassment over their moment of shared passion and the strange reaction it had produced within her.
“Lieutenant Wolfe is a very smart man,” Ben finally said. “We won’t be able to fool him. At least not for long.”
“Should I tell the others to go?” Mr. Arnold asked while peering out the front window.
The rain was falling harder now, and a flash of lightning lit up the darkening sky.
Ben nodded. “We’ll cancel our meeting for today. The storm will give them the coverage they need to disperse without drawing the lieutenant’s attention.”
Mr. Arnold returned to the kitchen.
“What others?” Susanna asked.
“I told you not to ask me any questions,” Ben said. “The less you know, the better. Remember, you’ve made it your duty to cooperate as fully as possible with Lieutenant Wolfe.” He shoved away from the table and stood.
“You don’t need to be so rude.” She didn’t know what she’d done to anger him, but his attitude bordered on hurtful. “I only want to do my best to obey the king.”
He snorted.
She shouldn’t have come. Benjamin Ross was impossible.
“I’m sorry I thought you’d be willing to help me.” She grabbed her hat off the table and started toward the door, trying to push
down the lump of disappointment that lodged in her throat. “I’ll be on my way.”
“You can’t go now. You won’t be able to outride this storm.”
“I’d thank you not to interfere.” She slapped her hat on. Without bothering to tie the ribbon, she reached for the door handle.
In two long strides Ben crossed the room and stuck his foot against the door, wedging it shut with the tip of his boot. “You’ll have to wait out the storm here.”
She spun to face him. “Excuse me, Mr. Ross, but you have no right to advise me. Not after telling me I shouldn’t have come and that I shouldn’t seek you out again.”
A booming crack of thunder shook the frame of the building. And a gust of wind beat against the windows, rattling the panes. She ought to stay, but she was too angry to admit it.
He examined her face, and the tight lines in his face softened a bit. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you, Susanna, because, God help me, I do.”
At the gentle confession she leaned against the door, suddenly conscious of the fact that they were less than an arm’s length apart.
“I like seeing you,” he whispered. The blue of his eyes darkened with something she didn’t understand but that set her heart tapping erratically. “I like being with you more than is good for either of us.”
When his gaze dropped to her lips, she could feel the warm pressure of his kiss all over again.
“But this place, this time, and all that I’m involved in—it’s dangerous for you.” He took a step back. “I am dangerous for you.”
She started to shake her head.
“I shouldn’t have made Lieutenant Wolfe believe we were lovers. Now he’s going to be even more suspicious of you.”
“I can only imagine the damage to my reputation henceforth when word regarding our indecent behavior spreads throughout the countryside.”
“We certainly wouldn’t want your precious reputation being damaged on account of me.”
“Not on account of you,” she said quickly. “Rather because of our . . . well, when I sat on your lap, when you—”