Page 1 of A Siren for the Duke

PROLOGUE

Portsmouth, England

June 1808

“Lionel, wait!” Jemima cried, her voice piercing the stillness of the dark night.

She trotted to catch up with him, but he was taller, and his legs were longer. Every time she got closer, just within reach, he would bound away again, laughing.

The full silver moon, the first official one of summer, shone down upon the tranquil beach. It cast a gentle glow on the waves, which lapped gently against the sand. The very air seemed alive with a symphony of crashing tides and whispering breezes, as if nature herself had conspired to serenade her. A faint aroma of salt mingled with the fragrance of wildflowers that clung to part of the boardwalk not far behind her. All of this – the smells, the sights, the very feeling of being with Lionel in this way – filled her body with a heady delight. Her very hands trembled with the giddiness at being so free. Running along the sand like this, she hardly remembered society and cared not for the opinions of the ton.

She stopped, her heart warm with happiness as she looked out at the vast expanse of the ocean, its dark depths stretching out. In the obscurity, the sea met the sky, and there was no telling where one began and the other ended. The only indication of some sort of separation was the glowing moon, which reflected upon the water. Lionel stood by her side, his strong arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer to his warmth. The sea breeze gently tousled their hair, causing strands to dance playfully across their faces.

“We ought to go in, don’t you think?” Lionel, ever the daring soul, led the way, pulling Jemima toward the lapping waves. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

“At this very moment?" Jemima asked, her hazel eyes widening in surprise.

"Pray tell, why should we wait?"

“If I return home with a wet hem, my maid will be sure to tell my mother, and that will be the end of me,” Jemima said lightheartedly, although there was a bit of fear to her words. Much as she loved her ladies’ maid, she’d learned that all servants loved to gossip, and she did not want her mother to find out about this secret affair with Lionel Hunt. He was a second son, after all –mothers never wanted second sons for their daughters.

“Then we shall fabricate a story for you. ‘Twould be a shame to not take advantage of tonight.”

His smile was so genuine she could not help but follow his lead. And… with him leaving so soon, it might be the last bit of fun they’d have for a while.

Lionel took Jemima’s hand, and the both of them waded ankle-deep into the cool embrace of the sea, their laughter mingling with the sound of the rolling surf. There was something about tonight that felt electric and magical. As the moon glowed on the water, each cresting wave brought forth a kaleidoscope of sparkling diamonds, as if the ocean was bestowing its own gift upon the young couple. Jemima watched, captivated, as the foam-tipped waves crashed against the shore, their frothy tendrils reaching out like delicate fingers, embracing the sand before receding back into the depths. The water caressed Jemima’s feet, sending ripples of delight up her spine. The sensation of the sea’s touch was both invigorating and soothing, a gentle reminder of the vastness of the world beyond the confines of her everyday life. With Lionel by her side, she felt as if the possibilities were endless, like the uncharted sea before her.

As the waves rose higher, Lionel took Jemima’s hand and led her deeper into the water. The cool liquid enveloped her legs, and she let out a playful shriek, clutching onto his arm for support. The sensation of Lionel’s strong grip and the weightlessness of the water beneath her feet filled her with a sense of security and freedom, as if they were the only two souls in the world, lost in their own private paradise.

Jemima's laughter rang out, echoing against the vast expanse of the night sky. The sound seemed to mingle with the crashing waves and carry away all the worries and constraints of their society. At that moment, she felt truly alive, unburdened by the expectations and limitations imposed upon her.

Lionel twirled her around, their bodies moving in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the sea. The ebb and flow of the tide created a gentle sway, like a lover's dance, as they glided through the depths. Jemima's heart swelled with love and gratitude, knowing she had found her soul's partner in Lionel. The ton be damned, she’d have this second son no matter what they said about it.

When he put her down, and they began to walk back to shore, a cold splash of water hit her square in the back. Shocked, she turned around to see Lionel grinning like a cat.

“Oh, you cannot get away with this!” she shouted playfully and crashed through the water, scooping up a handful and throwing it at him. And, of course, he retaliated. It was not long before the two of them were soaked, exhausted, and laughing; the horrors of Jemima’s wet hem entirely forgotten.

They trudged toward the shore, chests heaving as they collapsed on the solid, damp sand. In that moonlit embrace, their laughter turned to whispers, their gazes locked in a shared understanding. Jemima's senses heightened, absorbing every detail — the taste of salt on her lips, the soft caress of Lionel's hand on her cheek, the distant melody of a nightingale singing its nocturnal serenade.

But all good things must come to an end, and she was dreading the morning. Lionel was to ship out with the rest of the Royal Navy detachment. She hadn’t meant for such thoughts to manifest themselves on her face, but evidently, Lionel noticed.

“I hope that dour look is not all about your hem. I’m given to understand that ladies take several trips to the modiste. Surely it can be replaced,” he teased.

“I do like this gown, but it is not my hem about which I am worried. I am thinking about another garment...” she said, her voice drifting off.

“Do tell. You are so mysterious at times,” Lionel said, reaching out and tucking a wet strand of light brown hair behind her ear.

“Well, we ladies must have our secrets to keep us interesting,” she teased, but it did not sound nearly as flirtatious as she wished. “I was thinking of your naval uniform. And then… of course…”

She did not have to finish her sentence for Lionel to understand what she was talking about. Tomorrow was the day. The two of them had enjoyed their secret romps together for quite some time now. Jemima had valiantly staved off any potential suitors, much to her mother’s dismay and occasional outrage. She only had eyes for Lionel, but tomorrow, he’d be gone.

“It shall not be too long a voyage,” Lionel said, his voice uncharacteristically hushed. Even though he was trying to comfort her, Jemima sensed the nervousness in his voice. It would be his first official post with the Royal Navy, and even though it was just across the Irish Sea, that did not mean there wouldn’t be danger. Pirates had long been out of fashion, but that did not stop small, roving bands from terrorizing merchant ships, trying to cross that small body of water. His battalion was shipping out to put a stop to it.

“I know. But… it will still be dangerous,” she protested gently.

“Maybe.”

“You are not helping to assuage my fears,” she said, half-teasing.