Dare To Love

DARE TO LOVE

A Hollinger Series
Novel

TRISHA FUENTES

Smashwords
Edition

Copyright © 2009 Trisha
Fuentes

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Prologue

Atlantic Ocean, 1798

When Tommy joined his wife in the Great
Cabin, he found her frozen at the dressing table staring at her
reflection in the mirror. She looked lost, unnerved trying to
separate her ivory-laced veil away from her head. Two steps towards
her and she focused on him coming near. He stood directly behind
her, yearning to touch her, wanting to help her, but he too, felt
unease.

“The ceremony was nice… was it not?” He said,
trying to break the tension.

Gwendolyn laid her hands atop the nightstand.
“Yes—yes, it was, I have never been to a wedding atop a ship
before.”

“My ancestors were married on the Junia, my
father wanted to continue the tradition.”

“Yes…I know the stories,” she gave out
shaken, “…and immediately afterwards, the women in your family
darted to the ledge to vomit.”

Tommy continued to stare at Gwendolyn in her
opalescent satin wedding dress. She looked remarkable, beautiful,
like a princess. He turned on his heel and eyed the bed only a few
feet away. “We don’t have to this night; it can wait until
tomorrow, or the next, whenever you are ready. I am not going to
force you.”

Gwendolyn blinked a few times, on the verge
of a panic. “Th—thank you Tommy.”

Intimidation still choking him, Tommy blurted
out what was really on his mind. “May I…may I ask you
something?”

“Yes, of course, what?”

Tommy sat down on a nearby chair next to her
and ran his hands down the front of his stockings. “Since we
weren’t allowed to see each other before the ceremony,” he exhaled,
“And we haven’t spoken in two weeks since your decision, I just
want to know…why me? Out of all my brothers, Jordan especially, he
is the titled heir, you picked me to be your husband?”

Gwendolyn did not bother to look at him and
continued to stare at her reflection in the mirror. On any given
day, she would have thought she looked like a queen and welcomed
the fantasy. Instead, she blinked out of her stupor and became more
at ease eyeing her new husband downside up. “Isn’t it obvious? You
are my best friend Tommy. We could always talk to one another—tell
each other riddles. I have known you since you were born, I could
not bring myself to be with Jordan, he is…he is so much older, and
strange.”

Tommy laughed aloud, glad that the frostiness
melted with her humor. “Strange? But all ladies fancy him.”

Gwendolyn finally stood up from her seated
position and looked shyly down at the ground. “I am sixteen Tommy,
what do I know about pleasing a twenty-five year old man?”

Tommy stood up also, ran his fingers through
his scalp. “I am sixteen as well, and you are asking me to give you
an answer?”

Gwendolyn smiled and felt relieved for some
reason, the bizarre tension broken. Gwendolyn raised her eyes to
find Tommy’s green staring into her brown. Their eyes lock and hold
and Gwendolyn felt her pulse race and pushed his body away. “Do not
do that.”

Tommy sighed, “What now?”

“Look at me that way. You make my heart
thump.”

Tommy began to grin. “I was not aware of my
magic power.”

Gwendolyn huffed at his response, “Now you
are, so make it stop.” She purposely glided over to a smart sitting
area full of cherry mahogany. A lavish space which rivaled a
mansion ashore, the couple was awarded the Captain’s chamber for
the evening. With cushions made of gold embroidered fabric
transported from India, the cabin encompassed a red plush settee,
marbled table tops, a piano, fur rugs, a generous hearth and a
zinc-lined bathtub. The bed was fit for a king…and queen. A rich
poster bed, so intimidating in size, Gwendolyn felt anxious all
over again knowing what was supposed to take place there. She
turned to look at Tommy once more. He looked a little odd and out
of place in his fancy black togs and continued to stare at her in
an undeniable way. Feeling an unfamiliar blush rushing up her fair
neck, Gwendolyn turned and looked away.

“So what do we do now?” Tommy relayed,
ripping through lengthened silence.

“Unsure,” Gwendolyn voiced, plucking a few
roses out of a vase that was secured to a wall.

Tommy sat down again and began to pull off
his leggings and shoes. One by one, each shoe fell to the floor
with a loud clunk.

Startled by the noise, Gwendolyn sharply
gazed at him undressing, “I beg your pardon?”

Tommy was tired now. Worn-out from the
argument he had earlier with his father, exhausted from the day’s
activities, drained from all the endless questions he had about
their obligatory matrimony. “It is customary to take one’s shoes
off before entering a bed.”

“You are not sleeping here.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep tonight, the
ocean? Our families are all on the lower decks Gwendolyn. They all
think we are in here consummating our union. I cannot sneak off and
sleep in the lifeboat outside.”

Gwendolyn noted Tommy’s tone. “You can rest
on that couch over there.”

Tommy let go a frustrated grunt and began to
put his leggings back on. “Never mind—distance sounds rather good
to me right now than be in here with you a minute more.”

Gwendolyn started at the sight of her new
husband putting on his footwear to parade himself in front of the
family only ten minutes after they arrived down below; it could
only mean one thing, disaster. It was unheard of for a groom to
leave his bride so soon. Her mother told her that she was supposed
to “stay in the room” for the next three weeks. That all meals were
being “sent down to them”, that they were on their way to the West
Indies on their “honeymoon”. What the heck was she supposed to do
alone with Tommy for the next three weeks? She was getting
claustrophobic just thinking about it. “You are not leaving me, are
you?”

Tommy sneered at her; a growl so unbecoming
of him, Gwendolyn actually took a step backwards in retreat.
“Go—stay, which is it Gwendolyn?”

Gwendolyn grabbed her head in frustration.
“Oh, I don’t know.” But before she could change her mind again,
Tommy exited. Gwendolyn crossed her arms across her chest and
stomped her foot in frustration as she tried to ignore the strange
stab of disappointment suddenly surrounding her heart.

Tommy practically ran down the narrow
staircase, skipping steps two-by-two. He was just about to turn the
corner unseen when he bumped into his father exiting the dining
room with a glass of port in one hand. The quick unexpected bump
spattered the scarlet liquid onto his father’s flamboyant white
evening shirt.

“Going somewhere?”

Tommy froze; his father’s stern voice
penetrated down to his very core. He was too empowered, too large
and way too frightening to figure out. “I’m thirsty; I’m on my way
to the galley for some milk.”

His Grace, Thomas Albert Hollinger, II,
4thDuke of Norwin and Earl of Wilderbrand was not amused. “Tommy,
this family has waited too long to have this marriage come to
pass,” he proclaimed, taking a sip before carrying on, “With all
the boys in this household, along with Lord Drummond’s only son,
we’ve waited years for this unification. You know how important it
is for this lineage to form an alliance. Our two wharfs in Bristol
align one another; our shipping business relies on the very
foundation of the Drummond vessels. Gwendolyn’s dowry solidified
this family’s future.”

“For the last time father, I don’t care about
the family business.”

His father jabbed him in the shoulder with
the drink still in his hand. “You will obey me son or I will
enforce a consequence even you will not be able to tolerate. Either
way, Gwendolyn will be compromised and this union will be
inevitable.”

Tommy shuddered at his father’s ominous tone.
Would he really do that? “You wouldn’t dare, she is innocent.”

“Jordan will be happy to oblige,” the Duke
said matter-of-factly, “I cannot fathom why the little unsullied
picked you for a husband when he has far more to offer her.”

“I am her best friend,” Tommy said under his
breath.

“Yes,” the Duke chortled, guzzling down the
rest of his alcohol. “You two have always been inseparable.”

The ship suddenly jolted causing the two men
to hold the sides of the narrow hallway for balance. Tommy looked
at his father with uncertainty. “What was that?”

“Do not concern yourself; I will go up deck
to speak with Captain Porter. Now, go back upstairs this instant
and bed your bride.”

Tommy stood silent and eyed his father turn
on his heel to walk down the hallway towards the Captain’s
stairs.

When Tommy arrived back in the room, the lamp
had lowered and Gwendolyn had fallen asleep. The moon’s glow had
streamed through the bordering beveled glass windows, illuminating
her face to angelic proportions. She looked like a doll with her
auburn curls cascading across the pillow. Walking backwards, he
tiptoed to the sitting room and began to undress.

How to bed her? He’s never thought about it
before; she was his best friend, his comrade when he felt lonely.
They shared the same interests, identical humor and equivalent
competitiveness, in fact; he’s never felt more comfortable with
another person. But this new phobia of exposing himself to
rejection was an all out riot of nerves. He was used to taking
direction from her. And now he had to be assertive to get her to do
what was mandatory? After what his father had declared, there was
no chance in hell he would ever allow that to happen. He cared for
her too deeply…yes, he did care for her…love her…oh, how could he
not? Oh, whom was he kidding—he was head over heels in love with
Gwendolyn! And now, he was supposed to…how did his brother describe
it? Open her legs and poke her with your stick Tommy…she is going
to bleed down there, but give her a hanky, she will be good as new…
Wasn’t there more to it? Good God, he had to hurt her on
purpose…cause her to bleed? It made him crazy when all she did was
skin her knee! He could not believe he had to intentionally afflict
her with pain?

Completely nude, Tommy rushed to the bed and
silently entered under the covers without waking his bride. He
stared at her sleeping for a moment then traced the edge of her
chin with his finger. God, she was…wonderful, he thought, and
leaned over to smell her hair. The enchanting aroma drenched him in
a fluttering craving.

She was not asleep, only pretending.
Gwendolyn could not wait for him to arrive back to the room, she
was even eager. What took him so bloody long? Tommy even slipped
under the bed sheet, which was something she never counted on. She
thought he would follow her order of sleeping on the couch, but he
doesn’t? She felt him smelling her hair, caressing her cheek, but
why? She could not take the silence any longer and opened up her
eyes—his unusual heat was practically burning a hole through her
thin nightgown!

Realizing he was completely nude, she
immediately rolled away from him. “Tommy, what are you doing?”

Tommy reinforced himself and challenged her
stern voice, “We are going to consummate our marriage.”

“B—but, you said I could have more time.”

Tommy noted Gwendolyn’s fright. “I know what
I said but I’ve changed my mind—” he broke off suddenly feeling
sick with the vision of his brother touching Gwendolyn. “You’re
mine now, and as your husband, you have to do what I say…”

The next morning, Gwendolyn and Tommy were
woken up abruptly by a thump of books falling from the bookshelves
in the sitting room; the Junia was being tossed about. Gwendolyn
grabbed at Tommy and squeezed his arm. “Did we hit rough
waters?”