Dare To Love (10 page)

He continued to look at her…by God; she was a
vision, even in retreat. Her sensual neck was exposed with her
bonnet missing; she even glided across the lawn appearing
inviolable in her swan-like grace. Outlandish thoughts ran through
his regulations, unusual temptations, unlike any other he had ever
known. He thought about tackling her from behind, pulling her down
to the ground and bussing her neck with all the passion he was
feeling since first seeing her. What would she do? Relent, or kick
him? The very thought swirled deliciously from side to side.

Idiot, he was still a fool for her. He shook
his head a few more times trying to get that foolhardy imagery out
of his mind. Realizing that Katrina was watching him like a hawk,
he rolled his eyes around and curved to see her glowering at
him.

Katrina stood in front of him with her arms
crossed, “Charming girl, your childhood bride. The sooner you get
rid of her, the better.”

Thomas eyed his fiancée’s measured advance,
“To what consequence?” He asked gruffly.

“Go get ready for the party Thomas,” Katrina
purred, drawing near in her cat-like sashay. With an index finger
she indolently poked him in the chest, slicing it down towards his
midriff, resting on the front of his pantaloons by design. She
brought her eyes up his lanky, well developed body and met his
entranced gaze. “And may I suggest a cold bath?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

To her respect, Wilderbrand Castle had not
changed much. Constructed in the Fourteenth Century, the manor had
once been a fortress housing nobles safely with its rather sizeable
moat surrounding the “H” shaped constructed block castle. Thomas’
Great-Great Grandfather, the 1stDuke of Norwin had the lagoon
packed full with dirt, and the turf, over the years had grown into
a deep dark emerald green from all its mossy nutrients. The land
was still extensive, nearly forty thousand acres with a working
farm, stables stocked full of horses for breeding and competition,
as well as, not one, not two or three, but four separate residences
for all the household staff. The Hollinger’s were known for that,
keeping their servants content and close at hand.

The ride around the property proved positive
to be a relaxing and enjoyable experience. At Thomas’ guarantee,
Gwendolyn found undiscovered ponds around the castle, uniquely
designed pools covered with geese, ducks and swans lazily swimming.
Falling in love with the ambience straight away, she had assembled
herself on a blanket next to a beautiful pond surrounded by wild
flowers and assorted grasses.

“Cherish”, the glorious buff Arabian with
dark mane and tail she remembered first seeing when she saw Thomas
again, was quite affectionate…and female. Thomas mentioned once or
twice that his horse was a girl, had he not? With all that bare
skin of his distracting her senseless she wondered how she was able
to articulate two words much less listen to the rascal. Cherish was
very friendly, in fact, she constantly wanted to be petted;
sniffing the blanket, nibbling Gwendolyn’s writing paper, her
skirt…her hair. The horse would not stay put, so Gwendolyn had to
repeatedly walk it out to the meadow and force her to eat the tall
green grass, but Cherish kept trotting over to Gwendolyn relaxing
by the pond nonetheless. Gwendolyn rolled her eyes and scolded
herself for not following previous instructions; serves her right
for not listening to Thomas in the first place, Gwendolyn had fed
her sugar.

She wrote Charles an extensive letter,
explaining to him about current events and her length of stay.
Gwendolyn had already explained to her fiancé about Mary’s father,
but did not go into detail. Only offering that her husband was lost
at sea, leaving her a widow at such a young age. It was a
treasured, special memory she had not wished to share. No one
needed to know her pain, her misery, or why she chose to stay
unmarried for ten winters.

Odd, how the things you took for granted were
so sorely missed once they disappear. Like his smile from one of
your jokes, or the comfort of his arms around your shoulders when
you skinned your knee. The way they were so inseparable, even when
apart; always thinking the same thing, finishing each other’s
thoughts. She oftentimes cried herself to sleep at night, missing
him so. She could not wait for Mary to be born. The miracle inside
her womb was her refuge; singing lullaby’s, reading children’s
stories, talking to her unborn child when she felt lonely. But then
one night in June, Lady Mary Elizabeth Drummond Hollinger came into
this world. She did not even mind the ache of birth; she could not
wait to hold his child in her arms. And when her Great-Aunt handed
her the baby, Gwendolyn cradled the infant and cried into her
little body for hours upon hours. Kissing her tiny head surrounded
in black wavy curls. It was like Thomas was still with her, a
chance to live again, to communicate to her through his
descendant.

Oh, she could have remarried. Could have
married Viscount Tapps of Moxley and had more children. Her
Great-Aunt took her back to London when she was eighteen, she even
went on a picnic with the comely Viscount, and he seemed
interesting enough. Having known him since Gwendolyn was ten, her
Great-Aunt thought they would have alike empathy, but Gwendolyn was
not responsive; she chose not to know him.

At nineteen, Gwendolyn was then introduced to
a widower, fifteen years her senior. Baron Switzer had two small
daughters, both around the same age as Mary. The girls all got
along so well, playing, laughing, but Gwendolyn did not like the
way the Baron showed his affection towards his children. Under
intense suspicion, Gwendolyn knew the youngsters might be surrogate
companions to the man until he found himself a suitable wife; he
was constantly cuddling the girls significantly. Gwendolyn did not
want to subject Mary to any future harm if her intuition was
correct.

Then, at twenty, her Great-Aunt wrote to a
friend in Bedfordshire. Her acquaintance had a son who could not
seem to find a bride. Untitled, but wealthy, Patrick Smead was a
timid chap who doted on his mother relentlessly; running to her
side as soon as the woman tapped her teacup. After watching him
scurry around the large, overbearing woman several times during her
visit to their estate, Gwendolyn simply stood up and walked out the
door never to return again.

Men did not equate…no one compared.

For many winters, Gwendolyn and her daughter
were a team. Gwendolyn was oftentimes in awe of her child, her
spirit and curiosity. She loved to hug her, and her daughter loved
to be held. It was only until Mary showed interest in the local
livestock that she had met Charles.

It was not love at first glance or anything
similar to that, but when his gaze met hers, Gwendolyn was
intrigued. There was also something about him that made her want to
know him. He was not obviously handsome, but was decent enough for
her, with a charming façade, facial hair and warm, brown eyes. They
were friends first and it was easy to like Charles, he was not a
pushy male like the other men in town, he was gentle and kind, and
whenever a new calf was born, he would always ask if Mary could
come by the dairy to visit. Charles had been the most polite man
she had come across in the village and around her age, all the
eligible bachelors much too old or way too young to consider.
Gwendolyn desperately wanted more children and she was sure by
Charles’ gentleness with Mary, he wished for them too. Charles was
a likeable gent, courteous and unpresumptuous showing considerable
interest in helping Gwendolyn raise her daughter throughout the
years.

Charles was also a hardworking man, owning a
dairy farm was tedious work. A thousand-acre farm expanding over
the rolling fields of Kettlewell, Charles was also an essential
man. He was a big fish in a small pond and Gwendolyn liked him that
way.

Gwendolyn remembered weeping the night her
Great-Aunt passed away; she was outside her cottage when Charles
sprung up behind her. His compassion was tender, genuine and she
flew instantly in his arms. His maleness and warmth was a sense of
comfort and he kissed her on her forehead. That soothing kiss, led
to one on her lips; wrapping her arms around his neck and
shoulders, allowing him to taste her. It only lasted a couple of
moments, but within that time, she knew for certain that she would
be spending the rest of her life with him.

It was beneficial to have a good rapport with
your future husband and Gwendolyn and Charles could talk for hours.
Holding hands continuously, Mary on the one side, Charles on the
other; taking walks through the grassland picking up flowers and
stones. She could always make him laugh, and he could always melt
her heart with his consideration. Gwendolyn liked the feeling of
his big arms around her, he made her feel protected, and that’s
just what she needed in this time in her life, to be taken care of,
to feel serene and treasured.

She was so lonely and longed for physical
contact, that one night she allowed him use of her body. It only
happened once, it was fast and awkward, but afterwards she felt
tranquil…precious. He held her in his full-size arms and she felt
his love. For the first time in her life she had complete devotion
from a man. And Charles had loved her, told her often, but to this
day, she had never reiterated her feelings towards him! Oh she
knows she should, she also knows it was truly unfair but she had
always had trouble expressing her true emotions. Her heart would
begin to pound, her throat would close up and she just could not
mouth out the words.

Her wedding was supposed to be in the next
couple of months; a country wedding in a little church in
Kettlewell, with no more than ten people in attendance. She had
hoped that her Great-Aunt would be able to see her get married
again, but sadly enough; she became too sick to hang on. The past
several years Gwendolyn had taken care of her the same way her
Great-Aunt took care of Gwendolyn, with kindness, affection, and
patience.

And to get married for a second time after so
many years of being alone? This time, she wanted to be married, to
be someone’s wife, quite different than her marriage to Thomas. She
was too young to understand how to make him happy. Married atop a
ship, Gwendolyn had never been more apprehensive about a union.
Only coming to the perception that she would be joined to a
reserved boy, who happened to be her best friend, both complying
with their father’s indissoluble debt.

No doubt entered her mind whatsoever when
with Charles. He would make a fine husband and a good provider, and
she could move on, living a sensible life in Yorkshire on a farm.
The reservation she had now was unimaginable; to mull over the fact
that she doesn’t want to return back home? She wanted to continue
being under his roof, near him, by his side, trying to get closer
to Thomas than ever before? What was wrong with her? Here, she had
this wonderful man waiting homewards for her and she did not want
to depart to be with him? She would rather be Thomas’ prisoner than
be liberated with Charles?

What was it about Thomas now? Was it the fact
that he bore a resemblance to the celebrated Jordan Hollinger? She
remembered when she and Thomas would be sitting on a bench in front
of the estate, out of view of the carriages that drove up, and low
and behold, out popped some hysterical father, ranting and raving,
claiming that Jordan compromised their daughter. Jordan would never
come out the door obviously, only the Duke of Norwin, sending the
poor gent away. Jordan had been in the house all evening,
surrounded by dozens of witnesses, how could he have touched
anyone?

Jordan had a certain charisma…a magic that
surrounded him; you wanted to get to know him, be in the same
room…touch him. Why, just looking at the man caused a girl’s heart
to flutter. Sexual magnetism, yes, that’s what it was and Thomas
possessed that as well. Without a doubt, having other women finding
Thomas irresistible was wildly enticing; owning his self-assurance.
Why would she be drawn to such conviction? She never cared for
certainty before, but having Thomas hold his weight within his
peers was also very intriguing. He never used to be like that!
Thomas was shy, introverted, it was only when she provoked and
prodded him that he lashed out. And now, no longer understated, no
more intimidated by her presence, she found herself lured, more so
than she ever was before. What caused him to turn around? Was it
another woman? Or did it go deeper than that? Was he hardened by
life and the events that occurred? Losing his family all at once,
like her, maybe, creating an outer shell of armor that no one was
able to penetrate, an unbreakable shield of wisdom, control and
confidence caused by insurmountable turmoil?

She would try though, to get through to him,
if he would permit her to do so. Not only was he her first husband,
Mary’s father, and best friend…he was funny, kind, compassionate,
admirable, strong, brave, interesting all rolled up into one
impressive build. Someone she used to worry about tremendously, if
not extraordinarily. Repeatedly dreaming of her wedding night when
Thomas suddenly transformed into that fascinating male…

~~~~~

“You’re mine now, and as your husband, you
have to do what I say…”

I recalled gasping at his rapid strictness. I
had never heard his voice so severe. His tone set off a counter
attack but was immediately doused by the odd transformation of his
face. His expression altered… which was so bizarre, I was already
well acquainted with every feature on his mug but I was suddenly so
attracted to this stern air. In fact, his whole demeanor changed,
his attitude… that look of his, it made me want to know the texture
of his lips, allow him to come across the surface of mine. No
longer my equal, no more my comrade, Tommy transformed into someone
very interesting.