Dare To Love (22 page)

Breaking away from the vortex, he breathed,
“Hold me tight, love… good, now lean away.”

Gwendolyn did what was she was told, draping
her arms encircling his neck, declining…and oh God…his hot mouth on
her breasts gratified her in ways too wonderful for words. The
silkiness of his tongue on her skin, the gentle tenderness, both
foundling and appetite of his starved need, caused her to cry out
for mercy.

With one hand gripping her rear, the other
searched the smooth triangle of hair between her legs. Opening up
her threshold with his finger, he found a greeting of moist
acceptance for the other finger that entered. “Oh God,” he exhaled,
“So tight, so sweet…my sweet, sweet girl.”

Feeling absolutely scorched from his cajoling
words, Gwendolyn met his wide-open mouth with vehemence and felt
Thomas insert another finger directing her rhythm. Instinctively,
her hips began to move into the sensation, trying to capture its
pleasure, liquefying her intention to pure honey.

“Keep moving,” he urged, “Don’t stop.”

Gwendolyn followed his instructions and felt
a rush of limitless satisfaction between her thighs. My wonderful
teacher, she thought while riding him intensely. Thomas’ tireless
hot mouth continued to devour her breasts while Gwendolyn found
herself reaching a pinnacle of rapture she had not felt since last
with him.

“Did that feel good?” Thomas murmured, gently
nibbling her lips.

“Oh yes,” Gwendolyn hummed happily, running
her hands through his hair. She then gazed down at his penis
rubbing up against her stomach. It engorged to a point where it
seemed painful. She laid her head down on his shoulder and began to
cry. It seemed so unfair.

Thomas felt her body quiver and sniffling in
his ear, “What is wrong, Gwendolyn? Tell me…did I hurt you?”

Gwendolyn gently pulled back and kissed him
freely on the lips once more. “Oh no, Thomas…it is just, you were
so tender and considerate of me, and you haven’t—”

“How’s your strength?”

“Why?”

“Because your pleasure isn’t over.”

Gwendolyn giggled deep in her throat while
Thomas lifted her up and then brought her down onto the bed.
Vertical with him was good… horizontal with him was even better. To
watch his strong aroused male body kneeling at her feet—was quite
thrilling. Lightened masculine hair surrounded his robust thighs,
chest, arms and infected her with lust too concentrated to ignore.
“Oh God, what can I do to pleasure you?”

Thomas soaked in her curves, the plumpness of
her crest, her smooth midriff and leaned down to press his lips on
the base of her ankle. How many nights had he envisioned her lying
on his bed? And now, here she was, naked, and wanting him, bussing
her calves, her inner thighs, kissing her until his breath hovered
over the triangle of bottom curls, he respired, “Say that you are
mine.”

Gwendolyn arched her back and bucked up her
hips in anticipation of his unknown attack. “A dare?” She avowed,
closing her eyes from his tongue on her sensitive flesh inside her
navel.

“I dare you to resist me.”

Gwendolyn gazed down at his head between her
thighs and ran her fingers through his hair, tilting her own head
backwards, chuckling. “Do I dare?” she cried, feeling her pleasure
erupting once more.

“My sweet girl, you are mine Gwendolyn, say
that you are mine… that you were always mine.”

Gwendolyn felt a second arch of gratification
invading through her stomach. She surrendered to the feeling and
felt Thomas release his pressure, his mouth trailing towards her
navel, leaving a track of moisture back up to her neck. Thomas
covered her body with his and opened her entrance with his knees.
Feeling the intensity of him… the power of his male
dominance…laterally meeting her submission, Gwendolyn panted with
expectancy.

“Are you mine, Gwendolyn?”

Gwendolyn opened up her eyes and stared into
his doubt—his manhood, on the cusp of occupation. “Are you mine,
Thomas?”

He met her question with a measured kiss that
spiraled down to the center of her torso. Grabbing his head as he
met her mania, he impelled his breadth into her…He was filling her
now, and—oh God, as her head jerked back—he was thicker than she
memorized, his aggression extremely gratifying. She maintained her
clasp and felt him drive his point home, gently pulling her hair,
squeezing her shoulders and hips down to meet his tempo.

Thomas cupped a breast and brought his
scalding mouth down around it, kneading, licking, absorbing, and
sending Gwendolyn to absolute lunacy. “I haven’t touched her since
your advent,” he inhaled, pinching her nipple with his thumb and
forefinger, “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes,” she pulsated, “Yes, that will do.”

Thomas lifted his weight up then pulled out
resting on his knees, “Then say it Gwendolyn…state what I have
waited to hear.”

His body left hers? Oh God, she wanted that
indulgence back, why did he abandon her depths? Gwendolyn’s arms
lunged for his backside and Thomas grabbed her hands and locked
them over her head, his persuasive dominance daringly coming into
play.

Gwendolyn smiled inwardly; she liked how he
improved very much. She felt her back arching when Thomas suddenly
lunged forward and kissed her so deeply, her toes tingled and
curled. Then abruptly, his mouth lefts her and he outlined the
shape of her breasts with his tongue, licking and teasing her
flesh, hardening their little nubs. Moaning with delight, she
revealed, “You have gone to the devil.”

He grinned and positioned his throbbing rod
next to her thigh, “Where were we?”

Gwendolyn tilted her head back in madness, “I
don’t know—let my hands go so I can feel you.”

“Not until you say the words.”

“Now who’s the tease?”

“Are you mine, Gwendolyn?” He inquired,
releasing his hands to cup her hips, holding her in place to feel
more of his wrath as he buried himself into her moist warmth yet
again.

“I have always been yours Tommy,” she
expressed, meeting his sinful mouth and riveting invasion,
“Always...”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Ya look sae peaceful, wit’ a smile embraced
to yar face, twas afraid to wake ya.”

Gwendolyn sprung up from bed and yanked the
sheet over her upper body. Thank God she was wearing her nightgown
now and doesn’t recall putting it back on, and when did she find
her own bed? Had it all been a dream? Or a wonderful unforgettable
delusion? She remembered walking on the ship, had she dreamt the
bedding as well?! “Wh—what are you doing here Charles? How’d you
get in here?”

Charles sat up and began to pace in front of
her, “Och now, I’m a simple farm boy and dinna mind sleeping in hay
wit’ the horses.”

“You mean to tell me you slept in the stables
last evening?”

“Aye,” Charles confirmed, meeting her
anger.

“Why Charles? You said you would wait for me
at The Quail Inn.”

“Because I dinna trust the mon…Yar me lass,
Gwendolyn, and no mon in his right mind wood allow his fiancée tae
spend the night under the roof of another mon. Tis yar last eve in
this house, yar leaving wit me now.”

“I am not going anywhere Charles.”

“I beg tae differ—” He exclaimed, reaching
out and plopping her over his wide shoulders.

Gwendolyn punched his backside, “Let me down
you big gorilla—let me down!”

Charles walked around the room and yanked up
her belongings that he had already packed within his free hand.
“Not till I get ya tae the carriage.”

Gwendolyn began to panic and continued to hit
him, “Charles McMillen, if you do not let me down right this
instance, I will not marry you!”

“I will take me chances lass,”he uttered,
strolling down the staircase unnoticed with her still on his
shoulders.

When Gwendolyn was placed in the carriage she
was mortified to see that Phyllis was already inside. “Phyllis?
What are you doing here?”

“I am sorry malady, but I tend to agree with
Mr. McMillen,” she gingerly voiced, waiving the divorce decree in
front Gwendolyn’s discouragement. “They were sent at dawn by
messenger.”

“B—but, you told me to stay here, you told me
to get to know him.”

“I know, I know child, I did say that. But he
is no good for you. He is arrogant and disreputable and Mr.
McMillen has been nothing but honorable. He is the better
choice.”

Gwendolyn was furious. “Why not let me decide
who’s the better choice?” She began to sit up only to be impelled
back to her seat by the moving carriage. “We’re leaving?” She asked
panic-stricken.

Charles grabbed hold of her nightgown from
behind; Gwendolyn had tried to escape through the window. “Aye
Gwendolyn, and as soon as we get tae Kettlewell, yar gunna marry
me.”

“I cannot believe you are abducting me!”
Gwendolyn exclaimed off the top of her lungs. I did not even get to
say goodbye…” She pouted, feeling a surge of tears swelling her
eyes.

Phyllis grabbed her hand, “But you did
deary…”

Gwendolyn looked at her with heart-rending
grief. “Phyllis, what are you talking about?”

“I wrote a goodbye letter to the Duke of
Norwin.”

“What!”

Thomas already knew what marriage would be
like to Gwendolyn, they were already good friends—he sought out her
ideas, opinions, thoughts, humor, she was his counterpart. But last
night, Gwendolyn gave Thomas a glimpse of what bedtime would entail
and it only augmented his desire to be with her. They fell asleep
in each other’s arms and he never wanted to let her go. But just
before dawn, he dressed her and carried her back to her own bed. He
had to do the proper thing. Had to sever his tie with Katrina
foremost, then he could continue to live a life with his wife, as
it should be…as it should have been.

“Mrs. Hornebrook, has the Duchess come down
for breakfast yet?” Thomas asked wide-eyed and joyful only having
gotten back earlier that morning from leaving into town to speak
with Katrina, but she had still been resting.

Constance had been cooking all morning, and
it was nearing afternoon tea. “No sir, I have yet to see Her Grace.
She is usually up early in the mornings. Quite odd not to see her.”
She then turned to Fitzwater, who entered that very moment. “Fitz,
did you see Her Grace this morning?”

Fitzwater nodded his head, “No Madame, I have
not.” Thomas met their meddlesome eyes. “When you do,” he declared,
“Let her know I wish to speak to her at dinner. Prepare a private
supper this evening Mrs. Hornebrook, there is something I wish to
discuss with the Duchess.”

“Very well, sir.”

Fitzwater watched his employer leave on his
heel before sprinting towards Constance. “What do you think of that
Madame? Was that a slip of the tongue?”

“I think our Tommy has finally seen the
light,” Constance rejoiced, grabbing Fitzwater and hugging the
breath out of him.

An hour later, Thomas was standing by the
gate to the Hale residence once more. Heart thumping too fast to
figure out, he contemplated how to tell her. What was he going to
say? He did not want to hurt her. Katrina had been a loyal and
accommodating mistress for a period of time. How do you tell
someone you do not want to marry them? Purposely break their heart.
Erase all their hopes and dreams for the future with your
withdrawal and second thoughts. There was definitely going to be
some tears no doubt; maybe a shattered vase or two, unquestionably
some name calling, maybe even some of those wonderful swear words
she had picked up at the docks.

“Why Thomas, I was just at the manor coming
to fetch you,” Devin replied, patting his friend on the back with a
fond greeting. “And here you are at my doorstep.”

“Good day, friend,” Thomas greeted him
soberly.

“Come to see Katrina?” Devin asked, amazed.
“Because if it is nothing pressing, I would like to bring you good
news.”

“Good news?” Thomas asked intrigued.

“The Junia has been found,” Devin stated
proudly. “She has been seen coasting off the shore of Mizen Head on
her way towards Britain.”

Thomas could not believe it! After all the
years, all those wasted years of searching for her, the Junia
simply drifts into port and was handed to him on a silver platter?
“That’s wonderful news Devin, simply wonderful!”

“More good news Thomas, the divorce decree
has been completed and has been delivered to the manor with your
seal and implementation,” he pronounced proudly, “The wedding can
go forward as planned.”

Thomas felt a lump in his throat. The decree
had been delivered to the manor, that’s good…then he can have a
private supper with Gwendolyn, tell her that he loved her and they
can renew their vows. “I must speak to Katrina,” he quickly
mouthed, “Is she home?”

“Yes Thomas, I believe she is,” Devin quickly
replied, handing Thomas a letter. “Here, Mrs. Hornebrook gave this
to me as I arrived. I took the liberty of receiving it.”