Dare To Love

by Trisha Fuentes

  Gwendolyn regained her composure. Sweat began to drip down the center of her back from his disreputable flaunt. Her fingers itched to touch him and she clasped her hands behind her rear to disguise her craving to do so. “Don’t you have someone to do that Thomas?”

  Thomas did not bother to look at her and continued on with the undertaking. “Yes, but I prefer to do this myself. I like to take out my frustrations on stagnant blameless trees.”

  Gwendolyn began to hoot from his morbid humor and apparent private joke. Thomas gazed over at her and grinned himself. The warmth from his smile and the allusion in his eyes caused her mouth to go dry. “Since you are rather fond of my absence I would like to go into town; can you arrange a driver for my carriage?”

  He knew exactly what she was hinting at. The last couple of days were excruciating to say the least. He was so excited to have her here it had been pain-staking torture not to converse with her. Nevertheless, Thomas stayed his course, “You cannot leave Gwendolyn.”

  Gwendolyn gazed around her and pinpointed Katrina; she had suddenly walked over to Thomas’ backside and perched herself on a massive tree stump. “Why ever not?”

  Thomas split a log in two before saying, “I cannot have you traipsing around town spilling your existence when I am about to get married, you see.”

  Seeing his point all too clearly, she retorted, “So you intend to keep me hostage?”

  Thomas chortled, “You are free to roam the acreage Gwendolyn and no one intends to keep you imprisoned to your room. We still have ample horses to ride around on; there are even several delightful ponds you have never seen before surrounding the grassland. I think you would enjoy the restoration of Wilderbrand.”

  “Sounds like a splendid idea, I haven’t ridden in over a month. I will just go find a cozy little spot by a quaint little pond and write a letter to my fiancé. Tell him how much I miss him and apprise him of recent measures.” Gwendolyn huffed and began to walk away. She circled around and inquired, “Do I have your permission to use your horse?”

  Thomas smirked again, “Certainly.” He was rather enjoying her company, and she was withdrawing her verbal jostling? “But do not feed her sugar, she won’t eat her regular diet if you spoil her…I quite like the way she is now.”

  “And what way is that?”

  “Submissive.”

  Gwendolyn’s heart began to pound again. He said it so huskily, she felt like throwing herself into his arms and kissing that bare chest of his. She eyed Katrina who kept seated, “Coming Katrina?”

  Spreading out her skirt alongside the cut-off trunk Katrina continued to sit and turned away.

  “If I recall, that tree used to ooze sap…and well, ants and beetles love sap, don’t they Thomas?” Gwendolyn turned around and smiled and began her trot up the hill.

  Katrina immediately jumped off the tree trunk and began patting her backside.

  Thomas grinned and watched Gwendolyn tramp away. Unconsciously, his foot moved forward, he was going to accompany her. He instantly recalled always following her and stopped dead in his tracks. No. Stop. Do not pursue her. Gwendolyn was always the one in control, relinquishing his capability to her, ruling their friendship; he was forever trailing in her wake. What would it be like to have her shadow him for a change? She was now his hostage, as she put it very nicely.

  He stood frozen, heart pounding fierce, without a doubt, it would be a valuable challenge, absolute compensation if he could win her full attention. He brought to mind their wedding night when he first realized how he could gain the upper hand, to be assertive…well, that won’t be so difficult now; he had been that way for years. He could just continue being his same assured self…no, that won’t work either; he was always mush around her. No, it had to work, it will succeed…but for what purpose? Good Lord, what was happening to him? Confusion, disorder, he was not used to so much instability since he was a lad! Daunting, intimidating, nerve-racking…he knew this would happen… he knew he was in big trouble when he laid her down on that blasted couch. He was once her personal dunderhead, but no more!

  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…