Dare To Love

by Trisha Fuentes

  “Oh, Joan, you know who that is? Why, that’s Jordan Hollinger’s younger brother!” I heard the girl squeal. “He is so handsome; he is similar to his older sibling.”

  Joan’s eyes lit up in wonder, “Really? So, he’s our age then? With no unsuitable reputation?”

  “Yes,” that squeaky girl shrilled, “He is also very sweet, you would like him, he has the most gorgeous blue eyes.”

  I stared at the both of them. What the heck was going on? Did the sugar from the frosting on the cake go to their heads? Have they lost their minds from eating bad fruit? “Green,” I said, which made them both turn my way. “Tommy’s eyes are green.”

  Joan asked amazed, “So you know the Hollinger’s?”

  “Haven’t you heard? They’re family friends,” Squeaky spurted out matter-of-factly.

  “And you have been sitting there silent as a church mouse and haven’t gushed your acquaintance?” She quipped, slapping my hand that was in my lap, “Shame on you.” She then quickly turned her head to consider Tommy once again, only this instance, took her time at it. “Do you think you can introduce me?” She asked me now with puppy dog eyes. I watched her face turn from mine and followed her eyes to see if I could figure out what she found so fascinating. Tommy and Adam were side by side, both of them the same height with their arms animated out in front of them in conversation, they looked normal to me, and so non-fascinating. I turned back to Joan and her face was still absorbed.

  “Oh Joan, do you think you have set your cap for him?” I heard Squeaky inquire.

  I viewed Joan slowly nod her head yes, and just like that, I couldn’t believe it. A threat invaded my special comradeship. I didn’t want her setting her cap for him. I didn’t want anyone setting anything on him. Tommy belonged to me. I got up from my seat and marched over to where the boys’ stood. Not caring that I left the girls dumbfounded with my abrupt rudeness, but on a mission, a conquering urge to protect what was mine. Arriving quickly at my intended target, I yanked at the back of his collar and motioned for Tommy to come and follow me to a nearby corner.

  “See that girl over there, no, don’t look her way, I think she likes you,” I said, trying to figure out why my heart swelled up beyond comprehension.

  “The blonde girl?” Tommy asked, gazing over at her. He appeared to give Joan too much inspection, as I watched his eyes turn from inquisitive to interested. “What is her name? She is kind of cute.”

  “Cute?” I remarked, gazing over at her myself. I tried to figure out what he found so fascinating. Long blonde hair, dark brown eyes, she was even wearing the same style of dress I wore. “She is Baron Huxton’s daughter, Joan. Why, do you like her?” I asked, feeling the beats in my heart beginning to escalate.

  “I don’t know...do you think I should go talk to her?”

  I stared at Tommy still looking in her direction. Could not believe that he would leave me to go and speak to a stranger. My heart hurt now. It got large, swollen, and kept beating in an unpleasant, stubborn way. Just then, I wanted to injure him just as much as he was wounding me. “Go ahead, I am going to go and talk to Barry Abernathy anyway.”

  Tommy closed the space between us and stared me down. Squinting his eyes in annoyance, he voiced, “Barry Abernathy? Why, he’s Andrew’s age. What would a chap like Barry show interest in a child like you?”

  With my hands on my hips, I twisted my lips, “He’s already shown interest in me you nitwit—he’s practically glued to my heel,” I retorted, walking away from him. “Watch.” In the corner of my eye, I could see him; Barry Abernathy, so tall, with wide shoulders, two years older than I. I could not understand why he was so fascinated, having never been introduced to him before. The farther I walked away, the farther Barry would follow me. I turned to see if Tommy was following me as well, and he wasn’t? I stopped cold and watched him pace over to Joan and Squeaky to introduce himself. A bizarre darting pang pierced through my heart…he was not allowed to honor her wishes! Upon my huff, I noticed in my peripheral view that Barry was still within arm’s length. I decided to see how far he would chase me and scampered over to the horse stables. I knew I was without a chaperone, but I didn’t care. That throbbing ache inside my chest would not go away.

  “See now,” I heard him say, “Slow down, I cannot talk to you if you do not slow down.”

  I turned around; I didn’t realize I was running! “What?” I asked, my arms draped across my chest in a standoff. My heart started to beat ungovernably now, realizing that we were alone, inside the stable with no one else but horseflesh.

  “Happy birthday, Gwendolyn,” Barry quietly voiced, stepping into me, rapidly stealing all my air.

  “Th-thank you,” I said, wondering what the glint in his eyes, meant. I stepped backwards, turned around and walked in farther into the stables. “Have you seen the horse my father gave me? The Arabian?” I asked sheepishly, hearing his footsteps behind me. They were like echoing, thunderous sounds inside my thumping ears. I halted at the hatchway, and in a flash, the gelding trotted over to me for a petting. “Isn’t she beautiful?” I asked, stroking the horse’s mane and then gazing over at Barry.

  He was staring right at me; looking at me in an irregular way. “Yes,” I heard him say in a low tone, “Yes, she is.”

  I noticed him reaching for me and I wanted to run, but my legs would not move. I was spellbound, he was going to kiss me, but I still could not move! Suddenly, his hands were on my waist…dear God, he was touching me, and he did not even ask. Swiftly, Barry enclosed the space between us and I felt his warm hand on the edge of my breast, his other hand grabbed at my neck and before he finished his attempt at tasting me, Tommy came out of nowhere and toppled Barry horizontal.

  Tommy and Barry were on the ground now, in the dirt, kicking hay, pulling, punching, hitting, and strangling one another. I screamed at Tommy, trying to get him to stop, but he wasn’t listening to me. I bent down and yanked at his coat and tried to drag him away. Tommy was enraged; I had never seen him like that before. He cursed at Barry who was still down in the dirt, and before I knew it, Tommy ran away and I rushed after him…

  ~~~~~

  Gwendolyn sat transfixed on her memory of that day. Too many deliberations bounced around in her head. She was older now, wiser, and did not grasp what was happening back then, but, oh God, she comprehended it now. She had seen that look before…the first time on that day, secondly, on her wedding night, and thirdly, the other night at the ball. So much emotion, heat and craze in those fair green eyes. Thomas’ face was full of passion; it was enthralling, it was mesmerizing… it was…kind of like…now? Gwendolyn impulsively drank down her goblet of wine and decided to focus on a story less disturbing.

  “Oh, do tell us that one,” Evelyn voiced, energetic with glee, “The one that you just remembered and turned crimson.”

  Gwendolyn swallowed and gazed down at her plate, careful not to look at Thomas, no, do not look his way. He was probably wondering what the heck she had recalled. Nodding her head, she uttered, “Um… well, there was one particular story I’d like to share.”

  “Do tell us Lady Hollinger, your dear cousin is such a mystery,” Evelyn decided, gazing at Katrina with envious eyes.

  At the head of table, Thomas leaned back casually in his chair and set eyes on Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn sat up tense in her seat and declared, “Thomas was shy—”

  “Shy!” Evelyn began to titter.

  Her husband pinched her leg underneath the table. “My dear, please refrain from any further spirits,” Lord Moore asserted.

  “Close your eyes and go to sleep,” Evelyn nagged at him. “Now, Lady Hollinger, do go on, I do apologize for my outburst.”

  Gwendolyn smiled and gazed at Thomas who had remained intently looking at her, he was so wickedly handsome she could not bear it. Oh God, what would it look like if she flung herself across the table to kiss him? She studied his pretext before saying, “He broke his arm once.”

  “I forgot about that,” T
homas added, grabbing his chalice of wine and taking a sip.

  Gwendolyn turned from him and began to speak to Lady Moore; “We were by the lake, in the summertime. It was very hot that day, and we decided to take a swim. Andrew…” she stopped suddenly, swallowing from feeling overwhelmed with the memory that Andrew was now deceased. “Andrew, Thomas’ brother, built a raft, and we decided to steal it.”

  “Steal it!” Evelyn squealed again, making her sleeping husband jump from the noise. She patted her husband’s hands underneath the table and Lord Moore carried on with his snoring.

  Gwendolyn’s smile grew with each regained memory of that fateful day. “I did not want to of course, but the future Duke wanted to see if it could sail.”

  “Sail?” Evelyn interrupted again, “But I thought you said it was a raft.”

  “Evelyn, if you do not mind, we would all like to listen to this interesting story without any interruptions,” Katrina announced, making everyone feel a bit uneasy. “You may precede, Gwendolyn.”

  Gwendolyn’s claws began to jut out beneath the table. Blasted girl, she thought, Gwendolyn wanted to scream off the top of her lungs that she was the Duchess of the manor and should not be directed so informally! But Gwendolyn sustained her smile and concluded, “We thought it could sail, because we were very young…six years, I do recall now.” She turned her head and saw Thomas gazing at Katrina. They shared a fleeting look and Gwendolyn grew envious. “Tommy—I mean, Thomas, grabbed the back, and I pulled the front until the raft floated on the water. We drifted around happily, pretending we were soldiers on his majesty’s ship, when I decided to stand up to hoist sails and tipped over our vessel!” She laughed, hearing everyone chuckle along with her. She clogged again and eyed Thomas. This time, he leaned back into his chair and stared at her with an indebted gaze. Her mirth weakened, when she realized he knew exactly what came next. “We swam to shore, dragging ourselves out of the water, head to toe, wringing wet, when I decided to disrobe.” Gwendolyn halted and eyed the guests; they were all very quiet and intrigued, hanging onto her every shameful word. “I was wet you see, and damp, sticky, my leggings full of water, I felt like a bathed cat. I urged Thomas to do the same, and when we were finished…we were nude.” Gwendolyn circled her eyes around and everyone had their mouths open. Katrina, whose eyes were narrow and full of fury, promised revenge in the very near future. Old Lord Moore was fully awake now and engrossed in her every wicked detail.

  Thomas just sat there, grinning from ear to ear. “Finish the story Gwendolyn,” he pressed her.

  “Heading back towards the estate, our governess spotted the two of us, running around exposed as Roman statutes, and chased us roughly trying to catch a limb or two. Slippery as we were, she was unable to; constantly bending over, missing us like oily little piglets between her fingers. Thomas continued to run away from her when he did not see the tree in front of him and ran right into it.”

  “His Grace…broke his arm…on a tree?” Evelyn bellowed off the top of her lungs.

  “Yes!” Gwendolyn snorted with her. Everyone began to roll with amusement, even Thomas, who grabbed his goblet again and chucked the remaining wine down his throat.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace, but we have an unexpected visitor.”

  Thomas acknowledged his butler who peeped in through the door. “Who is it Fitzwater?”

  “A mister Charles McMillen, sir.”

  Gwendolyn gasped and stood up from her seat, “He’s here?”

  “Yes malady, should I receive him?”

  Thomas stood up from his chair and threw down his napkin, “McMillen, Gwendolyn?”

  Gwendolyn straightened up her back and met his annoyance, “Your point being?”

  The table was hushed at once; having just been introduced to the most enjoyable story heard in decades, to straight away feel the tension between the two childhood culprits.

  “Your fiancé does not happen to be Scottish now, is he?”

  Gwendolyn crossed her arms in defiance, “Your point being—Your Grace?”

  Thomas kicked back his chair and headed towards the far end of the dining room area. He suddenly froze realizing his upper back was saturated from a propelled strawberry.

  “Where are you going?” Gwendolyn demanded about to throw another piece of fruit at him.

  Thomas swallowed his annoyance then slowly wiped the gooiness away from his person, “To see what is cluttering my hallway.”

  “What are you going to do?” Gwendolyn inquired, watching Thomas halt then turn on his heel.

  Thomas cocked his head to one side, “…I am going to invite him to play tidily-winks!”

  Every guest glued himself or herself to his hasty exit while Gwendolyn rushed around the table to meet his stride. A gamine smile appeared on her lips, instant gratification spun out of control knowing he was now envious of her current beau. “Why are you so angry?”

  He did not bother to look at her. “Who’s angry?”

  “You are.”

  “Am not!”

  But now Gwendolyn was mad. What was he going to do? She yanked at his coat and pulled him off balance. “I do not see why you should be so upset Thomas, you are not the one who’s going to marry him.”

  “Who’s upset?” He let out with twisted anger.

  “You are!” She snarled back at him.

  “Am not!”

  “Am too!”

  Thomas regulated his emotions and straightened out his waistcoat. He turned to his friends all staring at the both of them arguing and replied, “I apologize for the explosion.”

  “At least he’s not French, Thomas,” Devin quipped with a snicker, directly eyeing Lady Moore.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Pushing Thomas aside, Gwendolyn managed to beat his footing and ran towards Charles first, whirling herself around to clamp the man’s extensively wide arms.

  Thomas stood agape—the man was huge! A giant, burly, robust gorilla was what he was: Wool cap atop cropped reddish-brown hair, dim eyes with a mustache and beard a bit overgrown and in need of a trim, farmer’s suspenders holding up worn trousers over bulky mud boots. He petted Gwendolyn’s small hand within his enfold and stared at the black panther before him.

  “Ye must be the stately Duke,” Charles mocked with his distinct Scottish brogue.

  “I am,” Thomas stated, watching his guests all pour into view.

  Katrina arrived on the scene behind him and stood by his side. “I am Charles McMillen, here tae collect me fiancée,” he roared unruly, gazing down at Gwendolyn.

  A rush of possessiveness passed through Thomas. He was not about to let some brute take over his control. “She is not going anywhere.” “Och now, yes she is,” he rumbled in a deep, growling voice. Thomas noted his friends who had all gathered around. “Nothing to see here, may I suggest tea on the veranda outside? There is a lovely moon, the air is warm and light, I do assure you it will be quite comfortable,” he hushed down and spoke to Katrina in her ear. “Be a dear and direct them outside, I will meet you in a moment.”

  “Only a moment Thomas, and not a moment longer,” Katrina demanded quietly, waiving her arms in misdirection. “Shall we go to the garden?

  Thomas stood erect and sized his opponent once more. The two men met eye-to-eye, on the verge of attack. Gwendolyn noted the tension brewing and yanked at Charles’ large arms. She was not about to witness a primeval skirmish between a gorilla and black panther.

  “Come Charles; let us go to the library.”

  Charles kept his eyes on Thomas the second they arrived behind closed doors. Unaffected, and within his realm, Thomas lurked around his desk and took a seat in his leather armchair.