“Care to share the joke?” Charlotte asked, stepping into the study and taking a seat opposite Gwen.
Gwen pushed the letters toward her and wiped away a stray tear. “Just read them and you’ll see.”
Charlotte scanned the pages, her lips moving. When she finished, she looked back up at Flora, her lips twisted into a scowl. “This is ridiculous. Conner would never entertain such nonsense of selling you off to the highest bidder!”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t insinuating he would. I was only showing you what a hot commodity I am.” Gwen paused, counting the eleven letters. “Charlotte, do you know any of these men?”
She flipped through the notes again. “Um, let’s see…the Baronet Harrison Dudley…well, his son is about your age and is rather handsome. I don’t know these two…” She put those letters down. “Ugh, the Duke of Wellvard is a disgusting old man that looks like a goat. Never consider him.”
“I wouldn’t! Especially just off a quick note. He didn’t even say what I would receive in the deal.”
“Of course, of course. This one I believe I know through Penelope’s brothers. The Duke of Teller has a lovely unmarried nephew he’s taken on as a ward. I don’t think he’s particularly handsome, but he’s rather kind and the family is an old one. Goodness, here is a Spanish prince!”
“I know!” Gwen giggled. “It says his name is Eduardo. I wonder how old he is.” Her mind flashed, albeit childishly, to the book of fairytales she read over and over as a child. Now, the book was with wee Ian and baby Alec in the nursery, but she could still recall the stories of handsome princes and the fair young maidens who captured their hearts. While she had always thought of those tales as nothing more than things to amuse children, a dashing prince with the manners to match might be just the thing to ignite her heart.
“We should ask Conner. He would know.” Charlotte looked more relaxed. “How funny would it be for you to be a princess?”
“A princess…” she muttered. “That would be rich, wouldn’t it?”
“It would be the best match of all your sisters, that’s for certain.”
Gwen piled up the letters, leaving the Duke of Wellvard’s out to be burned. She tied the stack with the ribbon from the desk drawer. While she wasn’t really looking for a husband, it never hurt to keep her options open.
“Are you planning on keeping them?” Charlotte asked, watching her set the stack aside and begin on the accounts.
She shrugged. “I might give some thought to them.”
“Are you thinking about marriage?”
“No, not really. I’m only nineteen, so it’s not as if I’m an old maid. Still, I’d like to keep score of who desires to take me to wife.”
“I completely understand.”
Gwen began tallying up the number of sheep still left after the fall culling and the winter storms. But then she stopped and slowly put her pen down. “Charlotte, do you regret marrying? Not Conner, of course, but just…being a wife?”
“Well, I didn’t expect that.” She laughed.
Gwen bit her lip, wishing she had more of a filter. “Heavens, that was so rude of me.”
Charlotte waved a hand. “Oh, posh, it’s a valid question. You see, it wasn’t marriage I was against initially, but the act of being owned.”
“But aren’t you now?”
“Owned?” She smirked. “What do you think?”
“I think you own Conner more than he owns you, that’s for certain.” Gwen tried reading the next paper, but couldn’t focus on the words. “But Conner’s not like other men. He would let you do anything you wished and help you to do it, like with the orphanage.”
“Which is why I married him. He made me more a partner than a wife, and that’s the difference. Partners are equal, respected. Not that there’s anything wrong with being just a wife, but it gives a certain connotation of being owned by your husband, and in many parts of the world, that’s true.”
Gwen slid her work away and sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I know I have more right here in Scotland than you did in England, but the thought of being someone’s property…or just being tied to another person jars me.”
“You’re a strong woman,” Charlotte asserted, reaching over the desk to take Gwen’s hand. “There are many men out there who have progressive ideas about love and marriage and I hope you won’t settle for less.”
“I’m not worried, if that’s what you’re thinking. Thanks to my dowry, I’ll have no shortage of men to think of, if I so choose.”
“Ach, my two favorite lasses, havin’ a moment!” Conner’s voice boomed as he came into the library. “Warms my heart, it does.”
Charlotte released her hands and allowed her husband to place a kiss upon her cheek. “Hello, Conner, how were the horses?”
“Verra well.” His gaze dropped to all the papers and letters on the desk. “What’s this, then?”
“Papers for the estate and many marriage proposals,” Gwen told him.
Conner nodded. “Oh, aye, I figured as much. A few men came to me with their suits at Flora’s weddin’.”
“And what did you say?” she asked suspiciously.
“Like I’d give ye away without askin’.” He scoffed. “Ye’d stab me in my sleep.”
“I never said you would. I was just curious,” Gwen assured him, holding up her letters. “A prince has asked for a portrait of me.”
Conner raised his brows, looking impressed. “A prince?”
“From Spain,” Charlotte added.
“Ye’d go all the way there to marry him?” Conner asked. “Spain’s a long way away, lass.”
Gwen smiled and stood, tucking the letters under her arm. “I think I’d like to send my portrait,” she announced on a whim. It felt rather nice to be fancied.
“Would ye?” Her brother frowned and looked to his wife, who only shrugged. “Well, aye, I suppose I could call for one to be sent, if you’re sure?”
“Goodness, Conner, I’m asking for a picture to be sent, not signing a marriage contract this very moment.” Gwen snorted, leaving the room.
She strolled through the corridors and narrow passageways to the front of the castle. She grabbed her cloak from a maid and tied it round her shoulders, squinting in the harsh afternoon light of late winter. The thin layer of snow that had fallen the day before had all but gone, but the frost in the air still remained.
Thankfully, the wind was still and not the biting gusts of the last few weeks. So she was able to walk down to the cliffs, where she often sat when she needed to get out of the castle. Others were frightened to sit among the rocks so high above the sea, but not Gwen. She feared the ocean below and its dark depths, but knew she would be safe atop the stones above.
Gwen sat between two tall, black rocks and leg her legs dangle over the edge, her skirts whipping around her legs. She felt her stomach turn as she peered into the crashing waves, meters below her feet. The feeling sent a short burst of adrenaline through her that made her heart race. Facing the danger of the waters below was the closest she would ever come to true peril.
Once she was comfortable, she set the stack upon her lap and picked up the first unopened one. Sliding the note free with her finger, she scanned it quickly, seeing what lord or trade master was asking for her favor. She frowned when she saw it was a man who had already been married thrice. While one dead wife was a tragedy, three made it a habit. Gwen crumpled it up and tossed it down to the sea. The next two were also uninspired and she wondered if she would find another who sounded as thrilling as the Spanish prince did with his offer of a castle surrounded by a large city. Of course she didn’t know much about him, but being the princess to a young prince was certainly a more attractive prospect than being the fourth wife to an old man.
She sifted through the letters for the next envelope when a gust of wind lifted the skirts of her dress and flung the papers around her. Gwen stumbled up, snatching the pages before they could be blown away entirely. She at least wanted to s
alvage the letter from the prince.
“In need of assistance, Senhorita?” a voice asked from behind an outcropping of rocks. She turned around just as Captain Florencio strolled up to her, a paper clutched in his fist.
Gwen groaned inwardly. She had come to the cliffs for some privacy and then he came to spoil it. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“It does not look so.” His gray eyes skimmed her body in an open way that made her feel as if she were on display. “What are you doing out here alone?”
She swallowed as her heart began pounding anew. She was alone on the cliffs with a Portuguese man twice her size without anyone to protect her. The tales of violent seamen ravishing women on land reached even the most remote of villages and Gwen hadn’t even thought to bring a guard—she never felt the need to before. The hills around her were empty and the gate to the keep was some distance away now. No one would hear her call out for help. With the rocks surrounding her, it would be near impossible to reach safety before he grabbed her. There was only one option; she would need to fight for her survival.
Gwen reached slowly into her cloak to grab the handle of the small, bejeweled dirk that was hidden within the folds of her gown. She kept her gaze trained on Captain Florencio, who was watching her with unveiled interest.
“I—I really must be going,” she told him, trying to sidestep him in order to get closer to the castle without drawing too near.
“No, do no leave on my account.” He held out her letter, which she quickly snatched.
“I really must. It’s going to be dark soon.”
He looked out at the sun and shook his head. “There’s still a fistful of sun left in the sky.”
“Lovely, well, I need to get to work…” She had her back pressed against a tall rock and was inching around him, or trying to at least.
Captain Florencio chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I am not going to attack you, if that is what you fear.”
She blanched, feeling her knees go weak. “What? No, I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort.”
He took a step closed, a smile on his lips. “You are nervous, Senhorita, but you needn’t be.” Captain Florencio drew closer until he was so near to Gwen, their bodies almost touched. “I would never take a woman against her will. If I planned on seducing you, I would and I could.”
Gwen felt her cheeks flush, but she loosened her grip on her dagger. “This is highly inappropriate!”
“I know.”
“My brother could have you flogged for your…your…”
“My what, Senhorita?” Captain Florencio reached out and twisted a lock of Gwen’s golden hair around his finger. “My effect on you?”
Bristling, she reached out and sharply slapped his hand away. Then, with some force, she placed both hands on his chest and tried to shove him back, but he was as hard and immovable as the stones around them. Suppressing the urge to shriek in flustered frustration, she pushed past him and began the brisk walk back to the castle.
But Captain Florencio was incorrigible. “Senhorita, you needn’t leave on my account,” he said again when he caught up with her.
“I need to go back to the keep. I have important work that must be attended to.”
“Work? But you’re the sister of the master of these lands, sim?”
She glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, women are capable of more than just bearing children and darning your stockings.”
“Ah, you have a fire, Senhorita, like the sea herself.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Oh, does it not?” he challenged. “Does the sea not carry a rage and an energy within her that rivals the flame of the sun?”
Gwen heaved an annoyed sigh. “Still, I wouldn’t connect the ocean and fire in such a manner. There are other ways to describe a woman in regards to the sea, such as tumultuous, unfathomable, profound, ever-changing, unpredictable—”
“Beautiful?” he offered, his eyes clearly trained on her face. “Mysterious, breathtaking.”
Gwen stopped walking and balled her hands upon her hips. “Captain Florencio—”
“Por favor, Senhorita, call me Gaspar.”
“Gaspar, you’re acting ridiculously inappropriate and I won’t stand for it.”
“Ah, is that why you glow that charming shade of red?” He grinned, flashing his white teeth. “Your words say you wish me to leave you be, but your face tells a different story.”
Gwen wished she had the nerve to stab him. She thought it might be the only way to make him stop. But that would mean getting blood upon her sleeve and she was far too practical for that. “If you don’t halt this nonsense immediately, I’ll tell my brother and cancel our trade contract.”
He clutched his heart over his black cloak. “Senhorita, you wound me.”
“If only,” she muttered, turning to leave, but he grabbed her hand.
“Senhorita, don’t be angry with me. I cannot bear the look of fury upon your prettily rosy face.”
She pulled her fingers free. “You’re absurd, has anyone ever told you so?”
“No one so golden and fair.”
Gwen made a little noise, akin to a gag. “Do you ever stop?”
“I’ll stop if you agree to join me for a walk upon my ship.”
“Never.”
His dark brows lowered. “What if I ask nicely?”
“The answer is still going to be no.”
“And if I request it upon my knees?”
“No.”
Gaspar pursed his full lips and thought a moment before saying, “And if I offer you French jewels and Spanish gold?”
Gwen gasped at his insolence. “How dare you make such insinuations? I am deeply offended. Besides, when I wed the Spanish prince, I’ll have all the gold in the country at my disposal, so I have no need of yours!” She stomped her foot and began striding toward the castle, eager to leave him behind. She wasn’t sure why she decided to tell him of the engagement that hadn’t even become a reality and almost felt as if she told him of someone else’s betrothal instead of her own. But if anything would stop his offensive ramblings, it might as well be a royal.
Gaspar followed and jogged before her, his expression much more serious than before. “The Spanish prince?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
She paused, her mind blanking to his name. She cursed herself for not remembering such an important detail, but she couldn’t let Gaspar realize that she knew so little of him. “Why does it matter to you?”
“I might know a thing or two about the princes.”
His words piqued her interest, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “I don’t care to listen to what you have to say.”
“Just know that they all have their vices and sins.”
“As do you, I assume.”
When they got to the castle, he took her hand again and stopped her right before the gate. “Senhorita, I meant no offense earlier. You have just captivated me so and I would hate to let such a golden jewel slip through my grasp.”
Gwen looked down at their clasped hands, finding that the warmth of his coarse palm shot through her body. When her gaze found his again, she glowered up at him. “Release me now and never speak to me in this outrageous manner again.”
He dropped her hand and dipped a short bow. “Senhorita, one day you will beg these hands to touch you.” Gaspar then turned his back on her and leisurely strolled back the way they came, leaving Gwen feeling irritated and rather ruffled.
She brushed the confusing feelings aside and hurried through the castle and up to her room. Maids had been in and piled her white stone fireplace high with wood and built a small fire. But Gwen didn’t need the extra heat the low flames brought her. She still felt her body blush from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair at Gaspar’s last words.
“That bloody man,” she grumbled, tossing her cloak onto her bed and cr
ossing the room to her small desk. She preferred the large one in the library for her true work, but the delicate one in her chambers was well enough for her personal affairs. Besides, it was nice to have true privacy, which was impossible at times in the library.
Gwen had just shut the crumpled letters in one of the many drawers when something caught her eye out the window. She hadn’t noticed before, but the Portuguese ship was directly in her line of sight, the masts standing bare like leafless branches in winter. It was too far away for her to see anything, of anyone upon the decks, but the mere sight of the boat made her heart beat unpleasantly.
Drawing the curtains of her window shut, Gwen stomped the length of her room, her mind muddled with feelings of uncertainty and doubt about her future, something she hadn’t been worried about before. But one thing she needed to be absolutely firm on was her match with the prince. He was an attractive prospect that would no doubt be respectful, well-mannered, gallant, and offer her freedoms that other men may not, due to his royal standing that wasn’t so high that she would be caged like those closer to the throne.
Out of all the men who had asked for her hand, or hinted that they would like to, none had sparked any interest. They all seemed flat and often tiresome, and she didn’t care to be bored to tears every day for the rest of her life. At least with the mysterious Prince Eduardo, there was a chance of something more.
Feeling better about her future nuptials, she left her letters behind and went down to the library to collect every book they had on Spain.
Chapter Three
Gwen awoke early the next morning to Charlotte shaking her shoulder. Her face was so close that—for a moment—she had no idea what she was looking at and sat up with a start.
“Charlotte, what’s happened? Is something wrong?”
“No, not in the least bit.”
“Then why bounce about as if there is a fire? I’m exhausted.”
Sapphire Sea Page 3
