“We were about to make love.”
“We were?” Oh dear, they were…it was what her body craved, was it not? Amazing what direction the body will take you once you give it a nibble.
Thomas bent over and tried to see her face more clearly. She had turned around and began to stroll away, tucking and brushing herself down along the way. He tracked her, only to grab her by the arm and whirl her around, “Is that a blush? Are you blushing, Gwendolyn?”
“No,” she rejoined, regaining her poise.
Thomas smirked and was engorged with gratification, “Well, I must say, whatever the consequence, it was nice to finally see you receptive.”
“Huh!” She respired, realizing he was right, “That outburst was not civilized, Thomas.”
“When is passion ever polite?”
“Passion?”
“Gwendolyn, we have always encompassed it, you and I. Why does this shock you?”
Gwendolyn closed her mouth and looked intently at him. He had this satisfied cast upon his front. God, he looked wonderful, kissable, yes, she wanted to kiss him again and again. Was that what she was feeling all along? Passion? Oh God, she hated passion, and she despised him even more for having detected it first. “There is no you and I…it was…nostalgia, that’s all.” Gwendolyn tried to expunge the fanatical sensation she was encompassing. Encompassing? Yes, rather hard to ignore all sides of her bursting with desire for him.
Thomas smirked, “Do accept my apology Gwendolyn, but my reflection turned into an investigation…it must have been the dress.”
Blasted man, she thought, hesitating when she realized he was the one who purchased the gown. “You did not.”
“I most definitely did.”
She tsked at him, “So inappropriate.”
“But suitably appropriate to your shape…just like I imagined.”
He said it so huskily, that Gwendolyn nearly grabbed his head to her bosom for a second time. “No more gifts, Thomas.”
He started to hoot and brought his eyes down and then back up again to meet her bravado. “Gwendolyn, consider yourself fortunate that you have found a partner who likes to share his fortune.”
Gwendolyn let go an insensitive smile, “A partner, Thomas? I do not see our partners in this span.”
Why does she keep reminding him that she was still not his? Thomas was, nevertheless, encouraged, his green eyes sinister and persuasive. “Consider it a souvenir then, for a most pleasurable interaction.”
Gwendolyn marveled in the way he spoke, his voice deep and swaying. “Do you give gifts to all the women you have interacted with?”
“Only to those I expect to be intimate.”
“We were not about to be intimate.”
“We’ll see how long you deny yourself the pleasure. Not many stand where you are now and not want to satisfy their gain.”
His erotic grin nearly discharged her moral fiber; she laughed moronically, only to close her mouth. “So there has been many?”
“Many what?”
“Women.”
Thomas sensed that she was probing. “I am no rake Gwendolyn, but I do hold a certain finesse with the softer sex.”
“Your kiss hasn’t improved that much,” she managed to say, watching with spherical eyes, his second attempt to test her. Thomas leaned in skillfully, not touching her anywhere else but his intended target. Gwendolyn stared at his approaching brashness, hesitated, and then naturally parted her lips to receive him.
Thomas stopped just inches from her kiss, circled his eyes about her face and grinned into her surrender. “You see…you still want me.”
“I do not.” Gwendolyn promptly replied. Liar. Oh yes…she did, she really, really did. She doesn’t want to be quarrelling with him; she wanted to collide with him. And, oh dear God, as she continued to be tempted by his suggestive glare, she wanted to carnally lie down. One kiss was not enough…she wanted him naked now and buried deep. She was so in love with him, she recognized instantly…Still in love with him…in love with a man who savored her on his engagement supper to another woman!? Damn him! Why did being reunited have to be so bloody complicated? Gwendolyn quickly overruled her runaway emotions. “The devil take you Thomas Hollinger,” she declared on her way out the conservatory only to stop at the entrance to turn around. He was still so confident, and she loathed that puffed-up chest of his. “How dishonorable you have become, Tommy. The sooner I leave here, the better…you’re just a distraction…you and your…clothes.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thomas arrived back at the gathering in a purely primitive manner. The fury his infant bride influenced was not of this earth. He had never felt that kind of insatiate need with any other woman…not even within his private moments with Katrina. God, he was…obsessed. Her words, her eyes, her hair, her body and that kiss—the burning desire she inflamed in him! God, he knew this would happen! Give that woman just a little bit of his interest and she would be smothering him with her gratifying attention. This little game he had been playing had not gone according to plan. Bloody everlasting hell…the devil take sexual attraction! Idiot, fool! He was always trying to catch her true position, forever trying to trip up her true sincerity. Why was she always so hard to pin down? And now, he had to sever being standoffish, the diversion suddenly gone fishing. The further time he spent with her, the more he wanted to spend. Want, desire was substandard to what he was feeling now. Not since the yearning of getting back to Britain had he sought after something so badly. He was a man at her mercy, anything that she demanded, he would hand her.
Thomas stood possessed and imprisoned by Gwendolyn’s nonchalant allure. She was waltzing with Devin now, smiling, carefree and enjoying his expertise. The devil take him as well! Why does he feel so envious of Devin’s arms? He’s never envied Devin, not one little bit! In fact, as he eyed several other bachelors eyeing his forgotten treasure, the vision of her dancing with any other man practically ate him inside out. Oh, bloody hell…he wanted to punch anyone who laid eyes upon her…Good God, what was happening to him?
“Take me to your room?”
He felt her presence, but was concentrated on the reflection before him. Katrina had flounced up behind him and enfolded her arm within his.
“What, why?”
Katrina watched her brother dancing with Gwendolyn and thought how finished they looked with one another. She then eyed the many guests glued to her presence and awarded the gossipmongers a taste of her good fortune by leaning into Thomas intimately. Through clinched teeth, she lowered her voice, “Because my dear Thomas, that incensed look on your face show’s charm to others, but I know what prurient desire lies behind those dark eyes of yours.”
Thomas turned to look at her, she was indeed, a beautiful woman besides; her blonde curls set about her milky white complexion, her exquisite laced ball gown made of pink satin, a bodice cut lower than was fashionable enticing added male attention than was proper. This was his supposed engagement celebration, what was wrong with him? He should have been exultant, and yet, he had never been more miserable!
He knew how it would appear if he were to be seen walking away from her, but he did it anyways and noted the reaction of some of his close by guests. Katrina stood alone now, with Thomas withdrawing from her affection.
Just then, the queen rumormonger herself, Lady Trousley, cornered Thomas. A rather portly woman who liked to squeeze herself into the latest fashion whose assets oftentimes spilled out because of their tension. “Trouble in paradise, Your Grace?”
Thomas regained composure, “None, Lady Trousley.”
“Your dear cousin is quite the belle of the ball, why haven’t you introduced her to us before?”
Thomas caught sight of the jade dress twirling around in the corner of his eye, “She has been in Yorkshire, Lady Trousley, only here for the wedding.”
“Yorkshire,” Lady Trousley repeated with ridicule, “How posh,” she wheezed, and then sailed on, “Even so, her face seems quite
familiar.”
“Yorkshire,” he repeated hoping she’d go away.
“Her family from London?”
“No,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Suffolkshire?”
Chatty cow, Thomas thought, shaking his head at her obvious nosiness. He had better shut her down and fast. “If her presence seems familiar, love, it is because I was unsuccessful in keeping our relationship unnoticeable.” He then bestowed one of his deadly grins and gave her a playful wink. “Very hush-hush Lady Trousley and I do hope I can count on you to be discreet about such matters.”
Lady Trousley began fanning herself from Thomas’ rascally behavior. Her intuition had been correct and after having tea with Madame LeFleur that afternoon, her assumption about his acquaintance with his so-called cousin had been right on marks. Gwendolyn Hollinger was no more than the Duke’s mistress? First to marry his communal mistress, now to parade one around? Shame on him for displaying her more or less common and inviting her to his own engagement party! Allowing her to present herself as a relative? Absurd! Indecent, if you ask her—why the man had no morals; and equally wicked—did she not just bump into another one of the Duke’s mistresses at the dessert cart? “Scandalous,” she let go, fanning herself to a degree of blowing herself over.
Thomas excused himself and headed towards the conservatory once more. Tried to recollect what just happened. Scandalous, shocking, wicked? Something inside of him popped, ruptured and oozed. He was being attacked from all sides because of it; this war of emotions inside his heart. Marrying Katrina felt incredibly wrong all of a sudden. Wrong, improper and inappropriate…An unhealthy, horrible decision! He still cared for Gwendolyn, he realized conceding. The problem now was how to break a bloody pledge. He had never broken a promise his entire life! But he would fracture one now without hesitation if Gwendolyn divulged mutual attachment. Rip it, stomp it, kick it away if she would reveal her true feelings. He had not been intimate with Katrina since setting eyes on Gwendolyn. It was that auburn enchantress who held his sole desire now and he felt nothing less but suffocation.
Finding his legs halting atop a hill, just above the ballroom, Thomas soaked in the captivating violins that echoed up the embankment. Nearby crickets added to the romantic music as he transfixed on the waltzing couples. My engagement party, he thought dejectedly, watching the wondrous dance. He then focused on Gwendolyn dancing with Devin. Where would they be if they had survived that horrible day? If they were still together, would they have been devoted? Would they have been content? A blissful family…with Mary now…and more on the way. Oh God, he thought, while buckling to his knees. I am still in love with her, he realized…in love with his best friend…in love with his wife.
Devin escorted Gwendolyn to a corner in between their dances. She had not danced in such a long time and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it. Devin was a wonderful partner and she felt at ease with him the more time they spent together. Special friends, indeed; it was odd to feel so composed with a man so quickly, but that’s just how it was, instantaneous…yet weird. Devin excused himself for a moment to fetch them something to drink when Gwendolyn felt the analysis of several eyes. Numerous guests stood around her whispering and commenting amongst themselves, no doubt mentioning to one another that she was Thomas’ cousin. Cousin? Huh! If they only knew the truth.
There was one individual, a woman in particular, who was standing just a few feet away that seemed to give Gwendolyn one intense inspection. In her forties, she presumed, but still quite striking decorated in a black and red evening gown with ostrich feathers jotting out from within her elegant headpiece. She was standing with a younger gentlemen, no doubt her son…or maybe her escort, as Gwendolyn quickly noted the man’s vulgar closeness as he whispered sweet nothing’s into the woman’s ear.
She kept staring at Gwendolyn, which made her feel uncomfortable. Just then, Devin returned with two glasses of bubbly champagne. Gwendolyn stood in front of Devin, her back towards the woman and quietly voiced, “Devin, who’s that woman?”
Devin leaned in, bent his head down to Gwendolyn’s obvious confidentiality and asked, “Which one?”
“The lady who keeps shooting daggers at me.”
Devin eyed Mrs. Carmichael barely a few feet away. He acknowledged her presence by bowing his head slightly, scanning her attire from toe to tip, and then saying adieu with an agreeable smirk. He had enjoyed her company once or twice a few years back, but knew Thomas had a rather lengthy engagement with the avid Mrs. Carmichael. “The widow, Mrs. Carmichael, no doubt she came here to get a good look at my sister.” “Your sister? Whatever for?”
Devin closed his mouth, he said too much. “Katrina caught Thomas. She is probably green with envy.”
Gwendolyn turned around again and continued to sip her champagne. Out on the dance floor, happy couples waltzed away. She spotted Katrina standing alone across the ballroom and noticed her despondency. Her shoulders slumped, her hand covered her mouth and she gave the impression that she was on the verge of tears. “Speaking of your sister.”
Devin whipped his head around and pinpointed Katrina. He observed her stance and brotherly alarm skyrocketed. He immediately walked forward, and then remembered he was with Gwendolyn. “You’ll excuse me?”
“Yes, of course, go.”
Gwendolyn eyed Devin stride over to his sister and embraced her shoulders. They exchanged words, and then Devin held out his compassionate arm and escorted his sister onto the dance floor. Gwendolyn decided to use this time to search her thoughts when she stumbled upon a barrage of black and red ostrich feathers.
“Look at her…look at how fortunate she is,” the woman shrilly expressed. “Mrs. Carmichael by the way and you are Thomas’ cousin?” After Thomas unexpectedly broke off their affair, Catherine Carmichael went into seclusion. Depressed for months, the only way she could climb out of her gloom was to bed another man. And that’s just what she did, testing several in fact, but no one else compared and she missed Thomas’ friendship more than anything.
Gwendolyn took a long sip of her champagne, “Yes,” she barely voiced, “Lady Hollinger.”
Catherine humpfed, a well used disguise. A few years back, Thomas introduced his mistress succeeding her as his supposed cousin as well. “Nice to make your acquaintance, I was beginning to wonder about the mystery surrounding Thomas, his family perishing at sea so many years ago. Simply tragic…nice to see he found a relative to claim.”
Gwendolyn was taken-back. How did this woman know his past? And she addressed Thomas so informally…by her tone, intimately…good God, no. “Lady Hale will no doubt make a beautiful bride, would you not agree?” Gwendolyn asked trying to provoke further legitimacy.
“In addition to being a well pleasured woman.”
Gwendolyn raised her eyebrows. She had been correct. Mrs. Carmichael had been one of Thomas’ mistresses? And why was she looking at her so impishly…what was she trying to imply? “Were you and he?”
Mrs. Carmichael lowered her eyes and raked in Gwendolyn’s loveliness in emerald green, “But I thought everyone knew of our liaison dear. Thomas had been my escort for many years…he never mentioned it? The scoundrel. I am not surprised to see so many of us here tonight. He has kept polite alliances with all of us, you know. Gave every one of us a token of his parting goodwill—his eternal gratitude. Friendship is very important to the man, so do not allow him to break your heart! And if you are waiting on him to show his devotion, you are in for a world of disappointment. You are better off accepting what he has to give and thank God he gave you fleeting interest. He is a cad through and through, why else would he be flaunting any of us around? The man has no conscience. He has never allowed himself to feel, or to love, my guess he is probably not even in love with Lady Hale.”
Gwendolyn was stupefied. Mrs. Carmichael thought she was his mistress? What a laugh, but why did his past sting so brutally? How many mistresses did he have? Or had for that matter? Gwendolyn’s head began to
spin around and around, pinpointing every woman Mrs. Carmichael seemed to spot out. The red-head in the blue gown, the brunette in yellow. Gwendolyn could not take it anymore and decided to concentrate on the woman before her. Why would Thomas court Mrs. Carmichael? She was mature, yes, but uniquely diverse from Katrina’s obvious fresh beauty. Eyes of hazel, pert nose…auburn hair… like her mothers, nearly the same shade as hers. Another strange stab afflicted her disposition. “Excuse me Mrs. Carmichael, but I feel a headache coming on.”
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