Dare To Love

by Trisha Fuentes

  “Scarborough Harbour.”

  “What business do you have at port?”

  “Och now,” he said scratching his head now, “Seems I am not tae only male having problems with the female persuasion.”

  Gwendolyn laughed, “What happened?”

  Her amusement always seemed to melt his heart. She was still his friend, thank God. “Me damn bulls willna mate with me heifers. Had tae acquire male bovine from a friend of mine in Shrewsbury. Four steer heading by way of transport ship.”

  Gwendolyn thought about it. “I don’t know Charles; fish smell makes me queasy regardless.”

  “Och now, com’on Gwendolyn, ya’ been pinned up in yar cottage for nearly a month now. Mary can even come along. She would enjoy a change in scenery. Ya know the lass always liked the ocean.”

  “Yes,” Gwendolyn cast down, “Yes…she always has.”

  The following morning, Charles was seen scratching his head in bewilderment. With Gwendolyn and Mary by his side, he was beyond perplexed.

  Charles surveyed the hefty steers and shook his head, “They look identical tae me others!”

  The seamen all laughed at the Scotsman’s density. “They’ve got his stink on’em,” one sailor spat out. “The bull is rejecting the heifers ‘cause they’re familiar,” another sailor joined in.

  Gwendolyn covered her daughter’s innocence as Mary stood fixated, her mouth open wide from the chap’s candid narration.

  “Charles?”

  “Aye, Gwendolyn?” He asked, turning to eye Gwendolyn with her hands over her daughter’s ears.

  “Mary and I will be walking the merchants. Meet us in about an hour? Do you think you will be done by then?”

  Charles gazed around him and at the bulls. “Plenty ‘nough time, Gwendolyn, have a good time. Dinna purchase everything ya see. Make sure tae barter the price. Dinna accept face value.”

  Gwendolyn huffed and dragged Mary away by her hand.

  Thomas felt Katrina’s eyes upon him, but he did not care. The Junia had been found deserted, floating near the coast of Scarborough Harbour, that’s all he had time to think about. Business, finances, ships. No women had entered his mind. No women…well, maybe one. The only one who always seemed to occupy his thoughts when he allowed her entrance.

  Thomas set eyes on Devin and his friend gave him a half smirk considering the circumstances. Devin tried, he really did to try and cheer him up. He even took him to Bristol for a night of cards, drinking, and Devin was hopeful, wenching. Two bar maids, nice looking brunettes in fact, decided to give the two gents their sole attention that evening, and sat in the men’s laps the whole entire evening. Thomas acted like he was enjoying himself, but deep down inside, Devin knew he was miserable. Thomas even lifted the female off his lap and set her aside several times just so that he could straighten out his waistcoat. Who cared about his bloody clothes why wasn’t he feeling amorous with the curvy, soft female bouncing on his lap? What was it going to take to get his friend’s mind off his woes?

  Rowing away from the Junia, Thomas now eyed Katrina. She was sitting next to her husband with Devin on the other side. She looked unhappy, but so was he. Even if she were available he would never go back to her. After spending time with Gwendolyn, no woman would ever measure up to her level. Gwendolyn was perfection, he realized. All his life, he searched for her equivalent, probing through the handful of women he allowed into his life. With Mrs. Putnam, it was her brazenness like Gwendolyn’s, which kept him intrigued. With Mrs. Carmichael, it was her sense of adventure, similar to Gwendolyn’s, that kept him coming around for so many years. Then, it was Lady Krausman, her youthfulness and humor parallel to Gwendolyn’s that caused him to spend so much time with her. Then Katrina, his harbor of comfort, her gracefulness constantly compared to the one-woman… hell and damnation, the only female he simply could not get out of his head.

  Thomas turned to Cornwall who was sitting beside him. “Is it ready, Cornwall?”

  “Yes sir,” Cornwall stated, ready to give the signal.

  From mast, bow and stern, Thomas had ordered the Junia burned in the harbor. Thomas does not want that ship, he hated that vessel. Detested it with a passion, knowing what murders took place aboard that ship. Gazing up towards the bow, the ghosts of his family could be seen clearly atop her crest: his mother, father and all three brothers, waiving to him farewell. Oh, how he missed them! So many memories dashed in and out of his head, he could hardly keep up. It was all so long ago…in a different lifetime…in a distant memory. His father’s solid authority… his mother’s loving embrace...his brother’s watchful eyes. Closing on his grief, Thomas finally nodded his head and lowered his gaze.

  Edmund gave the signal for the men to fire up the gunpowder and the barrels of ammunition exploded instantly in a mighty explosion. Suppressed memories flashed before Thomas as he absorbed the brilliant mushroom of orange flames plaguing the sky. Bittersweet memories, he thought dejectedly, like the day Jordan showed him how to steer the Junia and how to read her knot speed. The first time he saw her royals spread out gloriously in the wind, and the last time her topsails blew violently in the rainstorm. Jolly times, when Andrew and Philip took him fishing and they caught a tiger shark. Philip had straddled the poor fish while Andrew punched it in its mouth to stop it from flopping around. The night when his father and mother took him aside just before the wedding and told him how proud they were of him; his father giving him a hug, his mother kissing his cheek. And then, ultimately, the sunset ceremony that joined him to a commitment that captured his very soul.

  Thomas watched it burn through tear-filled eyes and finally felt released from the anchored guilt from being the only one who survived. His family should be alive, not he, in fact, he felt so lifeless lately; he could barely find the energy to breathe.

  They reach the pier finally and descend. Turning around, they watch the Junia gather up in flames. Dressed in coats from the chilled sea air, Thomas, Devin, Henry and Katrina were mesmerized by the sight before them. A crowd had gathered around them; merchants from every country came together to watch the spectacle. A cloud of black dust erupted in the sky as the drums of bombs continued to blow up the craft.

  “What was that noise?” Mary asked, pulling her mother in the direction of where the booming sound came from.

  “Slow down child, you do not want to get mother sick again, do you?”

  Gwendolyn and Mary both stopover at the sight of the awe-inspiring plume of smoke being hurled into the air.

  “What is happening, Mummie?” Mary asked, trying to peek through the hordes of onlookers.

  Gwendolyn concentrated on the noteworthy scene before her. “Someone has ordered expulsion of a ship,” she said, watching the vessel now engulfed in flames. It was slowly disintegrating right before her eyes; the masts cracked in two like twigs, then fell into the ocean one by one.

  Mary turned away from the exhibition and eyed a group of gentleman chatting. Pointing to one of them, she asked, “Who is that Mummie?” “Who is who?” Gwendolyn asked, looking down at her daughter.

  “That man over there,” Mary stated, pointing towards the group of men. “The tall man, holding his hat in his hands, he looks like the man in the portrait you have hanging on our staircase.”

  Gwendolyn could not move…he was just several feet away. Seeing Thomas anew after all these months, her feet planted firmly to the ground.

  Thomas was in mid-conversation with one of the dock men talking about the removal when he did a double take and noticed her standing there with a young girl. He turned around and walked towards them, meeting eyes with Gwendolyn.

  “Hullo there.”

  “Hullo yourself,” Gwendolyn smiled, squeezing Mary’s hand in hers.

  “See Mummie, he does look like the portrait you have hanging in the staircase,” Mary exclaimed, bringing exclusive attention down to her curiosity.

  Thomas knelt down and stared into her eyes. Gwendolyn was right; Mary did take after the Hol
linger family. Wavy black hair, dark eyelashes surrounding olive green eyes, she was a miniature version of his own mother. “Hello Mary,” Thomas managed to say, soaking in her existence. “You are the vision of your grandmother.”

  “How do you know my name? Did you know my grandmother?”

  “Yes—I,” he said tongue-tied, standing up, but continuing to gaze down at her.

  Gwendolyn then kneeled down to Mary’s eye level. “Remember that present you received, the early birthday gift?”

  “The treasure chest, and my horse, Whinny?”

  Thomas laughed, “I like that name.”

  “Yes darling, Whinny. Well, remember the note that came along with it? It was sent by a person claiming to be your father.” Gwendolyn then stood back up and met Thomas’ unsmiling stare. “This is your father, Mary…His Grace, Lord Thomas Hollinger, the Duke of Norwin.”

  Mary’s eyes grew big as saucers, “Really Mummie? But you said that my father died at sea before I was born.”

  Gwendolyn gulped and tried to blink back her tears, “Yes darling, I did say that. But I was wrong, your father is alive…and by the looks of him, he wants to know you.”

  Thomas grinned and then met eyes with Mary again, “Do I attain your permission?”

  Mary leaned into her mother’s skirt, “Yes, I guess so. Can he come to my birthday party? Can I show him off?”

  Thomas rolled his eyes only to close them. His daughter had a morbid sense of humor, just like her mother.

  Gwendolyn tried to swallow her laughter, “Mary! It is not proper—”

  “But he is my father!” Mary exclaimed with innocent eyes. “No one would have to know Mummie, he could be there in disguise and we could introduce him as our cousin,” she pleaded; unaware of the similar justification conjured up before. She turned to look at Thomas once more, “Please say that you can attend, sir?”

  “Thomas? Are you ready to go?” Devin voiced behind him, not realizing that Gwendolyn and a young girl were standing near. Thomas turned around and eyed Devin and Katrina walking up with Henry slowly behind. When he turned back to speak to Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn turned pale and got her confirmation of their union.

  Thomas once asked her if she could remain amiable, well here was the test of self-control. Standing there looking at him, dressed in those darn boots, that long sable Carrick of his, and his wonderful stylishness that made him look so heavenly, took every bit of will power she had remaining not to run into his arms with his wife next to him. And, oh God, could it be? Katrina was with child? She even cupped her hand underneath her womb to show her swelling. Oh, why did he marry her? Where was Gwendolyn’s romantic happy ending? Oh how could she have been so stupid? She should have never let him go that wonderful night they made love. She should have expressed all that she was feeling; she should have shouted it out from the rooftops of Wilderbrand!

  “I would not miss it, love,” Thomas articulated to Mary, feeling pressure on all sides. He noticed another familiar face, Charles McMillen, who came up beside Gwendolyn all of a sudden.

  “Is something amiss?” Charles asked, looking at Thomas while he asked.

  Thomas immediately backed away when he got his validation that yes indeed Gwendolyn married her Scotsmen. He knew he could not do it and he could not be amicable now. Seeing her standing compact with him…and she was with child? Oh, hell…imagining her accepting his touch thrashed him down with repetitive blows. Someone please, just put him out of his misery. Someone please just shoot him already! Thomas’ eyes wandered from one place to another until they finally set on Gwendolyn. His obsession tried to solicit her selfishness. Why, Gwendolyn why? Why pick him? Why not me? Swallowing the rest of his emotion, Thomas let go, “Yes, we were discussing birthdays. When do you expect me?”

  “In four months,” Gwendolyn replied, feeling her heart swell up inside her chest. “…Mary’s birthday is in four months time.”

  “Splendid,” he quickly ended, looking over his shoulder noticing Katrina and Henry looking oddly at him. “Nice to see you again Gwendolyn, and…” he paused to bend down to whisper to Mary, “It was very nice to finally meet you Mary.”

  “It was my pleasure, sir,” Mary said, continuing to hold her mother’s hand.

  Thomas could not look at Gwendolyn anymore when his heart was about to rupture. He would look like a dunderhead quivering at her feet in public display with her husband next to her. He tediously turned around and walked towards his friends. He was just about to make a mad dash for the pier and dive off the deep end when he heard the child’s voice ring after him from behind.

  “Father!” Mary yelled, letting go her mother’s hand and running towards Thomas and jumping into his open arms.

  Thomas grabbed his daughter and picked her up from her bottom. Practically hugging the life out of her little body, he held her firm, burying his head in the side of her neck.

  “I love you Father,” Mary exclaimed whimpering. “You promise you’ll come in four months time?”

  What a wonderful child, he thought…so open, honest, and unregulated with her true feelings. “I promise, love,” Thomas honestly uttered, feeling moisture at the back of his eyes. Unconsciously, his eyes fluttered towards Gwendolyn one last time. She had her hand over her mouth and was shedding tears. Charles was at her side, trying to console her with both his hands resting on her shoulders. Thomas could not take the sight of her with him any longer and released his daughter instantly. “I promise Mary, I will see you in four months…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  She knew he was coming and she was prepared for their arrival. Thomas promised his daughter, and Gwendolyn knew he would never break that pledge, never disappoint Mary if a bond were to remain. She only met him once and already Mary could not stop asking questions about him. Curious about her father now, she asked Gwendolyn how they met, why they broke apart, and if they were still friends.

  Yes…were they friends? Once the best of friends, now unable to prevail due to outside influences. Yes, he married her…Thomas married Katrina. Imagining him holding her, kissing her with his body propelled Gwendolyn into hyperventilation each and every time she thought about it. The tender way he caressed her after making love, the forceful way he took her in his arms and left her breathless and longing for more. Katrina had won, she secured Thomas’ attention and Gwendolyn had no other choice but to ingest the defeat.

  Gwendolyn had never been tenser. Thomas now was considered to be her children’s creator. No longer a friend, but a past paramour and she not know how to handle a visitation from a former lover and his wife. Not his mistress…Thomas took care of his mistresses, isn’t that what Mrs. Carmichael affirmed? Then what was she? Not a friend, not a mistress, but a mistake. How to deal with the fact that the man arriving today was not hers to own, and yet, she had two children by him?

  Nathaniel was born in the middle of the night and Phyllis had been by her side all day long awaiting the infant’s arrival. Identical to Mary’s birth, Nathaniel entered this world with Gwendolyn crying into his diminutive flesh. So much anguish, not enough ease to be truly happy with his ingress. Mary, bless her heart, was elated and could not stop holding him. Where did he come from? How did her mother have a baby? It would be the three of them from now on and Gwendolyn had to settle with the certitude that Thomas would only be a guest in her home in the future. He would be welcome; she would make sure of it. They had been through too much anguish from losing their own families; Gwendolyn would never deny him familiarity of his own flesh and blood. Katrina would just have to be one understanding wife. Thomas had other children who needed him as well. And maybe…just maybe, they could mend the damaged friendship they once shared. Gwendolyn would hail his alliance again, she would…she would have to. If she could not have him as her husband, she would settle for his friendship. Isn’t that what she had promised Charles?

  Oh God, how did she allow this to happen? That was stupid, stupid, stupid of her not to express what she had felt that night in
his arms! She made a horrible decision of not telling him that she loved him. She did not want to ruin the atmosphere by expressing her devotion in fear of his rejection. Being cast aside was the worst feeling and being second choice was evenly insulting. Once upon a time, he was hers, she was first, and she had him in the palm of her hand, only to destroy their bond by continuous unwise suppression. When the timing was right—maybe even today—she would ask to speak to him alone and tell him about his son.