Dare To Love (20 page)

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,” Thomas 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.

Gwendolyn sat beside Charles, who, by this
time, relaxed and held her hand. Thomas took out a cigar from
within a small chest on his desk, lit it and then pointed the smoke
at Gwendolyn’s fiancé. “Care for one? Or is smoking too courtly for
you?”

Gwendolyn’s mouth flew open wide. “Thomas!
Behave yourself; you are trying to provoke him.”

Thomas noted the man’s scarlet ears, and yes,
indeed, he was trying to provoke him.

“Shush me sweet, the mon is merely trying tae
rattle me,” Charles uttered wisely, “He knows he willna triumph, in
fact, it does me good tae know he’s already ben beat.”

Thomas fastened his teeth on the cigar and
bit down. The wrath that fused within him was out of place and
inexplicable and doesn’t quite know how to handle it. Here sat
Gwendolyn’s betrothed; an odd sort of beau if you had time to think
about it. What was it that attracted him to her? Big and beefy, is
that the kind of man she loves? With all that wavy red hair and
dark eyes to boot, not a bad looking creature in a bizarre sort of
way. Switch eye color and paint a beard on Thomas and they could be
twins…what? Thomas had to blink twice in order to get that little
illustration out of his head. No one was good enough to replace him
in the husband department and this stocky monster was certainly not
worthy of Gwendolyn. “Beaten? At what sport?”

Charles started to laugh, but clearly he was
not amused. “The pursuit of interest, I wood say.”

“I do hold a slight advantage.”

Charles’ face turned beet red now. “But from
Gwendolyn’s letter, ya’ll be grantin’ her a divorce and she will be
free of ya.”

Free of him…hmmm, he thought shrewdly,
liberated is no good, Gwendolyn was his friend, his companion and
his wife—and besides, he saw her first! Thomas swallowed his exhale
until smoke came out of his nose and nearly his ears. He resembled
a dragon, his eyes verdant, fixated with hatred and conflict. “And
what if I do not grant her a divorce?”

Charles stood up and inflated with
protectiveness, “Ya’ll be giving her a divorce, or ya’ll be dealing
wit’ me.”

“Dealing with you?” Thomas laughed wickedly.
“And what could a simple farm boy challenge a clever competitor
like myself with? Arm wrestling?”

“Och now, notae bad idea,” Charles
acknowledged, nodding his head.

Thomas brought his eyes down to the gorilla’s
arms. Big, hefty, muscular…he swallowed his dignity. To beat him
would take a miracle. “When and where?”

“How ‘bout right now?” Charles challenged
him.

Gwendolyn stood up and brushed down her
skirts. “That is it,” she demanded, positioning her body between
them. She held one palm to each of their nearing chests. “I have
heard enough, no one is challenging anything to anyone, do I make
myself clear?”