Dare To Love (31 page)

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 Hollinger 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.

Choking back her tears, Gwendolyn sat down on
the edge of the bed and stared at the boy in the bassinet next to
her. Running her thumb across his head of hair, Gwendolyn allowed
the tears to fall from her eyes. Thomas will acknowledge his heir,
Gwendolyn thought, even if it turned ugly and Katrina would demand
her child be his heritable successor, Gwendolyn would still show a
good fight. Theirs was an unusual circumstance. Theirs had begun
with too much history to disregard. Theirs was a special
accident…and, just like her mother, Gwendolyn would journey through
life loving someone else’s husband.