Dare To Love (23 page)

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Authors: Trisha Fuentes

Tags: #historical, #funny, #thomas, #humorous, #maritime, #dare, #gwen

BOOK: Dare To Love
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Thomas gazed down at the letter and did not
recognize the wax stamp, his heart dropped to the pit of his
stomach. Gazing up at Devin one last time, he ripped open the
seal.

 

Thomas, I do not regret our time together; in
fact, I will cherish it through the end of time. I must confess
that I am having second thoughts, so I am leaving for Yorkshire to
see our daughter. Upon my arrival, I will write to keep you abreast
of my future aspiration. Accordingly, I have taken the divorce
decree with me. Gwendolyn

 

Thomas looked at his friend with
panic-stricken eyes, “We must get to Bristol immediately—I need to
alert Fitzwater— I need to send a letter to Yorkshire.”

 

“Yorkshire, why?” Devin asked suspicious.

 

“Gwendolyn has left, and I need to—” Thomas
closed his mouth and searched his friends eyes, “I need to speak to
your sister alone.”

 

Devin narrowed his eyes, “I do not think so
friend, we need to head out to port. The Junia might elude us; we
need to get to her before she sets sail.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

 

 

Thomas stood on the dock’s edge and focused
on the haunting ship before him. On any given day, he would have
been in awe of her, the Junia was the biggest merchant vessel of
her time. Built to carry wealth from a variety of other countries,
she was a supreme prize for a pirate to gain control. Compared to
the Dutch flute, the 700-tonner measured 160 feet along her main
deck and 34 feet at the beam. Between her flamboyant beak head and
golden stern, she packed enormous potential firing power, but his
father never carried cannons, he was a merchant trader, therein
exposed to pirate confine. A round stern, broad-beamed and
flat-bottomed, the Junia was well renowned in English waters and
Thomas was utterly surprised she had berthed at this juncture.
Having alerted the magistrate beforehand, the two men
inconspicuously began their stride up the floorboard. Thomas headed
left, while Devin right, when the duo whipped their heads around
simultaneously realizing the other was not behind—and bumped
bodies. Thomas grabbed Devin’s coat and pulled him aside, comically
shaking a fist at him. In the corner of his eye he noticed the
Junia’s glorious sails out in full splendor being inspected by the
ship hands. She was about to set sail again and Thomas gave her the
respect she deserved, appreciative of her first-class grandeur.
Three slender masts would soar skyward: her tiny skysails would be
let loose, next would come her royals, then under those, her
topgallants. Underneath the topgallants would fly her wind taut
topsails and mainsails, and out puffing sideways from the tips of
her yards would be tiers of studding sails. She was magnificent…yet
upsetting. His family perished aboard this ship. The last time he
set foot on her was the night he nearly died. Thomas lowered his
eyes and watched the men near the quarterdeck hoisting down crates
with the emblem of the Crown. He turned to look at Devin who was
noticing the same crime.

 

“Thomas, the Junia is smuggling gold?” Devin
asked, hushing down his voice.

 

“Looks that way; we must find a way to alert
the magistrate from here.”

 

“Thomas, look out!” Devin yelled, watching in
horror as a sailor hit Thomas over the head with a small wooden
plank.

 

Both knocked unconscious, the two men were
tied up, gagged and sent to a cell beneath the lower deck.

 

When Thomas awoke, he instantly knew where he
was—the magazine storeroom—only his father never used to carry
canons and ammunition and this particular area was stocked full. He
turned to his friend and eyed him trying to get his knots loose. He
motioned for him to turn around so he can aid him with his teeth
and after a few moments of restrained accomplishment, Thomas
finally untied Devin’s gag.

 

“We’re moving Thomas,” Devin immediately
declared, tearing at Thomas’ gag with his own teeth.

 

Thomas freed himself of the bind and spat out
the restriction, “I know.”

 

“So we are headed out to sea?”

 

“Seems that way.”

 

“Katrina will be upset.”

 

“Katrina was going to be shaken anyway,”
Thomas managed to say without looking Devin in the eye.

 

“Why?”

 

Thomas met Devin’s hostility, “Because I was
going to break my pledge.”

 

Devin tried to get up on his knees but was
unable to from the tense chains that bound him to the floor, “Why
you filthy—rotten—scoundrel! I will tear your head off! Cut you
down to size, you bloody bastard!”

 

“Seems I should have left your gag on,”
Thomas replied, trying to alleviate the tension.

 

“You compromised my sister for months,
Thomas—and I have been such a fool; I should have insisted your
marriage from the very beginning! I allowed your continual liaison
because I knew you would do right by her! And now, this bird flies
back into your life and openly flirts with you and you’re willing
to throw away loyalty for a wench you haven’t seen since you were a
lad?”

 

Thomas bowed his head in shame, “Yes,” he
voiced regretfully, “I did compromise your sister and I feel unwell
because of it. Your sister has been a good companion and I will
always care for her. But,” Thomas voiced, feeling humbled at the
moment, “I never allowed myself to love her.”

 

Devin was livid, “Who said anything about
love?! Why, there are countless marriages thriving without it,
literally hundreds of lonely wives out there searching for comfort;
case in point, Evelyn Moore for one, why I don’t know where I’d be
without her sharing my bed.”

 

Thomas met Devin’s anger and tried to solicit
compassion, “And you would have allowed your sister to become one
such lonely wife?”

 

Devin tried to compose himself, “Yes!
No!”

 

Thomas lowered his head, “I love her
Devin…I’m in love with Gwendolyn.”

 

Devin calmed down, and shook his head,
“Nonsense Thomas, no one falls in love that fast.”

 

“Remember when we were twenty and you were
infatuated with Lady Anne of Fellows? I remember when you would
have done anything to be by her side, including kissing her feet
and the ground she walked on. Well, that is how I feel about
Gwendolyn, only my obsession for her goes beyond the physical…I
would love her even if she had no feet a’ tall.”

 

“You are breaking my heart Thomas,” Devin
stated mocking him.

 

“I have always loved her is that so hard to
believe?”

 

Devin sat back down onto the ground and bowed
his head, “Yes,” he spat out angry, “No,” he said instead, bobbing
his head up and down. “I knew it,” he replied, yanking the chains
with him as he tried to stretch out his limbs. “I knew it the
moment I walked into the library and saw you two together. The way
you looked at her Thomas, I have never seen you look at another
female that way—and I have been your partner in many a female
raid.”

 

Thomas grinned, “Yes, you have been just like
a brother to me Devin, and you know me well enough to know that
what I say is the truth. My intentions were worthy when I thought
Gwendolyn was deceased, but now that she is alive, how can I walk
away from the one person I have always dreamed of being with?”

 

“Never thought I’d hear another man spew
sonnets of love for his lady fair.”

 

Thomas and Devin tried to focus on the voice
approaching in the darkness, gasping at the sight of a man coming
into view; he was small but hefty and unaffected by their
predicament.

 

“Sir, you are intruding on a private
conversation,” Devin demanded of the stranger.

 

“My ship,” he stated in his baritone voice,
sitting down on a chair just outside the steel bars.

 

“My ship,” Thomas retorted.

 

“Your ship?”

 

“The Junia was stolen ten years ago, sir; and
I am here to retrieve it.”

 

The man bellowed off the top of his lungs,
“And it seems yer in a very good position to accomplish the
task!”

 

Thomas’ blood began to boil.

 

Devin sat unfazed, “And you are?”

 

“Captain Hummel.”

 

“Hummel Hobart, the notorious pirate?” Devin
asked in shock.

 

“Everyone gets my name mixed up. It’s Hobart
Hummel,” he corrected, puffing on his pipe.

 

“Last I heard, you turned privateer,” Thomas
included.

 

“Aye, the very one.”

 

“You stole my ship Captain Hummel and when we
return to Britain, I will make sure King George hangs you for the
murders of my family.”

 

He puffed on his pipe before staring straight
at Thomas, “Young Hollinger?”

 

“And the Duke of Norwin, now I demand you let
us go!”

 

“Heard stories yew were alive, lad, but it
was not I. Oh, I was on the ship when yer family perished though,
but under the direction of Captain Porter.”

 

“Captain Porter!” Thomas yelled angry, “But I
spoke to Captain Porter on his death bed. He said that the pirate
Red Retropé was responsible.”

 

Again, the bandit laughed at the simplicity
of the explanation, “Aye, how noble of him to confess his crimes.
Captain Porter was Red Retropé, his name merely spelled backwards
with French stimulus.”

 

Thomas gaped at the stranger and then closed
his eyes, feeling foolish to his proven point. “He lied to me, even
on his death bed, he lied.”

 

With a chortle still in his scratchy voice,
Captain Hummel said, “He contrived his story of vengeance upon the
Hollinger’s because he needed usage of the vessel to smuggle trade
for King Louis XVI.”

 

“My family died for that futile obese
monarch?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Thomas bowed his head in disbelief. “And how
is it that you have the Junia?” He asked suspiciously.

 

“Mutiny, son,” he remarked ominously, “And
noble diversion to gain entrance to French waters.”

 

Thomas did not understand. “Why?”

 

“To retrieve me daughter.”

 

“Daughter?” Devin asked now.

 

“Aye, I too hold devotion to a woman, only
this beautiful creature is me one and only offspring. Seven years,
I have waited for her to become free. Since that blackheart
Bonaparte has been off fighting his many wars throughout Europe, I
plan to take back what’s mine.”

 

“And what of the smuggling we found happening
at port?”

 

“No smuggling on this ship, just a threat to
elude questioning eyes.”

 

“And what is to become of us?” Thomas asked
sternly.

 

“I will use yer peerage to me advantage.”

 

“And if we refuse?” Devin questioned
harshly.

 

“Then suffer the same consequence as the
Hollinger clan,” he barked, staring Devin in the eyes.

 

Thomas and Devin both shot looks at one
another. “When we get to France,” Thomas voiced firmly, “You will
surrender the Junia?”

 

“I never agreed to that…but I will agree to
yer safe freedom.”

 

“On French land!” Devin howled,
flabbergasted.

 

“Or do yew prefer salmon?”

 

“What does salmon have to do with
anything?”

 

“We’re on our way to Kristiansand, lad.”

 

“Norway! Whatever for?”

 

“Fish, son; have to keep up the merchant
trade, then back to Le Havre.”

 

Thomas closed his eyes and rested his head on
the wall in back of him. Three months? It would take nearly three
months up to Norway then to France back to English shores, three
long months without seeing Gwendolyn. Even a minute felt like an
eternity. “What do you want us to do?”

 

“Go to Versailles and demand yer cousin
passage back to Britain.”

 

Thomas perked up with assuredness, “And who
is my supposed cousin?”

 

“Lady Anne of Fellows.”

 

“Hold her Charles, hold her,” Phyllis
demanded, walking with him, pulling up her skirts and rushing him
inside the cottage.

 

Mary had been playing outside when she caught
sight of the carriage and ran behind to greet it. Alarmed at the
sight of her mother within Charles’ arms, she shrieked, “What is
wrong with Mummie? Why is she like that?”

 

At ten years of age, Mary Hollinger was a
striking child. With long black ringlets surrounding a heart shaped
face, her gripping green eyes commanded immediate notice. “Hush now
dear, don’t you worry; your mother just needs some bed rest.”
Phyllis goes to her side and pats down Mary’s hair, shoulders and
motions for Charles to walk with Gwendolyn up the staircase. “Take
her to her room Charles, lay her down on the bed, I will get Dr.
Peabody.”

 

Mary pounced on the steps behind Charles,
“What is wrong with her? What is wrong with Mummie? If someone does
not tell me now, I am going to resort to violence.”

 

“Dinna go worrying yar little head lassie,
yar mother will be fit as a fiddle in a coupla days,” Charles
reassured her, making his way towards Gwendolyn’s room.

 

He laid her onto the bed and instantly knew
something went terribly wrong. Gwendolyn’s hair was damp from
continued sweat, her tresses pasted to her face, neck and
shoulders. She was burning with fever the moment they arrived back
in Kettlewell. Gwendolyn could barely stand and fainted on her way
out of the carriage.

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