Uncaged

Chapter One

Caged

I lived in a time when women had few choices. A time when our husbands and fathers made our decisions for us because we were women. I was twenty when I was to be married to a man I didn’t love. Most girls were married at a more tender age, but I was very sick during my adolescence and it took me years to recuperate. As a result, my marriage was postponed.

The man who was to be my husband was a monster. I was a pawn in a business deal between his father and mine. I pleaded with and begged my father to free me from the marriage, but he would not budge in his decision.

My mother watched and said nothing as I grovelled at his feet. Although she tried to hide it, I saw fear in her eyes. Her marriage was a fake, just as mine would surely be. When I was young and supposed to be sleeping, I once snuck downstairs for food and overheard my mother talking with a friend. She confessed that her marriage was a sham, and she wished she had run away as she had intended before she was wed.

I would think her firsthand knowledge of my suffering would have been enough for her to try and stop my father, but clearly, I was wrong. My mother was weak. She agreed with my father on everything, even though I’m certain it bothered her greatly.

My father and my future husband assumed I was a pure and decent girl whom no one had ever laid a finger on. A virgin I was, but I wasn’t as pure as they assumed. We had many grand balls when I was growing up. Once I was assured my parents were occupied with our guests and were paying my whereabouts little attention, I often snuck off. I ran off with young boys and snuck away into the woods to lift my skirts for their probing fingers and tongues.

From all my fumblings with those boys, I received little pleasure. I suppose I was content with the experience of rubbing my flesh up against another’s. But I wanted passion. I wanted attraction, excitement and, more than anything, I wanted to experience love.

Being alone with a man was forbidden. I was lucky I was never caught, even with the boys. My parents would have, no doubt, disowned me or sent me away. Fortunately, my parents held a high opinion of me and assumed I was innocent of all carnal thoughts. Sex was considered by most to be a sin. Pleasure was forbidden. Of course, people had sex, but it was never talked about.

I watched men and women at our parties. I followed quietly behind them and watched as they played clumsily with each other after they had too much to drink. It excited me to watch them fumble and grope each other, and to hear heavy breathing mixed with the men’s grunts, and the women’s moans of delight.

***

My family name was Gwyneth Elizabeth Radcliffe. My parents were raised to be very proper, and they believed in ostentatious names. The truth was I hated my name and sometimes ached to be a simple girl. I could do without the ridiculous names, outrageous parties and everything else that came with being rich.

My fiancé’s name was Randolph Christopher Hamilton the Third. I loathed being in his presence. My father, on the other hand, was exceptionally impressed with him and they got along more like brothers than future father and son in-law. My mother was polite to him, although I was certain she disliked him. I think she thought of him as another transaction in my father’s accounting book.

He was thirty--ten years my senior--and a complete pig of a man. His eyes would creep over my body as he licked his lips. He winked at me slyly as if to make his power over me all the more obvious. The way he looked at me made me feel worthless and disgusting. I’m certain he was counting down the days when he could take me. He made no attempt to hide his desires, except when my father was around, when he was the perfect gentleman.

Everyday I contemplated running away, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was being pushed into a marriage that was a nest of lies, and no one but me seemed to think there was a problem with that. Where would I go if I ran away? What would I do? I wasn’t strong enough to do it. Not yet.

***

So the day finally came when I would become his wife. I hadn’t slept for uncountable nights and woke up vomiting the morning of my wedding day, after making myself sick with dread.

When I walked down the aisle, I was holding on to my father so tightly, I’m sure I was hurting him. I smiled an artificial smile and pretended to be a happy bride while I really felt dizzy and helpless inside. When my husband placed the ring on my finger, I just about crumbled to the floor in defeat. But I held my ground and continued the charade for all my family and friends to witness.

My husband was drunk the night of our wedding. He stripped me naked, threw me down on our bed and did what he wanted with me. It was over in minutes and I cried quietly to myself the whole time. He took no notice. He was furiously pumping away at me, grunting in my ear that he had himself a virgin girl, and I was his and his alone from now on. He sprayed his seed inside me and I prayed to whatever God existed that it did not create a baby.

Once he was asleep and snoring loudly, I snuck away from our bed and forced my fingers into myself, cleaning up the mess he had left there, feeling hopelessly diseased by the fluids I was digging out of me. Afterwards, I crumpled to the floor and cried myself to sleep.

***

Luckily for me, my husband kept himself busy the majority of the time with his work; what his work was I really didn’t know and didn’t care. If he wasn’t working, he was out shooting animals for sport or drinking with his simple-minded friends. Perhaps he was out with his whores. I suspected he had other women, and although we’d only been married three months, I was certain he was already straying from our bed.

I knew I didn’t satisfy him, nor did I intend to. I just lay there until it was over, whimpering quietly, thanking the Almighty it never lasted long. Then I would sneak from our bed as soon as he was asleep and try to cleanse myself again. If my period was late, I was sick with worry. I was trying to will my body to deny his attempts to infect me with his offspring.

The relationship I had with my parents disintegrated after my marriage. I could never forgive them for what they did. I had never felt so frustrated or alone. The only solace I had was in the long rides I took every day.

I rode to the cemetery every few days to take flowers to my sister’s grave. Her name was Josephine. As children, we’d been inseparable. Our three older brothers seemed most content when they were bothering or teasing us. We wanted nothing to do with their stupidity and childishness, and were happy playing together on our own.

Josephine died when I was fifteen. She was sick for months, and I was told I was not allowed to see her or I would also become ill. I ignored my parents’ orders and snuck into her room to be with her once my parents were asleep. A few days before her death, I became ill as well. I was unable to attend her funeral and I never felt I was able to grieve for her.

The pain of her death was unbearable for me. After her passing, I had never felt more alone. My parents feared I would be next or I would infect the rest of the family. For months I had little contact with anyone but my doctor. Occasionally, my mother would visit with me, but would always maintain a safe distance so she would not become ill. Feelings of isolation had wrapped themselves around me like a blanket. A slow dislike for my family crept over me and I couldn’t help but think none of them truly cared.

On my rides I would often take shortcuts through the dark woods that surrounded our land. I would fantasize that the woods would swallow me up; I would get lost and never be able to return home.

***

My mother took me with her when she visited her friends of court several times a week. I loathed getting dragged along. I despised the women. They had nothing interesting to say to one another. It was the same conversation repeated every other day. Half the time I sat there nodding my head, pretending I was listening when my mind was really somewhere else. Maybe galloping through the woods on my horse or diving into a cool stream and lying back and letting the current carry me away.

I also got into the habit of sneaking out at night. My husband slept like the dead, especially after a night of drinking. Once I was sure he was asleep, I’d sneak from our room and down to the stables where I would get on my horse and gallop off into the night.

I would ride for hours through the dark woods with only the light of the moon to guide me. One night I came across a rather large clearing in the trees and discovered what would later become my secret place. In the centre of the clearing was a large pond. Its water was a deep black with a silver hue cast down from the moon.

It was early summer and the nights were warm. Once I stripped out of my nightclothes, dove into the water and squealed in delight at how wonderful the water felt as it kissed my body. From that night on, and every night thereafter, I would swim for hours. Sometimes I would just lie on my back and stare up at the stars, letting the water gently lift and tug my body.

One night I was doing just that when I heard a cracking sound coming from the trees. I was startled and whipped my head out of the water and narrowed my eyes into slits as I searched the bank and the trees surrounding me. Convincing myself it was just an animal, I sank back in the water. Several minutes later I heard it again. I stood straight up in the water and listened.

"Is anyone there?" I called out.

I got no response.

"I know someone is there. Show yourself," I demanded.

A voice called from the darkness. "Have no fear, my lady. No harm will come to you."

"Who is it that spies quietly and from the safety of shadows?"

"I do not spy, my lady," the voice replied as a figure appeared from the darkness. "I’m sorry if I’ve startled you."

"Well, you did. Now who are you, and what are you doing out in the woods in the middle of the night?"

"My name is Damian Trombley. Shouldn’t I be asking you what you are doing here? It’s not safe for a lady to be out by herself at night."

I squinted into the darkness to try to get a better look at him, but all I could make out was his bulky form.

"Well, I didn’t expect to be come upon by a stranger, did I? And I am not a child, so I’m quite capable of being out on my own. I need no one’s protection." I said defiantly.

"Spirited, are we?"

"That’s of no concern to you. Now what is it you want? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Would you please leave so I can do the same?"

"Why would you want to leave? I promised no harm would come to you."

"Pardon me if I don’t believe you. Now, please, leave!"

Admittedly, I was curious about him. What was he doing out here in the middle of the night?

"You insult me, my lady. Is my word as a gentleman so worthless?"

I was shivering uncontrollably. The water seemed to have suddenly gotten very cold.

"You’re shivering. Come out if you like."

"What? How can you see me from there?" I asked, embarrassed, and now wondering just how long he had been hiding in the woods.

"Of course I can see you from here. You’re directly under the light of the moon. Now come out. I’ll turn my back, but you need not be so modest."

"But..."

My entire body was under water so did he know I was naked? Had he been watching me all along?

"Your clothes are here on the rock. That’s how I know." he explained as if reading my thoughts. "Not to worry, my lady. I can’t see all of you. Now are you going to stay in there or come out?"

"Fine. Turn around," I shouted.

"As you wish."

I swam to the bank and made a mad dash to my clothes, which I quickly threw over my head. Having left the house wearing only my nightclothes, I still felt exposed even with the flimsy garments wrapped tightly around me.

"Now was that so difficult?" He laughed quietly to himself.

I turned on my heel and went directly for my horse, not even bothering to look at him.

"Please, don’t leave on my account. You seemed to be enjoying yourself before I arrived."

I spun around and found he was closer to me than I’d thought. He stood only a few feet away gazing at me with a small smile on his lips. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Soft pink lips, large brown eyes and perfect features. His hair was cut short and curled up at the back in adorable little wisps. He was slim, yet I could see his body was quite muscular under his clothes. And he was young. Younger than I’d thought. Perhaps even my age, or just a few years older.

"And why did you intrude? What are you doing out here?" I asked.

"For likely the same reasons you’re here. I have trouble sleeping. I’ve grown tired of roaming my grounds, so I’ve taken to the woods," he explained.

"Oh, I see," I mumbled. "Please don’t tell anyone about this. I know it’s improper for me to be out alone. If anyone found out, I’d get into a lot of trouble." I begged him, just now considering what would happen to me if I did get caught leaving the house. My husband would probably have me constantly watched by one of his servants. I would likely never be able to leave the house unattended again.

"Fear not, my lady. Your secret is safe with me."

Every logical part of me was telling me to get on my horse and get out of the woods as quickly as possible. Yet I was drawn to him and I had no desire to leave.

"Would you like to wear my coat? You’re shivering."

"Yes, I suppose," I replied quietly.

He removed his coat and handed it to me. "I’d be a gentlemen and wrap it around your shoulders, but I fear you may kick me or somesuch, so I’ll leave that to you."

I couldn’t help but laugh and a small chuckle escaped my lips.

"Good. Now I have you laughing. So do you have a name, Lady of the Lake?" he asked as he sat himself down on a rock.

I sat down across from him, it now being obvious I wasn’t leaving anytime soon. "Gwyneth."

"Well, Gwyneth, what is one such as yourself doing out here all by herself?"

He was adorable. He carried himself with an air of self-confidence and had an undeniable charm. Much to my surprise, I found myself letting my guard down. I felt completely at ease, which was quite strange, considering only a few moments ago I was nearly scared to death.

"I suppose this place is my escape. I come here almost every night."

"I know."

"What do you mean you know? You’ve been here before?"

"Yes, I’m afraid so. I heard the noise from your horse about a fortnight ago, so I followed to investigate. I heard you again the next night and every night thereafter. Does that bother you?"

"You’ve been watching me?" I asked timidly

"I could lie to you and say I haven’t been, but yes, I have. I suppose that makes me a voyeur. But you need not feel embarrassed. You’re quite beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so. And, besides, you don’t strike me as the type of woman who’d be bothered much by the idea of been caught in the nude. Am I right?"

"And what makes you assume that?" I asked with a steely tone in my voice, wondering just how much this stranger was able to deduce about me just my watching my movements.

"Any woman who comes into the woods at night, by herself, and swims naked with no obvious inhibitions about doing so, clearly doesn’t care too much for rules."

"That’s preposterous," I exclaimed.

"It may be, but I’m right, am I not?" He was smiling broadly

Suddenly he grabbed my hand, looked at it closely and thrust it back at me. "Where is your ring?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Your wedding ring. Your finger has a white line where a ring should be. I know that mark. Why don’t you wear it?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"None, but I’m curious."

"I don’t wear it to bed," I explained realizing how silly that sounded.

"Well, you aren’t in bed now, are you? Perhaps you’d prefer not the wear it?"

"Do you think that is an appropriate question to ask me? Has anyone ever told you to mind your own business?"

"Sure they have, but I’ve always ignored them," he said jokingly, and again I couldn’t help but laugh. "You seem to carry a great weight on your shoulders. Here, you’re free with no worries, and nothing can touch you. But what troubles bring you here night after night? I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the fact you aren’t proud enough of your marriage to wear a ring representing it."

"You see a lot," I admitted. "And you’re right. Married I am, but only on paper. I have no husband," I declared with conviction. "What about you? Tell me something about yourself. You have me curious."

"I live with my father, not very far from here. I’m actually your neighbour. My mother died when I was very young and I’m an only child. My father is very sick and I fear it won’t be long before he is dead," he said with almost no emotion. "I’m taking care of him, the property, the affairs, everything. That is why I, like you, need an escape. I get up in the middle of the night and go riding. I don’t know why, but I have a hard time sleeping. I always have, ever since I was a little boy. So I ride, like you, and I am able to escape for awhile."

"What is it you are trying to escape from?" I asked quietly.

"Life, I guess. Have you ever watched anyone you love die?"

"Yes. My sister."

"Then you know what it’s like. I cannot stand to watch my father’s pain. Everyday I find myself wishing that he will soon be taken away from it and will finally be free, but he still hangs on. Is that wrong? I don’t want him to die, of course, and I fear the day it will actually happen…yet I don’t want him to suffer any longer."

"I understand. It was the same for my sister."

"So what is it you’re escaping from, Gwyneth? Why do you come here night after night if you aren’t running away from something?"

"My husband," I answered outright.

"You do not love him?"

"No. I’ve never been in love. I despise him. He works all day, so luckily I barely see him. Once he’s asleep, I sneak out because I cannot even tolerate sleeping beside him. And I slip back into bed before he wakes. He hasn’t caught me yet, which is fortunate for me. What about you? Are you married?" I asked.

"No. I have yet to meet a woman who will put up with me. Besides, I’ve never met anyone interesting enough for me to even entertain the idea of marrying. When my father was well, he was always arranging for me to meet what he called 'nice women.' ’They were so artificial, so vain and unintelligent, and their only concerns were the clothing they wore and the latest gossip from town."

I giggled quietly to myself.

"That’s funny?"

"Yes, it is actually. I know the women you speak of. I go to their lunches and teas with my mother. She insists I go and the only reason I go at all is to make her happy. The women are ridiculous. They’re wenches who judge everybody, but never find fault in themselves."

We sat for hours, talking until we saw the light of the sun on the horizon. He talked mostly of his father. I told him stories of my sister and how her death had been a devastating blow for me. I tried not to mention my husband, but when his name did come up, I only spoke of my disgust and frustration. Through all of this Damian listened intently and said very little. I was certain by the end of my tales I saw pity in his eyes.

"I must go. The dawn is near and there are things I need to do. So until next time, Lady Gwyneth."

"But..." I paused, not even sure what it was I wanted to say.

"Say nothing. Goodnight. Or I guess, more accurately, good morning," he said and quickly stood up, bowed slightly and swept his arm out then disappeared into the woods.

I rode home quickly. The sky was already turning a beautiful shade of orange. I just barely escaped the detection of one of the stable hands as I tethered my horse.

Chapter Two

My Passion Ignited

The following morning I went with my mother to attend a tea with the women from town. As was customary, I was barely paying attention to what they were discussing until I heard mention of Damian’s father.

"My husband ran into Doctor Stewart a few days ago. He’s apparently been spending a lot of time at the Trombley estate. Lord Trombley is deathly ill and Doctor Stewart told my husband he doesn’t have much time left. That poor boy. He’ll no doubt be more estranged than ever once his father passes."

"What do you know of that family?" I asked.

The women looked surprised I’d spoken. Normally, I said very little to them. I faked my way through the pleasantries, but otherwise I kept silent.

"Why do you ask, dear?" Her curiosity, along with everybody else’s, was piqued.

"I was out riding the other day. I think I may’ve seen the Lord’s son on his grounds. I didn’t realize I’d crossed the boundaries between our properties. He was out riding as well. He called to me from afar telling me I was on his land," I lied, making up the quickest and hopefully most believable story I could think of.

"That sounds like him. His name is Damian. Imagine, telling you to get off his land. That estate is enormous. I don’t see why it should bother him if you are on a corner of his property. You are neighbors, after all. He’s such a strange man."

"How so?" I asked, trying not to appear that interested.

"He locks himself away in that house--well, it’s more like a castle, really. I’m certain he only comes into town when he absolutely needs to. Most of the time, he sends his servants on his errands. God bless him for looking after his father the way he does, but honestly, he’s so antisocial. He barely utters a word to anyone."

"Oh, but he’s so handsome." Abigail tittered.

She and her mother attended every luncheon and tea. Abigail was seventeen, and desperate to be married. From what my mother told me, her parents were having a hard time finding her an ideal suitor.

I couldn’t understand her desperation to get married. I suppose she was young and impressionable and had no doubt been brainwashed by her parents. I wanted to take her aside to tell her what it was really like. Then again, maybe she’d be one of the lucky ones. Maybe some women did find a partner they loved, even when the marriage was arranged.

"Abigail, be quiet," her mother, scolded her.

"She is right, though," another woman chimed in. "He is deliciously handsome. He should be married by now. He should’ve been married long ago. The only reason he isn’t married is no fault of his own."

"Why has he never married?" I asked quietly, hoping no one was paying attention to whom the question came from.

"No one can say for sure. His father apparently encouraged him a great deal. He introduced him to several eligible women and the like. Damian showed no interest. All the women from town and beyond are after him. He’s one of the most eligible men in this area, especially coming from that wealthy family."

"You know there was a rumor going around for awhile there that he enjoyed the company of men rather than women," one lady tittered.

"That wouldn’t surprise me. That man is a complete mystery."

They quickly grew bored of talking about Damian and switched to gossiping about somebody else. I’d heard enough anyway, and I didn’t believe a word of it.

***

That afternoon I rode into the woods and found a small clearing amongst a thick section of trees and settled myself there. After eating a small lunch I’d prepared, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, my mind was hazy with remnants of a dream. I dreamt that Damian and I were at the pond. I had been wearing an exquisitely tailored ball gown. Damian and I had been wrapped in each other’s arms. He had me pinned up against a tree with his hand wrapped tightly around my throat. His pants had collected in a pile around his ankles and he was thrusting into me roughly. The top of my dress was half undone, leaving my breasts spilling out. He was squeezing and biting at my nipples. My hands were clawing into his bottom, grinding him into me. The dream had been intense. I woke up feeling as if his hands really had been on me.

In my dream Damian had been forceful and aggressive. I didn’t desire a tender lover. I wanted a man to be uninhibited and to want me so much he couldn’t help but ravage me. I obviously desired that my thirst for him was mutual, and I also, would be unable to contain my lust.

I had long since developed the art of pleasuring myself. My husband’s only interest was in one person’s gratification--his own. With my desire now hot and aching, I slipped my hand under my skirt and into my undergarments. My want was moist, warm and slick between my fingers. I teased and fondled myself until the pulse of an orgasm rippled through my body, and the sound of my whimpers carried through the trees.

***

I went to the pond every night after I met Damian, but was only greeted with disappointment, as he was never there. I was desperate to see him again. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

One night, I’d been fantasizing about him at dinner as I sat at the table across from my husband. I imagined his lips kissing and biting my inner thighs. The sounds of my husband grunting while he ate brought me back to reality. I excused myself from the table, feigning I wasn’t hungry and went outside to the empty stables, sank myself deep into a pile of hay and fondled myself again.

That night I rode into the woods with reckless abandon. I felt wild and wanton, and was filled with a sense of anticipation. Once at the pond I climbed off my horse and was surprised when my feet came in contact with a soft bundle rather than the hard forest floor. Damian’s clothes lay scattered around on the ground.

"Damian?" I called into the night.

"Good evening, Gwyneth." His voice answered from far out in the water. "Join me. The water is beautiful."

I looked up at the sky. The moon was nearly full and brightly illuminated the clearing.

"Come on, Gwyneth. Don’t be modest. There’s no need to be bashful."

I stripped out of my clothes without reservation.

"Ahhhh," I screeched as my toes hit the cool water. "It’s cold!"

"It is not. Get in."

"It’s freezing. I’m not coming in," I teased and turned away.

"Oh, yes, you are." I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He launched himself out of the water directly at me. Before I knew what was happening, he picked me up and threw me into the water. My head went under and I swallowed a mouthful of water.

"You fool," I gasped between coughs.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw you in quite that hard. Are you alright?" he asked his face creased with concern.

"Yes, I’m fine."

"Well, you’re in the water now. See, I told you it wasn’t cold."

I lunged myself at him. He swam away from me into the deeper water. I grabbed hold of his arm and he pulled me closer to him. I put my feet down, but discovered the bottom was farther than I thought and I nearly sank. He grabbed me before I went under.

"It’s okay. I’ve got you."

I froze when our bodies touched. I felt goose bumps erupt all over my skin. I looked him in the eye. He was staring at me strangely.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You’re beautiful."

His arm tightened around my waist and he pulled me closer to him. I felt heat erupting deep in my loins.

"You’re cold," he said.

"No," I whimpered.

"You’re covered in goose bumps."

"T-t-hose aren’t f-f-from the cold," I stammered.

Surprised at my boldness, I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist. His hands slid down my back and came to rest under my cheeks, lifting me into him so our bodies were crushed together. My breasts were pressed into his chest and I felt his hardness bobbing up between my legs. I was aware of what little movement it would take for him to simply slip inside me.

I smoothed his wet hair away from his forehead as I studied the details of his face. He was exceptionally handsome. His skin was surprisingly smooth under my fingers.

I felt excitement building between my legs. Having never actually felt desire or attraction for anyone before, the feeling was unfamiliar. In all my imaginings and fantasies, I’d never have envisioned this. For the first time in my life I knew what it was to really want someone.

I kissed him full and hard on the lips. His returned kiss was passionate and rough. I felt ripples of pleasure course through me as his tongue gently grazed mine. I moved my fingers through his hair and dug my nails into his scalp. I moaned in between kisses as he nibbled on my neck. I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist and ground my sex against his.

"More. Please," I begged.

Suddenly he stopped. He grabbed hold of me by the arms and pushed me backwards, nearly sending me under the water again. He dove under the water and came up a few seconds later several feet away from me.

"Damian, what’s the matter?"

"I’m sorry. I can’t do this." He muttered.

He was moving as quickly as he could through the water until he was walking out. He picked up his clothes and threw them on.

"What did I do?"

I didn’t understand. Why was he fleeing from me? He couldn’t seem to get his clothes on fast enough. He’d already climbed on his horse and was turning it towards the forest.

"Damian!" I yelled.

"I’m sorry," was his only reply before he dug his heels into his horse’s side and galloped away.

I pounded my hands down against the water in frustration. My confusion quickly turned to anger and shame. What did I do wrong? Didn’t he want to be with me? I felt like such a fool. I was embarrassed by the way I behaved. Was I too forward? Is that what scared him off? Did he think me a whore?

Once out of the water and dressed, I galloped off on my own horse. I pushed the mare hard and I felt some of my anger wear away as the horse galloped through the fields towards my home.

***

The next afternoon I again accompanied my mother to lunch with the women from the village. As usual, the women did nothing but gossip. I was barely listening until I heard Damian’s name mentioned and my ears immediately perked up.

"Well, how else do you explain it? He’s very attractive and certainly isn’t interested in any of the local women. He rarely even comes into town and he never attends any balls or social events. He’s a recluse. It’s as simple as that," one woman commented.

"There are plenty of women in the area who are after him, yet he doesn’t even give them a second glance. I mean, what’s wrong with him? I guess he thinks he’s better than us," she snorted.

I couldn’t listen to them anymore. All the anger and dislike I felt for them erupted out of me.

"What do you really know of him?" I shouted heatedly, jumping to my feet. "You know nothing. Maybe he isn’t interested in the eligible woman of town because all you do is sit here and slander anybody who isn’t sitting in front of you. You are all a bunch of gossiping dogs, barking at anyone you want. You don’t have a kind word to say about anybody except yourselves. If anybody thinks they are better than anyone here, it is all of you."

I stormed from the house. What I’d just said had guaranteed I’d never be invited to their meetings again. I didn’t care. I was so fed up with all of it.

Before I stormed out, I had gotten a glimpse of my mother’s face. She’d looked horrified. I knew I had embarrassed her in front of her friends. Knowing my mother, she wouldn’t let it go. I expected I would be called to her house, where she would no doubt chastise me for my behavior and demand I apologize.

With angry steps, I stomped from the house and across the town square. I wasn’t even sure where I was going. I stopped mid-stride as I was walking past a store. I was certain I heard someone calling my name.

"Gwyneth. Come here, please." I recognized the voice as Damian’s.

I looked up and saw him standing in the dark shadows between two buildings, beckoning me to him.

I walked over to him, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me deeper into the shadows.

"Get your hands off of me," I replied vehemently and pulled myself free from his grasp. "What do you want?"

"Please, Gwyneth. Come with me and let me explain."

His eyes were pleading. My resolve melted and I let him pull me away between the surrounding buildings. When we stopped, I crumbled to the ground. I felt both physically and emotionally exhausted.

"I followed you and your mother into town, and hoped I’d get a chance to talk to you. What’s the matter? What has gotten you so upset?" he asked.

I looked at him as he sat down beside me. He looked genuinely concerned.

"What do you care?" I asked angrily.

"I do care. Tell me what happened."

"Those women… They are so horrible. Your name came up in conversation and I just exploded. I jumped to your defense and let them have a piece of my mind, although I don’t know why I bothered defending you."

"You needn’t have bothered. Those women will always find fault with others. I think it’s because they have nothing better to do. Thank you, though. That’s very sweet. Now, listen to me for a minute, and please, don’t interrupt. I want to explain about last night."

"There’s nothing to explain. I blame myself. I was a fool. Stupid really to think you wanted me. I’m ashamed and embarrassed. I’m sorry it ever happened," I lied.

"I hope you don’t mean that. I’m not sorry it happened, but I am sorry for the way I acted. I like you, Gwyneth. You’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met," he said, gently taking my hand in his.

"I don’t understand?"

"I know what people say about me. I’ve heard the rumors as well. They all think I’m strange because I prefer to be alone. Everyone, including my father, thinks I should be married already. Any way I try to explain it to you will sound ridiculous." He stopped, as if searching for the right words.

"Please try."

"I suppose I panicked. Everything happened so fast. I’ve never been with a woman I liked. I’m sure that sounds silly to you. I’m so used to being alone. I suppose I never considered it any other way."

"I guess the fact I’m married hardly helps matters."

"When I first found out, I was disappointed. But once you told me you didn’t love him, I wasn’t bothered. I guess I just wasn’t sure what would happen with us."

"Well, I feel silly now," I admitted. "I guess I hadn’t considered all of the circumstances. I just presumed you didn’t want to be with me."

"Quite the opposite, I assure you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, even before I talked to you. I watched you for weeks by the pond until I finally got up the courage to speak to you. I think you’re beautiful, and your personality is contagious. I adore your spirit." He shook his head smiling at me.

"I’d like to spend more time with you now, but unfortunately, I do have to go. I just wanted to explain everything to you. I’m afraid my father is having a bad day. I fear he won’t be with me much longer. I have to get back to him."

"Of course. I understand."

He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek then, after hesitating for a few seconds, kissed me quickly on the mouth before hopping to his feet.

"Will you meet me later? I’d really like to see you tonight." His eyes pleading.

"Yes. Now go attend to your father. I’ll see you later."

"You’re wonderful," he said and put out his hand. I took it, and he drew me to my feet. He kissed me again before running off and disappearing into the ally.

***

My mother was at my home within hours after my outburst that afternoon. Without saying hello to me, she burst into the parlor where I was reading, her arrival preceding her as I heard her shouting at one of the servants.

"Gwyneth, what is the matter with you? What were you thinking, behaving like that?"

"Hello, Mother." I got to my feet.

"Never mind that. I want you to tell me what’s going on and I want you to tell me now. Why are you so interested in Damian Trombley?"

"You’re being ridiculous."

"Am I? First you ask about him, which isn’t like you. You barely say a word at our teas, and when you do, it’s to ask questions and defend somebody you don’t even know. So don’t you dare tell me I’m being ridiculous." Her face was red in anger, her jaw set in a grimace. "Your behavior this afternoon was appalling. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. How was I supposed to explain to those women? I told them you’ve been upset lately because you’ve been unable to get pregnant."

"There’s no need to lie for me or to make excuses," I replied as calmly as I could. I was growing angrier by the minute.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Are you sleeping with this man, or do you have desires to? I’m certain that’s what half of those women were thinking."

"And so what if I was?" I spat at her, unable to contain my rage any longer.

Her hand came down hard and fast against my cheek. It had been years since my mother had raised her hand to me. I stumbled slightly in reaction to her stinging slap.

"Don’t raise your voice to me."

"Christ, Mother. Don’t be so dramatic. There’s nothing going on. Mind your own business."

"Blasphemy! I don’t understand what’s the matter with you," she practically screeched at me, shaking her head frantically.

"What’s the matter with me is I’m married to a man I despise. And I’m married to him because of you and Father!"

"We only wanted what was best for you," she explained, but her conviction was feeble at best.

"I begged you not to, and still you let it happen. How is that wanting the best for me?"

"It matters not. That’s all in the past," she said, quickly dismissing my pain. "I’m warning you, Gwyneth. It’s a sin to bed down with a man other than your husband. It’s a sin to even think it. Your father and I will not hesitate to cast you out of this family if you disgrace our family name."

"I haven’t felt like I’ve been part of this family since you and father married me off to Randolph!" I shouted at her.

She flinched at my words and I watched as her expression contorted in a mixture of anger and pain.

"I want you to leave, Mother. I’ve got nothing else to say to you."

I know I cut her deeply with my words. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. I almost regretted what I’d said, but only almost. I had hardened my heart against my parents the day they betrayed me. I couldn’t feel sympathy for her now.

She glared at me again before turning on her heel and walking out. I had just successfully ostracized my mother. With a husband I detested and parents I could never forgive, I felt more alone than ever before.

Chapter Three

Wanting Out

Later that evening, I didn’t go to bed when my husband did. I told him I wanted to stay in the parlor to read and I would join him later. Once the house was quiet, I snuck away into the woods.

For two hours, I waited expectantly at the pond. Damian never showed up. Initially, I was upset and cursed myself for getting my hopes up. He’d seemed so sincere when I had seen him in the afternoon that I had to believe he had a good reason for not being there to meet me.

I awoke early the next morning and went to the stables for my morning ride. I was walking with my horse and was behind the barns when I heard a rustling behind me.

"My lady," a voice called.

I spun around and was greeted by a young boy no older than fifteen.

"Lady Gwyneth?"

"Yes."

"Master Damian sent me here with a letter for you."

He handed it to me and ran off in the direction he had come. I hopped onto my horse and, once I was privately tucked away in the woods, I opened his letter. I read,

Gwyneth,

I apologize for not meeting you last night. My father died shortly after I left you yesterday afternoon.

I would like to see you. Please come to me.

There’s a path at the pond leading directly to my land. Just go in the opposite direction of your property and you’ll find me.

***

Damian’s land was five times the size of ours, and his house was so grand it was even larger than my parent’s property. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but I hadn’t thought he was that wealthy.

He must have told his servants I was expected because they whisked me into the house and directed me to his room.

I knocked on the door, but received no reply. I opened the door slowly and called his name. The room was dark except for a small shaft of sunlight peaking through a gap in the curtains. Damian sat in front of the window, in an oversized chair. He gave no indication he’d heard me enter. He appeared to be staring into nothingness. As I walked closer to him, I noticed he was half-dressed and was wearing the same pants I had seen him in the day before.

"Damian."

His body jerked in response to my voice.

"Come in." His voice was soft and barely audible.

I stood beside him. He grabbed hold of me at the waist and brought me into his lap. He buried his head in my chest and wrapped his arms around me, holding on tightly.

"Are you all right?" I asked gently.

He looked at me and I saw tears filling his eyes, ready to spill down his cheeks. I kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"I’m as well as can be expected given the circumstances. Thank you for coming."

"Of course. I had one of my stable hands send a message up to the house that I’d be gone for the day, so I’m here as long as you need me."

His hands slid over my thighs and rested there.

I welcomed his affection. It was reassuring. My head was still swimming, going from having just met him a little more than a week ago to now being seated in his lap. I liked him a lot, though. He seemed like a kind soul. Had I been given the opportunity to court and pick my own mate, Damian would be the kind of man I’d have chosen.

I was still unsure of what it was I was doing…what I was getting myself into. The sneaking around was dangerous, and heaven forbid if I ever got caught. But sitting in his arms, it seemed like none of that mattered. It was so easy to forget about my husband, my parents and my melancholy when I was with him. It all seemed so trivial.

"How are you doing?" he asked me, hugging me closer.

"My mother was at my house yesterday afternoon. We had a terrible fight, and I said some really awful things to her."

"Like?"

"It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I don’t want to talk about her. You look tired," I said, noticing the dark hollows under his eyes.

"I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve slept in two days. Will you lie down with me?"

"Yes."

I followed him to his bedroom where we laid down on the bed. He snuggled up close beside me. Within minutes, I heard his breathing become steady. With him asleep, I slipped out of my dress and corset. Now dressed only in my underclothes, I slipped back under the covers with him, took his arm and wrapped it around me.

I didn’t expect to fall asleep, but I must have. I awoke with a start when I felt him move beside me.

I remained still as he snuggled up beside me. His hands moved lightly over my body in a soft caress. Together we removed my underclothes. He must have removed his clothes when I was sleeping. I discovered his nakedness when I wrapped my legs tightly around him, feeling his hardness push into my thigh. We rolled around in his bed nibbling, sucking and sampling each other. His lips and tongue explored every inch of my body, stopping occasionally to kiss or nip gently at my skin.

He caressed and fondled my sex with skilled fingers. His tongue expertly explored my folds, teasing my sweet spot until finally pushing me over the edge. I’d only ever experienced such pleasure by my own hands. It both surprised and excited me to learn someone beside myself could bring me to such heights of bliss.

With my body still quivering from my climax, he rolled me over on my stomach, pinned me down beneath him and slid himself into me from behind. I responded with a moan that started deep in my throat and ended in a fevered squeal. I pushed myself onto him, moving my hips in unison with his.

His breathing quickened as he pumped into me harder and finally climaxed, digging his fingernails into the sides of my bottom. I rolled over and gazed at him. I ran my hand over his brow, wiping away sweat. He smiled wickedly at me, moaned quietly and closed his eyes.

Afterwards, we lay quietly, wrapped in each other’s arms.

"If you were free to do as you wanted, what would you do?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If you hadn’t gotten married, what would you do?"

"I’d still have liked to get married. To somebody I loved. I thought about running away, but I had no money. Where was I supposed to go and what was I going to do? I’ve never known a day of work in my life.

"I still want to leave him. I suppose I’d go far away from here and start my life over. I guess I would have to beg somebody to employ me. I’d be poor, but I’m certain I’ d be better off."

"Very few women have your courage."

"I shouldn’t have married him in the first place…"

"You didn’t have a choice."

"I suppose. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him. The very thought of him makes me sick," I said gently. "What time is it?"

"Nearly five."

"Oh, dear. They’ll be serving dinner soon. I have to go."

I hurried out of bed and started getting dressed. The room was getting darker as the sun was setting, but it was light enough that, when I glanced at him, I saw his eyes drinking in my disappearing nakedness.

"Do you regret what we’ve done?" He asked.

"Not at all. You must not think that. I wanted it just as much as you did."

I bent down and kissed him. His lips were warm and moist, and tempted me to stay.

"Will you come again? Tomorrow? My father’s funeral is in two days," he explained.

"Of course. I’ll come tomorrow afternoon."

I kissed him again quickly before leaving. I detested the idea of going home. How could I return to my husband after this? Having found pleasure and affection with Damian, I hated my husband and parents even more for denying me any of it. The unfairness of my life settled in my brain, frustrating me and now, more than ever, I wanted out.

Chapter Four

A Grand Party

I continued to see Damian at every opportunity. At night we’d meet at the pond. If I was able to sneak away during the day, I would go to his home, sneaking in the rear doors to avoid detection. Thankfully Damian’s servants were loyal to him. Although my presence was known to few of them, neither of us worried about them telling our secret to others.

Damian was an exceptional lover. We molded so well together. I felt no trepidation with him and was completely at ease in his presence. With Randolph, I knew only fear, anxiety and disgust. With Damian, my thirst for him was wild and passionate. Not only could I not get enough of ravaging his body, but I also couldn’t get enough of him. His mind and personality were gripping. I always went home feeling depressed that I had to leave him, and hungered for him all the more.

Two months after our affair started, I became pregnant. I was certain the baby was Damian’s. I rarely went to bed with Randolph any more, and for the most part, managed to avoid his advances. I would purposely be out of the house when he was home, and when that approach didn’t work and he pursued me; I’d feign a headache or stomachache. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem all that bothered when I refused him. I knew that meant he had other women, and in addition to my repugnance for him, I was disgusted by the idea of him infecting me with a disease from one of his whores.

The long days and warm nights of summer were drawing quickly to an end. Fall was swiftly approaching. My husband decided to host a 'final summer party' at our home. He invited only the rich and influential families of the city. Damian’s name was included on the guest list, as a 'courtesy', my husband explained.

"I doubt he’ll attend, though. I haven’t seen him at a party in ages."

"Have you ever met him?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the guest list.

"A few times. He seems nice enough. A bit of a shy fellow, though. Seems to keep to himself."

I had hand delivered the invitation to Damian. I’d begged him to come, but he’d refused, explaining he wouldn’t be able to tolerate an evening with 'those people'.

***

The night of the ball arrived. I was bored after an hour. I was hanging onto my husband’s arm with revulsion as we circled the room greeting our guests.

"Gwyneth, there’s someone here I’d like you to meet."

I turned around and my eyes collided with Damian’s. I gasped quietly and immediately averted my eyes hoping I had covered my look of surprise.

"This is Damian. He’s our neighbor," he explained to me before returning his attention to Damian. "What a surprise to see you here. I haven’t seen you at a party in years." I held out my hand and, as was customary, he took it and kissed it quickly.

"I figured I was due to show myself off in society again." He replied to my husband, while looking at me.

I couldn’t hold his gaze. I felt my cheeks flush and I was suddenly very warm.

"I understand from speaking to some people in the city that you recently had your garden re-landscaped. I was thinking of having the same done to my property. Do you mind if I tour your grounds?" Damian asked my husband.

It was actually me who’d told him about our garden and not anyone from town.

Before my husband could even respond I said, "Please allow me to show you."

"That’s an excellent idea. It was actually my wife who wanted the garden improved and she helped in the design. She can explain everything to you. Enjoy yourselves," my husband said, releasing me from his grip.

I took a hold of Damian’s arm and guided him through the crowd.

"You’re blushing," he whispered.

"Yes. And you’re here," I replied.

"I nearly choked when I saw you. You could’ve at least warned me," I scolded him once we were seated in the garden.

"I’m sorry. I just decided tonight that I would come. Besides, the look on your face was delightful. Not to worry, though. You covered yourself well."

Damian was dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit. I had never seen him looking so handsome. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked as my eyes raked over his body.

"Your suit is wonderful. You look so dashing," I replied seductively as my fingers traced over the fabric of his suit.

"Thank you. You look lovely as well."

"Just lovely?" I teased, moving closer to him.

"Enchanting."

I snuggled in closer, and kissed and nuzzled at his neck.

"Do you want me?" I purred as my hand slid up his thigh.

"Gwyneth!" He begged.

"Tell me you want me." My hand moved to his groin, which I cupped gently. I could feel his excitement building.

"I want you," he whispered.

Unable to hold back any longer, our lips connected. The kiss was forceful and frenzied. His hands roamed over my breasts, which he squeezed roughly. I took his hand, guided it under my skirt and opened my legs in invitation. His hand stopped.

"Gwyneth…your husband. What if someone comes out here?"

"Ssssshhh. Please, Damian," I begged between kisses.

I pushed his hand further up my thigh until it collided with my sex. With both of our hands, I rubbed at my desire and felt it quiver with delight.

I grabbed at his pants releasing the buttons.

"Gwyneth," he pleaded.

"Relax, lover. Take my underclothes off." I breathed heavily as I stroked him and suckled at his neck.

His resistance melted away and he pulled them off aggressively and threw them to the ground. I stood up, took a hold of his sex and slid myself down over him. I leaned back and rode him wildly. His hands slid into my dress squeezing at my breasts and pinching my nipples.

I ground myself into him as hard as I could as I sunk my nails into his neck. I clasped my hand over his mouth trying to quiet him as he climaxed and grunted loudly.

I stood up, slipped back into my underclothes and sat down beside him as if nothing had happened. He quickly pulled up and buttoned his pants.

"You’re impossible to resist," he whispered, grinning at me delightfully.

"I know," I teased.

We sat in silence for several minutes, our hands clasped together in my lap.

"Do you still want to run away?" Damian asked me quietly.

"Why do you ask that?"

"If you had somewhere to go, and you had enough money to live comfortably, would you run away and leave everything--your family and your husband?"

"Yes." I answered without hesitation.

"You’re sure."

"Yes. Why? Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?"

"What would you say if I told you I had somewhere for you to go and I could give you money? Or would you say yes if I asked you to come with me? For the last few weeks, I’ve been dealing with a very wealthy man from out of town. He’s offered me a substantial amount of money to buy my entire property.

I could live off the money for the rest of my life. All I need to do is sign the land over to him and I’m free to leave this place and start over. We can leave together, and travel around until we find someplace we want to settle, far from here, of course.

Should you decide you don’t want to stay with me, I promise to provide you with enough money so you can leave on your own and start over."

"Damian, this is madness. Where is all of this coming from?"

"Because I know you are unhappy. You’re like a bird trapped in a cage. You need to be set free. Besides, I’m growing far too fond of your company. I hate that you sleep beside him. I despise the idea of him laying a finger on you. He doesn’t realize the depth of the beauty his wife possesses. He doesn’t deserve you."

"I’m pregnant." I blurted it out before he could say anything more.

His expression exploded into one of happiness. "You’re certain?"

"Yes. I knew about a week ago, but I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. I know the baby is yours. I’ve barely slept with Randolph. Of course, there’s always a chance he’s the father, but I’d say it’s very unlikely."

"This is wonderful news." He beamed.

"Really? I thought you might be upset."

"I don’t care if the baby could be his. Have you seen a doctor?"

"No. Not yet. I haven’t decided what to do yet. I can’t stay with him any longer. I just can’t. I’d rather raise the child on my own. He cannot know I am pregnant. No one can."

"You won’t have to raise the baby on your own. We’ll raise it together. Our child. This is perfect, Gwyneth. So…will you leave with me?"

"You’re sure? You haven’t even had the chance to think about this, now knowing there’ll be a baby."

"I don’t need to think about it. Don’t you understand that I want to be with you?"

"Oh, my, t-t-this is all happening s-s-so fast," I stammered, my mind racing.

"Gwyneth--" His voice pleaded as he pulled me closer to him. "--I love you. I want to be with you."

"You’re certain?" I asked dumbfounded.

"Yes. Say you’ll think about it. Please," he implored his eyes pleading.

"I don’t need to think about it. I love you, too."

"This is wonderful!" he exclaimed and drew me to my feet. He pulled me into his arms and spun me around. I squealed in delight as I felt my feet leave the ground.

"Put me down," I shrieked happily.

He let me go. I covered my mouth, remembering we weren’t that far from the house.

"Oh, dear, I hope that wasn’t too loud," I said, giggling. "Will you come back in with me? Please. I don’t want to go back in alone."

"Do you really think that’s a good idea?" he asked reluctantly.

"Of course I do. I want you to dance with me. Let’s give those women something to gossip about."

"Okay. Just one dance, though."

"Wonderful. Let’s go."

Spinning around on the dance floor in Damian’s arms, I was almost able to forget about my husband and parents. I had my lover in the same room as my husband, and I didn’t even care.

I caught sight of my mother sitting with her friends to the side of the dance floor. Her eyes were fixed on us with obvious interest. I didn’t need to look around at anyone else to confirm we’d drawn some attention. The men at the party didn’t care about such silly things, of course, but the women were packed together in clusters, tittering amongst themselves.

"They’re talking about us," Damian said, not bothering to glance around, but instead fixing his eyes on mine.

"Of course they are. They can’t figure out why the most eligible bachelor is dancing with me, a married woman. This will give them something to talk about for weeks."

I was actually trying hard to pretend I barely knew him and was dancing with him as a courtesy for being our guest. I hope my adoration of him wasn’t obvious.

"Do you suppose they’ll figure it out when we mysteriously disappear, both at the same time?" I asked him.

"I’m certain of it. Especially since your mother already suspects you. I’ll tell my buyer where I’m planning on going. Of course, the place I tell him will be a lie.

"I think you should leave a letter, either for Randolph or your mother. You can tell them you’re leaving the country and will never return. That way, even if they think we’ve run off together, the information they’ll have, which will be little, won’t correspond. They won’t have a clue where to look for us."

"I really don’t think they’ll bother looking for me. My mother threatened to cast me out of the family if she found out I was with you. I believe her. Randolph may try to look for me, but I doubt it. I think he’d be too embarrassed to draw that much attention to himself and the fact I left him. He’ll no doubt marry another."

"You won’t miss any of this?" He asked.

"No. I want to leave. I want to start a new life. With you."

The music came to an end, and Damian and I separated.

"You better go," I whispered.

"Thank you for the dance. And for the tour of your gardens," he said, loudly enough for a group of ladies who stood close by, and were obviously eavesdropping, to hear.

"You’re welcome. It was nice to meet you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I watched Damian’s quick retreat through the crowd. I planned to go to my room, but was unable to make it that far before I was cornered.

"Is he leaving?" Abigail asked me, her face beaming.

"Yes. I believe so," I replied curtly.

"What was he doing here anyway? I’ve never seen him at a ball before. I wish I could’ve danced with him."

Her mother stood by her side and appeared anxious to hear my response. This was one time I hadn’t seen her chastise her daughter to be quiet.

"My husband invited him. I’m sure I don’t know why he decided to come tonight," I explained, hoping that was the last of her questions.

"And you danced with him as well. Oh, I’m so envious," she gushed.

"I thought it polite to ask him since he’s our guest. I think he agreed to dance with me only to be considerate. He’s such a strange man. Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have to attend to some things. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening," I replied and walked away before Abigail bombarded me with more questions.

***

As I expected, my mother was at my home first thing the following morning. I’d seen very little of her since our last argument except at our weekly dinner with my parents.

"Where’s Randolph?" My mother asked quietly.

"He’s in bed, sleeping off his headache," I explained. "Come into the parlor."

Once I had the doors closed behind me, I turned to her. "I expect this isn’t a social visit," I said sarcastically.

"Of course it isn’t. You know why I’m here. What exactly is your relationship with Damian?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but there is no relationship. Now run along to your friends and you can tell them the same."

"What was he doing at the party last night?"

"I’m sure I don’t know what his motives were, Mother. Randolph invited him."

"I saw you leave with him," she stated, clearly not willing to let it go.

"Damian asked Randolph about our garden. I showed him the grounds. If my own husband trusts me enough to be alone with him, perhaps so should you," I retorted.

"I didn’t realize," she replied meekly. "Still…you danced with him. I can’t recall the last time I saw Damian dance with anybody."

"I asked him to dance, Mother. Just how intently did you watch me last night? I also danced with Dr. Stewart and with his son. I suppose you think I have desires for them as well."

"Of course not! That’s not what I meant."

"Just what do you mean, then?"

"I suppose I was just curious," she explained, lamely.

"I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t know why Damian was at our party last night, and I don’t know why he agreed to dance with me."

"Swear to me you’re not sleeping with him." She grabbed my hand and clutched it tightly.

"I will swear no such thing!" I replied angrily, pulling myself free from her grip. "It’s insulting to me that you even insinuate such a thing. I presume you’re done. I have things to do today, Mother," I added, hoping she would see the conversation was over.

"Fine. Be careful, Gwyneth. I’ve warned you. You aren’t prepared for the trouble that will befall you if you’re caught."

She knew. I was certain of it.

"Please, Mother. I want you to leave. I have things to do." I could see no point in denying anything any longer.

She stormed from the house. I stood by the window and watched her climb into her carriage. I knew she would keep her suspicions to herself. She wouldn’t dare tell another soul and risk her own embarrassment. Damian and I would have to leave soon. I couldn’t wait. I wanted so badly to leave all this silliness behind me and start a new life, with him.

Chapter Five

A New Life

Over the next few weeks, Damian finalized the sale of his estate. In the meantime, I took the clothes and personal belongings I wanted to keep to Damian’s. I was only able to take a few articles at a time and had to hide things in my skirts, so I took little with me. I only took what I felt I’d need until we got settled.

My excitement grew as the day approached that I would leave my life, as I knew it, behind. I found I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited. My mind was saturated with thinking of my future with Damian.

I suppose I should’ve felt guilty for leaving Randolph, but I couldn’t. I did feel sorry for him, though. I felt badly that my mysterious departure would be the topic of gossip for weeks following my departure. Unfortunately, Randolph would feel the brunt of that.

Randolph was drunk the night I left. He stumbled into bed and, in minutes, was asleep and snoring loudly. I left him a letter in place of my absence in our bed.

Randolph,

I’m sorry, but I cannot do this any longer. I can’t stay in a marriage I feel is no marriage at all. You know I have never loved you. I know I never can. Make no attempt to find me. By the time you read this, I’ll be far from here and on my way to starting a new life. I’m leaving the country and never plan to return.

I do wish good things for you.

Gwyneth

***

When I arrived at Damian’s, he was waiting for me. With the carriage already packed, we were ready to go.

I didn’t even look back as we rode away from my former home. My only regret was that I could not ever visit my sister’s grave again. I’d gone to her grave earlier that day and said my goodbyes. If she were still alive, I knew she’d understand my need to leave, and I probably would’ve taken her with me.

We traveled for nearly a week, stopping only to sleep, before we settled in our new home. We purchased a modest home, nowhere near as big as Damian’s former estate, but it had no reason to be.

We introduced ourselves to everyone we met as husband and wife. I was now calling myself Gwyneth Trombley, and doing so with pride. I’d thrown my wedding ring in a pond on our journey, and Damian and I both bought new rings. Even though we were not officially married, in my heart, Damian was my husband.

Two weeks after we’d settled into our new home, I lost the baby. I wasn’t feeling well one afternoon, so I took a nap. I awoke to a slight pain in my belly and I felt moisture between my legs. With trepidation, I slipped my hand between my thighs knowing what I would find. My fingers were covered in dark blood.

Damian called for a doctor who confirmed what I already knew. Damian and I were both upset, but remained optimistic. We both knew a child would be in our future.

Damian spent most of his time overseeing the land. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen and even learned to cook. I didn’t mind lending a hand to the servants. Both my parents and Randolph had never believed in such things. When I was younger and had offered to help our cook, my mother had taken me aside and scolded me, explaining "That is their job, Gwyneth. We’re wealthy. We don’t do such things."

I didn’t want my home to be run like that. I wanted my servants to feel like part of our family.

***

Four months after I lost the first baby, I was pregnant again. Nine months later, I gave birth to a beautiful and perfect baby girl. We named her Emma.

Emma was a precocious and happy child, and Damian’s love for her was without limit. He was always doting on her and gave into her every whim, despite my warnings he was spoiling her.

I had two more miscarriages after I gave birth to Emma. Damian and I were hopeful for more children, but it really wasn’t that important to us. Emma was a blessing, and if we had no more children, we were happy with her.

My past with Randolph still haunted me on rare occasions. Sometimes I wondered what ever became of both him and my parents. My life with him now seemed like it was so long ago. My new life was wonderful. I was a wife and a mother, and finally had the family I had always longed for.

Epilogue

amian died when Emma was only five. He contracted tuberculosis, and although he battled with the disease for weeks, it was a fight he could not win. I was devastated. The pain of his loss was excruciating.

Several months after his death, I felt the clouds of mourning slowly being lifted. Emma was slowly becoming her own self again, and I found it impossible to resist her happiness and charm.

I suppose some might say I had it coming to me. That it was God’s punishment to take Damian from me. I should never have left my husband and married another. I would argue that fact.

I was devastated by Damian’s death, and I’m certain the pain of his loss will haunt me daily for the rest of my life. On the other hand, for all the pain, I felt it was worth it for all the happiness he gave me. Meeting him was a gift. Damian allowed me to be the person I’d always dreamed of being. He taught me how to love. He allowed me to be free.