Ocean of Desires

Ocean of Desires

Anna D. George

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2018 Anna D. George

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

He had lost Blakewood. Blinking to clear his vision Howard glanced in disbelief across the filthy table into the pale grey eyes of the man sat opposite him, the lack of emotion he saw there made him feel sick to his stomach. The gin he had been drinking almost solidly for the past two years did little to dull his suddenly awakened senses now, every nerve in his body wanted to scream out in panic. The face that had been devoid of all emotion for the past twenty-four months now in an instant wore a mask of terror. Trying to swallow he found his mouth to be too dry, with hands that shook so much he needed both of them; he reached for the glass in front of him and downed its contents. The gin bypassed his mouth and gullet altogether; his gut had never seemed so far away and it was several seconds before he felt the all too familiar burn.

A shiver ran down the entire length of his body as if his very soul had been touched by ice, he felt his stomach shrink in the cold pain of panic. With eyes that danced wildly he looked first to the man opposite and then to the dice on the table below and back again. He did not know what to do - he did not know how to feel, he was totally unprepared for this eventuality, this result. Everything was lost. He would have turned and ran, but he knew his legs would not carry him. Frozen with fear all Howard could do was stare at his fate and the chances that had brought him to this. The very blood that was pumping through his veins was as chilled as the dark November air that clung to the outside of the inn, waiting to shock people as they tumbled home. Around him people laughed in the thick heady smoke, grateful for the company and the warmth of strangers on such an unwelcoming winter evening. An hour ago Howard would have enjoyed the jovial atmosphere, the sense of life, but now with his future lost he felt totally isolated in the crowded bar. Every outburst of laughter from his fellow patrons seemed to mock his fate - the smell of company that had been so inviting when he arrived now had the stench of shame. It was just over sixty minutes ago when the icy November wind had blown the city gentleman with his powdered wig and black cloak through the small wooden doors and into the warm cosy inn.

The stranger now brought his gloved hand to his face, masking the wry smile that was forming on his moist thin lips. It had been such an easy victory, Howard had given too much, he had been too free with his tongue and too trusting of his luck. But his trust had been misplaced and luck had escaped him this night. It was just a matter of time now, Howard was beaten, the fear he saw in his warm brown eyes told him that - but he was not finished yet, not quite. He had won Blakewood for sure, that was a certainty, but the stranger would never get the prize he really desired, that prize was no longer within the reach of any man, the warm brown earth held her now, and before that she had belonged to Howard. There was only one thing left that he could take from Howard now to bring her closer to him, and that was not the land where her flesh had long since rotted. As he remembered her face, the stranger’s heart warmed. How lovely she had been – so full of life, such a woman could have had all the world’s men at her feet. She should have danced throughout her whole life, throughout eternity, not frozen in some earthly grave alone and silent. As his mind wandered through the past he felt the familiar anger grow again in his stomach. How he hated Howard Blakewood, almost as much as he had desired his wife. Now in the dim light of the bustling inn he almost felt pity for Howard, sitting there shaking with fear and panic. Howard was far from the man the stranger remembered. Instead of the Gentleman Lord he had travelled to meet, he found a drunken shadow of a man, with nothing but pain in his eyes. Mary’s death he knew, had brought him to this, but how she would have turned in her grave if she had seen the man he now was. The man he was looking at now.

The stranger brought his attention back to the table, it was no use thinking of her now, she was gone forever. He looked across the table at Howard, hardly able to recognise his old adversary. Howard’s eyes were still dancing wildly between the dice that had failed him and the dark stranger who had crushed him. No matter how many times he tried to refocus, it was always a five. Always.

The gentleman stranger saw his chance as he watched Howard empty his glass and fill it three times. He chose his words carefully before he spoke. No one in the inn glanced his way now. Straightening his back with confidence and authority the city gentleman smiled to himself, he was forgotten now, ignored by all except Howard, whom he knew despite the drink, would never forget this merry evening.

Leaning forward to speak and paying particular attention to the clarity of his voice, for he did not want to repeat himself he addressed Howard.

‘Sir,’ he smiled looking deeply into Howard’s frantic eyes. ‘I will give you the chance to win back Blakewood and all that goes with it on the throw of the next dice, if you will simply match the wager.’

Howard focusing now on the stranger’s face could not believe what he had just heard; the hope of getting Blakewood back gripped his very soul, he had only lost it for a matter of minutes, but in that small space of time it had felt as though his life had ended. He was desperate ‘Sir,’ he stammered ‘I have nothing with which to match the wager. I have nothing left. You have tonight won everything that I own in the world’

In the dim light of the inn the stranger’s cold grey eyes shone with excitement. Even though he was totally sober he found it difficult to keep his emotions hidden, so dizzy was he with the heady scent of victory. Waiting a few seconds before he answered, for fear of betraying himself with the tone of his voice he delivered his ultimatum. ‘Sir, you are quite mistaken,’ he began. ‘There is one thing that you still have which I desire more than Blakewood. Just one.’

‘What Sir - pray tell me.’ Gushed Howard, his mouth dry, his body wet with panic, Howard could think of nothing he had that could equal Blakewood in value. Again, the stranger waited, he knew that what he was about to say would change everything that had gone before. He had never gambled so much in one game, he had only owned Blakewood for a matter of minutes, yet he knew the value of his wager, he also knew that this was a game he had waited a long time to play. He was so near his goal, he was almost afraid to speak, but the memory of her face came to him again. His mouth soon found the words, that he knew he would have to speak, the request that Howard would find incomprehensible - unthinkable.

‘Sir, the only thing that I will accept as a wager to match the value of Blakewood is the hand of your daughter in marriage.’

Everything seemed to stop in that instant. Howard could no longer hear the laughter in the room, the crackle of the fire to his left or the shuffling of people. Even the wind outside seemed to cease thrashing for entry at the doors and window shutters. The only sound he was conscious of was his heart as it thumped inside his hollow chest. There was no point asking this stranger to repeat himself, the look on the powdered face opposite him told him that he had heard correctly. He had asked Howard to gamble for Blakewood and to pledge Kate as the stake. Eventually Howard spoke, knowing in his heart that his pleas would be in vain. ‘Sir, there must be something else. My daughter is but a child, a babe in arms. There must be some mistake, you are thinking of someone else.’

Again, the stranger lifted his gloved hand to his mouth, and collected his thoughts before delivering his verdict. He felt the need to be clear, there was to be no misunderstanding between them this evening. ‘Sir,’ he began. ‘I know of your daughter’s age, yet the wager is still the same. I will accept no less. If you lose, I will send for her in her eighteenth year and she will join me as my wife. If I lose, I will walk from here and our paths will never cross again. This Sir, I promise you; for in one week’s time I leave for foreign shores and have vowed never set foot on English soil again.’ Looking directly into Howard’s eyes, his eyes enforced what his mouth had uttered. There was to be no mistake. His gaze was so intense that Howard quickly turned away, he could not bear it. He felt that this man could see into his very soul, there was a definitive connection between them that was far deeper than this evening, but he did not know what, or how that came about. He just simply felt it. He wished he had not drunk on this evening, as he did every evening, he felt an overpowering need to be sober. There was something more to this game, but he had lost far too much control over his life of late to separate his dreams from reality or the past from the future.

In an attempt to regain composure Howard licked his full dry lips. A thousand questions crowded his frantic mind, yet he could find not answers. Could he once again lay his life open to chance? Would he be lucky this time or tonight was his luck cursed by the devil himself? Had the demons that haunted him in his sober hours finally found him? Could he walk away from Blakewood forever? Should he play?

The dice lay on the table between them, solid and weighty amongst the sawdust and the straw. Howard could not take his eyes off it. Neither of the men moved their bodies, but both their minds were racing, each had something to gain, but both had more to lose.

Howard watched his hand move, without, it seemed his will, towards that of the stranger. His hand stretched out palm up, dirty and unkempt, now the hand of a peasant with ground in dirt and chewed nails, he hardly recognised it now; looking at it as though he were seeing it for the first time, he was aware of how far he had fallen. From the corner of his eye he noticed the stranger take off his glove and place his soft white manicured hand into Howard’s weathered one. It felt, as though, once again he was being touched by silk, the stranger’s hand was so cold and so soft.

The words Howard’s mouth then spoke, had not formed into his head, so surprised was he when he heard them that he could not stop his hand from sweating in the stranger’s cool grip. It was his poor broken heart that spoke to mocking grey eyes of the fine gentleman now.

‘Sir. I will wager my daughter’s hand. If I lose Blakewood is mine, and you shall have her hand in marriage. If you, yourself lose, Sir you shall have both, and the devil shall have you.’

‘So shall it be.’ replied the stranger, and he bowed his wigged head in respect. He took his hand from Howard’s and brought it to rest on the table next to the dice. Picking it up he placed the small bone cube firmly into the centre of the palm of Howard’s open hand. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, Howard closed his hand around it and held his breath. The cube felt hard and alien against his skin. In the palm of his hand he held his whole world, and on the next throw he would decide it’s future, not just for tonight but forever.

Closing his eyes, he searched for an answer, but none came. Only the sound of the stranger’s voice drifted into his head; speeding him to a place he did not want to be, and to a decision he was unable to make ‘Sir, it is your turn to call, and let fate decide the outcome. Do you favour odds or evens?’

‘Evens’ Howard whispered, between gritted teeth. Squeezing the dice firmly in his palm before tossing it hard onto the table. He kept his eyes closed for fear of witnessing his own doom. He heard the cube bounce twice against the hard wood of the table top before it came to rest close to him; he heard nothing more but the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears. Needing more information, he vainly sent all his other senses in search of the answer that only his eyes could truly tell him. He waited several seconds but the stranger did not speak. In the silence his ears found, he felt a tinge hope, that hope soon became joy. The joy that his foolish optimism gave him, danced in his soul, it was a six, he knew it was a six, it had been her favourite number. She would not have let him down not now, she would want him to win, some how she had found a way to make everything all right. Once again, she had saved him.

Howard felt the beginning of a smile form on his lips, as he felt protected by her love, her presence. Lifting his head in confidence he began slowly to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a wry smile worn on the cruel thin lips of the stranger. The second was the third side of the dice.

The fine city gentleman was already pulling on his white glove, his mission finally and easily accomplished. Rising from the table, his heavy chair scraped on the stone floor, sending a cruel screech through the merriment of the cosy inn. Looking down at Howard who was still staring in disbelief at the bewitched cube in front of him, he spoke. ‘Sir. I shall have my lawyer draw up the contact in the morning and deliver it to you. I bid you goodnight, Sir, our paths need never cross again.’ He lowered his head and clicked his heels together as he bowed to Howard.

Spinning round quickly he proceeded to collect his cloak from the back of the chair readying himself to leave, as he did so Howard finally found the strength to speak. His voice was almost breaking with pain he addressed the stranger. ‘And who Sir, is the man lucky enough to win my daughter’s hand tonight.’ As the stranger turned back to face the table, Howard felt his courage