Forbidden love

CHAPTER 1

“Almost there”. Her moss green dress caught on a clod of grass, two similar colors mixing before her eyes. The world was growing blurry, tears rushed to escape their moist prison. Blinking them back, she clambered on. “Almost there. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, by heaven don’t shed that first tear.” She knew others would follow the first and there was NO WAY that she’d allow herself the liberty of weeping here-not yet. First she had to get there.

The verge of green blades that marked the top of the hill loomed closer and closer. She’s hadn’t been here for awhile. A year, to be precise. “Not since mum passed away. This used to be her secret place.” A sardonic smile flitted across her regal features, “And now it shall be mine”.

At this thought she placed her feet atop the tallest hill in the Gabre estate. On all sides stretched vast paddocks-green canvases with tiny dots of white spread in random, unpredictable patterns. She loved that about nature. The individual qualities granted to everything under the sun. Even the suns own sunsets and rises were unique displays of red and gold.

“So unlike men.” And that was enough to set the first tear free. It landed, a dark splotch of hurt on the sun-baked rock which had become her comforter. Laying down on it, her brown hair splayed out, with eyes searching the blue expanse, she remembered…

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Father was sitting behind a heavy oak desk. The blinds were drawn across the rooms’ sole window. A dim light shone from between the wooden slats, just enough to illuminate his creased frown. This was odd. His familiar smile a thing of the past-he was no longer the dad who had given her bear hugs and toffee. He had changed when his mistress, her mother, died. They all had.

Yet she knew he still loved her. She could see it in his crinkled eyes, now sparkling with moisture. They did not match his frown and she was certain that this was hard for him, too. But there would be no backing down on her part.

“No,” her voice cracked on the word. “I will not, cannot choose. Not now, not after mo-” at this she stopped. It was a low blow to bring mother into this, almost enough to shame her. But not quite, she knew mum would have taken her side anyway.

This point in the argument wasn’t worth the pain embedding itself in her fathers’ features though. Something pulled at her heart when a single tear leaked from his dark brown eyes (it was hurriedly wiped away). Those eyes had become renowned throughout the kingdom for their wisdom and understanding. Later, they had gained fame from their inheritor’s beauty, herself. Looking into them now, she felt quiet remorse.

“I,” it was hard to say, it was hard to give her life away. “I will do your will, I will marry.” And with that went her beings oldest convictions and all hope of freedom. Father did not reply. He was not one to talk unless fully composed. The silence grew.

“I am glad you have decided to treat this as the young lady that you are, I had grown tired of you rather childish objections,” seeing her face, he softened. And yet, despite the softened tone, his next words shattered her heart and brought realities sorrow to her mind. “Choose wisely, for I should be shamed to have a fool for a son-in-law, but be that as it may, you shall have my blessing, no matter your choice. I trust you discernment in such matters.” This kindness mixed with the declaration of her awful fate was too much. Tears prickled in her eyes. Seeing the shiny droplets forming, father mercifully dismissed her. Grateful for this chance to preserve her dignity, she fled the room. Her feet carried her through countless marble passages, past many a bewildered servant, and finally out into the midsummer sunshine. But she couldn’t stop there, the tears were coming and they were best shed in private. Not here amidst all the bustling courtyard workers (the less experienced stable boys were already staring at her). Briefly she scanned their faces, hoping to see his blond hair (the mark of foreign birth) amidst the rabble-but she could not. And the tears were coming. She ran to the fields. He would find her soon enough.

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“I wonder what’s taking him so long? Why’s he not come to find me?” Although such thoughts would have been nothing less than strange in other friendships, they were completely justified in the case of Tom and Esther. They had grown up together, the son of a duke and the daughter of Britain’s most influential lord. They were, as is said: like two peas in a pod. However not in the way that their parents’ had hoped when they first organized the childrens play dates all those years ago. No doubt marriage had been their hope-but they were to be sourly disappointed as nothing more than a warm and intimately close friendship had developed. Esther was the only interesting person Tom knew (or so he said), and he the only man who treated her normally (except for father that is). Together they had spent many hours walking through the paddocks; together they had grown up-he into a solidly built young man, and she into the most beautiful woman in the kingdom (or so it was said). Her prejudice against all men (the exceptions being Tom and father) were well based as all whom she had ever encountered saw her not for who she was, but what she was. As Tom was the only one who didn’t treat her differently, neither in regards to rank or beauty-she felt safe around him. Their friendship had blossomed to the point where Tom could tell when Esther was upset, even if he was miles away (as he often was).

It was for this reason that she momentarily forgot her own troubles and worried about Toms well being. His absence really was most peculiar.




CHAPTER 2

“He can’t be too far off.” She was trying to assure herself, to calm the throbbing in her chest. Lately, with the new princes arrival the kingdom politics had become heated, and Tom was involved. How? She did not know, for he would not speak of it even to her. “It must surely be very dangerous then, what if-” That train of thought was abruptly cut off.

Easing herself up atop the rock which all but burnt her soles, she scanned the plains. Nature countered her attempts with strong gusts of wind buffeting her frame. Sunlight rebounded back into her squinting pupils, they watered.

“There”. The frantic beating of her heart slowly descended back to normality. Far off, near where the House Of Gabre was silhouetted against the horizon ran his blond haired figure. Jumping fences and scattering sheep in his wake, he was heading straight for her. Fighting nature’s army of gusts, for her.

Relieved, she giggled at her own wild imagination. “Father must have insisted that he finish the days trading agreements before taking leave. Twas foolish to even think that-” Again she cut herself off. “Relax Jasmine, your 16 now, far too old for such improbable thoughts”. Closing her eyes against the suns glare, she slipped into the black tranquility that is found behind one’s eyelids. Facing the wind, reveling in its onslaught, she let go. She felt to fly, as her hair was behind her. This was freedom.



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Flitting images of his twin brother Johan’s strained eyes and newly acquired wrinkles blocked Dan’s vision. “Something isn’t right; Johan would never agree to escort Judith. It just doesn’t make sense.” Lost in thought, Dan blundered on across the paddocks.

“Ouch!” Green blades rushed up to meet his face. His right arm was all that prevented his face from a mud smearing. “That was too close.”

This was the first time Dan had walked along these lands. He felt the energy of life all around him as the wind pushed him forwards. His destination, the tallest hill in sight, was a vivid green mound against the clear afternoon sky. With the sun beating down upon his browning back he continued on through this perfect summer day.

A Smirk crossed his face at the thought of his fathers reaction should he be caught wondering through fields topless as opposed to being in etiquette class. A picture of his dancing tutor Lola waiting pointlessly in the grand hall flashed through his mind. The smirk grew. "She'll pretend she doesn't mind, such a pushover." He hated pushovers.

"Beauty." The word appeared as she did. Snapped out of reverie he gazed up at the face of a girl, "No, an angel." She stood atop a rock upon the hill he had been hoping to conquer. Clothed in green, she blended so well with the surroundings that he hadn't seen her until partway up the hill himself. Realizing he was grateful that her eyes were closed he knelt behind a boulder "twould be highly improper for her to see me dressed like this. Wait. Why do I care?" The question went unanswered as he continued to gaze up at her.

It was like seeing a wild bird. And, (he reasoned,) his yearning for her was the same as that of those who would capture the bird and cage its beauty. Everything in him longed to have her on his arm, to own her. The glistening brown skin of his forearm suddenly looked lonely in its universal purpose of covering his rippling muscles. “Perhaps to speak with her would be enough. She is bound to be just like the others.” But something within him whispered that maybe, just maybe, she was different. “Whatever the case, she is bound to be a challenge,” such thoughts gleamed within his eyes as their green depths ravished this new trophy.

It was odd, this feeling called love. “No tis only lust. Surely I’m not foolish enough to sell my heart to another.” And yet now, for the first time he wondered at whose bid he would let it go. As his father King Charles often mentioned, “Every man has his price.”

Dan’s green eyes slanted, a frown cutting through his face. “Who’s he?” Coming into view above the ridge of the opposite side of the hill was a fair haired man. “No, he’s barely a boy. Surely not-what?!” The girl had herd him coming and Dan was rewarded with a glimpse of her deep eyes as they fluttered open while she spun to face this mysterious man. She ran right into his arms. The two hugged as if they were intimately close and familiar with each others embrace. Something burned in his chest.

“She’s taken.” This thought echoed in his head, swirling round in circles. Making him sick. Later he would understand this feeling to be jealousy, but at the time, it simply engulfed him in a blaze of indignant anger. He did not see her tears as they soaked into this mysterious mans shoulder. All he saw was red, accompanied by a strong longing to hold her in his arms.