Windmera-Desperation

1793

MORE THAN TEN YEARS HAD passed since Godwin’s first disillusionment with his wife. Many other disappointments followed.

His decision, however, to take Sara’s love-child as his own was one he never regretted. In spite of the fact that his youth’s dreams and hopes of a loving marriage and a household of children had been dashed, he had found a place of acceptance. He found a place in his heart where he could give his love to Roderick, who he thought of as his son.

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Because of who Godwin was, he was able to bring a certain measure of contentment to his orderly and quite dull life. He had learned to exist with what he had and forget about what he would never have.

He had come to adore Roderick in every conceivable way. He was proud of his son, and life at Ravensbury went on in this fashion. He watched Sara as she dove into her social teas, routs, and gossiped outrageously with the ladies of society. He watched Sara as she indulged herself and took lovers. She tried to be discreet, but he knew and did not care.

He had taken another bedroom as his own and no longer visited her bedroom. He allowed himself an occasional and passionate night with a pretty barmaid or two when he traveled on estate business. Now and then, when he thought of the life he had envisioned for himself, he was struck with the terrible loneliness of oneness. He and Sara couldn’t even find a common ground for friendship.

He thought her an awful mother to Roderick. She scarcely bothered with the boy who seemed to adore her.

Godwin knew he was trapped, if for no other reason than his love for Roderick. He was resigned to the fact that he and his wife would never really be friends. They were too different in too many ways and he could not shake his dislike of her.

Friendship, he knew, he believed was one of the most important ingredients to a healthy marriage. He also knew much of his loneliness was his own fault. He knew he had never really loved Sara. He had loved a creature of fiction.

He realized he often treated her with disdain and coldness and often regretted some of the remarks he shot at her. Now, he had a wife who often did not feel comfortable with him in the same room and lowered her eyes when he spoke to her. At times, he felt the cad and then he would discover another lie…all small ones, but lies nonetheless.

He stood looking over the rocky cliff, gazing in earnest contemplation of his life and wondering how he could make it better.

He loved Cornwall, with the ragged harshness of the jutting boulders being splashed by the crashing waves. Cornwall’s beauty made him feel alive. He loved how the salt air smelled, how the spray from the ocean whispered to him of another time.

As he stood there on the cliff, something, he wasn’t sure what, made him turn to his right, and then he couldn’t look away.

She was walking towards him, her red hair glinting in the sun’s rays, its silken tresses swaying over her dark cloaked shoulders as she bent among the crags to gather her herbs. She had not seen him yet.

Undetected, he watched her, mesmerized by her beauty. Her cloak blew about her graceful body, and she smiled to herself as she inspected her basket nearly full with her pickings.

She stumbled over an unseen rock in the ground and he heard the instinctive cry of one who knows a fall is inevitable, and she vanished from view.

He hurried in her direction, going as fast as he could over the razed slope and steep terrain, and came to find her rising to her feet. She was intent on brushing the pebbles and sand from her clothes and did not notice him as he approached.

He was at her elbow and asking hurriedly, as he was genuinely concerned, “Are you all right, miss?”

She looked up and it was obvious to him she was startled by his presence. Her eyes, he thought, as he stared, were the color of wild violets!

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Oh, quite, thank you, though my clumsiness has given my pride quite a hit.” She looked herself over and added, “Ah, I have injured my gown, haven’t I? Now, if only I haven’t dropped a morning’s work into the sea…?” With which she spied her basket, dove towards it, and nearly landed herself on the ground once again.

Godwin reached out and held her, preventing her fall. “Careful,” he said on a chuckle, “or we’ll have you toppling into the sea, and I have no desire to take a swim this morning.”

“Oh, what an awful idea…an April swim?” She laughed and the sound prodded a smile from him. Her laughter was musical. Her violet eyes twinkled, and he thought her the most stunning woman he had ever encountered.

She frowned and said, “I must collect my basket and return to my uncle or he will say I am a lazy wench not worth my keep.”

“Then stay put and I’ll retrieve the basket for you,” he said, escorting her to a nearby somewhat flat rock and seeing her seated there. He found the basket with most of its contents still in tact and brought it to her. “There, and I don’t mind telling you that you have an odd sort of uncle sending you off on such a dangerous mission,” he teased.

“In truth, the herbs can be had closer to home.” She sighed. “‘Tis just that I do so love Windmera, and thought I might be able to enjoy the morning here and still get my errand accomplished.”

“Windmera?” he repeated, frowning, having no idea what she meant.

She laughed and said, “‘Tis what I call it. Look…they all meet here, don’t they? I mean the sea, its marvelous winds…the rocks. It creates a peace. Papa and I gave it that name. We used to come here together before he died.”

He smiled warmly at her. “Yes, Windmera suits this place. But tell me, what is your name?” he asked, and felt the heat rush to his cheeks. He was surprised at his boldness. He was not a womanizer. He had never thought of his occasional wayward nights as more than the needs of the body. He was married to Sara. He had never tried to romance a woman who might expect more. How could he? He was tied up in marriage and so when he looked at this young beauty, he felt a wave of conscience sweep over him. What are you doing? He felt guilt, but not because of Sara…he felt a shade of guilt because all at once and completely he was aware that he wanted this beauty so much more than he should.

He knew why he lingered with this young woman. The animal in him wanted to take her in his arms and ravage her…the man in him wanted to save her from himself.