Second Chances

By C.J. Darling

When ex-Marine Mitch O’Neill wins an incredible round-the-world vacation aboard the newly-commissioned Fairy Princess cruise ship, then discovers his beautiful, treacherous ex-lover is also aboard, he’s sure someone is setting him up for big trouble. He’s spent the last seven years hating Lady Guinevere Thurmond for callously breaking his heart. Who is trying to reunite them now...and why?

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

Mitch couldn’t quite remember when he’d left the boisterous party. The crisp sea air was bracing against his flushed skin. Overhead, stars were winking in a plush velvety sky. He tried to calculate how far they’d already traveled from shore, but too many stiff drinks were making his brain feel like mush.

Too bad he couldn’t remember his suite number; but he didn’t want to go there yet anyway. Empty room, empty bed. He should be used to that by now. Seven long years since he’d let a woman get close enough to matter.

But she was here, damn it all, just when he’d finally started to believe he could forget! She’d passed right by him with her goddamned lumberjack, and laughed so sweetly at something he’d said. And she’d never even known he was standing only a few short feet away.

Was she kissing her burly lumberjack right now?

Forget about her! Find some horny rock star who needs a quick lay!

If only it was that easy. No other woman had ever moved him the way Guinevere Langford-Goddamned-Thurmond did. No other woman had ever made his blood boil, or touched his heart in so many unexpected ways.

Damn her to hell and back again.

What the hell had gone wrong? He still didn’t know. One minute they’d been blissfully in love, making reckless plans for the future. Gonna get married and have ten kids, for God’s sake. Buy a pretty little white picket fence along some sandy beach out in the middle of nowhere.

Then out of the blue, everyone was gossiping about how she’d managed to rope in a stinking-rich British nobleman. And his entire world had crashed and burned like a flaming rocket.

It just went to prove you couldn’t trust women. No way, no how.

Soft light beckoned on his right, and he headed in that direction. She was probably in there, making time with her new friend the lumberjack. He should turn away, make his unsteady way back downstairs without intruding. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could stand to see her in some other man’s embrace, even now!

But his willful feet took another step, then another.

Well, he’d been half right. She was there, all right. But she was thankfully alone—unless you counted all those cutesy little animals dozing at her feet.

God, she looked adorable in that skintight butter-yellow swimsuit and those tight white shorts! Hadn’t gained an ounce in the past seven years, either. Lush curves in all the right places, long legs like a dancer’s, creamy ivory skin with just a hint of amber freckles across her nose and shoulder blades. His mouth watered.

And her hair...satiny rippling waves as tawny as a lioness. Just the thought of burying his hands in all that rich silky hair made his muscles tighten with savage need.

“Don’t you make a charming picture!”

Gwen was languidly brushing a long-haired pup when his bitter words rang out of the darkness. She knew that low, husky voice! And it was so achingly familiar that every nerve in her body went on instant alert, and her heart began to pound wildly. The brush fell from her numb fingers as she whipped around, hardly daring to breathe.

“Mitch?” His name emerged as a hoarse, disbelieving whisper.

“Don’t act so surprised.” Sneering, he emerged from the shadows. “You know very well that your loving husband arranged for me to keep you company on this delightful little pleasure cruise!

“Or was it you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as stunned heat flushed her pale cheeks. “By God, it was, wasn’t it? You arranged to have me here! He doesn’t have a clue wh

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing LLC
• Release date: Nov 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463980392

C.J. Darling

C.J. Darling was raised on a remote farm in rural Indiana. Since she was an only child and neighbors were few, she developed a rich and colorful imagination that became her closest loyal friend. Together they roamed the hills of her home, 'finding tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing.' Her literary tastes have been shaped by the inspired works of Anne McCaffrey, Robert Heinlein, and Nora Roberts—all of whom she hopes to become when she grows up. She has been publishing since 1994, and has written nearly 200 books and short stories under various pen names. Her love of animals has led to rescuing a wide variety of handicapped animals, including birds, ferrets, reptiles, and a semi-paralyzed cat named Phantom. She has been blessed with two sons who actually acknowledge her existence, and an incredibly tolerant husband who indulges her whimsical flights of fancy without calling for the guys with butterfly nets. Recently she was lucky enough to find her long-sought birth family, and was reunited with her older brother who was adopted out separately as a baby. Now they're making up for a lot of lost time, and every day is a joy of new discoveries. Though she has traveled extensively and seen many beautiful and wondrous things, the home of her heart will always be lovely Ireland. She dreams of emigrating to that glorious land of magic and mystery...and once there, shall nevermore stray.

Book preview

Prologue

The time had finally come.

Lord Winston Thurmond was a man who had everything. He was successful, wealthy, and still handsome, despite the unforgiving ravages of time and advancing age. His triumphs in the mercurial stock market were legendary. Corporate moguls fawned over his every word. The media rhapsodized about his greatness and generosity every time he sneezed. His wife was young, beautiful, and publicly devoted to his every need.

But even the man who had everything couldn’t have everything.

Thurmond had spent most of his life beating the odds with flamboyant style. But one way or another, there was a price to be paid for outrageous success. He’d known all along that his turn would come. The thick white folder spread across his wide mahogany desk only confirmed what he’d suspected for a long time.

Well, he’d never been a coward before, and he didn’t intend to start now. So he’d face his fate with whatever dignity he could muster.

It was the aftermath that worried him most. His beloved wife would never know hunger; he’d worked long and hard to ensure that. Physically she’d be provided for, until her children’s children were old and gray.

But emotionally… Yes, that was a different story.

He’d sidestepped his contemporaries’ colorful divorce-de-jour dramas by waiting until well past his prime to marry. But the long wait had been worthwhile.

Gwen was everything he could have wished for in a wife. She was intelligent, sensitive, caring, exquisitely lovely with her wide blue eyes and creamy pale skin. And her hair was long, lush, silky to the touch. He loved stroking her curling tawny locks as they sat near the big stone fireplace, watching whimsical flames caress a towering pile of fragrant cedar logs.

He would miss that, perhaps, most of all.

Regrets were something he’d allow himself later, if at all. Right now, he had work to do. One last task to set in motion for his beautiful Gwen.

Sighing at the effort it now took, he maneuvered his wheelchair closer to his desk, and curled shaky fingers around an elegant fountain pen. He must be strong, if only for her. Once her future safety and happiness were ensured, he could allow himself the luxury of relaxing. But not until then.

His handwriting firmed along with his resolve as ingenious plans took shape in his still-clever mind. A subtle hint here, a generous contribution there, and men all over the world would fall into line like obedient soldiers.

He did not intend to fail in this, the last—and most important—battle of his life.

1

"Kiss me, Gwen!" A man’s voice, husky with passion, echoed in her ears. She knew that low voice, knew the strong hands that moved up her slender body, enticing and arousing with every clever stroke. Every night it was the same, and she was helpless to resist his ghostly seductive allure. "Hold me…yes, like that! Let me teach you, let me love you! I can show you so many things…"

His long, hard body pressed intimately against hers, and a low, panting moan parted her lips. Agile fingers teased, promising exquisite delights. Then she gasped as he moved lower, penetrating so slowly that it drove her mad with desire.

Mitch! Passion exploded like brilliant fireworks as she wrapped around him, drawing him deeper. Higher and higher she soared with every frantic touch, until the very universe erupted in a firestorm of ecstasy. "Mitch!"

But just like every other night…when she bolted awake, drenched with sweat and gasping raggedly for breath, her lithe young body vibrating with desperate need…

Only poignant, heartbreaking memories haunted the darkened corners of her luxurious bedroom.

She was alone.

Mitch O’Neill had taken her trusting young heart, wrapped it tightly around his fist, and then shredded it in the cruelest betrayal imaginable. She was well rid of him.

But oh God, how many more years would it take for her wounded heart to accept, and—maybe someday—even forget?

No one, looking at Guinevere Langford Thurmond in the bright morning light, would imagine her nightly dreams were ravaged by nightmares. She was cheerful, energetic, vivacious.

Her sapphire eyes sparkled like the precious gems they resembled. Rich auburn curls tumbled over her shoulders, even when she tried to secure them back in a dignified chignon. Careful exposure to the hot summer sun had overlaid her fair skin with a faint honey glow. A light scattering of freckles, her personal bane since childhood, dusted her pert nose and slender shoulders.

In every way, she was a vision of beauty and youthful joy.

But now those clear blue eyes were clouded with worry and more than a trace of frustration as she hesitated in Caerlon’s elegant foyer and knelt down beside her aging husband.

"Winston, are you absolutely sure? Isn’t there any way I can convince you to go?"

The elaborately engraved ticket was in her purse, and their chauffeur was patiently waiting for her beyond the high ivy-covered garden walls. But still Gwen hesitated, reluctant to take such a final step away from everything she’d grown to cherish.

For the last six months, she and Winston had been planning every detail of this incredible round-the-world journey. Bermuda, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, the Azores, Morocco, Tangier, and dozens of other exotic ports beckoned. Some they’d visited before. Others would be new to her wondering eyes.

Barring unforeseen accidents, it would be two whole years before she returned to this grand old mansion she’d learned to call home.

At first, Winston had been full of energy, confident that not even his failing health would hinder their extravagant plans. And she was certain the fresh sea air would do him good. He’d lost weight during his final series of radiation treatments, and his silvery hair was losing its luster.

Was it only her worried imagination, or were the lines in his distinguished face getting deeper?

Darling, I really wish you’d reconsider. You’re too cooped up in here. You need sunlight and a change of scenery. It’ll make you feel so much better!

Not this time, Gwen. Winston smiled up at her, and it was the old smile she’d come to know and love so well. Despite her growing worries, his gentle smile eased the knot of tension between her shoulders. "I have to report to the Mayo Clinic again next Monday for more tests, and God knows where they’ll send me for additional treatments. It could be weeks before I’ll return.

Besides, you’ll be much too busy with your pet project to hover and fuss over me. And that’s exactly how it should be. Humor infused his rich British accent as he patted her small hand. I want you to have fun on this cruise. Make it one to remember forever! If I can’t join you mid-trip, I’ll be here waiting when you get home.

He would be, too. That was one of his most wonderful qualities: he never made a promise unless he intended to keep it.

Arguing with him was pointless, she thought with an inner sigh. Though heaven knew she’d tried often enough over the past several weeks. But Winston’s mind was made up. Perhaps later, if he felt strong enough, he’d join her at some romantic port-of-call somewhere along their winding route. But he would not be sailing with her today.

At least she felt marginally better for having tried one last time.

You’re so good to me! she murmured, bending down to give him a fond hug, and struggled to ignore the mournful tug on her heartstrings when her cheek brushed against his. He’d always been so strong, so vital, despite the nearly forty-year gap in their ages. How could he have turned, almost overnight, into this pale, fragile shell of the man she’d loved so long?

He returned her embrace with genuine affection. The best is yet to come, he promised, running a thin hand over her riotous curls. Now go have fun. Captain Murphy and his crew will see to your every need. And I’ll rest easier knowing you’re enjoying yourself.

He meant that, too. So after another warm hug, and the solemn promise to call or e-mail him every night, she let herself be nudged out of the broad marble foyer, down the green-dappled walkway where he enjoyed relaxing in the afternoons, and out into the bright sunshine.

He accompanied her as far as the exquisite flowered courtyard, then locked his wheelchair’s brakes and watched her walk away.

She glowed, he thought, like a candle in the darkness. Guinevere, his eternal flame. A piece of his heart would go with her, and already he could feel it breaking just a little. But through her, a piece of his soul would always survive. That knowledge never failed to comfort him.

Then the ornate garden gate closed behind her with a quiet snap, and Winston was alone with his thoughts and his memories.

It had been difficult letting her go, watching her walk away with only one last quick, smiling glance over her shoulder. But now it was done. From here, he could only trust in God, and Gwen’s own keen instincts, to follow the course he’d laid before her.

When she learned exactly what he’d set in motion, she’d be furious. But in time, he hoped, she’d come to understand, and perhaps even to be grateful.

Tired…he was so tired! But now, finally, he could rest.

She didn’t like leaving Winston alone with only the servants and a private nurse for company. God knew they were all loyal, and would dance on flaming coals to please him. Winston Thurmond inspired that kind of fierce devotion because he was so genuinely kind and decent.

Not like some, she mused with a faint grimace, who’d smile to your face, earn your undying trust, and then stab you in the back. No, he was a throwback to an earlier age when being honorable was a virtue, and gentlemen were noble and high-principled.

He’d certainly been her Arthur, her knight in shining armor, back when she’d been so painfully young and naive! If not for him…

With an effort, Gwen thrust those troubling memories back into her past. Winston wanted her to have fun on this trip, so she would do her best even though she was secretly dreading the entire ordeal.

It seemed so strange, and somehow vaguely ominous, to be traveling alone. During the past six months since he’d been diagnosed with acute spinal cancer, they’d only passed beyond the gates of his luxurious estate to consult with a variety of brilliant doctors and specialists.

Surgery had been deemed too risky due to the cancer’s location, so he’d undergone a wide range of treatments that ranged from cautiously mainstream to wildly alternative. She’d held his hand, cared for him through the inevitable nausea, and prayed for a miracle every time they’d boarded his private jet, bound for yet another specialist.

Then about three weeks ago, just when she’d almost begun to give up hope, something had turned the tide. She didn’t know which of the treatments was finally working, but the change in Winston was unmistakable. His appetite and color had begun to return, along with his keen enthusiasm about this cruise.

She’d hoped, despite everything, that he’d be well enough to travel by today. Failing that, she’d already arranged to have someone else manage her ‘pet project’ so she could stay home with him.

But there Winston had drawn the line. He would stay home and recuperate; she would continue on as they’d planned. Too many orphaned children were counting on her to risk disappointing them.

In the end, as he’d known she would, Gwen had given in—even though she’d really rather have stayed home. A solo cruise around the world might be the height of adventure for some young women. To her, it was a terrifying undertaking. But she simply couldn’t bear to disappoint him after all he’d done to make her life so wonderful.

So here she was, regally tucked into the back of a sumptuous white limousine just like a glamorous queen or Hollywood superstar, bound for a grand event a hundred times more prestigious than the world’s biggest celebrity ball.

Gwen cast one last longing glance back over her shoulder as the limo glided smoothly away from Winston’s immense mansion. Though she’d initially been intimidated by its size and splendor, she’d come to love its elaborate dusky-red brick silhouette, its fanciful circular towers, its hundreds of silvered windows that reflected the golden morning sun.

On both sides of the long driveway, vivid hibiscus and bougainvillea bushes were just bursting into bloom. Their riotous colors reminded her of the magnificent oil painting he’d had commissioned four years ago, which now hung over the fireplace in their formal living room. Even on the dreariest rainy day, it shed light and warmth throughout the huge room.

All these fragrant blossoms would be long-gone, withered by the furnace-blaze of two broiling summers, before she passed through these gates again.

Think positive. If the doctors are right and Win is nearly through the worst of his long ordeal, there’s a good chance he can meet me in Morocco or Lisbon in just a few months. Then we’ll celebrate by traveling anywhere, everywhere, whenever and wherever the mood strikes.

Or maybe we’ll just come home and sit by the fire, she thought with a fond smile. Either way she’d be happy, as long as he was finally out of pain.

The high metal gates swung closed behind her. Forcing a bright smile, just in case Winston was watching through the remote monitor, she turned to wave out the back window.

Right after they’d been married, he’d ordered new gates to replace the older bulky ones erected nearly fifty years previously. In addition to ultra-high tech security measures, the word ‘Caerlon’ had been worked into the elaborate metal scrollwork. In her honor, he’d admitted with a wry smile, because Caerlon was the ancient Welsh name for Camelot.

Caerlon had become her home, her sanctuary. No legendary Lady Guinevere could have felt safer, more secure, behind those high protective walls. She felt a sharp pang as Caerlon bade her goodbye, then faded into the dusty distance.

For now, she assured herself with an anxious sigh. Only for now. I’ll be home again soon.

Even at highway speed, it took over an hour to reach Port Canaveral’s bustling pier district. Gwen spent the time reviewing extensive notes she’d drafted about her upcoming ports of call. So many places, so little time! She hoped there’d be at least a few opportunities to rest and relax amid all her busy duties.

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