Of Risk & Redemption: A Revelry’s Tempest Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  Stopping in the dirt of the alley just before the wooden walkway, Cass tightened her wool cloak around her shoulders. The chill that had permeated the air the whole day had not bothered her until this moment. This moment when she was so very close to finding Ashita and her son.

  And she had almost just ruined it.

  The chill twisted down her spine, her cloak no defense against it.

  Her feet unable to stay in place, she kicked at the side of the wooden boards of the walkway with her boots. Minutes passed, and she kept up a constant stream of glances over her shoulder at Rorrick and the landlady. What could Rorrick possibly be talking to her about for so very long?

  Cass’s attention went down to the walkway and she kicked it hard. So hard, pain shot through her cold toes and sent her hopping.

  “Blast it to all—”

  “I’ve been interested to hear how curled your tongue can get.”

  She spun around to find Rorrick directly behind her, a grin on his face.

  The pain instantly forgotten, she jumped to him, grabbing his forearm. “What—what did you discover?” She glanced past his shoulder to see the door of the boarding house was now closed. “What did she tell you?”

  His grin dissolving, Rorrick stared at her, his jaw flexing.

  “What? Tell me—tell me this instant, Rorrick.”

  He sighed, running his hand along the back of his neck as he looked to the street. His gaze moved to her, piercing her. “I need you to toughen up, Cass.”

  “Toughen—what?” Her eyebrows drew together as she squinted at him.

  “You almost fell over when that landlady told you she remembered Ashita.”

  Cass’s hand jerked away from his arm to land on her hip. “I did not.”

  “You did. Did you not feel my hand on the small of your back?”

  “I—what?” She glanced down the alley at the door of the boarding house before looking back to him. “You had your hand on my back?”

  “Yes. I held you up for a minute before you stopped leaning against me.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes.”

  “So—so that is of no matter.” She waved her hand in the air to dismiss his comment. “What did the landlady say?”

  “But it does matter, Cass.” He stepped slightly toward her, leaning down, invading her space with his heat. “I need you to toughen up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I tell you this, if I allow you to go—”

  “If you allow me to go?”

  The bite in her words only set the line of his jaw harder. “Yes. If I allow you to go. There is no margin for your kind of…of…”

  “Of what?”

  “Gentility.” The word slipped out through his gritted teeth.

  “Gentility?”

  He straightened, his heat leaving her, his brow exasperated. “You have to understand, Cass, where we need to go, people are not going to take care of you just because you look like you need to be taken care of.”

  Her head snapped back. “I look like that?”

  “Yes.”

  That was far too brazen.

  To tell her to toughen up was one thing. But to tell her she needed to be taken care of.

  Her look whipped around. She wasn’t sure which direction held the inn he had secured rooms at, but it didn’t really matter at the moment. She needed away from him. Away from his tyrannical and utterly arrogant domineering.

  Left. The inn had to be to the left. That was toward the harbor. She spun from him, her boots stomping along the wooden walkway.

  She made it half the distance to the next intersection of roads before Rorrick fell in step beside her, his gait long and easy, apparently unruffled by her storming off.

  She glanced at him, fury brimming in her voice. “I will have you know that I have been taking care of myself for many years now.”

  “Yes.” His head inclined to her. “And apparently quite well, if your management of the Revelry’s Tempest is any indication.” He grabbed her arm, both halting her and spinning her to him in one motion. “But this isn’t London, Foxfire. You are not surrounded by your privilege here.”

  “My privilege has done little to protect me from harm.”

  He coughed a guffaw. “If you believe that, you’re delusional, Cass.”

  She met his eyes, her look skewering. What did he know of being vulnerable? Of being at the mercy of the whims of men set on using her?

  Nothing. He knew nothing.

  Whereas she knew exactly how she needed to guard herself.

  Her words seethed out low, vibrating with intensity from the depths of her damaged soul. “Harm comes in many forms, Rorrick, and it does not discern from privileged or not.” She jerked her arm from his grasp, her hand landing on her hip. “And the only one I have ever needed to pick me up from ruin is myself.”

  “You are prey, Cass.” The words whipped out and he paused, drawing in a deep breath, calming his voice. “There will be times when I may not be near you, so I need you to toughen up. I need you not to sway. I need you to be able to stand on your own two feet when you hear or see or do something that wants to send you to the ground. I need you to lock your knees.”

  “Lock my knees?” A harsh laugh left her mouth. “You sound like my governess, Rorrick.”

  “Well then, it sounds like she knew you as well as I do.”

  Cass exhaled an exasperated chuckle. She shook her head, her eyes going to the grey sky. “Well, then, I will ‘toughen up’ as you say.” Her look dropped to him. “But you are not the one to decide if I am going or not.”

  He stared at her, his blue eyes glazed over in deliberation. “You’re going to go forth with or without me, aren’t you?”

  “I will find a way, yes.”

  “Why does this have to be so very important to you, Cass?”

  Her hand wedged on her hip slipped downward, her fingers tapping against her skirts. She looked out to the chaos of the street. “I…I don’t know. I don’t understand it myself. It is…it is always there, constantly weighing upon me. I need to find Ashita and the boy. Need to right the wrong. This need just gnaws upon me. I cannot explain it, and I don’t know why it is so important, but it is. Like my very life depends on it.”

  “Hell.” He sighed, rubbing the line of his jaw. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “You promised, Rorrick.” She stepped to him, her toes almost touching his, but she held back from grabbing him—from shaking him. “You promised me.”

  “I did.” He exhaled a breath, long and weary. “Ashita traveled on to a town called Widow’s Creek.”

  “Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, I do. Too well.”

  “Too well?”

  He nodded as his mouth set into a grim line. “It is a half day’s ride from my cabin, through Allison Gap and into the next range.”

  “Oh—well, that is convenient. So we will travel there first?”

  He shrugged. “It makes sense. You can seat a horse properly, I assume?” He looked almost hopeful at the prospect that she couldn’t.

  Her look narrowed at him. “I can. Why are you so hesitant about this?”

  “Hesitant? No. I worry on you, that is all. Tomorrow before we leave we will purchase you less conspicuous clothing. Proper boots that are warm. Then we will go to my cabin and then onward to Widow’s Creek. But first we need to get back to the inn where our belongings were delivered, which is this way.” He pointed back in the direction they just walked from.

  A flush tinged her cheeks. Of course she had chosen the wrong direction. She never had been very adept at throwing a graceful fit.

  They started walking, silent, and whereas Cass usually liked Rorrick chatting with her, she was grateful for his held tongue. Her own thoughts were in far too much of a whirlwind to hold any reasonable line of conversation.

  Especially when searching for her husband’s mistress wasn’t the cause of the whirlwind. It was fully and solely the faul
t of the man walking next to her.

  To be across from Rorrick in a London drawing room had been easy enough. To be on the ship with him in separate staterooms had been a tad more difficult. To be in a bustling city with him in adjacent rooms at the inn was dangerous—but she could still manage to hold onto a few tendrils of propriety.

  But to be travelling into the wilderness of this wild land with him—that was far, far beyond what Cass had intended—or could control.

  The deeper she moved into this country, the further she travelled from home, the closer she became to Rorrick.

  And that sent a spike of icy fear though her chest.

  She hadn’t imagined this would be an outcome of the mission. She had imagined Rorrick as her guide. Her guide and nothing more. She had hoped to reach land and find Ashita quickly and be done with it—back on a ship and parting ways with Rorrick within a week.

  Not becoming more entangled with the one man she had no right to entangle herself with.

  Not when entanglements ended in nothing but a cracked heart.

  Not when it meant she would have to trust.

  He wanted her land, yes. But even more so—by his own admission—he wanted her. And then what? What more would he demand of her? Ask of her?

  Just like every man, he would take and take and take until she was nothing.

  Her toe tripped over an uneven board and Rorrick’s hand was instantly on her elbow, steadying her. His fingers silently slid away once she had her balance, and they continued forth. Her strides fast and long, his slow for the length of his legs. He held to her gait. He always did.

  She glanced up at the lines of his face.

  If only Rorrick was like every other man she had ever known. But he was not.

  He could have let her lay in her own putrescence for days. But he did not.

  He could have chosen not to bathe her. But he did.

  He could have not bothered to care for her. But he did.

  He could have avoided her for the rest of the voyage after she was well. But he did not.

  If only he had been like his brother. A leering snake she had to dodge and connive and hypnotize just to get past.

  If only.

  If only he hadn’t bought her those damn gloves.

  But he did.

  And if she was truly honest with herself, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  So, no, the wilderness—alone with him—did not bode well for her defenses, for her heart.

  { Chapter 10 }

  “Rorrick, this cabin—this isn’t a shack—this is a castle.” Her mouth agape, Cass stood next to her chestnut mare. It had taken them more than a week to reach Rorrick’s cabin, and it was nothing as she had envisioned it. In the twilight, her gloved hand clutched tightly to the reins as she stared up at the structure nestled into the surrounding woods.

  The house sat two stories high with two symmetrical wings protruding forth on either side of the main structure. Whereas the wings were built with large stones of smooth grey granite, the center structure had been built entirely with thick, stacked logs. Oddly, there were only two windows cut into the logs in the center lower level—but both levels of the wings and the center upper level had row after row of tall windows.

  With all the windows looking out to the evergreens lining the structure, Cass imagined it would be much akin to living in the trees.

  After setting his horse to the water trough, Rorrick strode over to her as he glanced to his left at his home. He stopped before her, lifting her hand and gently peeling her fingers free from the leather strap. “That is a bit of an overstatement.”

  She dragged her eyes from the home to look at him. “A castle as far as cabins go, then. Is that appropriate?”

  He shrugged, removing her satchel from the back of her mare and handing it to her. He walked her horse to the trough along the side of the stable that stood at the far east end of the clearing. After securing her horse, he went to the third horse he had brought with them and began unstrapping the sack of supplies he had bought in Charleston.

  Her eyes ran over the structure, taking in the lines of it. She shifted the satchel in her arms, her finger lifting in a point. “The part in the middle, why is it different?”

  Rorrick heaved the sack over his shoulder and walked back to her, his feet crunching the frost blanketing the dormant ground. “It was the original cabin. Or rather, the first level was. That was the part I built, so I don’t let anyone touch it. Then the upper level was added. I made them use the same logs, the same species of wood. Then the left wing was built to accommodate my business associates visiting for hunting retreats. And then the right wing was added because the men started bringing their wives during the summer, and the ladies complained that the whole of the house was uneven.”

  “Was it?”

  “Probably.” He started forth to the center doorway and Cass followed. “But the women just wanted more space away from their husbands when they were here. They eventually admitted to it.”

  She laughed as he opened the door for her and she stepped past him. “You seem to be over-accommodating to them. How is it that one of those ladies did not procure a woman for you to marry?”

  He grinned, shutting the door and letting the sack of supplies slide from his shoulder to the floor. “There have been more than enough suggestions from the lot of them. I don’t stay in place for long, though, much to their dismay. It is hard to match-make when one of the parties is always absent.”

  Cass stepped into the main room of the cabin as she unclasped her heavy wool cloak and tugged off her gloves. She untied the ribbon of her simple bonnet as she scanned the interior.

  The large space held a stone hearth on one side of the room, the fireplace big enough for her to stand within. Several long wooden benches lined the opposite wall, and a surprisingly comfortable-looking settee and four wingback chairs were arranged in the middle of the room around a low, round table. The deep maroon fabric of the furniture appeared to be of the finest two-tone silk damask. A long, rough-hewn table with benches was centered next to the hearth. The rear of the room held a sideboard next to an open staircase.

  Rorrick shrugged off his overcoat and gloves, and then took her cloak from her hands and hung the outerwear on wooden pegs by the doorway. He moved next to her, stopping. “This was the extent of what I had built. This room. It was all I needed. A fire. A table to eat. Space to roll out a blanket and sleep.” His eyes travelled around the room. “All I still need, truth told.”

  “You slept on the floor?”

  “I did. For far too long, probably. Johnny and I never had beds once we were on our own. It took years for me to have one built for this place.”

  She glanced at his profile. There was a glimmer of the long-lost youth in how he spoke. The yearning for simplicity, before life became complicated. She recognized it easily, for she had spent much of her adult years wishing to snatch back just a slice of the naivety of her youth. “You said you have done well in business, Rorrick, but were you being modest?”

  He didn’t look at her. “Possibly.”

  “Possibly?” Her hand swept in front of her. “Look at this. It is splendid.”

  “The pretty parts are courtesy of the wives. I just give them a limit.” He pointed to the hearth. “The rough of this place is what I prefer. Especially over my city accommodations.”

  Cass stepped before him, fully facing him. “This isn’t your only home?”

  Rorrick shook his head as a slight flush reached his cheeks.

  “How many homes do you own?”

  “Two in the mountains. One smaller than this one the other side of the range. Three other homes in various cities I do business in. I think.”

  He turned from her, going to the sack of supplies by the door. He knelt by it, unbundling the wrap.

  “You think?” Cass eyed the back of him as he started pulling wrapped breads, salted meats, and cheese from the bag. She went over to him, gathering the food in he
r arms as he unpacked it and then bringing it to the long, rough-edged table set by the hearth.

  When she came back to gather more items, he finally looked up at her as he handed her a bundle of bread. “It is ridiculous that I don’t know, I realize. But it depends on my men. If they find there is a need for a house in a city where we do business—port cities mostly—they are authorized to buy additional homes for their families or for guests. Those are the homes I usually stay in when travelling. Though I am mostly up here at my cabin in winter—it is blissfully empty except for me.”

  Her arms half full, she stilled, staring at him with her jaw wretchedly askew. “Just how wealthy are you, Rorrick?”

  His dark blue eyes settled on her. Guarded. Completely guarded against her since the first time she had met him. His words came out slow, measured. “Does it matter?”

  She blinked hard, pausing to consider the question. “No. No, I suppose it does not.” She shook her head, quickly snatching the round block of cheese he held up to her and tucking it along her forearm. “I apologize if I was prying. It is just such a common conversation in London drawing rooms—who owns what, how much, and all the trimmings that go about the business of it—that I did not truly think on my question.” She turned, moving to the table to unload her arms. “My surprise was just that I had never considered that you had your own funds to back you.”

  “Should I take offense at that?” He stood but stayed by the door.

  “No.” She turned to him, her hands gripping the edge of the table alongside her skirts. “It is not because I think less of you that I have never considered it. You have always been…just you…you, and not all of this”—her hand waved in a wide arc about her—“hovering about your person.”

  His eyes swept around the room. “This is bad?”

  Her lips drew inward. She was making a ninny of herself and insulting Rorrick in the process. He could not know what this meant to her.

  His eyes narrowed at her, waiting for a reply.

  Her breath lodged in the middle of her chest.

  What did Rorrick appreciate most? Honesty. By the integrity of everything he had done so far for her, he deserved, at the very least, honesty.