“Grab his reins, girl. Keep his horse steady.”
Her order was not to be disobeyed. Cass could care less if the girl had never touched reins in her life. She needed to get these horses to the cabin.
The girl scrambled awkwardly over Rorrick’s waist to reach the reins. Once the leather straps were pried from Rorrick’s grip, she looked to Cass, her eyes wide.
Cass conjured up her calmest voice. “Just a few steps farther and we’ll be there. Just hold the reins steady and even.”
Wrapping her arm over the top of Rorrick, Cass held him the best she could to her lap. Her fingers landed in something warm, sticky. She glanced down.
Her breath stopped.
Blood. Blood all over her fingers.
Digging her hand under Rorrick’s body to hide it, she looked to the girl. She couldn’t afford these horses stepping apart. “Just hold the leather steady, tight, a little to your left.”
It took agonizing minutes for them to round the last few bends and get to the clearing in front of the cabin. Cass stopped the horses, her head swiveling around, searching, desperate.
It crashed into her.
Rorrick had taken a bullet.
He was bleeding.
Near to death.
She needed help and she was in the middle of a damn mountain. Not a soul was around. Even if she could find her way down the trails to a town, Rorrick would be dead by the time she reached help.
And two terrified children were looking up at her in the last rays of daylight.
A wave helplessness hit her. Crushing her. Crushing her breath. Her thoughts. Suffocating.
She was not made for this. Not made for blood. For emergencies. For a wilderness she had no idea how to survive in.
Her head dropped, her chin hitting her chest as she fought for her next breath.
Her eyes opened a sliver only to see Rorrick’s face in her lap, always so strong, now so pale.
He would know what to do. He would figure this out.
And he would never think of giving up.
A determined smile would break onto his face, the word complication on his lips.
Complication.
Master them. One tiny step at a time.
Could it really be that easy?
He thought it was.
But had he ever been stuck alone on a mountain with a man bleeding to his death and two helpless children?
The slightest breath slithered its way into her lungs.
She opened her eyes fully, staring down at Rorrick’s face.
One step.
She had to get him off these horses. And hopefully not kill him in the process.
{ Chapter 14 }
The pain descended on him in a surge, an onslaught of dark torment that invaded his body, head to toe, setting every nerve on fire.
A wicked gasp, and his body jerked, his eyes opening and delivering him from the peaceful darkness he had been moored in.
The stench. Burning flesh. Gunpowder.
Sparks burning a hole in his shoulder.
His eyes flew around, frantic, the world blurry, objects moving.
He had done it. He had finally blown himself up.
And then Cass’s face.
Cass.
Her face, upside down, hovering above him, terrorized worry in her eyes set off by deep, dark circles below her eyelashes.
Something was pushing at him. Pushing him down.
Cass. Cass was pushing him down. Holding him down. Her mouth moving.
He couldn’t hear anything through the pain tearing his body apart.
Her left hand lifted, clasping the side of his face, and she was still pushing him down.
Soothing.
She was trying to soothe him.
Cool wetness landed on his brow. A cloth. But all he could see was her.
She was safe.
He stopped fighting her, letting his body sink back to the floor.
Safe. She was safe.
~~~
He knew what he would see when he opened his eyes. Cass. The boy. The girl.
They were around him constantly. Flittering to and fro.
Rorrick couldn’t hear them the first several times he awoke. But every time he opened his eyes, his vision was less blurry, his hearing just a bit sharper. They were always there, close enough to touch if he could lift his arm.
And now, if what he could actually feel on his face was true, the sun was shining on the side of his cheek.
He cracked his eyes open.
Sure enough, sunlight blinded his left eye. He turned his head to the right.
Cass stood at the table next to the hearth, a long white apron wrapped around her waist, her dark hair twisted high in a knot. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, her forearms bare and her hands busy with something on the table. He couldn’t see quite what it was from his angle.
He glanced down and realized he was on the floor.
Her look lifted to him and an instant smile lit up her face.
She started to him, wiping her hands on the apron. “You are awake.” She dropped onto her knees next to him.
“How…”
Cass set her forefinger on his lips. “Here. First, take a sip.” She leaned to the right, reaching past his head to grab a tin cup. Sliding her hand underneath his neck, she lifted his head before she set the edge of the cup to his lips. A trickle of water slid into his mouth, raw as it made its way down to his belly.
She pulled the cup away, setting his head back down on the pillow, not disquieted in the slightest that she was acting nurse to him.
“How…did we get here?” The words were gravel ripping up his throat.
Shifting backward, she sat on her calves as her left hand settled flat onto his belly. “You got us here—or at least almost here. Do you remember collapsing onto my horse?”
He shook his head.
She smiled. “I don’t imagine you would. You created quite the complication.” She paused, her lips drawing inward in a cringe. “And you did eventually fall from the horses. I apologize for that, though I could not think of a way to avoid it as you were draped over both of them. We did our best to try and lessen the blow of the ground for you, though.”
He closed his eyes, trying to conjure the slightest memory of it. Nothing.
He opened his eyes to her. “What happened?”
“What happened was that you failed to tell me that Folgart had sent a bullet through your left shoulder, Rorrick. A damn bullet.” Where her voice had been soft, relieved a moment ago, ire now thickened her words. “I didn’t know it until you collapsed on me.”
That, he remembered. Ignoring the searing pain of the bullet. Shooting Folgart. Pulling himself up onto his saddle. Every step of his horse torture, sending blazing pain through his body. Getting Cass to safety. That had been the most important thing.
But he had been a fool not to tell her, not to prepare her.
He swallowed hard. “I should have told you. At least once we were in the valley and away from Folgart. We could have gone to town. But by then…I could only go in one direction. Here. It was all my mind could handle.”
Her look narrowed at him. The ire she didn’t want to let go of held fast in the dark flecks of her eyes. It took a long moment before she sighed, her fingers curling on his stomach. “Yes. Exactly. You stranded us up here on the mountain. I could not leave you in your state to find help, not with the fever that has gripped you.” Her head shook. “Not that I even could have found my way to town.”
For the first time since Folgart’s mine, Rorrick moved his right arm and it responded just as it should. He pulled his arm free from the layers of blankets on top of him and found her hand on his stomach, setting his palm atop it. “You realize you have an uncanny ability to do everything you set your mind to, Foxfire?”
A partial smile appeared on her face, her head shaking as she half-heartedly scoffed. “What I do realize is that you have an uncanny ability to charm your way out of
trouble.”
His eyes left her, glancing around the room. “Why am I on the floor?”
“Oh, this…” A quick frown crossed her face, accentuating her tired eyes. “We could not get you to the bed. We even brought a light one down from one of the bedrooms since we could only drag you into here.” Her eyes lit up in a tease. “You do realize you weigh many, many, many stone? I could not lift you into the bed, even with the children’s help. And they are still so weak.” She leaned forward, pressing the hair back from his forehead. “And once we stopped the bleeding on your shoulder, I was afraid to move you again. So we have been dragging you about on the floor. To the hearth at night. To this window during the day. I didn’t think you would mind with your penchant for floor sleeping.”
“I don’t. How long have I had a fever?”
“Five days.”
His eyes closed and he swore silently to himself. Five days. Five days he had put her through hell.
He shifted and then lifted the blankets, glancing down to find he was naked. Only his left shoulder was covered with white bandages neatly overlapping the wound that still stung with every breath. He looked at her, his brow lifting. “Five days like this, and I am clean?”
“There has been a fair amount of pus and blood.” She shrugged, pulling the blankets from his hand and tucking them along his chest. “And I think I have now seen everything your body can produce, Rorrick. Though I—thankfully—have no gag reflex.”
He laughed, the jolt to his body jarring his shoulder and sending pain radiating. But it was worth it. Worth the grin on her face. Worth it to feel even a modicum of normal again.
“But the one you truly need to thank is Percival. He knew what to do with your wound.”
“He did?”
“Yes. The bullet had gone through your body, thank the heavens, so we did not have that to deal with. We cleaned it, but it got worse.” She cringed, a shiver shaking her shoulders. “And that was the largest leap of faith I have ever had to take—to let Percival pour gunpowder into the wound.”
So he hadn’t imagined that. She had lit him up.
“As it was, Ashita was a healer in her country, and Percival helped her many times with healing wounds when they were in Widow’s Creek. For as young as he is, he is a very intelligent boy.”
“And the girl?”
“You know she’s a girl?”
Rorrick nodded. “She sang to me on the way back. It was soft, so soft I think only I could hear it. But I think she knew I was injured and that was all she could do to help.”
“So you heard her voice?”
“Yes.”
“Remarkable, isn’t it? Her name is Lilah and she thinks she is maybe thirteen years old, possibly fourteen. She is not sure, as she was orphaned five or so years ago and she has lost track.”
“She is tiny.”
“She is.” Cass moved to lift his head again and set the water cup to his lips for another sip. “And Percival is extremely attached to her—he follows her everywhere. She has been a mother to him. From what I can tell—as neither one will say much about it—I think she is the only reason he survived Folgart.”
The gulp of water filled his mouth—blissful. He looked to her. “Where are they?”
“With the horses.” She offered him another drink and then set the cup onto the floor by his head.
He stretched his right hand across his body to find her fingers, and then clasped them, bringing them to his chest. “Cass…I am sorry…that I left you to take care of all of us. I never should—”
“Stop. The children have been more help than hindrance. They are just so grateful you saved them from the mine. You are quite the hero to them.”
Rorrick shook his head. “But five days—has there been enough food? I don’t think I brought enough.”
“There has been. The children eat very little—I think their stomachs are still so small. And I have only managed spoonfuls of soup into your mouth.” She pointed to the hearth where a black kettle hung over the fire. “Oh, and we found the grain storage here. I was just attempting bread again.”
“Again?”
She smiled, wide and determined. “My fifth try. I am sure this time will work.”
He chuckled. “You don’t know how to cook, do you?”
“No. Not a lick.” Her smile went wider. “It is a good thing you have lots of grain in storage.”
Her laughter met his, and he watched the amusement skip across her honey-brown eyes. For as frustrated and exhausted as she must be, she found the strength to laugh. The strength for hope.
The thought of his own death had never bothered him before. But now. Now he realized how very much he wanted to live. Live with Cass. See her face when he opened his eyes. Hear her laugh. Feel her hands on his skin. She alone was worth living for.
He had known since he was six he would never long for a family again. But Cass made him want it. Want it more than anything.
And he was ready to hope, body and soul, for that very thing.
She squeezed his hand, pulling her fingers away as she shifted, lifting to her knees. “And the bread will surely beat me again if I don’t get it onto the fire. Let me do that, and then I will bring you some soup. You need to start eating again.”
Catching her before she stood, his fingers found her hand again and they travelled up her bare arm, setting as much of her skin onto his as he could. His voice dipped low, cracking. “Cass, you…you saved my life.”
A soft smile danced onto her lips. She leaned forward, centering her face over his as her hand spread along his face. “It was only fair, Rorrick. You saved mine. In ways I never knew needed saving.”
{ Chapter 15 }
Setting her wet hair behind her shoulder, Cass cracked the door of her chambers and peeked into the short hallway as she clasped the neck of her robe together. Finding the corridor empty—no servants scurrying about—she quickly scooted across the hall and slipped into the room opposite hers.
Rorrick jumped, turning to her from the tall mirror by the fireplace he was looking at. He stood shirtless with black trousers on and his fingers were paused from lifting the edge of his bandages.
Even with his wound, the expanse of his bare chest made her mouth go dry. Her fingers twitched, aching to touch him.
She clamped down on her thoughts. There would be no touching of him. Not until his wound healed. Not until the journey back to England was complete.
He nodded with his head toward the door. “The children are bathed and settled?”
“Yes. Quite happily so. They wanted to be in the same chamber, so they are settled in the room at the end of the hall. They are amazed by the beds.”
“Amazed?”
“Neither has ever seen such soft beds. I must assume the wives of your associates took this home on as one of their decorating projects as well?”
“They did.”
“Why didn’t we stay here when we first came through Charleston?”
“I knew we would only be in town for a day at most, and there is pandemonium with the servants whenever I arrive. I only stay here if I will be a few days.”
“Well, you were smart to have the ladies descend upon this house as well, as they have excellent taste. Though Percival and Lilah may end up sleeping on the floor like you do.” She pointed at his shoulder. “You should let me change those bandages.”
“They are dry. I just checked. Finally. Thankfully. It itches, that is all.”
She walked across the room, not quite satisfied with his report. They had stayed at his cabin for three days after his fever broke, and then had left for Charleston. But Cass hadn’t been convinced it was enough time for him to regain his strength. In the lead with his horse—the children sharing a third horse between them—he was able to hide much from her on the journey back to the coast. But she had still caught far too many grimaces on his face for her liking.
Stopping in front of him, she brushed aside his fingers and shifted the bandages up, in
specting the ragged skin she had sewn together. The scab was holding well. She tugged the bandage back into place and rounded him, checking the same on the back of his shoulder where the bullet had exited his body. The scab was holding steady there as well.
Standing behind him, she paused, her body stilling, her nose almost touching his back as she inhaled the scent of his bare skin.
This moment—finally—a moment when her muscles weren’t tense, when her mind was not crushed with worry.
A simple moment of peace. Of calm she hadn’t known since she set foot on that ship in England.
She had failed in her mission. Failed Ashita.
But Percival. Lilah. Two people she had not failed.
And Rorrick. She had not failed him. He had made all of this possible. And she had not failed him. Even though she had been convinced—every second of every one of those first days at the cabin after he was shot—that she would fail. That he would die.
But he didn’t.
He had lived. And that was the most important thing.
For he had become the peace she craved. The burning in her soul she could not deny. She had sworn she would never let herself love a man again. But she had never met Rorrick.
The heat off his back radiated to her, pulling her closer. She slipped her hands along his sides, leaning into him as the silk of her robe slid along his skin. Her fingers spread, pressing into the muscles lining his stomach.
He tensed under her hands. “You cannot touch me like that, Cass, and expect me to keep my hands off of you.”
She set her cheek to his spine, words she despised having to live by leaving her mouth. “I refuse to strain your wound, Rorrick.”
“You will strain a different part of me, then.”
She ignored him, slipping her hands further around his torso to clasp his body tight to hers. “I refuse it. So just let me enjoy this. You upright. Healthy.”
“I will allow you seconds.”
“And then?”
His head swiveled, the cords of muscles running down his back flexing under her cheek. “And then I plan on setting myself comfortably onto my chair by the fire.”
Of Risk & Redemption: A Revelry’s Tempest Novel Page 14