Of Risk & Redemption: A Revelry’s Tempest Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  “No.” His bark filled the room. “No, Cass. I would have convinced her regardless—I did convince her regardless.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “How?”

  “She saw—Mary witnessed what happened to me when you disappeared. The manic terror I was in. She gave me her blessing to tell you—and only you—the truth.”

  Cass stilled. “You have told no one else?”

  “No.” He took a step toward her. “You have our future in your hands, Cass. It is your choice to do with the truth what you will. It is your choice to do with me what you will.”

  “Rorrick—”

  “But before you decide anything, you need to know that I need you, Cass. That I love you. That the moment I realized you left me in Charleston almost killed me. And as furious as I am with you for that, I still want you more than ever. More than yesterday. More than the day before. And that is not going to change—ever.”

  She held her feet in place for longer than she thought she could. For as much as she wanted to run across the room to him, she held fast.

  She had to see it in his face. See it in his eyes.

  She stared at him, the silence thick between them, only the echo of his words in her ears. His blue eyes, always so astute, held her look, held hard under her scrutiny. There was the anger, the disappointment in his eyes. But also determination that she believe him, for the one thing that burned brighter in his eyes than anything else was love. Tortured love, yes. But love. That had not disappeared.

  She had fallen for lies time and again in her life. But Rorrick—he was the truth.

  He always had been.

  Her feet started moving before her mind realized where she was headed.

  By the time Cass reached him, her head had caught up and she pummeled into him full force. Leaping onto him, he barely caught her. It didn’t matter, so secure was her grip on him—her arms stretching around his neck, her legs wrapping around his torso as she flattened herself onto him.

  He laughed as he stumbled to gain his balance. Once he had their weight under control, his hand flew up, clasping the back of her head as he kissed her brutally, all of the anger and fear and love that had been denied the past months melding onto his lips.

  His face pulled away. “Tell me—swear to me from this moment on, everything that has happened, has happened. We start anew, we start fresh. There are no more secrets between us.”

  “Rorrick, I—”

  He kissed her, interrupting her words. “Anew, Cass. Swear it to me.”

  Secrets.

  Part of her crumpled inside, but she squashed it down, ignoring it. She wanted this too much. She needed this too much.

  She met his eyes and nodded. “Past is past.”

  His lips found hers again. With his right hand under her backside, he spun and took three strides to the wall by the marble fireplace. Her back slammed into the mahogany wainscoting, instant support for them. Wedged against the wall, her hands joined his as they dove downward, freeing him from his trousers and pulling her skirts up in a squall of frantic fingers and buttons and fabric.

  Rorrick’s mouth landed on her neck, devouring, scouring for every inch of her skin as words growled from his belly. “It has been too long, Cass.”

  “Yes.” One word. One word was all she could conjure. One word for everything.

  “We are going to violate Lady Alton’s library.”

  “Yes.”

  Lifting his head from her neck, he found her eyes and locked his gaze with hers.

  No words. No seconds. No breath.

  He slammed into her, filling her deep, the pulsating of his shaft tearing through her body and almost instantly sending her over the edge.

  But he would not let her bow so easily. He propped her up, holding her to the wall as he pulled from her.

  Her breath left her. All she could do was writhe, her hips ferocious, begging for him. Her heels digging into his backside.

  He didn’t make her wait but a breath, crashing into her again. And again. And again.

  The primitive assault against the wall—fast and hard and savage—pushed her past everything her body could take and more, and she came, exploding, her teeth deep into his shoulder to swallow her scream.

  His body mirrored hers and a violent shudder engulfed him. It sent him weak against her, his weight crushing her into the wainscoting.

  Weight she would gladly take.

  The waves consumed them, brutal and ravaging, his cock throbbing deep within her and reacting to each and every rush overtaking her body.

  Spent, both of them, in a raging flurry of reclamation.

  He caught his breath first, a solid exhale spilling from his lips in a low groan. A satisfied groan. An unabashed groan.

  His hands went under her backside and he lifted her slightly so his weight was no longer crushing her.

  He straightened to look at her face, and then leaned down, kissing her on the nose. “You are the first one, Cass.”

  “The first what?”

  A grin lifted the edges of his lips. “The first woman to come after me.”

  She chuckled. “Rorrick, you would have a thousand women chasing after you if only you would let them.”

  “I only want one, Foxfire. One.”

  “It had better be me.”

  A laugh shook his chest as his head dipped down, his lips meeting hers, rough and demanding like the land he was born of. The land that made him. The land that created the one man strong enough to shatter her cliffs.

  She found herself breathless once again as he pulled away.

  His blue eyes searched her face.

  “Truly, Cass, are you at peace with being the viscountess for only a few years?”

  She smiled, her hands around his neck curling into his brown hair. “As long as I am Mrs. Trowlson for forever, I care not a whit about the rest.”

  { Chapter 19 }

  Cass slipped into the lower drawing room of the Revelry’s Tempest, shuffling papers into her left hand and then clicking the door closed behind her back.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Rorrick was sitting just as he was the first time they met, his right arm draped along the back of the kissing swan settee.

  The sound of the closing door turned his head, and his eyes lit up when he saw her.

  He was to his feet in an instant, walking to her with concern etching his brow. “What is this? Are we not getting married in an hour?”

  “Yes. Which is why I am not in my dress yet, as you arrived earlier than I thought you would.” With her free hand she tugged together the overlapping of her silk robe along her chest. “I think I left a stream of red faces at the sight of me walking through the house in my wrapper. There are quite a few servants still scurrying about, busy preparing for the event.” Her hand lifted, running along the crisp lapel of his dark tailcoat. “You look incredibly handsome.”

  The compliment sent a wicked smile onto his lips. “You realize your carefully crafted upsweep is in grave danger of ruin from my fingers running through it with you walking in here dressed only in this.” He glanced down to the line of skin on her chest that had just appeared from the collar of her robe slipping. “So what was so important that you needed to come down here and risk complete disgrace for?”

  “I wanted to take care of one piece of business before we marry.”

  “Business?” His smile grew absurdly lascivious as he wrapped his arms around her. “Shall I lock the door?”

  She lifted her left hand, swatting his chest with the papers in her hand. “Do not entice me so. The clergyman is upstairs in the ballroom.” She wiggled out of his arms and walked to the delicate rosewood secretary against the inner wall of the room, then set the papers down next to the inkwell. “This. It is the deed to the Vandestile land. I need to sign it over to you before I sign the rest of the papers upstairs. The duke just brought them with his solicitor.”

  Rorrick chuckled. “A bargain is a bargain, and you’re not le
tting me get out of it, are you?”

  Picking up a quill, she smiled, looking back at him. “Exactly. I pay my debts, and I don’t want you claiming I never held up my end of our original agreement.” She turned back to the desk, dipping the tip of the quill in the inkwell. “As for the rest of my holdings, I know what you are trying to prove with this.” She set the tip to rest on the edge of the inkwell and then glanced back at him. “And I do not need to do it—I don’t need to sign the papers. I trust you unequivocally, Rorrick, and it is the way here in England—my estate becomes yours the moment we are wed—so I am accepting of the obligation.”

  “Just because you accept it, doesn’t mean I have to.” He moved across the room, smiling as he slid his body behind hers, his hands flattening along her hips. Setting his mouth next to her ear, his lips brushed her skin. “And I trust that if I ever lose my fortune, you will be able to take care of me in the finest fashion.”

  She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at him. “The finest?”

  “Absolutely. You know of my atrociously bombastic inclinations.”

  She shook her head, the grin that had been permanent on her face for the last day not wavering. Her attention went back onto the paper before her, and she set ink to paper, signing the Vandestile land over to Rorrick. His fingers starting to dip inward along her hips, she plunked the quill into its holder and then spun in his arms before she lost all ability to resist him.

  His dark blue eyes centered on her. “I will only feel relief once you sign the rest of the papers, Cass. If anything, your estate becomes added security for us, should we ever need it.”

  “Then I will sign them.” She nodded. “It was creative of you to think to move my holdings, transferring them to a trust under my name with the duke as the administrator.”

  “There is always a way around every complication.” Rorrick smiled, his hands slipping down the smooth silk of her robe to span her backside.

  Escape. She needed to escape before she truly did lift her skirts not an hour before her wedding.

  “You, Mr. Trowlson, need to cease enticing me. You can wait.”

  “Can I?”

  “Yes.” Her voice stern, she grabbed his wrists, pulling his arms wide as she stepped to the side. “What if I promise to excuse myself directly after the ceremony and make my way to the private gaming room—third from the stairs—above?”

  “What will that accomplish?”

  A mischievous smile lifted her lips. “After an appropriate minute or two, you will excuse yourself to check on me.”

  “A gaming room?”

  “There is a table. There are chairs. There is a floor. There are walls.” She dropped his wrists to point at him, swinging her finger in a circle. “If it keeps your hands at bay now, then there is anything you want in that room as reward.”

  “And only one thing I need.” He leaned down to kiss her and she jumped to the left, dodging him.

  If he kissed her, she was done for and they both knew it.

  “Before the meal.” His look pinned her, debating on allowing her to escape.

  She grinned. “Absolutely before the meal.”

  He chuckled. “Minx.”

  She started to the door. “A minx presenting herself to the clergyman with as much virtue as she can muster.”

  He laughed and she opened the door, ready to escape. Just as she stepped into the front foyer, her slippers soft on the marble floor, Logan appeared in the corridor from the back of the townhouse. His face held a hint of a smile as greeting.

  Cass froze in place.

  She had seen Logan every day since she had been back at the Revelry’s Tempest.

  But never with Rorrick only a few steps away.

  That her movement had so abruptly stopped drew Rorrick out into the foyer. “Cass?” He looked past her, seeing Logan.

  The slight smile on Logan’s face vanished and he visibly paled in front of her. In the next breath, he shook himself and stepped toward her and Rorrick, his mouth set in a grim line.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Cass instantly recognized Logan’s intention. Logan wasn’t about to go forth without acknowledging it.

  No.

  She hopped to her side, blocking Logan’s path to Rorrick.

  Logan’s steely gaze dropped to her, his eyebrow cocking as he stepped around her, planting himself in front of Rorrick. His head dipped in respect. “Lord Vandestile, I am Logan Lipinstein, and I must extend my deepest apologies to you and your family.”

  Cass turned on her heel, the world slowing, the foyer spinning, dipping in and out of focus around her. Logan’s movements, his words seemed sluggish, like she could almost reach out and snatch them from the air.

  But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop this no matter how hard she tried.

  A smile eased onto Rorrick’s face. “You are Logan, the head guard? I understand your contribution to the Revelry’s Tempest over the years is lauded.” Rorrick looked to Cass. “My bride depends a great deal upon you.” He gaze travelled back to Logan. “But I am afraid I am at a loss—what is there to apologize for?”

  “My aim faltered.” Logan’s words did not waver, direct as always. “I meant to hit his arm with the bullet, not his chest. He moved and my aim did not.”

  Rorrick’s eyebrows collapsed together, his eyes narrowing at Logan. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Cass reached out, grabbing Rorrick’s upper arm. Both to calm him and to steady herself.

  Logan’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Cass. He looked back to Rorrick. “You don’t know?”

  “Know what, man?”

  “Your brother, Lord Vandestile.” Logan’s jaw set into a steely line. “His arm was flailing. He was threatening my man. I did not want him to misfire and hit an innocent. It was my bullet that killed him in that duel.”

  “The duel?” Rorrick staggered a step backward. “That—that was you?”

  Logan nodded.

  Before she could say a word, before she could tighten her grip on his arm, Rorrick attacked, leaping at Logan, his clenched hand flying through the air.

  The wild fist pummeled Logan backward, but Rorrick stayed with him, grabbing Logan’s coat and not letting him escape.

  Three more hits Logan took—took without fighting back—before Cass managed to get herself in position to snatch Rorrick’s upper arm.

  His elbow flew back, slamming into her temple, but her hands were already in motion and she managed to wrap her fingers around Rorrick’s swinging arm even as her head snapped backward from the blow.

  Rorrick spun, roaring, drowning out her grunt of pain. But she didn’t let go of his arm. Couldn’t let go.

  He shook his arm, pulling her off the ground, trying to free himself from her grip.

  “Stop, Rorrick, just stop,” Cass screamed, trying to cut through the firestorm of fury Rorrick had become. “Stop. Stop. Logan doesn’t deserve this, Rorrick. Stop. He doesn’t deserve this.”

  Spinning, Rorrick’s enraged look landed on her face and he stilled for one breath.

  “Cass.” His face transformed from wrath to disbelief to pure, brutal rage.

  Ignoring what was transpiring on his face, Cass jumped at the moment where he wasn’t swinging and her feet scurried backward, tugging him into the drawing room.

  He walked forward, more allowing her to drag him than actually being pulled by her puny weight.

  Once she got Rorrick to the middle of the drawing room, she dropped his arm, rushing to the door.

  Logan was already at the threshold. “Cass, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

  Her look whipped to Logan. “Stop. Just stop, Logan. I can handle this.” She slammed the door in his face.

  The crash of the door ringing in her ears, she stilled. Leaning forward, her forehead clunked onto the door as she attempted to get a solid breath into her lungs.

  It took too long. Harsh footsteps cut across the floorboards and in an instant, Rorrick’
s body landed behind her, hulking and swallowing her space.

  “Why are you defending that bastard?” Rorrick’s voice dipped to savage depths, as deadly as she had ever heard him. “What the hell is this loyalty between the two of you?”

  She shook her head, not able to turn to him. “Nothing—nothing.”

  “That wasn’t nothing, Cass. I just find out that bastard killed Johnny and all you can tell me is ‘nothing’?”

  She clamped her mouth shut, trying to flatten herself to the door.

  His hands pounded onto the wood on either side of her head. “Dammit, Cass. If you don’t tell me, I leave.”

  Her head swung back and forth, her forehead rubbing into the grain of the wood. “Rorrick.” The one word escaped a broken, begging whisper.

  “Cass.” There was no mercy in his voice. Only demand. A cold, harsh, moment of reckoning.

  Every exhale that left his lips, a hot fire consuming the back of her neck. Every twitch of his muscles, a spike through the air sending chills along her spine.

  His hands, his arms trapped her against the door.

  She couldn’t deny this any longer. Couldn’t deny it happened. Couldn’t deny that Rorrick had to know the truth.

  Air wouldn’t move into her lungs, so she didn’t even attempt a gasp for breath. She just closed her eyes and opened her mouth. “He…Logan…he is not to blame for the duel.”

  The entirety of Rorrick’s body twitched behind her, near to exploding. “Why the hell not? He killed my brother, Cass. Killed Johnny in cold blood. He just admitted to it.”

  “Yes.” She spun, her yell propelling her around to face him. A yell that held nothing back. “And he did it for me.”

  Rorrick stilled, his gaze skewering her. “Did it for you?”

  She met his eyes, letting his judgement burn through her. “The duel. I was the cause of it, Rorrick.”

  “You…”

  “Your brother, he…” Her look dipped to Rorrick’s chest. As much as she wanted to face him on this, she just as badly wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. “He…Johnny…one night he took his advances too far here. It was after we closed our doors for the evening. Your brother had somehow managed to stay behind after the floors were cleared, and I was in my office and he…he…found me in there alone and…” Her breath shook in her chest, cutting her words. She drew her lips inward, shook her head and then rushed on. “Logan was one of the last guards left at the Revelry’s Tempest. He was the one that heard my cries. He was the one that got to me in time.”