Lotario nodded. “She is special. We’re lucky to have her.”
They were, Riot thought. And she was special. Isobel deserved so much more than anything Riot could ever give her.
Lotario started to climb back up the ladder into the hull, but Riot placed a gentle hand on his bad shoulder, stopping him short.
“Your scars are a badge of honor for saving Bel’s life,” Riot said. “My scars are regret and vengeance. You’ll heal with time.”
Lotario arched a brow. Riot dropped his hand, but Lotario grabbed it and held on tightly. “I’m not the only one who saved a life that day. Regret, vengeance, whatever those scars of yours are, they put you in that courthouse. I certainly can’t loathe them as you do.” Lotario let go of his hand. “I know Bel doesn’t. And neither should you.”
Day 74
B-E-A-R
Sunday, July 15 1900
Jin scratched out a sentence, and shoved the paper across the table. Isobel looked up from her stack of books. She was determined to give the child a well-rounded education, ranging from mathematics, to poisons, to anatomy—subjects a ten-year-old would be sure to enjoy. Isobel had always found school boring. Like herself, Jin had too inquisitive a mind to waste on the mundane. Isobel would turn the girl into a genius in no time.
Julius thought Isobel ought to find another hobby.
Isobel added a book of American law onto her growing stack, and glanced at Jin’s latest efforts. She suppressed a sigh. “You put b-a-r-e. It’s b-e-a-r.”
“It is the same word,” Jin said.
“It is spelled differently.”
“But it sounds the same when spoken. Why does it matter?” Jin demanded.
“B-a-r-e means naked. The way you have it written, it reads, ‘There was a naked in the woods’.”
“I assumed you were not stupid, and would know what I meant,” Jin shot back. “Like ‘read’ and ‘read’. Why is one not r-e-d?”
“Because ‘red’ is a color.”
“Then why isn’t it r-e-e-d?”
“That’s a plant.”
Jin slammed her fists on the table. “They are all the same sounds when read aloud. You know what I mean in that sentence.”
“Context.”
“Exactly!” Jin snatched up her papers and crumpled them into tight little ‘fury’ balls before tossing them onto the ground.
Isobel swallowed down her frustration. Jin wasn’t dumb. She was only logical. And English was not logical in the least. “You are correct,” Isobel said with a calmness which would have impressed Riot. “If someone writes ‘I red a book’. A discerning person will know what the writer is trying to say given the context of the sentence. But the reader will also come to the conclusion that the writer is uneducated. Do you want to appear uneducated?”
“I am uneducated.”
“I’m trying to rectify that.”
“You are doing a horrible job!” Jin fumed. A moment passed, then she balled her hands into fists, and looked down at them. “I’m sorry,” came a whispered apology.
“Jin, I know you have an excellent memory. Remembering bare versus bear won’t tax you. So what is the issue?”
“It’s stupid! You tell me there are rules. But then some words ignore the rules. There is always a ‘but’.”
“I’ll tell you one hard and fast rule.” Isobel held up a finger. “Poor grammar makes a certain kind of person believe you are an idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“No, nor are those who can’t read or write, or speak another language. Poor grammar can be used to mislead. And so can proper pronunciation and grammar.”
This got Jin’s attention.
“You can become someone else, shock, disarm, make people underestimate you, or even intimidate. Words can be wielded like a weapon. There’s a saying: ‘The pen is mightier than the sword.’”
“I would rather have a sword.”
“Both are useful,” Isobel agreed.
Jin sighed. “I have never even seen a bear. My Bahba never got to take me to the circus.”
There was a longing there. An overwhelming wave of sadness that threatened to drown the child. Isobel frowned at her books. Decided, she hopped to her feet and snatched a satchel off its hook. She started tossing supplies inside.
“What are you doing?” Jin asked.
“It’s too gorgeous to spend inside. Let’s practice our tracking.”
“It’s hot out there.”
“Yes, exactly. Sun is good for the mind.”
“What are we tracking?” Jin asked.
“Let’s go find a bear.”
“A bear?”
“Yes, the furry kind. Not the naked.”
“I do not think that is a good idea.”
Isobel waggled a pen at the girl. “We’ll have a sword with us.”
“But—”
“Enough letters, and no buts,” Isobel said, tugging off her dress. She reached for shirt and trousers.
“I will try harder.” Jin stood stiffly in the middle of the cottage. “You do not need to leave me with a bear. I promise.”
Isobel paused at the buttons on her shirt and squinted at the girl. “I’m not going to feed you to a bear, Jin.”
“Will you leave me out there? In the wilderness?”
Isobel thrust a pair of small boots at the child. “I wouldn’t inflict that kind of torture on a poor bear.”
Day 70
Interlude
Friday, July 20 1900
“I found its footprints by a stream, and traced it all the way back to the rocks.” Jin pointed towards the Palisades. “But Isobel would not let me go into the cave.” Jin’s disappointment did little to diminish her animated story. The girl was as excited as Isobel had ever seen her.
Riot and Sarah had arrived at noon, and now Isobel walked beside Riot in Bright Waters’ gardens, fully aware of the man. He listened to Jin with quiet interest. His trim beard carried faint scents of sandalwood and myrrh, and Isobel basked in his presence. Every nerve-ending in her body seemed attached to him.
His fingertips brushed the ends of hers, and it felt like a current of electricity passed between them. Isobel swallowed. Was he as aware of her? Would she ever be able to think straight when he was near?
Isobel didn’t dare make eye contact with him. She didn’t know if she could restrain herself.
“So we left an apple there, and another, and another,” Jin continued. “A trail of apples right down to a meadow.”
“Bears love apples,” Sarah nodded sagely.
“I found a spot downwind and we waited, watching the pile of apples.”
“Least you didn’t cover yourself with honey. Some neighbor boys did that once—”
“I am telling the story, Sarah,” Jin bit out.
Sarah muttered an apology. And Jin took a breath. “I would like to hear your story afterwards.”
That was progress, Isobel thought.
“The bear,” Riot prodded.
Jin walked on the other side of Riot, her face turned towards him, eyes alight. “It came out of the cave, and it stopped to eat each apple. It was bigger than you! And when it reached the pile, it sat on its rump, and began eating like a person. We stayed very still. I think it’s like a dog-cat,” she added. “And afterwards, it fell over. I thought Isobel poisoned the apples.”
Isobel looked sharply at the girl.
“I said I thought. But the bear was only stuffed, and it slept in the sun. We snuck away while it was napping. And it is spelled b-e-a-r,” Jin said matter-of-factly.
Sarah gave her sister a puzzled look.
“We have been studying English every day,” Jin explained.
“I hope you can bear the workload,” Riot said.
Jin narrowed her eyes, while Sarah rolled hers.
“Did you just make a pun, Riot?” Isobel asked, appalled.
“I would never do such a thing,” he said, dryly.
“Is it b-e-a-r or b-a-r-e?
Or is it b-e-e-r?” Jin asked.
“It’s b-e-a-r,” Sarah said.
Jin stomped her foot and growled. “How many other words make no sense!”
“Remind me to explain British vocabulary sometime,” Riot said.
Jin waited. “Now?”
“No, not now.” Isobel made a shooing motion at the girls. “Go get into trouble. The non-lethal kind.”
Both girls looked at her in confusion.
“Wouldn’t you rather be away from your parents?”
Jin smirked, and tugged on Sarah’s sleeve. “Come on. They are going to kiss. It will be disgusting.”
Sarah turned bright red. And the two ran down the pathway out of sight. Isobel waited to make sure the girls weren’t hiding behind a bush. When she was satisfied, she turned to Riot. And she did kiss him—a flick of her tongue, and a small taste was all she allowed herself.
Isobel pulled back, staying in the circle of his arms. “I’ll have to speak to Jin about appropriate conversation topics again.”
“I’m not sure we’re shining models of propriety. Besides, she was right.” Riot pulled Isobel closer, his hand trailing down her back, his lips exploring hers until she melted against him with a moan. Isobel forgot where she was, and quite possibly who. She was dimly aware of his hat falling to the ground, and a breathless whisper that couldn’t possibly be her voice.
“We can barricade ourselves in the cottage.”
They nearly forgot his hat.
Sometime later, Riot lay in a tangle of limbs and bedding, his clothing strewn about the bedroom. Isobel was sprawled on top of him. Propriety be damned, they’d broken all the rules. In the middle of the day, no less.
Riot smiled. A rare, unguarded one. He couldn’t help it.
Isobel toyed with the hair on his chest, running her palm over muscle, bone, and scars. Sun shone through the open window, and he marveled at her hair—the red gold threads breaking through the fading dye. He cradled her close, and put his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. Skin damp from perspiration, she smelled like the sun and trees, of something wild. He was drunk on her—the way she fit against his body, the way he fit inside of hers.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Impropriety has never felt so right.”
Isobel laughed. “Would it feel half as good if we did things properly?”
Riot touched her cheek, drawing her eyes to his. “Yes. It still will,” he whispered.
“You sound sure of that, Riot.”
“It will involve you. That’s sure enough for me.”
“And when the attraction fades?” She wasn’t being flippant. Only logical. Assessing all possibilities, all outcomes, and exploring the intricacies of emotion with unflinching honesty.
“Will it?” he asked in return.
Gray eyes sharpened. “I don’t know.”
“I’m willing to volunteer for your study. For the sake of research.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Considering where your knee is resting, I would never dream of it.”
Isobel snorted, and pressed herself closer. “I have a vested interest in keeping you healthy and whole, my love.”
The words came so easily, so thoughtlessly that it surprised Isobel. She paused, and then stretched to kiss his lips. A tender touch.
“I think that answers that,” he said softly, and then whispered his own love against her lips. They lay for a time, drifting in comfortable companionship.
They might have fallen asleep, but eventually, Isobel stirred. “How goes the rest of the world?” she murmured.
“It’s suffering from the absence of your brilliant mind.”
“You hardly have to charm me, Riot. You’ve already seduced me. Thoroughly.”
“I plan on seducing you daily,” he said.
“You can certainly try.”
Riot propped himself up with an elbow. “The rest of the world is getting along as usual, but I feel your absence keenly,” he admitted. Riot felt a pang of guilt. He had his freedom. Isobel was the one confined. The asylum was far from harsh, but it was still a prison. No matter the space, a tiger still paced its cage. “I’m sorry,” Riot said. “I…”
Isobel turned to face him, interlacing her fingers with his. He studied the complexity in her eyes, marveling over how sunlight turned their gray to a misty silver. “Don’t apologize for missing me. I’d miss me,” she said flippantly.
“I do. Very much.” He brought their hands to his lips. “I want to drop everything and move into the cottage next door.”
“You’d have to attend talking sessions,” she said with a sigh.
Riot chuckled. “How is life without Lotario here?”
“Presently? Life is wonderful.” She smiled, tugging on his beard. “But I’ve had to dutifully attend every single talking session. Doctor Bright and I have established what I already knew—that I’m impatient, don’t suffer fools, and I got in over my head with the whole… Kingston affair. At the very least, my talking sessions seem to make Julius feel better.”
“But not you?” he asked.
She raised a brow in a kind of shrug. “You make me feel better. I’m at peace when I’m with you. I feel… whole.”
“I know the feeling, which is strange considering I’ve lived most my life without you.”
“I only have seventy days left.” It seemed like an eternity. Isobel took a breath. “It could be worse. And Julius and I are… friends now. It’s the only way I agreed to talk with him.”
“As perceptive as you are, I doubt he had little choice in the matter. It was either befriend you or live with the knowledge that a patient had walked away with all his secrets.”
“Well, there is that.” Another smile, and she untangled herself, heading for the bathroom. Riot reached for his spectacles, so he might watch her walk. Sleek muscle, power, and grace. And laughter. She shut the door on his appreciative gaze.
Riot reached for their clothes on the floor, sorting them, and laying them over a chair. He frowned at the creases in his trousers. Hopefully no one at the asylum was as perceptive as Isobel. He poured water into a basin from a pitcher, and inspected himself in the mirror. The signs were obvious to him: worn out, supremely relaxed and unaccountably content. And that tilt to his shoulders. It shouted of a man who had just made love to the satisfaction of both parties.
Riot dunked his head in the water, and smoothed his hair. When he reached for a towel, he heard the door open, and felt eyes on his back. “Did you have time to check on Lotario?”
“Didn’t you receive my telegram?”
“‘Your reflection is lovely’ isn’t very reassuring.”
“Lotario is fine,” Riot assured.
“Where is he?”
“In the area.”
“You’re being vague, Riot.” Her voice neared, and then her body. Breasts pressed against his back and he forgot what they had been talking about. Isobel traced the muscles of his backside. “I still haven’t seen you fence,” she murmured.
Her touch rekindled his desire.
“My performance is far from spectacular,” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“Your physique says otherwise.”
To give himself time, Riot dried his face on a towel. It was enough, barely. “Are you attempting to seduce me for information?” he asked, suddenly.
“I only want to know what my twin is up to.”
Riot set down the towel, and turned, casually leaning against the washstand. “Lotario accused you of sending me to spy on him.”
“I’m not spying,” she said.
Riot ran his hands up her arms. “He’s in fine spirits. Trust me. He made me swear to tell you nothing more.”
“Are you taking sides?”
“Only honoring his request.”
“What of mine?” she asked.
“You only asked me to check on him, Bel.” Riot leaned forward to kiss her again, but she slipped to the side. She had that calcul
ating look about her. Before she came to a conclusion (which she would, given enough time), Riot tossed her something else to chew on. “Have you thought about our wedding?”
“Having second thoughts?”
“Never,” Riot grunted, reaching for his clothes. “Call it impatience.”
Her brows shot upwards. “You? Atticus Riot, impatient. Where is the man I thought I knew?”
“Obscenely content at the moment.” He had just got his drawers on, and was reaching for an undershirt, when Isobel closed in on him. She placed a hand on his chest, and applied pressure until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sat.
“Now I’m curious why you changed the subject, Riot.”
“I was hoping my backside would be adequate distraction.”
“Nearly.” Isobel edged closer, straddling one of his legs.
“By all means, keep trying, Bel.”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“I do enjoy being seduced by you.”
“Is it working?”
Riot took a moment to appreciate the display of flesh before him. Then he looked her in the eye. “On a lesser man…”
“I wouldn’t be marrying a lesser man.”
“There’s the catch.” He slapped her flank, and she jumped in surprise. The look he received made him grin.
“I suppose you’re well used to seduction,” she said. “A pity.” Isobel bent at the waist to retrieve her bloomers. His cocky grin fell.
Clothes rustled, and she turned, fully covered. Her eyes drifted downwards, and she arched a brow at his body’s firm betrayal.
“I, er… What were we talking about?” he said, shifting into a more comfortable position. Although truth be told, nothing was currently comfortable. Only single-minded.
“Our wedding.”
Her answer brought him back, and he focused on her face. Isobel had a pleased look about her—a look of triumph.
Riot reached for his trousers. “Have you thought about the ceremony? When and where you’d like to have it?”
“Will you think me cruel and uncaring if I tell you that I don’t give a jot about the details. Only that you’re there.”
Uncharted Waters (Ravenwood Mysteries #6) Page 4