Fortune's Folly

  

$1.99! After escaping from a gang of thugs, Eden and Alex are stranded by the tide on a rock island. Keeping their mutual attraction in check is easy. For a while. But soon minds wander, minds wonder.

https://www.amzn.com/B07SXBZBM2

 

 

 

— Cat

Fortune's Folly – new excerpt

 From chapter 10

 

"Miss O'Rourke." He took off his hat, bowed, and showed her a charismatic smile. In his well-cut suit he was an aristocratic ideal, the prince of fairy tales, an idle hunter of foxes. And perhaps women?

She gave him a poised nod. A sudden burst of cool air swirled about her, and she shivered and rubbed her arms.

"Cold?" His smile thinned. "I'm not surprised, seeing you're only partially dressed."

She edged sideways. "I must go. People are waiting for me."

"You left items in the cove." He donned his hat and withdrew a bundle of white cambric from inside his coat. Heat surged across her face. "Such fine garments, Miss, a soft chemise and lace-trimmed drawers. The petticoat was too bulky to fit my pocket."

"Where did you get those?" She made a grab for them.

He held the bundle out of her reach. "We both know where. I'll return them if you show me a spot on the coast."

"I'll show you nothing. I can't be late today. My sister—"

"As you wish, Miss O'Rourke. I'll stop by your home later and return your undergarments. Perhaps your family will be interested in your escapade in the sea this morning."

The heat spread to her neck. Damnation. "What is it you want?"

He motioned the direction he had come. "We'll stroll above the cliffs and find a spot where a dory may come ashore. Then you can have your fine things back"

His face now seemed made of stone. Would he truly announce to her family she swam naked in the lagoon? She released an exasperated sigh and returned to the path, him following.

On the cliffs a sprightly breeze stirred the heat, and seabirds screamed as they soared into the sky. Eden pulled her braid forward. "You've been trespassing."

He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Guilty, I admit."

"And spying, too." She came to a stop. "I'll not be taking another step until you tell me a few things. Why are you here? And why must you know where a boat can pull in?"

He gazed at the sparkling water, then met her eyes. "I saw you by accident when you swam out to meet the dory."

"I did not swim out to meet—"

"You spoke to the oarsman."

She shook her head. "I did not speak to—"

"He is a smuggler." His brittle smile vanished. "Keep walking, show me where he might have come ashore. Let's get on with it or I'll tell your father you swim naked to entice men. And don't say no one would believe it. Isn't it true you enticed a group of sailors into a tavern brawl?"

"Who told you such a thing?" The breeze lifted her hat. She clamped a hand on it.

"The men arrested for the brawl were from my crew. I read the police report and spoke to the men. Now, will you keep moving or do you wish to face your family's horror?"

"May I have my clothes?” Frustration sharpened her voice. “I feel ill at ease, and I don't want you thinking I’m trying to entice you as well."

"You'll get your things when you've completed my request.” A condescending glance.  “Don't worry. A young thing such as you doesn't entice me in any way, clothed, half clothed, or unclothed."  

Young thing. Did he see her as a child? She was nineteen, not nine. With a proud lift of her head, she marched on.

Of course she knew where a rowboat may pull onto a pebbled strand, the one place besides her cove accessible from the sea. She also knew where a skimpy track descended to the strand. However, he needed to work for the information.

"The beach you seek is so private there’s but one way to get there.” She gestured at a cliff jutting several hundred yards into the sea. “We must climb down and walk around the point. The beach is on the other side."

Alex stared down the precipice, a sheer drop of twenty feet with jumbled boulders at the bottom. Was that a sly smirk on her face or an angel's innocent smile? The ebbing tide had exposed a flat expanse of mud, oozing water, studded with sea grass. At the end of the point waves besieged sea-worn rocks. 

"We must hurry, Captain. Tide will soon turn."

He bowed. "After you, Miss O'Rourke."

She removed her sandals, tied them together, and slung them over her shoulder. Nimble and quick, she seemed to find toeholds in the face of the cliff and moved down as if descending a ladder. Soon she stood on a flat rock, gazing  up at him. Alex pulled off his hat and boots, shrugged out of his coat, and stowed all among a cluster of rocks.

 He rolled up his trouser legs and shirt sleeves, and descended the cliff with much less agility than Eden. When he reached the bottom, his damp shirt clung to his chest. At one time he had clambered among a tall ship’s rigging. When last did physical exertion of any kind make him sweat? Too damned long ago. 

Eden stepped onto the mud flat, her braid swaying, a circlet of wilted flowers holding it together. He shook off thoughts that she wore nothing beneath her frock, that the fabric rubbed and caressed those sweet curves. Moisture forming on his brow happened less from the heat than from his physical reactions to Eden O'Rourke.

 

--Cat

 

Fortune's Folly excerpt

 Excerpt from chapter 7

Mrs. Egan called from a window and Susanna gathered the baskets. "Our talk must wait.” Her grin returned. "Want to meet Cousin Alex? I hear he’s extremely handsome."

“No, not even if he’s the handsomest man in the world.” Eden waved and ran around the house. Besides, dressed as she was Mary and Rosaleen would have fits—

A screaming whinny ripped the air; a horse reared, front legs flailing. Eden dropped to the ground. Her hat flew off and spun circles in the dirt. For the second time that morning her heart drummed a furious beat.

Hooves hammered the earth, raising clouds of dust. The rider slid from his saddle and charged through the dust storm, dropping to one knee beside Eden.

Grit fouled her mouth and clogged her nose. She lifted her head, coughed and spat, and when the dirt settled, turned to him. He sat back on his heel. Heat washed her cheeks, prickles skipped across her nape. She dragged her knuckles over her mouth.

"What is it you’re staring at?"

"You speak!"

She caught a sneeze. "I speak. I walk, too, if you'll move, sir."

When he rose and took two steps back, she sat and wiped her cheeks with her palms. Like her hair and her frock, they wore a thick coating of dirt. "Perhaps you should watch where you’re going, sir."

He slapped dust off his breeches. "Damn it girl, it's you who should watch. You nearly collided with me on the road a while back, riding hell-bent as would a boy."

She wrinkled her nose. "Better than riding as would a girl.” She rubbed her hands on her skirt and brushed her sleeves. “Seems now we are even."

"Allow me to assist you."

She eyed his outstretched hand with skepticism but extended hers. He grasped it and with  a firm, fluid tug, pulled her up. Though both wore riding gloves, her palm pulsed against his. A fiery wave traveled up her arm and splashed through her body. Images flared— a dark sky, a dim room, a glowing fire. She yanked her hand free and brought it to her forehead.

"Are you all right, Miss?"

The concern in his voice snapped her out of her daze. "I'm fine, thank you." Steady now, she retreated further and, shaking out her skirt, gave him a sidelong look. Cousin Alex, the English cousin. Puzzling, because Susanna’s mother was French. Still, Mrs. Egan also had tawny hair, and eyes of a similar amber hue, but without the metallic edge of his.

She continued her covert assessment. His white linen shirt and tan riding breeches fitted him well. Wide shoulders, muscular thighs. A sun-bronzed face, eyes fixed on her with cool arrogance. She averted her gaze and spied her hat, trampled flat by his horse. She snatched it up. "Damnation! Look what you've done."

"My deepest apologies, Miss. I'll replace it, of course." Having tidied his clothes, he tied on an ascot.

“No replacement. I will, however, accept your apology." She fashioned the hat into a semblance of what it had been, jammed it on her head, and marched to the mare.

Why didn’t he go into the house? She felt the prod of his gaze and had an appalling vision of struggling to climb into the saddle, undignified, awkward, girlish.  

Her cheeks burning, she led Wildflower to the edge of the road. Cousin Alex shrugged into a jacket, still watching her. Using the mare as a screen, she pulled up her skirts and mounted, allowing the fabric to settle around her. Wildflower trotted forth.

Beset by a river of odd feelings, she couldn’t bring herself to glance back. She needed to get home, clean her face and hair, and toss the old yellow frock into the rubbish.







— Cat

Fortune's Folly excerpt

Fortune excerpt ch 3 


That night at fifteen minutes past nine, Eden stood at the entrance to the deserted park, justifying her participation in this foolish venture. Angel’s dare, of course. Eden had never resisted a challenge. Besides, wasn’t watching Angel her duty now?   

The street was empty and hushed but for leaves rustling to the ground. Despite the October chill, Angel unfastened the top four buttons of her shirt and folded the edges inside. She released her dark hair from its plait and pulled a pot of rouge from her pocket. 

Eden’s consternation grew. "Why must you look like a tart?"

"I'd rather not have them know I'm sixteen. I told Bobby I was older. He—" She squealed when Eden pinched her arm.

"Who is them?"

“Bobby said he’d bring a friend." Angel tugged free. "We’re going to have a little fun. Now, will you unbraid your hair or do you intend to look like a child?"

Eden swallowed her retort when two figures approached. Angel, suffused with breathless giggles, greeted Bobby and took possession of his arm. Eden summoned an aloof smile. 

They strolled in silence for a time, Angel and Bobby McAnders in the lead, Eden and Donald Stoddart behind. She refused to look his way and ignored the arm he held out. Bobby strode with chest out, shoulders rolling. He leaned to Angel, whispered in her ear. Gales of giddy laughter followed.  

The clock in the tower on Citadel Hill chimed the hour of ten. Eden said, "Angel, ‘tis time to leave.”

“Not yet, Eden. Bobby wants to go to a tavern. Isn’t that a splendid idea?"

Eden lost her breath and, for a moment, the power of speech. This game had gone too far!

Bobby turned, his smile as slick as his hair. "I'm sure you never seen a Water Street tavern. You ain't scared, are you?"

She bristled. "Scared? No, indeed. ‘Tis something I wanted to see for a long time." Donald chuckled and she glanced at him. A nearby streetlight revealed a pleasant-looking man with sturdy shoulders and ruddy cheeks. Though his manner was polite and he seemed not of the same ilk as his shipmate, she did not trust him.

Boisterous laughter and the energetic tinkle of piano music flowed from the doors of The Downy Duck. Eden followed the others in, filled with avid curiosity despite her misgivings. Long tables at which patrons sat on benches and stools crowded the scarred floor. Tobacco smoke formed a thick brown haze, rendering people across the room into shapeless phantoms. Her eyes burned and she had a powerful urge to sneeze. The acrid fumes mingled with the more pungent smells of sour ale and unwashed bodies. The sneeze she fought to contain exploded. Angel frowned and clucked her tongue.

Silence fell as they advanced. The piano player turned and stared, as did a sea of indistinguishable faces. Heat crept into Eden’s cheeks. With their blue serge skirts and white shirts, she and Angel stood out as schoolgirls. She tightened her shawl.   

Bobby led the way to a table and people moved so they could sit on the bench. Piano music and rowdy voices resumed; a buxom barmaid placed four tin mugs of ale before them. Donald handed one to Eden. She sniffed it. Cat piss. " 'Tis vile. I can't drink this."

He nodded. "Just pretend."

She took his advice and lifted the foul-smelling mug. Angel quaffed ale with the gusto of a seasoned sailor, her giddy laughter increasing in both tempo and volume with each swallow. Four more mugs appeared. Angel caressed Bobby's cheek and he asked her to dance. They stepped to the opposite end of the room, vanishing in clouds of smoke.

Eden drummed her fingers on the table. A brawny man with stringy hair and a patch on one eye leered at her. She averted her head. Laughter grew coarser, songs bawdier. The language these men used! The lurid tales!

The tune ended, the dance floor appeared empty. Eden stood. Behind the dance area a rickety staircase rose. At the top, Angel and Bobby turned and disappeared.  

Eden marched across the room, up the stairs, and entered a dim hallway with six curtained doorways, three on each side. She paused at one and listened. Heavy breathing. At the second doorway she gave a start when the frayed curtains parted and a couple emerged. She walked on.

“Oh, Bobby…" Angel's husky moan came from behind the third curtain. He grunted and snorted, the sounds of a hog. Eden opened the curtain a crack and muffled a gasp.

--Cat