Lisa Plumley

by The Honor-Bound Gambler

“I know,” Cade replied with a grin. “But I feel up to it.”

  At least he did feel up to it—until he arrived at the Benson household and learned, too late, that Violet had left for the rest of her life as the belle of the ball…without him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was an altogether different experience, Violet realized as she wandered through the crowded, elaborately decorated rooms of Mr. Blackhouse’s luxurious private train car, listening to the music provided by a small group of musicians and carrying a fluted glass filled with an assuredly alcoholic beverage, to attend a party as a woman of interest, rather than a person who hung decorations and cheered up all the wallflowers.

  Where once she’d spent her energies volunteering, fetching refreshments for elderly friends or chatting with other plain girls on the fringes of events, now Violet found herself smack in the middle of things. Handsome men flirted outrageously with her. Popular ladies pursued her with invitations to their own upcoming soirées. Even the waiters—and the kindly gentleman valet, Adams, who’d admitted her to the private gala—seemed to treat Violet with a mixture of burgeoning respect and interest.

  Feeling overwhelmed by the newness of it all, Violet maneuvered to the train car’s window. Through it, she saw that the town she knew and loved—and had been born in—might as well have vanished for good. From her vantage point, only the barest hints of Morrow Creek’s existence remained. Some lantern light could be seen, faintly, coming from establishments like the Lorndorff Hotel and Jack Murphy’s saloon—and the nearby train depot, of course. Otherwise, all the houses looked dark. From inside the warm, festive, brightly lit train car, the entire town could have disappeared with a snap of her fingers.

  If it had, Violet never would have known it—and just at that moment, she realized, she’d already lost enough. Her first real love. Her pure-hearted motivation for doing good works. A part of her innocence. She didn’t want to lose Morrow Creek, too.

  Why had she come here, anyway? She no longer needed Mr. Blackhouse—or his fortune—to help her track down Tobe’s mother. She no longer needed the validation of other men’s interest to make her feel beautiful. All she needed, truly, was Cade. And he was as lost to her, just then, as the lights of her friends’ and neighbors’ houses were. They stood nearby, it was true; but it felt in the evening darkness as though they were gone forever.

  Then Violet remembered something—something Cade had once said to her: the real tragedy in life isn’t failing to believe that hope exists, Violet. It’s convincing yourself that you don’t want any hope, even when it’s right in front of you.

  Was hope right in front of her? What if Cade was here—what if her second chance was here—and she was overlooking it?

  She was no gambler, Violet assured herself. But maybe it was time she took one more chance with her life. After all, it was possible that Cade was at his benefactor’s party. With a little looking—and a little luck—maybe she could find him.

  Determinedly, Violet gulped down her drink. She set down her glass. She straightened her shoulders, then faced the animated crowd of partygoers again. They were a mix of visiting strangers, professional gamblers and their associates, and townspeople who either knew Simon Blackhouse or wanted to.

  None of those smiling men was Cade.

  But if he was here, Violet knew she could find him.

  She began in the parlor car, weaving through laughing women and groups of cigar-smoking men. No Cade. She progressed to the library car, where a variety of games of chance were taking place. Cade was not among the sporting men there, either. She sneaked into the rearmost quarters, where the staff was bustling with gala preparations. Cade was not there, unsurprisingly, but the valet, Adams, was. He rebuffed her with cordial firmness.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Benson, but you shouldn’t be back here.”

  “I know, Adams. But I’m searching for someone.”

  “Mr. Foster, perhaps?” His respectful face betrayed no sign of where he’d gained the knowledge that Violet knew Cade. “Have you tried the central car, miss? That’s where the musicians are. It’s the liveliest by far. If Mr. Foster has returned—”

  “He was here and now he’s gone? Where did he go?”

  “—that’s undoubtedly where he’ll be.” A bow. “Good luck.”

  “But where did he go?” Violet persisted. “I must know.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that.” Adams offered a regretful expression. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  Frustrated, Violet considered pressing him for more. At the same moment, Adams crossed his arms. He offered a slight frown. He was, it occurred to her, quite formidable when he had to be. Why on earth did Mr. Blackhouse need such an intimidating valet?

  “Thank you, Mr. Adams,” she said. “I’ll try elsewhere.”

  Feeling increasingly dismayed, Violet hurried back to the central train car. Strains of rollicking music reached her, carried on the same currents of air that held the fragrances of ladies’ perfumes, exotic incenses and cigar smoke. The party had grown even more crowded during her short absence. Now she could scarcely see past all the packed-together men and women.

  Where in the world was Cade? Had he left town altogether?

  Just as she conceived that awful notion, someone touched her shoulder. “There you are!” a man said from behind her, in a firm, self-assured voice. “You’re missing our dance!”

  She’d heard those words before, from Cade. But he couldn’t be here. She’d have seen him. This was an unkind joke. It was…

  It was…wonderful, Violet realized as she turned. It was wonderful because Cade stood there, close enough to touch, looking handsome and manly and exactly as dapper as he had on the night they’d met—the first time she’d heard those words.

  He also appeared, she noticed with a second distressed glance, a little beleaguered…and a little apprehensive. Did he truly believe that she might refuse his invitation to dance?

  There you are! You’re missing our dance!

  Well, if he did believe that, Violet had the perfect solution to offer. Stepping into his outstretched arms, she gave him her sauciest smile. “Oh no I’m not!” she said, just as she had on the very same night. “I’d never miss a dance!”

  Like magic, Cade whirled her into the dance. Never mind that the train car was jam-packed with revelers. Never mind that they risked stomped-on toes and jostled shoulders. With the same command that he’d displayed on that oft-remembered night, Cade drew Violet into the crush of the celebration…and then made her feel that they were alone in the midst of all the frivolity.

  “I was afraid,” Cade said, “that you’d say no.”

  “To you?” She could scarcely believe he was here. “Never.”

  “You appeared engrossed in something. I saw you rushing from car to car, but I couldn’t catch up. If not for Adams—”

  “Adams?” Maybe that rascally valet did know much more than he let on.

  “—slowing you down and then sending you back here, we might not have crossed paths all night.” Cade twirled her. His hand felt warm against hers; his hold on her waist felt perfect. “Do you need help finding something? You seemed to be searching—”

  “I was searching. I was searching for you.”

  He didn’t seem to know what she meant. “I was trying to find you,” Violet said. Smiling with relief and hopefulness, she explained, “You’ve been searching, yourself, for so long now. I thought it was about time that someone came looking for you.”

  At that, Cade appeared humbled. “I won’t be searching anymore. Tonight I found what I was looking for.” He gave her a tender smile. “It turns out it was right here, all along.”

  “You found Whittier?” Excitedly, she grabbed his arm. “See? He was in Morrow Creek! I knew it. I told you I’d seen him.”

  “Yes. I did find Whittier,” Cade confirmed. “I found even more than that, too. I found my father, and my brother—”

  “You have been busy! No wond
er Mr. Adams couldn’t explain.”

  “—and I found some of the answers I needed. But that’s not what I meant. What I meant…” Here, Cade pulled Violet to the side. Away from the frolicking dancers, he brought his hand to her face. He gazed at her, exactly as though she were precious. “What I meant was that I was looking for you. I needed you, all along. But because I was foolish and cruel and too blind to see the truth—”

  “No!” Violet hurried to stop him. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was so unkind, Cade. When I suggested that I was helping you as one of my charity projects… I never meant that! I was only afraid. I was afraid to love you—afraid to believe that you could love me! Because who am I? Only plain Violet Benson—”

  Just as she’d hoped, Cade kissed her. Hard and fast.

  “Plain Violet Benson,” she tried again, breathlessly.

  Another kiss. This time, Cade hauled her against him, too. He’d told her so many times not to refer to herself that way.

  With her heart hammering, Violet managed to stammer, “P-plain Violet Benson, who’s never known a courtship that lasted and who’s never—” She broke off, casting Cade a mischievous glance. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to kiss me this time?”

  Cade’s answering smile beguiled her. “Vixen. You were hoodwinking me all along. I’m fairly certain that I, as the professional sporting man here, should be taking that role.”

  “Oh, I like the role you’re playing just fine.” Feeling happy and effervescent, Violet grinned. She knew she’d manage to take advantage of Cade’s unusual method of “chastising” her with kisses eventually. “Whereas when it comes to me, plain Violet Benson—” She stopped. Suggestively, she arched her brows.

  “When it comes to you,” Cade growled obligingly, not kissing her yet, “I can’t get enough. Before I met you, I was lost. After I met you, I thought all I wanted was a dose of good luck—a bit of good fortune to see me through my lonesome days and the games of chance that filled them. But now—” Seeming downright overcome, Cade broke off. He kissed her again. “Now I know that what you gave me, Violet, was more than good luck. What you gave me was love. Like a fool, I almost threw it away—”

  “Not while I’m here to have a say in it!”

  “—but I came to my senses just in time. Or at least I hope it was just in time.” With a concerned glance at the revelers surrounding them, Cade frowned. “I know you could have your pick of men here. I know that I’m not nearly good enough. I have a long way to go before I settle down, quit wagering and stop feeling a need to indecently ravish you any chance I get—”

  “And the trouble with ravishment is…what exactly?”

  “I know you deserve an upright husband,” Cade said, “a good man to call your own, a protector and a conqueror and a hero—”

  “Oh, Cade.” Violet sighed. Adoringly, she stroked his jaw. “Don’t you know? You already are all those things to me.”

  “But I love you, Violet,” he forged on, sounding raspy and determined and fierce. “I think I’ve loved you from the start, from the moment when I pulled you into that dance. You looked at me with that impish grin of yours, and you took my hand as if we were meant to be one, and you trotted onto the dance floor with me without the least hesitation. I was so grateful for that. I was so grateful for you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  Violet knew she must be blushing. Raptly, she gazed into her beloved gambler’s face. While looking at him, it was easy to ignore all the hullabaloo and revelry going on around them.

  “That’s because I must have loved you from the start,” she insisted. “You spun me into that dance and straight into another way of being. Without you, I would have contented myself with giving and volunteering and working. Without you, I would have had friends, and my family, and maybe even a husband someday.” Here, Violet clutched his hand, needing him to know everything. “But I wouldn’t have known how it felt to be carried away—to be made to feel special and lovely and beautiful—”

  “You are beautiful,” Cade swore. “You’ve never been anything less to me. All I had to do was open my eyes.”

  “—and I wouldn’t have known how it felt to love someone with all my heart and soul. Because that’s the way I love you, Cade. If I could give you contentedness, I would. If I could give you surety, I would. But all I can give you is me. I hope it will be enough. If only you would consider staying here, in Morrow Creek, I know that eventually things will work out.”

  “They already are working out,” Cade told her. “Even with your father. I saw him when I came for you—when I went to your house this evening, after leaving Judah and Blackhouse and my father. That’s who Whittier was, you know, all this time.”

  Violet boggled. “I knew it! I almost guessed as much when I saw him at the church.” The truth of it all was remarkable. “You actually left your long-lost father to come find me at home?”

  Cade nodded. Assuredly, they would need to have a long catching-up conversation when all this was through.

  “He’s with Judah. For now. We’ll talk again later,” Cade continued, surprising her anew with the news of his brother’s arrival in town. “Your father told me that you found Tobe’s hidden train ticket. I knew you’d persist until you found the lead you needed.” Proudly, Cade smiled at her.

  Violet nodded. “Now all we have to do is take Tobe to see his mother. If our guesses are right, she’s just a skip away.”

  “Hmm. I think I know someone who’d be willing to undertake that mission.” Cade cast a slanting glance at Mr. Blackhouse, who’d arrived at the train car sometime during their reunion. His former benefactor gave a somber nod. Cade regrouped. “But the whole point is,” he said, “that I spoke with your father tonight—”

  “Well, of course you did. You just said so.”

  “—and I made my case as best as I could, without resorting to flattery or beguilement or outright professional charm—”

  “Well, now. For you, that sounds impossible!”

  “—and eventually I made Reverend Benson see the truth.”

  “Oh.” Perplexed, Violet inhaled. “Which was?”

  “That he’s going to have to come to terms with having a reformed, scoundrelly sporting man in his daughter’s life,” Cade said. “Because I can’t live without you, Violet. I tried, and I can’t. Without you, there’s no substance to life. There’s no laughter. There’s no joy—” Cade stopped, quite obviously searching for more. “There’s not even any fun to be had with drink or dice or dancehall girls!”

  Feeling vexed, Violet arched her brows. “Oh, really?”

  “What I mean is…” Soberly, Cade held her hand in both of his. He lifted his gaze to join with hers. “I want you to be mine. Please. I love you, Violet. Having you as my good-luck charm is not enough. It never was.” Watching her closely, Cade drew in a fortifying breath. “I want you as something more.”

  For a single, heart-stopping moment, Violet thought he was asking her to be his mistress. After all, these were sophisticated people in very sophisticated surroundings. And she was almost prepared to accept.

  But then, astonishingly, Cade dropped to one knee, right there in front of Mr. Blackhouse and everyone who stood nearby and the dauntingly intimidating but well-mannered valet, Adams, and all the most daring gamblers in the whole territory, and then Cade—her very own honor-bound gambler and the man who’d unrepentantly stolen her heart—took on the very biggest risk of them all.

  “Please, Violet. Will you marry me?” he asked. “I know I’m not what you probably hoped for, but I love you. And if you give me half a chance, I swear I’ll make you happy. I know I can.”

  “Yes.” Filled to overflowing with love for him, Violet dropped to the floor, too. Her skirts fanned out in a majesty of color. They should have been trodden upon, but partygoers miraculously made way for them. Her knees wobbled. They should have buckled, but Violet amazingly managed to remain steady. Her voice broke as she repeated her answer. Somehow, again, she manage
d to say, “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.”

  Smiling almost too broadly to pucker, Violet leaned forward and kissed Cade anyway. At her instigation, he pulled her into his arms, lowered his head, then made her his more thoroughly than he had all night—and through it all, all Violet could do was rejoice. She’d reunited with Cade. She’d made him hers and rightly become his. Now all that remained was one final detail.

  “I will be delighted to marry you,” Violet said when at last they parted amid the cheers of the crowd. Blushing for certain now, she added, “I have just one tiny stipulation.”

  Cade appeared concerned. “Stipulation?”

  “Yes.”

  In his face, caution warred with an evident determination to fulfill whatever demand she made. “What stipulation?”

  “Earlier tonight,” Violet told him, “you said that you weren’t a good enough man—that I probably hoped for more.”

  Cade nodded. “I’m not a good enough man for you. I—”

  Determinedly, Violet kissed him. Hard and fast.

  He appeared perplexed. “I’m not good. I gamble. I drink—”

  Again she kissed him. This time, Violet wrapped her arms around his neck and devoted her entire being to the task. But when she’d finished—when she next peeked expectantly at him—Cade merely drew a breath and forged onward. “I’m not good enough—”

  Wholeheartedly, Violet kissed him once more. Then she reared back to give him a serious look. “You are good enough,” she insisted vigorously, “for me and anyone else. But you’re mighty slow to recognize when someone’s giving you a dose of your own medicine.” Coquettishly, she smiled. “Shall I demonstrate again, or are you catching on to this game at last?”

  Then—only then—Cade seemed to understand her meaning.

  With a knowing gleam in his eyes, he adopted a very pensive demeanor. Elaborately, he furrowed his brow. “I’m not—”

  Her punishing kiss almost bowled him over. Laughing, Cade caught her in his arms and then raised them both. He’d never looked happier—or more handsome—than he did in that moment.