Cade's Justice

Emma rolled her eyes. It was a bit much to hear the conceited man pronounce such high-handed drivel. Even without a crown, he was more overbearing than any far-eastern potentate she’d read about. Had Broadbent been present, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see Mr. Cade pitch him a bone, or perhaps pat the servant on his head. Goodness, it required little imagination to picture Broadbent licking his master’s hand in the same devoted manner as the dog.

“How much?” Emma inquired briskly.

“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Cade drawled softly, still viewing her with all the warmth he would have bestowed upon that upstart beetle.

“How much of a raise will you give Mr. Broadbent?”

Growing up as an orphan, Emma had learned one lesson above all others. People might occasionally make generous offers, but it was rare indeed for any of those teary-voiced promises to be fulfilled. It probably didn’t reflect to her credit, but she had a passionate aversion to hollow pledges and the people who issued them.

“Are you thinking of an additional dollar a week?” she continued, undaunted by Mr. Cade’s now glowering countenance. “Or did you have something more substantial in mind?”

“Miss Step, am I to believe you and your hairy mongrel invaded my home in order to negotiate an increase of salary for Broadbent?”

Recalling abruptly the urgent business that had sent her flying out the academy’s door in the wee hours of the morning, Emma winced. “No, sir, of course not. I’m afraid I have very distressing news.”

“And that would be…”

“It’s Courtney.” Emma closed the small distance that separated her from the girl’s uncle. “I regret to inform you, she’s run away.”

Chapter Two

Emma waited for an outburst of alarm from Mr. Cade. He stunned her by remaining unruffled.

“I see.”

Frustrated by his lack of emotion, Emma’s hands clenched. “As I told your servant, I’m a teacher at the Hempshire Academy, and your niece is one of my students. I spoke earlier in the evening with Courtney and shared some disquieting news regarding the school’s future. I decided to look in on her before going to bed. That’s when I discovered she was gone.”

“I see.”

If he pronounced that inane, wholly useless phrase again, she would slap his insolent face.

When that ferocious thought imprinted itself upon Emma’s mind, she flinched. Good grief, she was not the kind of woman to entertain visions of violence. She was a tutor of refined young women.

“I realize how upset you must be,” she said, deciding to credit the man’s lack of emotion to acute distress. “I imagine you are somewhat in a state of shock.”

“Am I?”

Emma nodded. “Perhaps a glass of…sherry would calm you.”

He tilted his head. “Do I appear to be uncalm, Miss Step?”

Actually, he looked irritatingly unaffected, but she could think of no other explanation for his lack of concern. It was inconceivable that she faced a monster incapable of caring about his own niece’s welfare.

Instinctively she reached out and touched his silk sleeve. “I collect that being awakened from a sound sleep and discovering a hostile dog holding one’s servant at bay would discomfit anyone. To be informed of Courtney’s disappearance on the heels of such a misadventure is bound to have discombobulated you, sir.”

“I wasn’t exactly in deep slumber.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I was already on my way downstairs, to get some work done in my study.” His speculative gaze lowered to where her fingertips rested upon his sleeve. “Do you still think I require a glass of sherry to…fortify me?”

Self-consciously Emma removed her hand. “I have it upon good authority that spirits may be used for such medicinal purposes.”

He inspected her features with a dispassionate intensity that scraped her composure. “Then I leave myself in your capable hands, Miss Step. If you believe I require a drink to deal with this situation, by all means let us adjourn to the library where we may indulge ourselves.”

Emma experienced a surge of relief. Perhaps Mr. Cade wasn’t as unfeeling as she’d supposed. “Lead the way, sir. Time is of the essence.”

He did not precede her, however. Rather, his fingers closed around her upper arm. Startled by the unexpected contact, Emma’s gaze flew up. His harshly sculpted features were blandly inexpressive.

The golden lamplight pooling about them in the vestibule accented the harsh lines of his formidable countenance. Her stomach curled. Uncomfortably aware of being alone with him in the silent house, Emma licked her suddenly dry lips. She realized her heart was beating as rapidly as if she’d just sprinted up three flights of stairs.

His hold tightened. “Come along, Miss Step.”

There was a silkiness to his tone that raised the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Surely it was only her imagination that made his touch and suggestion seem faintly improper.

She was the one who’d thrust herself into the alien situation of being alone with a man in the wee hours of the morning. She could hardly demand that he dash upstairs and put on a shirt, trousers and topcoat. It was entirely reasonable that he wore a dressing gown. She slid him a sideways glance. Still, she was certain the trousers would have made her less aware of the large male body at her side.

Making no comment, she allowed herself to be guided by his forceful grip down the hallway and through the first open threshold they passed. A small cocoon of light accompanied their passage, increasing the sense of intimacy tugging at Emma. The indisputable strength of the fingers wrapped around her arm made her feel as if the man were doing something more significant than leading her into a darkened chamber.

She shivered and told herself the dual shocks of the Hempshire Academy closing and Courtney running away were affecting her nerves.

Mr. Cade released her. She tried to rub away the tingling sensation in her arm. His shuttered gaze tracked the instinctive gesture, and she stopped. Turning from his disturbing scrutiny, she absorbed her surroundings.

Again she was struck by an impression of understated opulence. The shifting shadows cast by Mr. Cade’s lamp lapped at towering bookcases filled with leather volumes. There was the resonant clicking of an ivory-and-gold clock on the marble mantel above a cold, dark hearth. A lacquered Chinese box, a gold candlestick and a cut-crystal bowl graced a leaf-carved mahogany lowboy.

It was obvious that Gideon Cade had created an eastern oasis for himself in the West. From the corner of her eye, she was aware that he was lighting several more lamps. The subtle, strangely sensual sound of his silk robe rustling against his hard frame accompanied his actions.

He gestured toward one of the two padded high-backed chairs grouped before the desk. Vivid green-and-gold striped material covered padded armrests and seats. “Sit down, Miss Step.”

Emma complied. She wanted this discussion over with as quickly as possible. They needed to be searching for Courtney.

Instead of taking the chair behind his desk, Mr. Cade went to a cherry wood cabinet and opened its carved doors. There was the faint clink of shifting crystal. She saw the play of powerful muscles along his upper back beneath the robe.

When he turned, he held two glasses. One was a squat tumbler filled with a rich amber-colored liquid; the other was a fragile-stemmed vessel containing a thimble-size swallow of a dark reddish fluid. The startling contrast between the glasses made her keenly conscious of the contrast between herself and Mr. Cade.

His impressive stature and the energy radiating from his somber eyes dominated the chamber. The shadows might have retreated to the room’s farthest corners, but the tight line compressing his mouth made her think there were shadows to this man that would never be banished. His brooding, assessing eyes added to the effect of “secrets kept.”

He extended the dainty glass. “Here.”

For one contrary moment, Emma wanted to reach for the tumbler instead. The urge to ruffle Gideon Cade’s complacency caught her by surprise. Usually she made it a point to get along with everyone.

She hesitated only a moment before accepting the more delicate of the two vessels. No matter how tempted she might be, it wouldn’t be prudent to antagonize this man.

Her fingers curved around the glass. “Thank you.”

For a fraction of a second, she wasn’t sure he intended to surrender the drink. Perplexed, she looked beyond his strong, leanly sculpted hand and encountered his hard stare.

Again she had the feeling that he was inspecting her as if she were an insect who’d blundered into his exalted domain. She didn’t think she’d ever been studied with such penetrating awareness. She couldn’t imagine what caused those ruthlessly intelligent eyes to gleam with interest. There was nothing noteworthy about her.

She tugged lightly at the glass. Her fingers grazed his. The subtle friction did something unexplainable to her stomach. For a frozen moment, Emma’s surroundings faded to insignificance. It seemed as if she and the man towering above her were the only two beings left in the entire world. She had the feeling that the heart beating within his wide chest shared the same rapid rhythm as her own racing heart.

The pressure of his grip eased. She took the glass into her trembling hands and raised it to her lips. That her own nerves needed steadying was an abhorrent admission. For as far back as she could remember, her only true sense of security had come from the inner knowledge that she could keep her head when everyone else was in danger of losing theirs.

As she drained the drink, she decided it was Cade’s aggressive stare causing her uncustomary bout of selfconsciousness. She added rudeness to his growing list of faults.

He circled his desk and seated himself behind it. “Why the scowl, Miss Step? Surely the sherry isn’t that bad.”

The hint of humor tingeing his harshly defined features surprised her. She sensed Mr. Cade wasn’t given to casual smiling. The sweet aftertaste of sherry that lingered in her throat wasn’t unpleasant. “The drink is fine.”

“I’m relieved to know my liquor supply meets your standards.” He sipped slowly before setting aside his tumbler. “Now that we’ve both had the opportunity to calm ourselves, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”

The mildness of his tone momentarily distracted her from the profanity. When it did register, her fingers tightened around the empty glass. Gone was the earlier amusement that had briefly tempered his arrogant expression. She restrained herself from chiding him about his foul language. To do so would be too much like challenging a wild panther with whom she’d inadvertently become locked in the same cage.

Best to placate the creature, she reflected, since she knew the news she carried would darken his already beastly mood.

“As I explained in your foyer, Courtney has disappeared.”

“Surely not into thin air.”

The sardonic quip dug deeply into Emma’s remaining reserve of patience. “Of course not. I told you, she’s run away.”

“How can I be sure you haven’t misplaced her?”

“But that’s preposterous,” Emma sputtered, deeply affronted.

“On the contrary, any institution run in such a slipshod fashion as the Hempshire Academy could easily misplace a student or two.”

“We haven’t lost her—she’s run away! And for your information, the Hempshire Academy is a wonderful school.”

“I have difficulty believing a ‘wonderful’ school would maintain such poor control over its students that it’s possible for a young lady to slip out in the middle of the night to roam the streets.”

A red haze lowered over Emma’s eyes. She shot to her feet, exerting every bit of willpower she possessed not to hurl her glass at Mr. Cade’s arrogant, thick head. “We can affix the blame later. For now, our attention must be directed at finding Courtney.”

“Sit down, Miss Step.”

His order, spoken with whiplike command had her knees buckling in compliance. Her mind kicked in, however, before her bottom connected with the chair.

“You should know that, unlike Broadbent, I won’t obey high-handed commands.”

“And you should know that I do not run into the night half-cocked. Experience has taught me it’s better to have a complete grasp of the facts before taking action.”

She was tempted to circle the desk, grab the perfectly pressed lapels of his dressing gown and shake him into mobility. The thought brought with it a sudden awareness of the white linen nightshirt beneath the green robe. The black chest hairs curling above the border of tiny pink rosebuds created a ludicrous contrast of masculinity verses femininity.

No article of clothing in her possession was half so elegant. That such a potent specimen of masculinity as Gideon Cade enjoyed parading about in such feminine clothing was difficult to accept.

Emma sank back into her chair. “What precisely is it you wish to know before we organize a search?”

“What makes you so certain she’s run away, what was the news about the academy’s future you imparted to her, and what made you come here tonight?”

Emma reached into her pocket, grateful that she hadn’t forgotten Courtney’s note. “This was all the explanation she left.”

She extended the folded paper. Reluctant to risk another disturbing encounter with his fingers, she considered flinging the note across the desk. He was already leaning forward, however, and she was coerced into allowing him to retrieve the paper in a more civilized manner.

She braced herself for the contact. His thumb and forefinger gripped the corner. Before she could let go, something compelled her to look up. His enigmatic gaze was locked squarely upon her. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to breathe. She loosened her hold. The paper slid from her grasp. There was no physical contact. Still, her stomach took a peculiar dip.

She forced herself to glance away from him and take a deep breath. When she looked up, he was smoothing the note’s creases. As he began to read the hastily scribbled message, his dark eyebrows drew together.

He looked up, catching her stare. “Well, one thing is clear.”

“What’s that?”

“Whoever teaches penmanship at your institution has failed miserably on Courtney’s behalf.”

“Is that all you can say?” Emma couldn’t believe the man could be so insensitive about the note’s contents. She’d committed the message to memory.

My dearest Miss Step,

Don’t be alarmed. I’ve gone to seek help for the academy’s desperate situation. I hope to return with good news. Fortunately, there’s someone I can turn to for assistance.

Your most devoted and loyal student.

Courtney Gertrude Cade

Emma touched a trembling hand to her hair. The rigid rein she’d exerted on her roiling emotions was slipping. “I thought if I came to you, you would want to find her.”

“Is that why the school’s headmistress sent you?”

“I—I saw no need to awaken Miss Loutitia.” The thought of informing Miss Hempshire of Courtney’s disappearance during this traumatic period of the older woman’s life made Emma shudder. Loutitia Hempshire was the kind of person who, even in the best of times, wasn’t able to keep her high-strung sensibilities under control.

“If she can’t keep track of her students, she deserves to have her sleep interrupted,” Mr. Cade stated dispassionately.

To Emma’s horror, warm tears blurred her vision. Not trusting her voice, she refrained from pointing out that having a hysterical school matron on her hands was hardly conducive to finding Courtney.

“Well, have you nothing to say?,” he inquired chidingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve run out of words? I wouldn’t have though you so weak-spirited.”

At the barely veiled insult, Emma tensed. Now she knew why people took such delight in deposing tyrants by bloody methods. She could imagine the satisfaction of wielding a sword against a bound and gagged Gideon Cade.

“While we’re debating the matter in the comfort of your library, Courtney is alone and unprotected.” Emma’s voice caught. “We have to find her. She’s young and innocent and totally at the mercy of any dishonorable man who might want to take advantage of her.”

“You don’t believe this exhibition of headstrong rebellion warrants whatever disaster befalls her?”

Emma recoiled at the heartless question. “No!”

“But what about the danger she’s placed you in?”

“Me?” she asked in confusion.

“By running away, Courtney caused you to leave the security of the academy and race recklessly into the night. Surely the terrors facing an innocent young girl would also endanger you, Miss Step.”

“Courtney’s welfare takes priority over my own.”

“Does it?” he asked softly.

She shifted uncomfortably. “I…I shouldn’t have left her alone after confiding the problems the academy was facing.”

Emma’s words dwindled to silence. Guilt grew within her at the knowledge that her own concerns had blinded her to how upset Courtney must have been. With the Denver institution closing, the girl would surely be sent to an eastern finishing school. It was a mystery to Emma, but evidently Courtney wished to remain in close proximity to her coldhearted uncle.

“My niece is old enough to be held accountable for her own actions.”

Emma refused to suffer the man’s insensitivity another moment. “Courtney is a bright and brave young woman who deserves our best efforts to find her.”

“She’s also willful,” he interjected quietly. “Come now, there’s no need for tears or self-recriminations, Miss Step. You’ve already expended your best efforts.”

Emma’s control finally snapped. “If you weren’t an unfeeling monster incapable of basic human sentiment, you would be looking for her right now!”

His dark eyes turned frigid. “Is that how you view me?”

“It’s how the whole world views you!” she shouted back. “Everything the newspapers say about you is true!”

It was the foulest insult she could think to hurl.

He shrugged. “I find what’s printed in newspapers generally isn’t worth the time it takes to read them. And as for my niece…”

He had Emma’s full attention now. “Yes?”

Drawing out the moment, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingertips. “Since she’s fast asleep upstairs in her bedchamber, there’s little point in searching for her, is there?”

Chapter Three

Gideon watched Miss Step’s eyes darken to a deep shade of smoky slate.

“What did you say?”

Her question trembled with barely contained outrage. An ordinary man would have been cowed by the fury shimmering in her wrathful gaze. Gideon felt an inner quickening. He didn’t consider himself ordinary, and the woman sitting across his desk, looking as if she would like to supply the rope at a lynching held in his honor, didn’t intimidate him. She provoked a different response—one that challenged him on a profoundly elemental level.

“You heard me. Courtney is upstairs asleep.”

Miss Step rose slowly. Her eyes continued to reproach him. Gideon was startled by the twinge of guilt that pricked him. He reminded himself he’d had good reason for not revealing the girl was safe. He’d wanted to teach the woman whom Courtney repeatedly described as a “paragon of magnificence” that, when one was in charge of a minor, one damned well ought to keep track of her!

“You…you…”

Gideon had the feeling the redoubtable Miss Step was rarely at a loss for words. He inclined his head. “Yes?”

“You are a fiend.”

He swallowed a laugh. If that was the worst she could come up with, she’d led a sheltered life. “I was merely teaching you a lesson.”

“You were playing a game of cat and mouse!”

The accusation carried a measure of truth. He didn’t mind a game of cat and mouse—provided, of course, that he played the role of cat.

“When one misplaces a young woman, one needs to suffer. That way, the episode will not be repeated.”

Her hands clenched.

He wasn’t given to fanciful observations, but in that moment he would have sworn twin lightning bolts flashed in her eyes, transforming the turbulent gray to shimmering quicksilver.

“When one is consumed with worry about the future, one can’t be expected to know in advance what a sixteen-yearold girl will do!”

“Come now, surely a woman of your age and experience must realize young ladies are generally an unpredictable lot.”

Miss Step’s creamy complexion became a shade of pink that was in stark dissimilarity to the streak of grime smudging her delicate jaw. She’d probably picked up the smear when she petted the flea-bitten mongrel who’d followed her to his house. It surprised him that he found her disheveled state appealing. No doubt his interest was held by the contrast of the pristine princess and the woebegone commoner sharing the same lithe body.

Gideon noticed other details about the furious woman. She was compact in stature and dressed in a drab gray gown that covered everything except her face and hands. Spatters of mud clung to the hem. The dress’s cut and material were clearly second-rate, though he had to admit there was nothing second-rate about how the still-damp garment outlined her feminine curves.

“I was worried about her! That’s why I went to her room to check on her.”

Gideon mentally counted the tiny fastenings running up the gown’s conservative bodice and sleeves. His gaze narrowed. There had to be forty black buttons holding her dress together.

“But when you found out she was missing, you didn’t alert the headmistress.” He gestured toward her. “If you were so concerned about Courtney’s welfare, why did you choose such a difficult gown to get into? It must have taken you an hour to secure those buttons.”

New color climbed her cheeks. His comment about the time it took to get into her gown had probably offended her. Should he make an observation as to how long it would take to get out of the garment, she would most likely swoon.

“I was already dressed when I checked on her.”

Gideon’s interest sharpened. Was it customary for the schoolmistress to keep such late hours? It wasn’t any of his business, of course. The only point of relevance between them was that the woman and the institution for which she worked had failed in their responsibility to safeguard his niece.

And yet Gideon wondered how Miss Step occupied herself at night. He often stayed up late, pursuing the amusements available to a man of his age, temperament and social position. There were fine cheroots to be smoked, vintage wines to be savored, games of cards to be played, and worldly women with whom to satisfy his more basic needs.

How did Miss Step pass the time between midnight and dawn?

“You keep late hours,” he confined himself to remarking. “Satisfy my curiosity and explain why you didn’t wake the headmistress?”

Miss Step pushed back the tendrils of light brown hair that had sprung from the coil fastened at the nape of her neck. In the process, she managed to spread the dirty smear from her jaw to her cheek. It was ridiculous to find her unraveling condition intriguing. Yet damned if there wasn’t something charming about the fastidious woman’s progressively unkept appearance. She reminded him of a delicately wrapped package being opened by invisible hands. Her wrappings might not be fancy, but beneath the frippery, Gideon suspected, the gift would be unexpectedly lovely.

“To understand that, you would have to know the woman.” Courtney’s teacher looked away. “Miss Loutitia is prone to…”

“To what?” Gideon asked impatiently, missing the touch of Miss Step’s gaze upon him. He liked the way her wide gray eyes exposed her changing feelings. The sense of sincerity she radiated spawned a powerful reaction within him, making him feel as if she were standing utterly naked in his library. The blood in his veins heated. As much as his mental picture shot shafts of fire though him, he found the prospect of peering into her unguarded soul even more exciting.