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Cade's Justice
Pat Tracy
Gideon Cade Was Consumed By One Desire, until the night the angelic Emma Step, all fire and fury, demanded entry to his home and transformed his life. But could she give the gift of her love to a man who harbored murder in his heart? Emma January Step had faced the challenges of a hard life head-on, but none had ever been as overwhelming as Gideon Cade, a wealthy, enigmatic man who seethed with an anger he seemed barely able to keep in check.Why then did she feel the temptation to rouse him to passionate action?
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ufd6dec5a-7e32-5bfd-8d2e-050a6ac86262)
Excerpt (#ubc1fd297-aa58-5167-a638-3045a23b1623)
Dear Reader (#u6ff3e4ac-0f08-5355-ac05-8b9e807d5713)
Title Page (#u384fd392-cd49-50d9-8820-8f702bae56a8)
About the Author (#u2d16bf88-38f8-504f-83cc-9f691ae83ec9)
Dedication (#u9ece6af6-5216-59b4-93fb-14d87f55c0d4)
SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#u15511c5b-8b59-5126-bfeb-6bfa9b64c507)
Chapter One (#u1e58eb67-f312-56bf-a498-22f027a8cf68)
Chapter Two (#uf6726f5c-7cce-5457-8591-d8912d577f31)
Chapter Three (#u66557110-0f46-58ac-8da2-83153f668bcd)
Chapter Four (#ue1e2f4ab-c99b-5b86-b3c0-7a0285e278df)
Chapter Five (#u73412c42-7600-5b43-9525-54259ae7e4f8)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Author'snote (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“What possible motive did you think I had?”
Cade’s darkly challenging stare made the fine hairs at the nape of Emma’s neck rise. “Let’s see…” His gaze performed a leisurely inspection of her bedraggled person. “Well, there’s always the possibility you might want to trade the use of your delectable body for a new wardrobe, some hard cash and plush living conditions.”
Emma’s corset seemed to have instantly shrunk. She couldn’t get a decent gulp of air. And, from the heat flaming across her cheeks, she knew her face must be scarlet.
“It’s not very flattering that the thought never entered your mind.” He sounded disgruntled.
“But why should I have thought that you’d…?” She swallowed. Her mind was suddenly filled with images of what he’d been thinking she was capable of doing. Kissing him. Letting him kiss her. And surely much more, though she wasn’t precisely sure what the “much more” entailed. She had some strong suspicions disrobing would be involved….
Dear Reader,
When a homeless schoolteacher is taken in by the wealthy uncle of one of her students, falling in love is the last thing on their minds, in Pat Tracy’s terrific new Western, Cade’s Justice. Don’t miss this first book in her series set in Denver, Colorado, called THE GUARDSMEN, from an author who always delivers a fast-paced and sexy story.
His Secret Duchess is a heart-wrenching new Regency romance from Gayle Wilson, a RITA Award finalist who is also making a name for herself with her spine-tingling mysteries for Harlequin’s Intrigue line. In this month’s title, a nobleman presumed dead returns home after seven years of war to discover his “secret wife” on trial for murder. And in Linda Castle’s new book, Temple’s Prize, rival scientists fight their mutual attraction when they discover that they are both after the same prize.
And popular author Suzanne Barclay returns to her bestselling series, THE SOMMERVILLE BROTHERS, with her newest medieval book, Knight’s Rebellion, the stirring tale of the leader of a band of outlaws who finds himself unable to resist the mysterious woman whom he has rescued.
Whatever your tastes in reading, we hope you enjoy all four books, available wherever Harlequin Historicals are sold.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Cade’s Justice
Pat Tracy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
(#u01fd570c-0435-56d7-804e-35da150b6443)PAT TRACY
lives in rugged Idaho. No longer a country mouse, Pat recently moved to the city of Idaho Falls, population 49,000, where she writes, practices karate and dreams of times when rough-and-tumble heroes had their hands full dealing with independent, lofty-minded heroines.
Pat loves to hear from her readers c/o P.O. Box 17, Ucon, Idaho 83454
Dedication:
In honor of my heroine, Emma January Step, a tutor of refined young women, I would like to dedicate this book to Carolyn Horowitz, who taught English. and literature at La Puente High School. This wonderfully insightful teacher encouraged me to write and rewarded my efforts with lots of lovely A’s. I don’t know where you are, “Mrs. Horowitz,” but I want to thank you for loving English (you did, didn’t you?) and teaching your students to think for themselves.
If any of my readers happen to know a Carolyn Horowitz who taught at La Puente High School, California, 1963-1964, please write to me at P.O. Box 17, Ucon, Idaho 83454.1 would love to send her an autographed copy of this book.
* * * * *
SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Maxine Metcalf, friend for life. Thank you for your generous proofreading services. You saved my skin. Again.
Flora Jorgensen, Debbie Ricks, Sherry Roseberry, Martha Tew and Vonda Wilson. You’re the critique group from heaven. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Chapter One (#ulink_996c013a-14d9-5f33-9a85-8705b5776394)
The wrought-iron gate leading to Gideon Cade’s brick mansion stood ajar. In Emma January Step’s present mood, it wouldn’t have mattered if the gate was padlocked. She would have found a way through it.
She proceeded up the rain-slickened flagstone path. During the two-hour walk from the academy, the strips of newspaper she’d tucked inside her worn shoes had dissolved into squishy clumps. The numbing chill that seeped through to her feet added to her discomfort.
Emma sensed more than saw the dark blur that streaked past her. Before her startled eyes, a shadow materialized from the damp mist shrouding the front porch of the three-story residence.
She pressed a palm to her racing heart. “Good grief, what are you doing here?” The less-than-cordial question was directed at the huge, hairy hound now blocking the doorway.
“You followed me, didn’t you?” she demanded of the drenched creature. Without a flicker of apology, the dog’s steady gaze met hers. “And you raced ahead at the last moment to beat me here. I should have known it was a mistake to feed you.”
Emma continued up the stone path. Shrewd intelligence gleamed back at her from the disreputable mutt’s black eyes. Clearly, it had been a mistake to smuggle him table scraps from the academy’s kitchen. Obviously, the motley beast had decided he could count upon her as a source of food.
“You’ve followed me in vain,” she informed him in no uncertain terms, gingerly maneuvering herself around him on the porch. “I haven’t a morsel of food on me.”
She drew her damp cloak more closely about her and steeled herself against the reproach she detected in his unwavering canine regard. After all, one could hardly be expected to remember such minor details as feeding a stray animal when one’s world came crashing about one’s shoulders. From the dog’s point of view, though, she supposed being fed was a matter of vast importance.
“I’m sorry.” She sighed, unable to endure this added burden of guilt. “I should have thought to bring you something to eat. Just go away for now, and let me conduct my business without interruption.”
Guilt weighed more heavily upon her. “I promise to bring you a giant soup bone when we return home.”
Emma bit her lip. The academy where she taught was neither her nor the dog’s home. She couldn’t speak for the beast, of course, but, as for herself, she hadn’t known a place that could be so termed since she was three years old. Because she couldn’t remember anything of her early years, that meant that to all intents and purposes she’d never experienced living in a real home.
“Shoo,” she said forcefully, determined to accomplish her mission.
The animal’s lower jaw went slack. Looking for all the world like a fallen banner, his pink tongue drooped from the side of his mouth. Even though he cocked his head in an attitude of submission, the dog stayed put.
“Suit yourself, but I’m warning you. If you expect any more food from me, you better be on your best behavior.” Resigned to the dog’s presence, she reached for the oversize brass knocker that decorated the tall, ornately carved ebony door.
Emma engaged the knocker. A series of reverberating clangs broke the early-morning stillness. As she waited for someone to answer, she wiped the soles of her muddy shoes on the front mat. The potent stench of wet dog fur reached her. She could only hope that whoever opened the door wouldn’t think it was she who reeked of rainwater mixed with what was surely years of collected dirt and fleas.
Trying to dismiss the thought, she focused upon the fortunate coincidence of Gideon Cade’s residence having been pointed out to her the day before. She and several of her students had been returning to the academy after occupying a pleasant afternoon contemplating the beautifully rendered paintings and statues displayed in Mr. Burke Youngblood’s nearby private art gallery. As their rented conveyance passed through the affluent Denver neighborhood, Mr. Cade’s niece, Courtney, had proudly gestured to the brick mansion and identified it as her uncle’s home.
Emma was about to re-employ the knocker when the door suddenly swung open.
The best means of compensating for both her humble origins and a distressing lack of height, Emma had learned, was to get immediately to the point. “I must see Mr. Cade at once.”
The large, disheveled man glaring down at her said nothing, nor did his unfriendly expression alter.
From the frayed condition of his drab blue robe, she deduced that he was a servant and not the notorious Gideon Cade of whom she’d been reading in the daily newspapers. According to vitriolic editorials, the ruthless and incredibly rich freighting tycoon was hardly likely to be traipsing about his mansion in such shoddy garb. From the scores of unflattering stories being circulated about him, he would far more likely have been found strolling about with a crown upon his head and wielding a smoking pistol for his scepter. A recent article had portrayed Courtney’s uncle as a cross between a vicious vigilante renegade and an arrogant foreign potentate.
Emma returned the servant’s belligerent stare. “I trust I do not need to repeat myself, sir.”
The yellowish splash of light provided by the lamp on a table behind him made the shocks of white hair sticking up from his scalp look like oily shafts of lightning. Despite his giant frame, the man glaring down at her resembled an irate troll guarding the castle gate against any who had the temerity to trespass upon his master’s domain.
“Have you any idea of the hour?” the scowling troll demanded, his bushy eyebrows converging over his remarkably huge and pitted nose.
“Certainly.” Emma pushed back the cloak she’d worn to blunt the night chill and consulted the timepiece pinned to her gray bodice. Unfortunately, the light was so poor she couldn’t make out the position of the hands upon the inexpensive watch. “My best estimate is that it’s half past one. Now, please be so good as to fetch Mr. Cade.”
“In the morning,” the troll intoned balefully.
“That’s right.” She refastened her cloak. She’d checked on Courtney at 11 p.m., expecting to see her settled in bed. The subsequent seven-mile walk here had consumed a lot of time. “Now that we’ve established the hour, you may summon Mr. Cade. I’m here on a matter of grave urgency.”
The servant chuckled gruffly. “If I disturb him again tonight, it will be grave, all right. Yours and mine.”
“Now see here—”
“Miss,” he said, interrupting her, his droopy eyes and tone unexpectedly conciliatory, “you best come back at a decent hour.”
Emma had no intention of leaving without telling Mr. Cade his niece had disappeared. She inched closer to the doorway. If she had to, she would push her way past him. Returning her gaze to the dishearteningly massive figure of the overzealous gatekeeper, she realized she would hardly emerge victorious in a show of brute force.
Perhaps, if she pretended to swoon, he might catch her and carry her across the threshold he presently blocked. It was more likely, however, that he would leave her lying on the step until dawn.
Thoughts of Courtney wandering Denver’s often rowdy night streets sent a tremor of increased distress through Emma. “Sir, you don’t understand. I’m an instructor at Loutitia Hempshire’s Academy for Young Ladies. I have terrible news and fear the worst.”
Astonishingly, the troll seemed to take her announcement in stride. He didn’t so much as raise one caterpillar-size eyebrow. Emma wondered if perhaps butlers and stray dogs shared a distant but common ancestry. What would it take to startle the morosely self-contained man? She doubted a cattle stampede of longhorn steers rampaging down Larimer Street would shake his unflappable reserve.
He rubbed his jaw. She didn’t know if he was debating the truthfulness of her claim or the relevance of the news to his employer. When his cannon-size nostrils began to twitch, she realized he must have picked up the mongrel’s foul odor. Fearing he was about to slam the door in her face, Emma decided bold action was required. She would awaken Mr. Cade herself.
With little forethought, she launched herself through the puny space left between the uncooperative servant and the doorframe. That she wasn’t big meant she could move quickly.
“Hey, now!” the troll yelled, making a lunge for her.
