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His beefy paws closed around her cloak, dragging her to a skidding halt. A second later, the sound of ripping fabric heralded a burst of freedom. She sprinted past him into the entry hall.
Though Emma scarcely had time to catalog her elegant surroundings, an impression of quiet opulence struck her. With subtle impact, she perceived immense chandeliers, gilt mirrors, velvet draperies and mahogany furnishings. The scents of freshly cut flowers, leather and linseed oil reached her. The thought flashed through her mind that the combination of tasteful fragrances was probably how a vault full of money smelled.
Once inside, Emma wasn’t sure what to do next, but she had only seconds to make up her mind before the troll caught up with her.
She noticed a curving staircase. Surely at the top of those stairs she would discover Gideon Cade, nestled snugly in his bed. She vowed to check every bedchamber until she found him.
“Not so fast.” The servant’s fingers closed around her arm.
Emma turned to explain why it was imperative that she speak with his employer. Before she could speak, a feral growl froze the blood in her veins. Her gaze swung to the open doorway where the stray dog had staked its territory.
“Oh dear.”
“A bit of an understatement, I’d say.”
Emma glanced at the man who held her. His florid face had paled to the color of parchment “Uh, I think you ought to let me go…before he attacks.”
“You’d best heed the lady’s advice, Broadbent.”
At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Emma looked toward the staircase where a tall man now stood. His dark green dressing gown appeared to be made of silk. The garment probably had cost more than she earned in a year. Obviously, she was making the acquaintance of Gideon Cade. In the privacy of his own home, he’d evidently forgone wearing a crown. Nor did he carry a scepter.
Even though the horrible events that had transpired thus far tonight were not directly his fault, she felt a wave of resentment. In a fiercely uncertain world, it was obvious at a single glance that Gideon Cade was the kind of man who knew exactly where he fit in the greater scheme of things. She was certain he considered his place to be at the top, not only in business, but in other venues, as well. When he spoke, he expected to be obeyed. Without delay or debate.
“Broadbent, you’d best release the fair damsel you’ve captured.”
The snideness of the man’s observation was not lost upon Emma. She knew she was neither fair nor in that category of select females who might be called “damsels.”
“Your only alternative appears to be having your throat ripped apart,” he pointed out mildly. Carrying a lamp, he descended the final stair.
Over six feet tall, with wide shoulders that clearly didn’t need a tailor’s skill at padding to achieve their daunting proportions, he projected the aura of a commanding general be ing called upon to chastise a troop of inept soldiers. Even his thick pelt of mussed black hair added to the forbidding image.
“I’m inclined to agree with your assessment, Mr. Cade,” the servant acknowledged, responding with his own brand of ironic dignity.
Emma hid a smile. From the troll’s less-than-subservient demeanor, it was obvious he didn’t hold his employer in complete awe.
She felt the constraining grip loosen, then disappear. Returning her gaze to the doorway, she slowly lowered her arm. The beast ceased growling, yet remained at rigid attention. As if charged with pulsating energy, his dirty coat of black fur still bristled outward.
“Call off your animal.”
The velvet-voiced order came from behind her. Not wanting to make any sudden moves, she kept her focus upon the stray dog.
“He’s not mine,” she felt obliged to explain.
“From his protective stance, he views your relationship differently.”
The soft but steely voice was closer. It took all Emma’s control not to turn her head to keep track of the man. Having him at her back aroused her survival instincts to full alert. Still, she didn’t feel it prudent to take her gaze from the illtempered beast who had invaded Mr. Cade’s entry.
“It’s true,” she protested. “He’s not mine. I don’t even know if he has a name. Our only connection is the dinner scraps I’ve fed him.”
“With a stray animal, that’s enough to forge a bond for life.”
The gritty observation sounded as if it had been spoken directly into her ear. Realizing that unless the hound relaxed his attack stance there would be no reduction in the escalating tension between herself, the dog and the men, Emma forced a smile to her stiff lips.
“Uh, nice doggy…Everything’s all right now. The mean man let go of my arm.” She added the last remark for the troll’s benefit, lest he think she’d forgotten his rude treatment.
Almost imperceptibly, she saw the dog’s hostile bearing eased. He cocked his head, as he’d done on the front porch. She moved forward. “You’re just unhappy because you’re hungry, isn’t that so?”
The animal whined softly, then moved toward her. His toenails clicked against the hardwood floor until the sound was cushioned by the oriental rug. The revolting smell of wet dog hair soon filled the entry. She didn’t consider herself a particularly demonstrative person, and yet, despite the beast’s rank odor, she felt he deserved a pat on his head for coming to her defense. In her entire life, no human had performed such a selfless act on her behalf.
She lightly brushed her fingertips through his black fur. “That’s a nice doggy.”
Her consoling gesture elicited another heartfelt whine and the startling assault of the animal’s wet, scratchy tongue upon the back of her hand. She flinched but didn’t pull away from the contact.
“It appears, Broadbent, that ‘Beauty’ has tamed the ‘Beast.’”
“Aye, so it does, sir.”
At the wholly facetious compliment, Emma’s cheeks grew warm.
“While he’s evidencing such tender devotion, I suggest you escort him to the kitchen and provide him with something to eat, Broadbent.”
Following his master’s edict, the servant approached the hound and held out his hand. He let the dog sniff it. Soon Broadbent’s thick fingers were being energetically licked. Telling herself it was foolish to feel betrayed by the animal’s fickle affection, Emma’s arm fell to her side.
“Come along…” The servant paused and affixed Emma with a disapproving glance. “He really does deserve a name.”
“You name him.”
“Very well.” The man pondered for a moment, deepening the lined indentations upon his ruddy brow. Then his reflective expression cleared. “I’ll call him Duncan.”
The name, coming as it did from nowhere, meant nothing to Emma, yet she saw Mr. Cade stiffen.
“Is that acceptable, sir?”
Her gaze flicked between the waiting servant and his frowning employer. For reasons unknown to her, the name Broadbent had selected must hold special meaning for both men.
“I couldn’t care less what you call the mongrel.”
At the indifferent response, a look of sorrow seemed to touch the troll’s eyes. “Aye, sir. Come along, Duncan. I’d say you’ve waited long enough for your supper.”
After flashing a reproachful glance at her, Broadbent sank his fingers into the fur at the back of the dog’s neck. The animal allowed itself to be led a couple of steps before stopping. Having only a vague idea as to its basic disposition, Emma tensed again.
The servant wisely removed his hand from the animal. Whimpering softly, it trotted toward her.
“Go along with Mr. Broadbent,” she urged, feeling awkward at having others overhear her stilted admonition to the uncooperative canine. “He’s going to feed you. There now, be a good doggy. Uh…Duncan, I’ll be perfectly all right on my own.”
He held her stare, as if by looking into her eyes he could somehow fathom what was expected of him. She smiled reassuringly, aware from the corner of her eye that Mr. Cade was studying her.
Without any warning, the hound planted its paws on the rug and shook his hairy body free of the excess moisture he’d been obliged to carry. A misting spray of rainwater, mingling with disgusting, foul-smelling dog residue, enveloped both her and Mr. Cade.
Emma jumped back. “Oh! Stop, you naughty dog!”
Mr. Cade stepped aside to avoid the full brunt of his dirty baptism. Mortified by the animal’s rudeness, she closed her eyes.
“He really isn’t my dog,” she said, again compelled to disavow any connection to the unruly stray following Broadbent from the room.
“So you’ve said, Miss—” Mr. Cade broke off, his lethal gaze fairly boring into her. “I assume, whereas yonder hellhound has no name, you, on the other hand, come with both a first and a last one.”
The man’s sarcasm was a chore to overlook. Nevertheless, considering that desperate circumstances had brought her to his home in the wee hours of the morning, she strove to contain her growing dislike toward Courtney’s uncle.
“Of course I do.”
“And that would be…” he prompted mockingly.
His insulting tone made her feel like a common beetle who had strayed beyond its prescribed territory and was in imminent danger of being squashed beneath Mr. Cade’s finely stitched leather slipper.
“Emma January Step,” she pronounced through clinched teeth, intimidated against her will by the man’s arrogance.
He raised a black eyebrow. “And what is it you want, Miss Step, other than to invade my home and terrorize those in my employ?”
A hot blush singed her cheeks. “I apologize for the dog. I had no idea he would follow me.” She pushed at the strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes: “You see, I have a matter of the utmost urgency to discuss, and your servant wouldn’t summon you so I could explain what’s happened.”
“I must remember to give him a raise.”
“A raise?” she repeated, infuriated by the man’s puffedup attitude.
He nodded. “I value any employee safeguarding my privacy.” His lips curved mockingly. “Especially after I’ve retired for the night.”
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 (#ulink_addfc48e-cdd1-5607-8c19-d846392a6b66)
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.
