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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 (#ulink_41d087c9-82a2-55d4-9b77-add2a414e35c)
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.”
