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The powerful fingers gripping her arms tightened. She didn’t delude herself that she possessed the strength to pull free. He wasn’t hurting her. He was effectively demonstrating that his strength was superior to hers.
“I don’t resort to bullying to achieve my goals. I simply insist that those who deal with me abide by the laws of logic.”
Had her foot not been in such agony, she would have kicked the smug man soundly. And the blow would have landed where Johnny McGuire had taught her all men were vulnerable. While he was doubled over in pain, she would have sprinted away.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked with as much calm as she could muster.
“What is it?” Definite suspicion laced the query.
“Put your lips together and keep them that way until we bid each other farewell.” That event could not come soon enough for her.
“Considering your age, don’t you think it’s time you stopped lapsing into such childish baiting?”
Emma choked down a hiss. Why did he insist on harping about her age? Just how old did he think she was? “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m twenty-four.”
“Really? I’d thought perhaps you were thirty.”
“Let me go.”
“Now I’ve upset you.”
Upset her? She was miles beyond upset. How dare he make such a cruel and thoughtless remark! He might have just as easily said she looked like a shriveled old maid with a hump on her back and had the word spinster branded on her forehead. Oh, she knew thirty wasn’t such an advanced age, but when a woman was single, she tended to be sensitive about such observations.
“Take me to your carriage.”
“I’ve noticed that even when you’re being reasonable, Miss Step, there’s a definite edge to your voice.”
He released his hold. Before she could celebrate the victory, he moved beside her and cupped her elbow in a guiding gesture. She gritted her teeth and began walking. Blasted, aggravating—
“Why are you limping?”
“Because one of your kitchen chairs attacked me before I could gain my freedom from this monstrous edifice you call a house.”
He stopped and knelt down. “What were you doing in the kitchen?”
“I was looking for that stupid dog, of course.”
He began to fiddle with the hem of her skirts. “You planned on taking him with you?”
“I considered it my duty to liberate him from—” She broke off and tried to back away. When had he suddenly become fascinated with her petticoats? “What do you think you’re doing? Stop that!”
She batted ineffectually at his roving hands. Instead of answering, he pulled her unceremoniously to the ground. She landed in a sitting position.
“I said to stop—”
“Hold still.”
“I will not! Get your hands off my limbs.”
“Relax, I’m just raising your skirts.”
“If you think I’m going to let you molest me in your yard, you’ve lost what little sense you have.”
He looked up. Because his face was so near, she had little difficulty making out his rugged features. “Miss Step, I have no doubt you are right. I do seem to have lost my senses where you’re concerned, however, I can assure you that I would never molest you in my yard. Believe me, there are more comfortable places to become acquainted with what’s beneath your skirts.”
“You blackguard! No matter how nefarious your behavior, all you dwell upon is your own comfort.”
“On the contrary, it would be your comfort I’d be considering. Now behave yourself. I want to judge how badly you damaged yourself while in my ‘monstrous’ house.”
“It’s too dark to see anything.”
“Damn, you’re right.” He pulled her skirt down.
She was in the middle of a sigh of relief when he stood and swept her into his arms. The world tilted alarmingly. “Put me down!”
“Miss Step, has anyone ever pointed out that you are an extremely bossy woman? In the short time we’ve known each other, you’ve barked out more orders than Sherman probably issued on his march to the sea.”
She was bossy? Clearly, the man suffered from delusions. She refused to say anything else until…She envisioned no circumstance wherein she would exchange further conversation with him.
“Would it kill you to cooperate?” His tone was at once aggravated and strained.
“If I’m too heavy, you’d best set me down.”
“It’s my intent to carry you inside,” he growled softly.
The low, hostile sound put her in mind of Duncan. “Then do so.”
“I will—as soon as you let go of the hairs on my chest.”
Emma’s face went hot. Immediately her fingers relaxed their death grip on his shirt. “Uh, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” came the gruff response.
He proceeded toward the house. Even her guilty embarrassment couldn’t compel her to twine her arms around his neck. With her hands folded in front of her, she suspected she was an awkward bundle to manage, but that was his problem. She’d been willing, after all, to limp along beside him.
She was relieved when they reached the slightly raised step at the side of the house. Being transported by Courtney’s uncle through vaporous, otherworldly mists was surely the stuff of nightmares.
While shifting her weight to one arm, he reached forward to unlatch the door. Even though she knew she wasn’t heavy, she was still impressed by his strength and admitted he was a splendidly formed man. Too bad his character didn’t measure up to the rest of him.
“If you’d put your arms around my neck, this would be easier.”
“Stop playing Sir Walter Raleigh, and you’ll have both hands free.”
“I bet you’ve lost count of the times you’ve been called overbearing.” He leaned to the side, managing to get the door open. “They must call you General Step at the Academy.”
He carried her through the side door into the kitchen. She tried to ignore the leashed male strength at his disposal. He sat her on the kitchen table and turned the nearby lamp to increased brightness.
She assured herself it wasn’t concern that tightened his expression. He raised her skirts again. She said nothing, even though her stockings and lace-bordered pantalets were exposed to his view. Instead, she crossed her arms and imagined she was tucked safely in her own bed.
“Which foot is it?”
He didn’t look up as he asked the question, and she continued to have an unrestrained view of his thick pelt of black hair.
His head jerked up. She was pinned by a pair of relentless dark eyes. Swallowing, she decided she would limit herself to strictly necessary speech.
“The right one.”
He looked down again. She felt him gingerly remove her shoe. Despite his obvious care, a flash of pain spiraled through her. She flinched and sucked in her breath.
“Sorry,”, he muttered, his head blocking her view of the proceedings.
His warm fingers strayed upward, above her knee, where the garter beneath her pantalets held her gray stocking in place. There was no point in ordering him to cease his outrageous liberties. Other than crowning him on the head with the smoked ham by the sink, she’d learned, there was no way he could be stopped.
The throbbing in her toes lessened as her awareness became centered on the strangely hypnotic feel of his gentle touch. She closed her eyes. The stocking came down slowly. The caress of air stirred against her bare foot. She raised her eyelids. The scandalous sight of her limp gray stocking dangling over one of Mr. Cade’s broad shoulders greeted her. Against the flimsy garment, the black suit jacket he wore looked as rigid as armor.
“Damn, you really hurt yourself.”
For no reason at all, tears came to her eyes. She did feel hurt, perhaps even battered. The fact kept intruding into her thoughts that in less than two weeks all she would have between her and starvation was the meager funds she’d secreted beneath her mattress.
He cradled her heel in one wide palm while pulling a chair forward. Never taking his focus from her foot, he sat down. “I don’t think you broke any toes, but they’re swollen and turning purple.”
With him sitting, she could see the results of the chair’s assault. At a time when she needed to search for employment, she was going to be reduced to hobbling from place to place.
“One thing’s certain, you won’t be running any footraces soon.” His tone was unexpectedly sympathetic.
The warm pressure of moisture built behind her eyes. What a wretched time for him to start acting kindly. It was easier to deal with Mr. Cade when he was at his nastiest. How dare he unsettle the last of her composure by sneakily changing tactics.
At that moment, she would have given her soul for a clean white hankie. Instead, she was reduced to wiping her nose with the edge of her cloak. Seeing her worn, muddied shoe tossed heedlessly a few inches from the heel of his brilliantly polished boot made her feel even lower than the beetle she’d fancied herself earlier. Bits of matted newspaper littered the floor. Sitting on the table with her bare leg exposed to her knee—which was where he’d shoved the hem of her pantalets—her dress flecked with mud and her toes turning purple, she felt downright pitiful. Courtney’s uncle would probably have rather had a sack of soiled laundry on his table than her own sorry self.
She sniffed.
He raised his head. The dark eyes lancing into her didn’t hold a trace of pity. No, it was something else, something elemental and…shockingly intense. Her stomach turned over. It abruptly occurred to her how improper it was for her exposed limb to be thrust forward for his examination. While her thoughts were diverted by her threatened circumstances, he’d removed his grip from her heel. It rested with bold familiarity upon his inner thigh. She forgot anything so mundane as throbbing toes.
He must have read something of her panic, because his fingers curved around her ankle before she could pull her foot from its inappropriate perching place. His thumb idly rubbed the sensitive skin along the inside of her heel.
“The best thing you can do tonight is stay off your feet,” he said in a reasonable manner that was at odds with the growing heat in his unwavering gaze. “Allow me to extend an invitation to stay here.”
Emma’s breath caught. Surely it was her own fevered imagination and woeful ignorance about men that was turning this bizarre incident into something more than Mr. Cade performing an act of simple Christian charity. He was merely playing the role of Good Samaritan. There was no reason to imbue his offer with impropriety. No gentleman would invite a woman who was a total stranger to conduct herself…improperly. Of course, she’d already concluded that his actions were significantly less than sterling.
“That’s a generous invitation, but I really must be on my way.”
Somehow his gaze became even more intense. “Why?”
Why? Well, because…For no reason at all, she trembled. “You know as well as I do that it’s impossible for me to remain.”
“On the contrary, it’s both highly possible and eminently sensible,” he countered. “Naturally, you would occupy the guest room next to Courtney.”
Emma knew she was flushing again. “I assumed as much.”
A strong sense of self-preservation, however, reminded her that there was no way a single female could share lodgings with a man who wasn’t her father or brother or husband. Considering her limited resources, an unblemished reputation literally meant the difference between life or death. If she was foolish enough to deviate from the straight and narrow path of circumspect behavior, all future doors of employment would be slammed in her face.
Despite Gideon Cade’s occasional lapses in gentlemanly conduct, he must know the strict rules governing the social etiquette between men and women. Either his thoughts were more chaste than hers, or he found her so unappealing that it would never occur to him that anyone could misinterpret his motives in having her stay. Emma found both possibilities deeply demoralizing.
She could not, however, ignore the fact that rich, devilishly handsome men didn’t entertain lascivious thoughts about plain, impoverished schoolteachers. And she knew for a certainty that she was plain. For as far back as she could remember, her adult caretakers had repeatedly said her appearance was sadly lacking.
“I take it you’re not enthusiastic about my suggestion.”
Mr. Cade’s thumb continued its subtly rhythmic stroking.
“I want to go home,” she said quietly.
Neither smile nor frown altered the straight line of his mouth.
“All right.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at her abandoned shoe. She hated him seeing the newspaper she’d used to compensate for the almost worn through soles. Having him know the extent of her poverty grated sharply on her pride. The idea that he might be silently laughing at her cut to the quick. Making no comment, he reached for the soggy piece of footwear. Had there ever been a night in her life when she felt more beleaguered? Seemingly lost in reflection, he sat the shoe on the table next to her.
While he looked for all the world like a cynical, jaded version of Prince Charming, she boasted no princesslike attributes. Loutitia Hempshire was no fairy godmother. Her waterlogged shoe in no way resembled a glass slipper. And the wayward mongrel who’d complicated tonight’s events was in no danger of being transformed into a magnificent stallion fit to pull a golden coach. On the bright side, though, there wasn’t an evil stepmother or sister in sight.
“Take heart, Miss Step. In less than an hour, you’ll be tucked safely in your own bed. By noon tomorrow, tonight’s disagreeable chain of events will be only a faint memory.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_f9c1e7a2-2fac-58c8-9b00-0849ae484462)
Emma sat beside Gideon Cade in his covered coach as it navigated Denver’s predawn mist. She cast a sideways glance at Courtney’s uncle. His profile didn’t reveal his thoughts. It was hard to believe this stranger had carried her in his arms, run his fingers over her bare foot and looked at her naked leg. It staggered her that, in the space of a few hours, she’d experienced so many intimacies at his hand. They’d exchanged the most barbed of insults.
Incredible… She was a woman who’d grown accustomed to being isolated. Yet a single encounter with the brash Mr. Cade had cracked the social barriers she’d erected to survive in a world that accepted her only on its terms. From a very young age, she’d taken those terms to heart. Be competent, be silent unless spoken to, and hold all personal emotions deeply within yourself.
One of Gideon Cade’s remarks returned—that the evening’s events would be quickly forgotten. Not by her. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to erase this strange interlude with a man who’d managed to shatter the reserve that had become the bedrock of her character.
The carriage proceeded at a snail’s crawl toward the academy. Emma decided her companion was too big to share such cramped quarters with another person. His broad shoulders took up entirely too much room. There was no getting used to his thigh rubbing intimately against the side of her leg.
Nor could she relax with his arm draped across the back of their seat. His jacket’s sleeve brushed her hair. The subtle friction was enough to keep her off balance. In her present mood, she deemed his booted feet overly large and encroaching. He was probably taking up more than his fair portion of air, too. Though she had to admit that the faint whiff of hair tonic emanating from him was preferable to the smell of wet dog.
She hazarded a quick glance around him. He had plenty of room on his other side. Instead of scrunching her between himself and the carriage’s inner wall, he could have easily slid half a foot to his right. Contrary man.
“What can you tell me about the financial trouble facing the academy?”
The unexpected question made Emma start. She should have known he wouldn’t allow their ride to pass in silence. “Only what Miss Loutitia confided to me.” “Out with it, Miss Step. Don’t keep me in suspense.” Emma resented the hint of boredom that laced his inquiry. A matter of grave consequence to her was only mildly noteworthy to him. She wondered how he would like it if his world were suddenly turned upside down. Realistically, however, it was impossible to imagine anything of sufficient magnitude to threaten a man of Gideon Cade’s abundant resources.
“She told me there isn’t enough capital to keep the school operating for more than another ten days.”
“She must be an extremely negligent businesswoman.” “How can you say that? You’ve never met her.” “When you consider the girls attending her school belong to some of the wealthiest families in the West, it stands to reason only an incompetent could run the business into bankruptcy.”
“I won’t sit here and listen to you insult Loutitia.” “Even as short as you are, Miss Step, I think you would have trouble standing in my carriage.”
“I’m not short!”
“You’re not?” he drawled with maddening humor.
