Cade's Justice

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With her cheek pressed against his chest, her objection emerged as a muffled squeak.

Suspicion clouded Thornton’s hostile expression. “If she injured her foot, a doctor should examine it.”

“Good idea,” Gideon responded. “If it isn’t better by morning, we’ll send for one.”

Miss Step ceased her efforts to free herself. He waited a half second for her to launch a verbal battle, demanding he release her. None was forthcoming. “Well, it’s getting late. We’d best be on our way.”

Gideon strode toward his carriage. Hennesy hadn’t returned. He’d probably joined the bucket brigade dousing the last of the smoldering wreckage that had been the academy. Smoke, and the promise of more rain, ripened the morning air. The driver’s help wouldn’t be needed much longer.

Gideon jerked open the carriage door. Emma Step remained a stiff and unyielding package. Even though she wasn’t struggling to free herself, she still refused to put her arms around his neck. If that was all the form her rebellion took, he counted himself lucky. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her yell for help, rather than allow him to carry her anywhere. Maybe the puny blow she’d delivered to his jaw had siphoned some of her spunkiness.

Taking care not to jostle her foot, he deposited her inside the carriage. Her lips were compressed into a tight line. There was a defiant gleam in her eyes as she glared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him or his considerate gesture. Damned female was too stubborn for her own good, that much was obvious. It irritated him that she didn’t seem to realize how fortunate she was that he’d taken her under his wing.

If the gray gown she wore was any indication of the quality of her clothing that had been burned, Gideon was ready to declare the fire a community service. He remembered the surge of anger he’d experienced when he removed the miserably constructed walking slipper from her injured foot. In the split second when he first saw the newspaper she’d used to add a layer of protection to the worn sole, he’d tried to dull his sense of outrage with a quip about her putting the negative editorials printed about him to good use.

Then he’d noticed the proud tilt of her chin so at odds with the look of hot embarrassment flashing in her eyes. At that point, he’d wanted to pitch both her shoes in the hearth. It hadn’t mattered that she was a stranger to him. He’d been struck by the bizarre urge to buy her several pairs of shoes, and some new stockings—ones with pretty bits of lace instead of neatly darned patches. While he was at it, he’d make sure she had a pair of pantalets that didn’t look as if they’d been fashioned when Martha Washington was First Lady.

He ducked his head inside the carriage. “The last two times I’ve asked you to wait for me, you’ve struck out on your own.”

He wanted her to know he’d kept count of her mutinies.

She stared straight ahead. He discovered he didn’t like being treated as if he were invisible. “I’m getting Hennesy. You will be here when I return.”

She maintained her silence.

“I’m not leaving until you promise to do as I say.”

More silence.

“Stop frowning. You’ve got enough wrinkles as it is.”

As he figured, that had her head pivoting toward him.

“You are the rudest, the nastiest, the most vile man whom it has ever been my misfortune to meet”

“I just said that so you would pay attention. You don’t have any wrinkles.” If she owned a mirror, she would know that.

“Well, you’ve succeeded. You definitely have my attention.”

Probably the same kind of dangerous attention Delilah had directed to Samson before she sheared him like a sheep. “Look, we both know I could stand here for hours telling you how lovely you are.”

Her eyes narrowed. He wondered why he should be surprised. Whereas most women turned to warm honey when they received a compliment, Emma January Step imitated a blast of arctic air.

“Do I appear to be an imbecile?”

There was only one safe answer. “No.”

“Then, once and for all, cease your remarks about my appearance!”

Obviously the night’s events had caught up with her. Rational thought was beyond her. He decided to employ a different tactic.

“Be reasonable. You’ve been up all night, and a hell of a night it’s been—what with Courtney running away, you hurting your foot and the academy burning down. Why don’t we call a truce? After you’ve had some rest and taken stock of your situation, I’ll deliver you wherever you want to go.”

From the slight thawing of her formerly frigid gaze, he sensed he was making headway.

It occurred to him that life would be a lot easier if he and Emma were from an earlier period of time. Maybe the Dark Ages. Back then, if a man chanced upon a woman as damnably intriguing as she was, he could carry her off to his castle, declare her his possession and then go about the business of organizing his next battle.

There was a lot to be said for simpler times. But then, the chances were that a woman as sharp-tongued as Emma would have been burned at the stake before she reached her eighteenth birthday. Back then, people hadn’t taken kindly to witches, even if they shared an uncanny resemblance to more angelic beings. He let go of the image of her in a tower bedchamber reluctantly.

“When Courtney wakes, up, she’ll be devastated about the school being destroyed,” he continued. “I know she loved it there.”

He took shameless advantage of the tender sensibilities Emma had evidenced when she believed Courtney was wandering Denver’s streets.

“The fire will come as a shock.” A pensive expression claimed Emma’s features. “I do care about your niece, Mr. Cade.”

“Gideon,” he corrected, suspecting it would be a while before she felt comfortable calling him by his given name—more than the couple of days she probably envisioned staying in his home. “Courtney kept most of her belongings in her room at the academy, Emma.”

He remembered the wagonload of girlish clothes and assorted possessions Hennesy had transported from Courtney’s upstairs bedchamber to the school. Gideon’s conscience stirred. His niece really would be devastated that her things had been destroyed. He recalled one photograph, in particular, that of her parents holding her when she was a baby. Locked in his memory was the image of Courtney carrying the framed picture when her former governess had accompanied her to the academy. Where before his motives for having Emma stay with him had been vague, Gideon acknowledged she would be better suited than he to console his niece.

“Ask me.”

He looked into Miss Step’s otherworldly eyes and decided clarity was needed. “What?”

“Ask me if I’ll accept your invitation for shelter.”

Judging from her pallor, her own losses weighed heavily on her thoughts. Nevertheless, she was apparently considering Courtney’s needs. He admired the woman’s generous spirit and the resurgence of her natural feistiness.

“Please come home with me—for my niece’s benefit?”

And mine. I’m not done finding out who you are, Emma.

As if trying to divine the motive for his persistence, she studied him intently. Since he lacked the answer himself, he didn’t object to her scrutiny.

“I’ll come under one condition.”

That he never put his hands on her again? He didn’t delude himself into believing there was a chance on this good earth that he would let her disappear from his life before discovering how the inside of her mouth tasted. He was betting on berries. The tart kind that had a man reaching for more.

“What’s the condition?”

She gestured, pointing beyond the open carriage door. “Do you see that woman over there?”

He looked to where Lyman Thornton still stood, staring at them. A slender woman of medium height, wearing a sootstained robe, had just turned from him and his aunt

“Yes.”

“That’s Jayne Stoneworthy, an acquaintance of mine. I want you to invite her to stay at your home, also.”

Her hellhound would probably be next, Gideon thought, dourly. Evidently, Emma January Step was a collector of lost souls. The thought of establishing a home for unattached females held no appeal, but he’d learned long ago that success sprang from consolidating victories as they materialized. The lesser issues could be debated later. “Consider it done.”

Gideon Cade had scarcely agreed to her impetuous request before he turned from her, striding purposefully, toward Jayne’s retreating figure. Emma leaned wearily against the carriage seat. Every instinct she possessed told her that now was the opportunity to escape Mr. Cade’s domineering company. The only problem was that she wasn’t sure what would fill the void of his bullying tactics.

She was too exhausted and overwhelmed to go tramping about town, looking for a hotel to take her in. Nor would such a trek be beneficial to her battered toes. She could have accepted Lyman Thornton’s offer of shelter, but something about the man disturbed her. Though what could be more disturbing than trading insults with Courtney’s uncle remained a mystery.

Thornton, a hotel, or Gideon Cade? She tried to consider her limited options logically. Thornton was creepy—not logical, but reason enough to avoid him. If she went to a hotel, they would expect her to begin paying almost immediately for her lodging. She had no money. Gideon Cade was so supremely arrogant, he invited fantasies of insurrection. Thevote wasn’t even close. What did it say about her that she preferred arrogance to creepiness?

She surrendered to a full body yawn. Gideon Cade had another asset that swung her decision in his favor. In the short time since she came to know his niece, the girl had come to mean a great deal to her. Something about Courtney’s quiet but inherently cheerful disposition had drawn Emma to her.

Emma’s gaze drifted to what was left of the academy—a charred mass of rubble. The building looked as if it had been struck by several cannon blasts. A lump swelled in her throat. She’d seen dark times before, she reminded herself, remembering when the orphanage she grew up in had “graduated” her to independence. It had been a frightening experience to leave the Burnby Heartshorn Foundling Home, but she’d done it.

The difference between then and now was that the staff had arranged several interviews for her. That was how she’d come to be employed as a companion to Beatrice Kenswick. That position had provided free room and board. The money she earned had financed additional classes at a secondary school where she became certified to teach. From there she’d become an instructor at Reverend Wade’s Fundamentalist School of Higher Learning.

Looking back, Emma could see quite clearly how she’d come to be where she was today. When she looked ahead, though, she saw only a hazy blur of nothingness.

Emma watched Mr. Cade catch up with Jayne Stoneworthy and engage her in conversation.

He’d urged her to called him Gideon…. She couldn’t, of course. It would be too personal a liberty.

As he escorted her friend toward the carriage, Emma was struck by Jayne Stoneworthy’s graceful beauty. Mr. Cade had suffered no compunctions about emphasizing her own plainness with his exaggerated compliments, but Jayne was lovely enough to justify such flattery.

Their burly driver, Hennesy, joined Mr. Cade and Jayne as they proceeded to the carriage. Emma scooted across the seat to make room for her friend as Courtney’s uncle assisted her inside. It would be a relief riding back to Mr. Cade’s home without trying to outmaneuver his entirely-too-familiar hands.

“Here’s your friend.” With an economy of motion, he climbed into the carriage and sat across from them. His long legs neatly bisected the distance between herself and Jayne. “She seems, however, to have her own idea about where she plans on spending the next few hours.” The carriage lurched forward.

Jayne patted her arm. “Emma, it’s sweet for you to be worried about my welfare, considering your own desperate circumstances.”

Emma tried not to flinch at her friend’s use of the word desperate. Perhaps it was foolish at this point to try to preserve a modicum of dignity where Gideon Cade was concerned, but the thought of him pitying her stung the tattered remnants of her pride.

“I wouldn’t call my situation desperate,” Emma protested firmly.

Jayne gathered Emma’s hands into hers. “I wish there was some way I could hire you to teach at my school!”

Emma briefly closed her eyes. Good grief, it appeared that every aspect of her private life was to be trotted out for Gideon Cade’s contemplation. “You’ve already explained that—”

“I know I have.” Jayne interrupted Emma, foiling her plan to change the subject. “But the fire changed things. Goodness, most of my possessions were already moved into the new school building, but you’ve lost everything.”

“I’m aware of that, but—”

“You can’t go through this alone.” Jayne worried her bottom lip. “I know I told you that I couldn’t afford to pay you a large enough salary to live on. That’s why the instructors I’ve hired are married women. If I put my mind to it though, I can find the extra money needed to secure a place for you on my staff.”

Emma was painfully conscious of Gideon Cade’s speculative gaze as he listened to Jayne. “I won’t trade on our brief friendship. Besides, your own situation is too precarious to start taking in charity cases.”

“Oh, Emma, I have to do something.” Tears filled her fellow teacher’s eyes. “No matter what happens, I want you to know you have a place with me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But what will you do? Where will you go?” Jayne wiped her eyes. “You don’t have any family to help you,” she continued, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re totally alone in the world.”

Emma refused to meet Mr. Cade’s stare. It was one thing to receive Jayne’s genuine compassion, another to endure his pity.

“Nonsense. I have you for a friend. Miss Hempshire will refer me to another employer, and…and…”

And what? Should she add Duncan, stray mongrel and all-round rogue mutt, to her diminished list of worldly assets?

“I have nothing to offer but room and board for your labors, Emma. If you can accept that, you’re hired. Don’t worry about the loss of your clothes. I’m a little taller than you, but we can take up my hems. As for your other possessions, I’ll loan you enough money to get by until…well, until the school begins producing an income.”

At Jayne’s generosity, a feeling of expanding warmth filled Emma’s chest. But her friend was trying to get a fledgling business started. Emma knew the offer of a loan, along with room and board, would be too great a burden to manage.

Emma blinked back threatening tears. She couldn’t jeopardize Jayne’s chance for success. “You’re too generous for your own good. We both know the charity you’re offering would put too great a strain on your resources.”

“It’s not charity,” Jayne said hastily. “You’re a wonderful teacher! I’ve wanted you on my staff from the beginning, just as I wanted you for a partner. All the fire did was…hasten things a bit.”