Cade's Justice. Pat Tracy

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.

      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