Cade's Justice. Pat Tracy

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.

      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