Cade's Justice. Pat Tracy

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.”

      New color climbed her cheeks. His comment about the time it took to get into her gown had probably offended her. Should he make an observation as to how long it would take to get out of the garment, she would most likely swoon.

      “I was already dressed when I checked on her.”

      Gideon’s interest sharpened. Was it customary for the schoolmistress to keep such late hours? It wasn’t any of his business, of course. The only point of relevance between them was that the woman and the institution for which she worked had failed in their responsibility to safeguard his niece.

      And yet Gideon wondered how Miss Step occupied herself at night. He often stayed up late, pursuing the amusements available to a man of his age, temperament and social position. There were fine cheroots to be smoked, vintage wines to be savored, games of cards to be played, and worldly women with whom to satisfy his more basic needs.

      How did Miss Step pass the time between midnight and dawn?

      “You keep late hours,” he confined himself to remarking. “Satisfy my curiosity and explain why you didn’t wake the headmistress?”

      Miss Step pushed back the tendrils of light brown hair that had sprung from the coil fastened at the nape of her neck. In the process, she managed to spread the dirty smear from her jaw to her cheek. It was ridiculous to find her unraveling condition intriguing. Yet damned if there wasn’t something charming about the fastidious woman’s progressively unkept appearance. She reminded him of a delicately wrapped package being opened by invisible hands. Her wrappings might not be fancy, but beneath the frippery, Gideon suspected, the gift would be unexpectedly lovely.

      “To understand that, you would have to know the woman.” Courtney’s teacher looked away. “Miss Loutitia is prone to…”

      “To what?” Gideon asked impatiently, missing the touch of Miss Step’s gaze upon him. He liked the way her wide gray eyes exposed her changing feelings. The sense of sincerity she radiated spawned a powerful reaction within him, making him feel as if she were standing utterly naked in his library. The blood in his veins heated. As much as his mental picture shot shafts of fire though him, he found the prospect of peering into her unguarded soul even more exciting.

      She looked up. “I’m afraid Miss Loutitia has a somewhat overemotional temperament. When things go the least bit wrong, she becomes hysterical.”

      Gideon hadn’t met the man yet who wouldn’t rather face gunfire than an overwrought female.

      “I can see why you’d want to avoid such a scene. Tell me, Miss Step, are you prone to overemotional outbursts?”

      She shook her head. “Of course not. What is, simply is. I’ve learned not to rail at fate. Doing so accomplishes nothing.

      Another silken strand of hair settled softly along the side of her face. A curious tightness gripped Gideon’s chest.

      “I’ve made the same discovery.”

      She moved toward the door. “Now that I know Courtney is safe, I’ll be on my way.”

      “Not so fast.”

      His words were harsher than he intended. Her back stiffened, straight and unyielding as an iron post set in rock-hard mortar.

      “Since our business is completed, there’s no point in my remaining.”

       You could always join me upstairs in my bedchamber. We could while away the next few hours between my sheets….

      When that rogue thought materialized in his brain, Gideon’s skin grew hot. The militant Miss Step was the last female on this good earth about whom he should harbor lascivious feelings.

      He pushed back his chair and stood. It had been an act of calculated rudeness to remain seated after she rose to her feet. He’d wanted to see if she had the fortitude to chastise him for his churlish behavior. He imagined restraining herself had been taxing.

      “I’m sure you understand why I can’t let you leave, Miss Step.”

      She whirled around. “What do you mean?”

      It probably wasn’t a good sign that her widened eyes and the slight waver in her voice fueled his growing interest

      “Good manners won’t permit me to let you go dashing into the night unescorted.”

      She stared at him as if he’d just recited the preamble to the Constitution, or something else equally irrelevant.

      “Good manners?” she repeated, clearly stunned.

      He nodded.

      “But you haven’t displayed a single bit of mannerly behavior!”

      “Of course I have. You just weren’t paying attention.”

      She drew herself up to her full