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“Cad is home again,” Eleanor informed me, quite unnecessarily. “I believe he is planning to stay for rather longer this time. I don’t think he and Eddie quite hit it off as work colleagues. I heard my father telling Cad that it might be better to let Eddie sink or swim on his own.” Linking my arm, she steered our footsteps back toward the castle. A thrill of mingled dread and excitement coursed through my veins. I was going to meet the dangerous younger brother at last.
* * *
I had heard so much about Cad Jago that my stomach knotted with anticipation and anxiety as I made my way down the stairs just before dinner. I dressed with even more care than usual. My dress of indigo-blue moire silk had a lustrous sheen that highlighted the violet shade of my eyes. Tiny pearl buttons adorned the front, and wide, pagoda-shaped sleeves added an elegant touch. My waist was cinched by a tight-fitting bodice that dipped into a low V before widening to skirts that were spread over a bell-like, hooped petticoat. In spite of the prevailing fashion for a neat chignon, I wore my hair in my favourite style. My gleaming chestnut locks were piled on my head in a loose bun, with one or two curls left framing my face. I wore my mother’s pearl earrings and a single matching strand of the lustrous milky globes around my neck. Although I still looked pale, I felt fully restored to health, and ready—or so I believed—to face the notorious Cad Jago.
There was only one person in the parlour when I entered. A tall, broad-shouldered man who stood with his back to the door, prodding the fire with the gleaming toe of one shoe. Nothing could have prepared me for the tremor of shock that thrilled through me as he turned with a look of enquiry as I entered the room. My stomach tightened and then plummeted. Everything around me became achingly clear and bright, like vertigo in reverse. I could tell he was experiencing a similar sense of surprise and disbelief. The world ceased to exist as I stared at the man I had schooled myself to believe I would never see again.
I closed my eyes, hoping that my imagination was suffering the lingering, delirium-inducing effects of the flu. When I opened them again, he had started impulsively toward me, his hand held out. The smile I remembered so vividly curved his lips. His eyes blazed with the same passion that haunted my dreams with remembered longing. Then, as if recalled to our surroundings, he stopped. The light in his eyes changed and abruptly told me a different story. How could the honeyed fire in their depths burn suddenly cold?
“This is an unexpected pleasure, bouche.” The endearment sent a memory of lust pounding through my bloodstream. My mind took a soaring, sensuous journey back to the rainy Parisian night I had spent in his bed. Softly, as footsteps echoed in the hall outside, he added, “I must admit, I had hoped that when I finally caught up with you again, it would not be so that I could call you ‘sister.’” As Lucy entered the room, he said formally, “I have heard much about the beauty of my new sister-in-law. I’m pleased to learn that rumour did not lie.”
He appeared to have recovered from the debilitating shock that still tried to hold me frozen in its grip. If anything, he seemed mildly amused to see me again in these circumstances. Well, if he could regain his composure so quickly, perhaps I could, too. “And you, sir, are everything I have been led to believe you would be.” I strived for a measure of hauteur in my tone. I may even have succeeded. It would not do for him to see how profoundly I was affected by his nearness. “Perhaps more.”
The familiar laugh was infectious, “Oh, bouche,” he said, dropping his voice again for my ears alone. “With me, as you have already discovered, there is always more.”
Eleanor and Tynan arrived then, and I was able to regain a modicum of composure in the general bustle of conversation. I watched Cad from beneath my lashes. Even in this room full of handsome people, his magnetism set him apart. It was as if every speck of available light had flown into those amber eyes, lighting and warming their depths. Even the lilacs so artfully arranged in bowls about the room seemed to lean toward him. I would defy anyone to look elsewhere when Cad Jago was present. But, because I loved him, I may have been biased.
