Page 14 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)

Chapter Fourteen

C adoc had been loath to deposit Jess at her door because he knew he’d be returning to an empty house. It seemed even emptier with the reality of his actions looming over him like a guillotine. Every moment he spent with her forged a deeper connection. That hadn’t been the purpose of their wager. At least not the one he’d admitted to himself.

George had volunteered to take Caris and the children back to Wales for the holidays, and although he was taciturn company at best, he was company. Even the housekeeper, Mrs. Hopewell, was absent. She lived in the village and helped Caris with the housework and the cooking. She was usually humming somewhere in the house from dawn until dusk. She’d informed him that morning that she wouldn’t be returning until three days after Christmas.

He’d been the one to prepare the repast he’d shared with his guest, simple fare he’d mastered at the instruction of his mother. It had brought memories of her to the forefront, memories that were already there because of the holiday season. Even though they’d never had flush pockets, his Mam had always managed to make the day special. One year it was a knitted cap she’d made each of them as she sat by the fire each night. Her hands busy even after a full twelve hour day at the mines. Another year she’d managed to procure a tin of chocolate and an orange. They’d doled it out in small portions after the lamb stew she’d made.

After he rubbed down Bacchus, he let himself in the kitchen door. The house closed in around him and he suddenly ached for the sound of voices and laughter. He lit one of the kerosene lamps on the kitchen sideboard and carried it into his library. He wanted to sleep on the divan there, instead of tossing and turning in his empty bed.

Here, when he closed his eyes, the faint scent of her filled his nostrils. Like the lilies that blanketed the valley behind the family cottage. Like spring and promises and all the things he’d spent his life trying to keep safe from the greed of other men.

Despite his dastardly demands, despite the bargain he’d forced her to accept, she and her family were welcoming him to their home for Christmas dinner on the morrow. He’d never felt so conflicted and so much like the epitome of the nickname she’d called him. Cad. He was treating her like a cad. Because he was both trying to repudiate the hold she had over him and clarify his own feelings. Though she hadn’t been the one to issue the invitation, she hadn’t rescinded it either. Even after his manipulation of her this evening.

He couldn’t help feeling a kinship with Scrooge, invited to the Cratchit family gathering in the spirit of beneficence, even though he’d done nothing to merit such an invitation.

The urge to fall asleep after frigging himself raw to the memory of the scent of spring at her nape, and the way her skin had flushed like ripe strawberries at his touch, was almost painful. But he ignored it, because after seeing her home, and with the knowledge they’d be surrounded by her family tomorrow, it felt like sacrilege.

He arrived at the Wainwright doorstep with a satchel full of oranges and chocolate. He wasn’t sure of his reception and he wasn’t above resorting to the bribery of those susceptible to it. Mainly the children.

When he knocked, the door was flung open by a flustered Jess. She ushered him in and two bright-eyed girls came to a staggering halt directly in front of him.

“You’re Ella’s uncle. Where is she?” One of them demanded in an imperious tone.

“Callie, that’s enough.” Jess’s older sister scolded as she laid a hand on the imp’s shoulder.

Cad shrugged and grinned down at the squirming child. “I don’t mind. As you know, Mistress St. Simon, I am accustomed to the often unreasonable antics of children.”

Thaddeus St. Simon curled an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Well met, Morgan,” he said as he extended his hand in greeting.

The shake was firm this time, but not as crushing as it had been on their first meeting. Cadoc nodded. “St. Simon.”

He crouched closer to the floor so he could answer the girl’s question, because he didn’t believe in ignoring children. Even if their parents believed the children were being impertinent. “Ella and Davy have gone to visit their cousins in Wales over the holidays.”

Callie crinkled her nose. “Ella said she gets to play cricket with her brother and all her boy cousins. It’s not fair. All we have in our family are girls.”

“Girls can play cricket.”

“Indeed they can,” Emily Wainwright confirmed. “I was one of the best bowlers in my year.”

“I smell oranges, Mum. I think he brought us some,” a sweetly earnest voice observed.

Jess smiled. “You needn’t hide behind your mother’s skirts, Claire.”

A diminutive little girl with cherub cheeks and fiery braids stepped away from the shelter of Jess’s eldest sister and her husband. “Did you bring us oranges?” She asked as she peered up at him.

She was fairly quivering in excitement and Cadoc couldn’t repress his grin. “Indeed I have brought oranges. You have a keen sense of smell, poppet.”

“Papa has given us permission to play hide and seek. Might the winner have an orange as a prize?” The forthright twin’s eyes were gleaming.

“I think that is a capital idea - as long as you think there are enough hiding places.”

When Cadoc raised a brow in her direction, Jess shook her head in admonishment. As if she knew the mischief he was brewing.

“Dinner’s ready,” one of Jess’s sisters called from the kitchen. Emily and the twins gamboled past them, eager to have the first pick of seating. The pace of the parents was more sedate.

“I guess I should be grateful my brother-in-law didn’t give them permission to play snapdragon instead. They’d probably end up with grave injuries, or burn the house down in the process,” Jess grumbled as they made their way to the parlor.

Two long tables had been shoved together, with benches as seating.

As soon as everyone had taken their place, the girls started chattering. Thaddeus gestured for silence and they turned penitent gazes toward the head of the table.

“My wife and I,” he turned a worshipful gaze to Jess’s eldest sister and clasped her hand, “would like to start a new holiday tradition. We’d like to go around the table and have everyone name something they are thankful for.”

The impish twin bounced in her seat. “May I go first, Papa?”

Thaddeus grinned. “As if anyone could stop you when you’ve put your mind to something, Callie. You may proceed.”

She folded her hands primly in her lap, but her eyes were shining with mischief. “I’m thankful for snow, and sleds, and warm scones, and my new mama. And for the oranges Mr. Morgan brought.”

“That’s more than one,” said the quieter twin, Clarissa.

Callista rolled her eyes. “No one’s stopping you from picking five things as well, Rissa.”

Clarissa glared back. “Then I’m picking five things too. I’m thankful for fairy tales, warm socks, our new pony, my new mama and my new little sister, and,” she gave her twin an arch look. “The bar of chocolate I spied in Mr. Morgan’s satchel.”

“Chocolate, Mr. Morgan?” Lavinia’s gaze was speculative. “You’ve certainly upped the ante.”

Cadoc cleared his throat. “You’ve all hospitably welcomed me into your home today. I thought it only fitting to show my appreciation. I’ve brought enough oranges that everyone shall have a slice, and perhaps we can enjoy the warm chocolate after the game of hide and seek I’ve been told is imminent.”

“On that note,” the physician brother-in-law spoke up. “Your Aunt Fran and I would like to remind you that rushing through your meal can cause indigestion.”

The eldest child, who’d remained quiet until now, finally spoke up. “I’ve tried to explain how indecorous their constant interruption and rowdy behavior is.”

“Clementine, thank you for striving to be an example to your younger sisters,” Araminta said.

Cadoc found it amusing that she didn’t praise the girl for her sentiments, but merely acknowledged the purity of her motives. Apparently, the girl’s commentary struck her stepmother as sanctimonious. Cadoc’s older brother Griffin had often adopted the very same attitude toward his younger siblings, and he found it gratingly familiar.

“I’d like to share what I’m thankful for,” he said.

“And we’d all love to hear it,” Jess sarcastically muttered under her breath.

He set his hand on her knee beneath the table and locked his gaze on her profile. “I am thankful for microscopes. And ladders. And cloakrooms. And icy roads.”

Jess’s muscle clenched beneath his touch as he finished his list. She stubbornly refused to look at him. Because his words rang with conviction.

“That is a very strange list, Mr. Morgan, and appears to have perturbed my sister,” observed Emily. “If I were to use deductive reasoning, I’d conjecture that your list is a private joke between you.”

Cadoc watched Jess’s fingers tighten around her fork. “Yes. Mr. Morgan thinks to poke me up. What he doesn’t realize,” she lifted her head from her contemplation of her plate and scowled fiercely in his direction, “is that I grew up with six sisters and am not easily embarrassed.”

“It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you Miss Wainwright.”

Emily and Lavinia’s gazes were flying back and forth between them with undisguised delight.

“Will you go next, little sister?” Lavinia asked.

Jess’s mouth thinned and she let her hand loose itself from its death grip on her fork. “I am thankful for the opportunity to share my knowledge of the natural world with my students. I am thankful I’m sharing company with my family over the holidays.”

When she seemed unwilling to offer up more, her sister Gertrude broke in. “I shall share mine.”

“Nothing about me, dragonfly? Or the way I made you shatter in my library? I’m quite offended by the omission,” he murmured from the side of his mouth.

“Those aren’t the kind of things one expresses gratitude for when they’re ensconced at the family table,” she whispered back as she shifted in her seat and lifted his hand from her knee.

“Perhaps you can find another way to express your gratitude.”

“You’re impossible,” she scoffed.

“To ignore, yes,” he confidently retorted.

“Ugh.”

Her exasperation made him inwardly chuckle. He planned to gain an irrefutable upper hand during the game of hide and seek.

A half an hour after the meal had ended, when all of the adults were replete before the fire and nursing their mugs of mulled wine, St. Simon relented.

“Girls, if you'd like to play your game of hide and seek, you’ll have to draw straws to determine the seeker.” He’d pulled four pieces of straw from his pocket and held them in his fist.

“Does that mean the short straw is for the finder, papa?” Asked the youngest.

“Yes, Claire. Whoever draws the shortest straw must draw the other players from their hiding places.”

Claire chose first, and held her piece of straw to her chest with an earnest expression. Once they’d all chosen, Thaddeus said, “Now show me what you’ve drawn. Flat across the palm of your hand.”

All four girls obediently opened their hands.

Clementine’s face darkened and Cadoc guessed she was the seeker for this round.

“I didn’t even want to play,” she sulked, confirming his suspicions.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Clem,” chided Callista.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “You lot have until I count to one hundred to secure your hiding places.”

Jess whirled on her heel and headed toward the narrow staircase.

Cadoc was hot on her heels.

When she ducked into a dark wood clothes press in the corner of what appeared to be an attic, he followed.

“What are you doing?” She demanded, as she tried to push him from the wardrobe.

“Following you of course.”

“This armoire won’t hold the two of us.”

Cadoc winked as he pulled the door closed behind him. “There aren’t any shelves, dragonfly. There’s plenty of room.”

She pushed against his chest. “I’m not hiding in here with you. And stop calling me by that moniker.”

He pressed her against the corner wall. “You’ll not escape so easily. And I won’t stop calling you that - it’s how I think of you.”

She stilled in his embrace. “You shouldn’t think of me as anything besides a part of your ridiculous wager and your wards’ schoolteacher.”

“If only I could remain so detached,” he murmured into her ear just before he nipped her earlobe.

She shifted at the sharp pain. “Biting isn’t part of the wager.”

“All proper kisses should involve teeth and tongue,” Cadoc said as he clenched the taut muscle of her elongated neck.

Her snort was muffled. “If that is how you choose to torment me today, it will require very little effort on my part to resist your advances.”

“Allow me to demonstrate my skill before you scoff at its effectiveness, Madam.”

“The twins always win at hide and seek, so you don’t have long. You’ll have to settle for pawing at me over my clothes like one of my sister’s overeager puppies.”

Her attempt to dissuade him verged on the ridiculous. “I’ve never found it necessary to resort to pawing. Brace yourself, dragonfly. I’m determined to break through your cool facade.”

The light from outside barely filtered through the crack between the door and the wall, so he couldn’t make out her expression. But he felt the exasperation of her eye roll. He recognized her feigned outrage for what it was - a means of disguising her fascination. Cadoc would win this bout.

He lifted his hand to her hair and removed one of the pins that held it in place. When a heavy lock slid down the side of her neck and curled just above her cleavage, he grazed the tops of her breasts with his knuckles as he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

Her sharp inhale was the only indication she was affected by his touch.

He leaned forward and slid another pin from her hair. A much larger tangle fell to her shoulders and he let it glide through his fingers like a veil. This time, there was no audible inhale, but when Cad wedged his knee firmly between hers, crushing her skirt and crinoline behind her, her breathing became winded. She didn’t say a word, but her staccato little gasps filled the space between them.

He brushed the fallen coil of hair over her shoulder and bent to her ear. The moment his teeth closed gently on the tip of her earlobe, a slight tremor betrayed how much she was affected.

“It would seem you are not completely averse to teeth, dragonfly.”

“You merely startled me,” she huffed.

He slid his nose along her jawline, where her skin was soft with the scent of lilies.

She ground her teeth in response and he knew she was faltering. He wanted all of her iron resolve crumbled and burning at his feet. He wanted the willing surrender of her body, even if her heart and mind were still formidably opposed.

He’d take whatever morsels of hope she flung in his direction and stoke them until they became whatever he needed to convince her he was worth the risk.

“I will forge my way past all your walls, dragonfly. I’ll gladly dismantle them brick by brick if that’s what’s required.”

“I only agreed to this because you gave me no other choice.”

“Although I’ve not been reticent regarding my desire to strip you of your garments, I didn’t strip you of your choices, Miss Wainwright.”

“You threatened to persecute my sister.”

“Because you threatened to go to the magistrate about your purloined microscope. My threat was in retaliation.”

She huffed again, slightly less indignantly. “Then do your worst, Mr. Morgan. I shall remain unmoved.”

“I intend to do the exact opposite of my worst,” he said as he gathered her skirts in one hand and used the other one to curl her leg around his waist. “You’re going to be writhing on my thigh before we leave this wardrobe.”