Page 22 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)

Chapter Twenty-Two

C adoc felt awkward in her space. He’d packaged her microscope that morning with trembling hands and made himself a resolution to set her free.

She moved through her classroom with brusque efficiency and he wanted to sink through the floor. He set the package he’d brought on the edge of her desk and cleared his throat. “The terms of our wager have been met and I’ve upheld my end of the bargain.”

She whirled around and clasped a hand to her mouth. “You’ve returned my microscope!”

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he couldn’t hold back his answering grin. “I’ve polished it for you.”

“You needn’t have,” she said with a furrow between her brows.

“It’s the least I could do after my reprehensible behavior.”

“I thought we’d established I was a willing participant.”

“We have, but I still felt the need to make amends.”

She stomped toward him, scowling fiercely. “No amends, Cadoc. Treat me the same way you’ve been treating me - as an equal.”

He stowed his hands in his pockets, so he wouldn’t reach out and draw her to him. “You are my equal in everything but experience.”

“And we were well on our way to remedying that discrepancy.”

She came to a halt in front of him, her breath a thready staccato, her hands twisted in the folds of her skirt.

He couldn’t resist touching her. She was too close and too there. He lifted his hand to her cheek and cupped it gently.

“You’re impossible to ignore, dragonfly.”

She turned her face and kissed his palm. “Will you ever tell me why you call me that?”

“I’ve already given you that truth.”

She shook her head in denial. “Not the whole of it. You promised to tell me all of it when the time was ripe.”

“And you think that time is now?”

She shrugged. “It is as ripe as any. If you insist our arrangement is at an end, I want to know why you were so intent on it in the first place.”

He stroked his thumb along the curve of her cheek, all the way to her hairline. Her brow was furrowed again, and he wanted more than anything to smooth the crease. He felt the weight of her burdens as keenly as he felt his own, and the urge to lift them from her shoulders undid him. Letting her go would take every ounce of the resolve he’d rebuilt after his family died.

Would telling her how lost he’d become, how irrevocably tied to her he felt, help her? His throat was suddenly dry with the words caught in it, and he became achingly conscious she was waiting for his answer. She deserved it - even if his confession would leave her unsettled and him vulnerable.

“When you talk about them — your whole face lights up and I can see their magic. You’re part of that magic too, and you make me feel like the world is full of possibility and enchantment. When you told me about their abbreviated lifespan, you talked about how you admired them for living each day to the fullest. It’s what I admire about you too - the way you spread your wings and wrap them around the world. The way you swallow knowledge and radiate compassion. The way you make the space you occupy irrefutably yours.”

Her eyes were shining with tears now, and when she arched toward him and kissed the corner of his mouth, he turned his head. “That’s truly how you think of me?” She hoarsely whispered against his bottom lip.

“I think you’re extraordinary. Let me show you how extraordinary I think you are.”

“If I let you, what does that mean?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said. Even as he longed to tell her it would mean everything. That her complete surrender would rearrange his world.

“Then show me. I may never have another chance.”

He tipped her chin up so he could study her face. Her expression was resolute.

“I’m locking the door.”

Once he’d secured the deadbolt, he stalked toward her.

She stood her ground and released her grip on her skirts. “What about the windows?”

“It’s nearly dusk and soon we’ll be obscured from view,” he assured her as he slid his palm from her shoulder to the button at her throat. She leaned into his touch.

“Will you unbutton me? It’s what I wanted that first afternoon - when we made our wager.”

He’d been craving the velvet of her skin, and was only too eager to oblige. He ran his forefinger over the closure at her throat. The jet button was secured with a bit of lace he knew her sister Cece had tatted. It was dyed a mottled cream, like weak tea, and set off the wine dark color of her dress.

He loosed it slowly from the lace and slipped his finger along the edge of her corset. Her hand moved over his as she unfastened the second button. He pushed it away and shook his head. “No. You asked me to do it and I’ll go at my own pace.”

She quirked a brow in challenge, but lowered her hands to her waist again. “I’ve been patient my whole life and my patience is running out.”

He swiftly unmoored the rest of the buttons, thankful for the haste that concealed his trembling.

The sleeves were tight, but he wrestled her arms free, one at a time. When he pushed the shirt from her shoulders, she let it fall to the floor behind her.

Her brows were level, but he could sense she was still challenging him. She untaped her skirt and it joined her shirt. Now it was only her corset, her shift, her crinoline and her petticoat. Still too many layers.

She stepped away and motioned toward him. “What of you?”

He pulled off his overcoat and laid it over the desk behind him. When he set his hands atop the buttons of his waistcoat, she crossed her arms and Cadoc decided to give her the show she was so impatient to receive. His plain cotton shirt was next and once it had joined the rest of his clothes, he bracketed his hips with his fists.

Her gaze went to his bare chest, and he couldn’t resist flexing it in response. A wry smile curved her lips as she unlaced her corset.

“You may take care of the rest,” she said as she dropped it behind her.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He scraped his knuckles up her sides, and relished the flutter of her pulse and the gooseflesh that rose in the wake of his touch.

Cadoc wanted to map and catalog every inch of her, above the cotton and below it.

“Do you have any affection for this shift?” He asked as he fingered the shapeless collar.

“No, it is the oldest one in my closet and due for replacement.”

“Exactly what I hoped you’d say.”

He grasped the edges of her collar again and tore it. The fabric was nearly threadbare and ripped easily, baring her to him.

She was smirking. “Now I’ll have to fashion something to go beneath my corset.”

“We’ll make do. I’ll steal one of my sister’s if I need to - the house is less than a quarter mile from the schoolhouse.”

“My dishabille won’t require such drastic measures. All of my sisters but Vin are elsewhere, and she is supremely aware of our wager.”

“Then I have your permission to dispose of this in a similar fashion?” He tapped her petticoats and crinoline.

She shook her head. “No, these aren't as easily replaced. I’ll divest them myself.”

He stepped away so he would have the memory of her fingers working efficiently over her remaining undergarments. When she kicked them aside he raised a hand- bading her to let him absorb what she’d revealed.

She clasped her arms over her breasts and imperiously tilted her chin.

Dusk had fallen, and the soft amber light gilded her in shadow. It rippled over her like silk and his breath caught in his throat.

She was arrestingly perfect, a study in contrasts. Her hair was half undone, and snaked over her shoulders and chest - a deep mahogany waterfall. She had a habit of biting her nails, and the pale pink crescents were nearly translucent against her rosy skin. Her eyes were hooded, the hazel gleam hidden beneath the dark sweep of her lashes.

“You are utter perfection, dragonfly. Crafted to drive a man to drink with longing. Or purgatory.”

“It’s merely a thing of science and natural order,” she protested.

“You are not merely anything,” he said as he crept closer once more.

When he lifted his hand to the mahogany waterfall that had held him transfixed, it trembled slightly. When he tangled his fingers in one of the wayward strands of her hair, he felt her tremble in response. She bit her lip, and the vivid pink left behind was irresistible.

His mouth landed softly on hers. A quest and a farewell. He knew he needed to make this vision of her enough, that she had won the wager and he was letting her go.

His tongue stroked against hers and when he clasped her hips to draw her closer, her hands fell away. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and he could feel the heat of their tips raking over him. He knew they’d become abraded, and even rosier, where they slid through the mat of dark hair that curled over his torso.

He still wore his trousers and she set her hands to the waistband.

The sudden banging on the door jolted them apart, and as she only just managed to lift her discarded blouse to shield her body when St. Simon came crashing through the door. Cadoc briefly resolved to install a better deadbolt on the schoolhouse door before turning to face their intruder.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you to leave her unscathed,” St. Simon thundered as he strode toward them.

His fist landed against Cadoc’s temple and Jess gasped.

“No, Thaddeus. It’s what I want.”

St. Simon turned to her in fury. “It may be what you want, Jess. But he’s taken advantage of you and he’ll do the right thing. He’ll be made to do the right thing,” the man muttered as he turned back to Cadoc.

“I don’t care what your intentions have been toward my sister-in-law, Morgan. But I’ll tell you what they are now. You will wed her. You’ve ruined her and you’ll face the consequences of it.”

“You have no right, Thaddeus!” Jess shouted.

But Cad knew Thaddeus had every right. That he was protecting his sister, just as Cad had protected his own. He knew the scene her brother-in-law had interrupted was damning. And that it had been imminent.

He held his hand to his jaw and nodded. “You’re right. I knew what I was doing and I couldn’t stay away. I’ll do the right thing.”

St. Simon nodded in agreement. “You will. If I have to drag you kicking and screaming to the altar myself. I’ll see you at the cottage in the morning.”

He turned back to Jess. “I’ll give you the privacy to gather yourself, together Jess. Then you’re coming back to the farm with Arie and I.”

Jess clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m a grown woman, Thaddeus. This is not your place.”

He shook his head and gave her a tender smile even Cad could sense was filled with affection.

“It is my place, Jess. Arie would expect no less.”

He turned back to Cad with a glare. “Tomorrow,” he snarled as he pointed a finger in his direction.

Cad gulped but nodded in agreement. “Tomorrow,” he agreed.