Page 3 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)
Chapter Three
I t had been almost three weeks since he’d issued his challenge. Jess had spent every single night in the interim tossing and turning, determined to devise a solution that didn’t require her surrender.
She couldn’t very well sneak into his house and somehow miraculously retrieve the microscope without being discovered. She refused to give him the satisfaction of an easy conquest, and the situation she found herself in was unconscionable.
That morning, she’d finally decided to confront him and demand he observe the rules of gentlemanly behavior. She took a deep, fortifying breath and set the brass knocker against the heavy oak door. One. Two. Three. She could hear the steady thunk reverberating through the hall and wished she was tall enough to see through the peephole installed just above the crown of her head. She was here against her better judgment, determined to persuade him against their bargain. She’d worn her most straightforward ensemble - an unadorned white shirtwaist with plain buttons and a serviceable skirt devoid of bustle.
She was second-guessing the outrage that had spurred her to beard the lion in its den when the door swung open. He leaned against the threshold and stretched one arm above him to grasp the frame.
His unbuttoned shirt swung open and Jess caught a glimpse of dark hair arrowing down his navel before she wrenched her gaze away. Jess had never seen a man’s bare chest because most men wore vests under their shirts. For some unknown reason, Cadoc Morgan was contrary and chose not to adhere to custom. She jerked her eyes up from the bead of sweat that was slowly trickling down one exposed pectoral muscle.
Not only was he inappropriately attired, his cheek and forehead were streaked with grease.
He gave her a lazy, insouciant grin. “What brings you to my doorstep, Miss Wainwright?”
“I’m here to appeal to your conscience.”
He gestured magnanimously toward the hallway behind him and Jess struggled to ignore how the expansive gesture caused the unmoored shirt to gape at his sides.
“You’re welcome to try your luck, and I’ll enjoy watching you embark on a futile journey.”
When he gave her his back she shut the door. The length of his stride was ground-eating, and she had to scurry to keep up. Like an ignominious rodent. The tails of the shirt fluttered upward as he walked, and Jess caught a glimpse of his back. It was covered with pale scars - a web of them stretched upward from the base of his spine and marred the golden expanse of skin.
She knew nothing of his life before he’d shown up in Heathsted, and she wondered what he was hiding behind his devil-may-care flirtation with her. If his roguish nonchalance was nothing more than a mask. Jess had her own masks, meant to be donned in polite society and to keep those she didn’t know at bay.
She thought about what it would feel like to meet this man on his own terms, no masks between them.
The room he led her to was cavernous. Tools, wiring and several glass and metal cylinders were strewn over the large table dominating the center of the room.
“What is this?” Jess asked. She mused privately that it was exactly as she’d pictured Dickens’ curiosity shoppe. Full of mystery and hidden corners. Gears and handles and bearings covered every flat surface.
He ignored her question to swipe his cheek with a rag he pulled from his pocket. His efforts did nothing but spread the grease. She wanted to step into the space between them, lick the tip of her finger, and wipe it away. Like she would do for one of the children in first primer. With the grease in his dimple and his hair askew, he resembled one of her mischievous students. She decided to repeat her question. “I asked what this was.”
“It’s my workshop, Miss Wainwright. You’ll have to excuse the hearing in my left ear. All those years in the mine affected it more than the hearing in my right.”
Jess stowed away that tidbit of information to mull over later. She tapped her cheek. “You still haven’t gotten all the grease.”
He shrugged. “No matter. I still don’t have the calibrations I need, so there will be more grease on my person before the night is through.”
She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels. “I’d assumed this was your workshop, given the state of it.” She wrinkled her nose for emphasis. “And the spot of grease on your face.”
“It bears repeating, Miss Wainwright, that this is my workshop. Sometimes I strip away my vest and shirt so I can do battle with that,” Cad pointed to the sandbag suspended from the ceiling in the other corner of the room. “It helps clear my head. However, I’d like to point out that the state of my wardrobe, or lack thereof, is entirely my concern and none of yours. As you well know, none of my gains are ill-gotten. My wealth comes from my inventions and for some unfathomable reason you’ve interrupted the solitude I require to perfect my latest contraption. I should ask you to excuse the grease, but I won’t, because your visit is unexpected.”
She folded her arms at her waist and steadfastly ignored the gaping shirt. “I’ve thought over your proposition, Mr. Morgan. At length. My sister Cecily convinced me to appeal to your sense of propriety and justice. So that is what I’ve come to do.”
He tossed the rag aside and put his hands on his hips. She thought he was going to scold her again until he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You should know by now that I have no sense of propriety and your little visit isn’t about seeking justice. You’re here because you’re intrigued by my proposition.”
He’d stepped closer as he spoke, until he was a handbreadth away.
“Cadoc,” she lifted her chin to fume up at him. “I should call you Cad instead. I’m not intrigued. I think you’re arrogant and enjoy manipulating circumstances to your satisfaction. No decent gentleman would insist on carrying out such a bargain or answering the door half-clothed. I must insist you button up your shirt.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman. Quite the opposite in fact, Miss Wainwright.” He leaned forward and cupped her cheek in his palm and a quiver of excruciating awareness trekked like a lightning bolt from the base of Jess’s spine to the tips of her toes. “In fact,” he murmured, as his fingers grazed her ear, “My touch would have spread nothin’ but coal dust across your face ten years ago.”
He moved his hand slowly down her neck, and toyed with the button at her collar. “So prim and proper and wrapped up tight,” he muttered underneath his breath, and slid the tip of his finger between fabric and skin. He lightly stroked her collarbone and his touch was a white-hot flame.
“Your cheek would bear the stain of my ungentlemanly hands,” he rubbed his knuckle over the button and feathered that diabolical finger over her heart. “Your white shirt would bear the mark of my hand - no matter how diligently you applied yourself to the launderin’ of it.”
His voice was raw, and she could hear the yearning in it. Jess clenched her fists and hoped he couldn’t feel how she trembled at his touch.
“Remove your hand from my personage,” she demanded as she tugged his roaming fingers away from her bodice. She couldn’t afford to let him crawl beneath her defenses.
He winked and stepped back. “I’m fairly certain I never outlined the terms of our bargain, Miss Wainwright. What leads you to believe your mere appearance is sufficient enticement?”
“I’ve already explained I am not here to accept your bargain.”
He strode toward the window and when he pushed aside the heavy drapery to lean against it, she tried to ignore the way the sunlight caught the glints in his dark hair, so they looked like a star-strewn deep blue sky. From where she was standing she could see strands of white at his temples, like moonlight.
“What if I made the wager a scientific experiment?”
“It depends on what kind of experiment. Is it a legitimate one or something you’re devising to make me even more uncomfortable?”
“For every kiss you allow me to take, and remain unmoved by, I’ll return a piece of your microscope to your keeping.”
Jess was skeptical. “I only have to endure your advances and you’ll give it back to me.”
He nodded. “One piece at a time.”
Letting him exercise his charms might be her only option and Jess was confident she could resist him. Perhaps she could make her resistance its own experiment. It was simply a matter of letting her mind, rather than the animal instincts he aroused, control her reactions. Objectively, she knew a black heart beat in his chest - as black as the coal from whence he came. His heart was probably exactly that - a black lump of coal. She would use that knowledge to reinforce her resistance.
“I’ll agree to your absurd experiment.” She steeled herself for his gloating response.
“I think you need time to mull it over.”
His reply wasn’t the one she’d been bracing herself for.
“You don’t even possess the courtesy to start now?” She wasn’t prepared for his reluctance. She wanted to get it over with. Prolonged exposure to Cadoc Morgan would weaken her defenses. Like the steady erosion of water over stone.
“No. I’ll let you preserve your dignity a while longer. I’m in no hurry and you informed me that you didn’t actually need the microscope in the classroom until spring. We’ve barely begun to feel the first sting of winter.”
“What if I mull over your proposal and change my mind about accepting it?”
He shrugged. “Then you change your mind. And lose all hope of getting your microscope back.”
“And let you win.” Jess wanted to ball up her fist and set it against the irritating corner of his smirk.
“Madam, I win either way,” he told her as he crossed his arms and studied her from his perch in the window alcove.
“And I lose either way. You are forcing me to choose between my virtue and my vocation.” The rage simmered in her veins. He was rendering her impotent - when she craved control and independence above all else.
“Do you have an alternative proposal?” He was far too cavalier and nonchalant about the entire situation.
“My sister said I should tell you I need the microscope for my own use - not just for the schoolroom.”
“Tell me then, Miss Wainwright.”
“For the last five years, I’ve made an observation of dragonflies in their natural habitat. Their behavior signals the health of a pond, and when they proliferate, it bodes well. When their population dwindles, or the larvae don’t survive to adulthood, it’s a harbinger of changes in the environment that demand attention. I want to publish my hypotheses and include drawings of the various species I’ve found.”
“Why is your microscope necessary for that?”
“I want my drawings to be accurate.”
“Then you should be all the more eager to assume our bargain.”
“Your ridiculously manipulative behavior is both importuning me and impeding science.”
“No need to sound so lofty, Wainwright. I know exactly what I’m doing. While I appreciate your additional explanation, it doesn’t sway me in the least.”
“So you’ll not be persuaded from your course?”
He slowly shook his head, so his refusal was unmistakable.
Jess felt the weight of it sink into her bones. She couldn’t give up the project that had consumed every spare moment of her time. But she was afraid of the wildness that leapt in her heart at the thought of his kisses. What if she couldn’t remain unaffected and she made the bargain for naught?
“Fine. I’ll give you my decision the night of the pageant. Davy is one of the wise men and Ella is playing the role of Mary, so I know you’ll be there.”
“I look forward to it.”
Jess endeavored not to stomp away. And not to look back.