“Ah, yes.” Wilson smiled slightly. “As I understand, Cassandra’s handy at domestic sorts of things. Cleans the Catholic church, you know, and I believe she helps out over at the convent on a regular basis as well. ‘Little Miss Sunshine,’ Father Tully calls her.”
Luke smiled to himself, for the nickname fit her to a tee. When he was with her, he often felt as though the sun had just peeked out from behind a cloud. Some people claimed money couldn’t buy happiness. Luke disagreed. He’d just purchased himself an abundant measure of it, all wrapped up with a tattered red bow in glossy sable curls.
Damn…instead of going to the office, he wanted to turn around and head directly home. To hell with waiting all day to have her in his bed. He wanted her now, with an urgency that made him ache. If there hadn’t been business matters that required his immediate attention, he would have done exactly that.
ELEVEN
The smell of ammonia was strong enough to bring tears to her eyes, but Cassandra had long since stopped trying to wipe them away. Instead, she narrowed her gaze against the obnoxious fumes and concentrated on working faster.
Nevertheless, the job had turned out to be more difficult than she’d imagined. Luke’s staircase was just about the biggest one she’d ever seen. Twenty-four steps in all. Wide steps. And every blasted one of them needing a good scrubbing, she thought as she rubbed industriously at the white film of softened wax on the tread above her. Though she was scarcely half finished, her back and knees were already killing her. Judging by the thickness of the wax deposit, Luke had delayed almost too long in hiring someone to take care of things like this. Cassandra was willing to bet these stairs hadn’t had attention in two or three years, maybe even longer.
Whew! She tossed her rag back into the water where the scrub brush floated, handle side up, and swiped at the beads of moisture gathering on her brow. Ten steps finished, fourteen to go. Remaining on her knees, she wearily gathered the folds of her skirt in one hand and grabbed up the bucket with her other, preparing to move down another level.
As she was negotiating this rather tricky maneuver, a rapier voice cut through the silence. “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
Cassandra gave such a start, she slopped ammonia water all over herself and the stairs. Angling a glance over her shoulder, she saw Luke. He stood in the open doorway, one arm leaning against the door frame, his chocolate brown jacket hooked on a finger and tossed back over his shoulder. Behind him, the darkening sky looked almost as threatening as he did.
“Luke!” She scrambled to tug her skirt down and hide her ankles. “Oh, my! I, um, didn’t expect you back quite so early.”
Tawny brows drawing together in a fierce scowl, he pulled his watch from the pocket of his yellow silk vest and opened the engraved gold case with a flick of his thumb. “Early? It’s nearly six.”
“Is it that late? How time does fly when you’re”—she wiped wax scum from her palm onto the apron she’d filched from the kitchen—“having fun. I, um…would have gotten started earlier, but Cook gave me a pie to take over to the jail this afternoon, so I walked to town to deliver it before I began.”
Returning the watch to its pocket, he fixed her with a relentless stare, not so much as a hint of a smile touching his stern mouth. He had a dark, dangerous air she’d rarely noticed before, his amber eyes glittering like whiskey shot through with firelight. Cassandra gulped, intimidated in spite of herself.
“You didn’t go in back to see your father and brother, did you?”
“No. The marshal wouldn’t let me.”
“Good. It’s no place for a young woman.”
“That’s what the marshal said. But taking them the pie made me feel better. At least they know I’m thinking about them.”
“I really don’t like the idea of your going over there, Cassandra. Aside from the marshal and deputies, most of the men who have business at the jail are coarse individuals who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of you.”
Cassandra gulped, remembering all the times her papa had said the same thing. “But, Luke, I only took them a pie. I didn’t stay more than a minute or two, at most.”
“Nonetheless, after this I will escort you. It’s no place for you to be going all alone. Do I make myself clear?”
He looked impossibly big standing there, broad across the shoulders and long of leg in the tan trousers. As much as Cassandra wanted to be allowed to take her papa and brother little treats to make their stay in jail less miserable, she found herself nodding. “Yes, very clear. I won’t go again unless you take me.”
He relaxed slightly. His white shirtsleeves, she noticed, were turned back to reveal darkly tanned, powerfully corded forearms. Even in a relaxed stance, he projected an aura of raw power.
He looked past her at the stairs again. “You never did answer my question,” he said in that same dangerously silken voice. “What do you think you’re doing?” His gleaming gaze dropped to her person. “And where, may I ask, did you get that horrible rag of a dress?”
“Oh!…” She plucked nervously at the gray wool. “I, um…borrowed it from one of the maids. I didn’t want to ruin one of the new dresses you bought. One little stain, and you wouldn’t be able to get a refund.”
A muscle along his jaw started to tic. His gaze seemed to burn into hers for an endlessly long moment. “Cassandra, I thought we had reached a clear understanding when I left this morning, and now I come home to find you—” His gaze shifted to the stairs. “What, exactly, are you doing?”
“Stripping off the wax.” Wiping her other hand reasonably clean on the apron, she pushed to her feet. “I, um…made out a list. You know, of all the things around here that need to be done. Stripping off floor wax is one of them. I, um…thought if I took the house in sections, I might get the first floor done this week, then start on…” She let her voice trail away and swallowed. “Were you hoping I’d start something else first?” She glanced around the foyer. “The lamp globes, maybe? I know the soot buildup on them is frightful, but all things considered, I thought cleaning them was of secondary importance.”
“The lamp globes?” he repeated in an oddly strained voice, his gaze moving slowly over her face.
“Is something wrong?” she questioned, her heart giving an anxious flutter.
“Apparently.” His scowl deepened. “Perhaps you will recall that I told you, very clearly and precisely, what I expected of you tonight?”
She nodded, still mystified but determined to do whatever was needed to please him.
“In my recollection, I said nothing about floor wax or lamp globes.”
A burning sensation washed over Cassandra’s eyes, and she had an awful feeling it wasn’t from ammonia fumes. She’d wanted so badly to please him, and she’d worked so hard and fast to get a lot accomplished before he got home. “I’m sorry, Luke. I guess I should have asked you to draw up the list.”
“What list?”
“The list of—” She licked her lips and swallowed again. “You know, the list of wifely duties you’d like me to perform.”
“We need a list?”
“Yes, well…I like to be organized and plan ahead. Otherwise, things have a way of not getting done. Like these stairs, for instance. I’ll bet it’s been ages. The wax buildup is so thick, it’s going to take me twice as long as I thought. Several more hours, probably. That’s why I started before everyone went to bed. I had to wait until the maids had completely finished upstairs, of course. But then, I started straightaway. It was either that or do the job a few steps at a time.”
“Hours?”
He pushed away from the door frame and moved into the foyer, a forbidding figure with the stealthy surefootedness of a large, predatory cat.
Even looking down at him, she thought he seemed taller than ever before, lean yet well-muscled. His thick tawny hair lay in loose, glossy waves over his forehead, one slightly curly hank teasing the prominent bridge of his nose. His expression stamped wi
th forbidding sternness, a tendon along his jaw rippling with agitation, he came to a stop just before the stairs and gazed up at her with derisive golden eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
“I’m sorry, Luke,” she whispered tremulously. “You’ve only to tell me what you would like me to do, and I’ll have it done before you can blink.”
The rigid set of his mouth softened slightly at the corners, and she thought some of the anger ebbed from his eyes. “Cassandra, what am I going to do with you?”
“Give me clearer instructions?” she suggested hopefully.
He extended a hand toward her, his lips quirking with a smile he seemed determined to squelch. “Come down here, sweetheart. I’ll have Mrs. Whitmire assign some of the staff to finish this.”
“But you can’t do that! You’re paying me a great deal of money. I can’t leave jobs half finished for others to do. How would that be fair?”
For the life of him, Luke couldn’t think of a good answer. Not that it should have surprised him. With Cassandra, he seemed unable to get a point across with any clarity. So much for speaking delicately. Judging by the reception he’d gotten this evening, he may as well have delivered an oratory to the girl in Greek. Scotch that. She undoubtedly understood Greek, what with her father having been born in Greece. It was English she seemed not to grasp.
He curled a hand around the ornate finial atop the newel post, a part of him wishing it were her lovely little neck. He cast a glance at the unfinished stairs, which were now filmed with white from soaking in ammonia water. “But, honey, this could take you hours. What about supper?” And my making love to you until dawn, he silently added. “I’ve been looking forward all day to spending time with you.”
She cast a worried look at the softened wax all over the stairs. “I, um…maybe you could bring in a chair and visit with me while I work. After you’ve had supper, of course. I think I’ll just skip eating tonight.”
“Don’t be silly. I won’t have you going without supper.” Not able to believe he was getting suckered into this, Luke tossed his jacket over the bannister and began rolling his shirtsleeves higher. This was going to be the first time in a very long while that he had broken a sweat outside the bedchamber. “We’ll get it done faster if I help,” he told her with a wry smile. “Then we’ll sneak into the kitchen for a snack. How’s that sound?”
She gave an airy little laugh. “And you call me silly? It isn’t as if I might waste away if I miss supper. Please, Luke…just leave me to finish this and go eat.”
He gave her figure a quick appraisal. “You say that as if you think you’re fat.”
She bent to retrieve the scrub brush from the bucket. “‘Stout’ probably better describes me.”
“You are not stout.” Luke allowed his gaze to trail over her once more. He supposed that, strictly speaking, taking her measure with a purely impartial eye, she might be a little too curvaceous for her height. But how could a man notice when he got so deliciously preoccupied while admiring the curves? “You have a lovely shape.”
She bent to scrub the next riser, her posterior, which he counted as one of her finer features, raised for his perusal. “Ample, anyway,” she replied in a voice gone breathless with exertion. “Ambrose says I’m built like a—” She broke off. “Well, suffice it to say, his nickname for me isn’t very complimentary.”
Luke, who now stood only two steps below her, yearned to grasp her by the waist and draw that wonderfully well-rounded fanny snugly against his hips. In fact, if she were to get on her knees and he were to kneel behind her, it would be an ideal position for—
“Hi, Luke! Thanks a heap for the clothes you got for me!”
Luke gave a guilty start as Khristos came to a skidding stop next to the banister, Lycodomes coming to a halt perilously close behind him. The kid was grinning from ear to ear, and the dog was wearing a self-satisfied look Luke didn’t much like at all. He felt his temper fraying.
“I thought I gave strict orders for that dog to be kept outside.”
Cassandra poked her head between the banister rails to gaze down at her brother. “Oh, my, don’t you look handsome!”
Khristos grinned and turned in a slow circle to show off his new red shirt and blue jeans. When he came back about, he thrust out a foot. “New boots, too, Cassie. Ain’t they grand?”
Cassandra fixed shimmering blue eyes on Luke and smiled with such melting warmth he forgot all about the damned dog’s being in the house. “Oh, Luke, you shouldn’t have. How will I ever repay you?”
Right off the top of his head, he could think of a dozen delightful ways. If this was the sort of reaction he got for buying the kid clothes, next time he’d take him to a tailor. “I don’t expect repayment. I wanted to get them for him.”
Luke felt his newly acquired conscience give him a hard kick. Ignoring it wasn’t as easy as it had been this morning. What the hell? he asked himself. Sucking up a little gratitude he didn’t really deserve wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done. Not by a long shot.
“And this ain’t all!” Khristos informed his sister proudly. “Two new nightshirts! And rubber boots. I got more shirts and trousers, too. And socks, lots and lots of socks! Mr. Wilson had them delivered right to the back door, like I was rich or somethin’!”
Cassandra assumed a stern expression that Luke found adorable. “Well, see that you show Luke your appreciation by taking good care of them. No throwing clothes on the floor. Or ripping your pants climbing over fences.”
“I’ll wear my old clothes to play in,” Khristos assured her.
Luke was about to protest that he didn’t want the boy to wear those rags again, period, not for play or anything else, but Cassandra cut him off. “Good idea, Khristos. That way, you’ll always have nice things for school and church. Speaking of which, I want you up bright and early for school in the morning. Did you tell Mrs. Whitmire to wake you, like I asked you to?”
“Yep. She says she’ll set her alarm clock and tell Cook to fix me breakfast.”
Cassandra bent back to her work. “Mrs. Whitmire is a very kind lady. We can’t have you missing any more school. Your marks will start failing.”
Khristos wrinkled his nose at Luke, clearly not enamored of the thought of returning to the classroom. Luke was chuckling as he nudged Cassandra aside and commandeered the scrub brush.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “Offering a bit of help is one thing, but taking over is quite another. It’s my job, and you’re paying me most generously to do it.”
Luke made a broad sweep over the wax-filmed oak with the brush bristles. “I’m not going to stand around being useless while you do all the work.” He glanced upward. “Does that other bucket have rinse water in it?”
“Yes, but—”
“Cassandra,” he warned in a firm voice, “no more arguing. I want to help. All right?”
“I’ll help, too!” Khristos cried. Looping an arm around the newel post, he swung onto the bottom step. “What part can I do?”
“I suppose you could fetch clean rinse water,” Cassandra said, handing him the other bucket. “Mind you don’t slosh, though. We can’t have water spilled on the floors.”
Khristos had no sooner returned with a refilled bucket than Luke felt water splash all over his left trouser leg. He turned a narrowed eye on Cassandra. She grinned impishly and flicked the moisture on her fingertips directly into his face.
For an instant, Luke could only stare at her in stunned amazement. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly.
She pressed closer until they were nearly nose to nose. “Oh, my, I am so terrified. What are you going to do? Drown me?”
Luke laughed in spite of himself. “You, young lady, haven’t the common sense God gave a gnat! Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? I’m a feared man in this town.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re a big faker, is what you are!”
She flicked water in his face again. Luke blinked, then wip
ed the wetness from his eyes. She was still grinning, clearly challenging him to retaliate. Then she delivered the final insult by tucking her hands in her armpits and flapping her elbows while she squawked like a chicken. Khristos, who looked on from the bottom step, started to guffaw, apparently delighted by her antics.
“Git him, Cassie! Git him good!”
Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d played. But suddenly he wanted to. With a sharp, almost hungry yearning. “Do you know what I do to people who flick water in my face?” he asked in an ominously low voice.
“No, what?”
Luke made a lunge for her. She shrieked and tried to evade his grasp, which set her off balance. Afraid she might take a tumble down the stairs, he grabbed for her in earnest, hooking an arm around her slender waist. Lycodomes, excited by all the commotion, began to bark.
“Git her, Luke!” Khristos cried. “Yes! Git her good!”
With a twist of his upper body, Luke pinned her beneath him on the stairs, taking care not to crush her with his weight. Giggling and shrieking, she flailed her arms and kicked futilely with her feet. Then, to his amazement, she grabbed hold of his nose. “Unhand me, sir! Or wind up with a Greek snout as big as mine!”
Chuckling at her audacity, Luke made fast work of capturing both her wrists, then forced her arms above her head. “Hmm…it seems I have a tasty little morsel to devour. Where shall I begin?” He growled and bent to nibble the sweet slope of her neck. She shrieked again, which only made Lycodomes bark all the more loudly and actually dare to nip the calf of Luke’s leg. The filthy, stinking canine’s days in the Taggart household were definitely numbered, Luke thought as he trailed gentle nips along Cassandra’s throat up to her ear. “Ah…you are delicious.”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Master Taggart, but is there a…problem?”
Luke jerked his head up to see Pipps peering at him through the banister rails, his austere expression compromised only by the startled look in his eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle, Pipps,” Luke told the butler. “Go on about your business and leave me to mine.”