Page 23 of Jane Deyre

“It’s old and ugly!” She begins to cry. “I want clothes like you’re wearing!”

I look down at my worn jeans, simple T-shirt, and sneakers. I’m so far from being a fashion plate it’s laughable.

Suddenly, an idea comes to me. I brush away her tears with the back of my hand.

“Sweetie, I’m going to make you a deal.”

Her watering eyes look up at me with interest.

“Just put the yellow dress on for now... and we’ll go shopping. I promise I’ll buy you jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers like mine. Lots of them.”

“You will?”

“Yes, I will. Deal?”

“Deal!” I high-five her and help her get into the yellow frock. She actually looks adorable in it. This beautiful child would look adorable in virtually anything she put on. I hop off the bed and clean up her shoes with the damp towel.

“Jane, I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” I only got to take two bites of the fish stew.

Another brilliant idea comes to me.

We can kill two birds with one stone.

Now, if I can only get Mr. Rochester to go along with it.

CHAPTER 12

Jane

After a quick stop to check on the snails, Adele and I go out front to meet her father.

He’s sitting behind the wheel of the convertible Rolls-Royce. Not exactly what I’d call a family car. I was kind of expecting a Range Rover, the kind of car rich kids’ parents drive. Or one of those deluxe minivans.

He spots us. Rather than smiling, he scowls. I should tell him that if he’s not careful, that crease between his brows is going to become a permanent fixture. Like a scar.

“Get in.” His voice is gruff. This time he doesn’t get out of the car to open the passenger door. Holding Adele’s hand, I peek inside the interior.

It’s as beautiful as I remember it with its plush leather seats, burled wood, and polished chrome. There’s just one problem. There’s no car seat for Adele.

“Um, Mr. Rochester, you’re missing a car seat. It’s dangerous for a child Adele’s age to be driving in a car without one, and it’s against the law. You can get pulled over and be ticketed... even go to jail.”

I threw the jail thing in just for good measure. To make him scared. But I don’t even get a rise out of him.

“I don’t need some post-teenage girl to give me a lecture on how to drive a car. For your information, I passed my driving test with flying colors. Now get in. Or I’ll throw you both in.”

“No! It’s way too dangerous.”

He rakes a hand through his glossy dark hair and huffs out a frustrated breath. Before I can blink, he jerks open his door and takes angry giant steps around the front of the Rolls. Is he going to do what I think he’s going to do?

When he scoops me up and tosses me into the back seat, I have my answer. Yup. I let out a shriek as I land on my butt. Adele bursts out in hysterical laughter.

“You’re next,” he tells her. Not wasting a second, he throws her into the back seat next to me.

“That was so fun!” she giggles. “Do it again, Papa!”

There isn’t going to be an again. He returns to his seat and starts up the car. I put Adele on my lap and buckle us both in. Maybe this way she’ll be a little safer, though my gut tells me we’re not going to get into an accident. While Ward drove way above the speed limit this morning, I get the sense, despite his inner rage, he’s going to drive slowly and carefully with his daughter in the car. Precious cargo. I’ve already seen he’s very protective of her. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.