Page 66 of Jane Deyre

She skips over to the box and rips off the paper.

My eyes grow wide. My heart swells with emotion. It’s a snail habitat. A terrarium. How could this cold arrogant man be so thoughtful? So loving?

I carefully remove the large terrarium from the box. Made of glass, it looks like a miniature greenhouse. The vaulted roof is removable. One section of it is screened off and flips down, allowing ventilation and easy food access.

“Is this a new house for my snails?” asks Adele.

“Yes, it’s called a terrarium. And you’ll be able to keep it inside your room.”

“Vraiment?” Adele is bubbling with excitement. “Can we put the snails in it now?”

“First, we have to set it up.”

“Set it up?” Mr. Rochester lifts his brows. An expression of dread is etched deep on his forehead.

“Yes. I promise it’ll be fun.”

I shoot him a wicked smile.

CHAPTER 33

Ward

Jane was right. Right as usual. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. And got my hands so dirty. Jane made a list of all the things we needed for the terrarium, and together, she, Adele, and I scoured the property for them. It was like going on a scavenger hunt. A half hour later we had everything we needed inside a big brown paper bag. Seated around the veranda table, I watched as Jane artfully assembled our finds. Moss, peat, rocks, a thick stick, and a variety of leaves. She explained the purpose of everything. The rocks for hiding, the stick for climbing, the leaves for munching and siestas.

“Hey, how do you know how to do all this?” I ask while Adele runs off to retrieve her snails.

Arranging the assorted leaves, she replies, “I learned how in high school. In biology. Building a snail terrarium was a class project.”

She pauses. I detect a moment’s sadness. “What’s wrong?”

“You know that guy you met at my house? John Reed? Well, when I brought mine home, he confiscated it. Snuck into my room just before the weekly garbage pickup and put it next to the trash. When I woke up, it was gone. I ran to the front door and watched the garbage men dump it into the bin. I cried out to them to stop, but it was too late. All my hard work... my sweet snails... gone.”

“What an asshole!” Anger coats my voice. My Jane comes from the school of hard knocks. I swear if I ever see that bastard again, I’m going to make him pay for everything he’s done to her.

My attention is diverted by my daughter. Covered in head-to-toe dirt, she prances over to us. Her hands are clenched.

“I found Speedy and Stripette.” She opens her little hands. “Isn’t Stripette cute, Papa? Do you want to hold her?”

The only one I want to hold is the intriguing woman sitting next to me.

“Um, thanks, but no, thanks.”

Jane laughs. “Oh, c’mon, Mr. Rochester. She’s not going to bite.”

Bite me.The thought of Jane Deyre sinking her teeth into my flesh as I bring her over the edge makes me heat. I quickly shrug it away.

“Okay, fine.” Not wanting to come across as a ninny to my daughter—or to her nanny—I flip over my right hand. Adele sets the snail down on my palm. It crawls along my lifeline. It feels sticky and ticklish.

“How does it feel?” asks Adele.

“Weird.”

Adele laughs. “Papa,you’reweird.”

“What do you mean?” I don’t know whether to take this as a compliment or an insult.

“You know, like the way you stare at Jane. You move close to her, and then away from her. It’s just weird.Très bizarre.”