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  “You’re right, you know.”

  “About what?” she asked, deigning to turn around and face him.

  “You’re not in danger tonight.” He hesitated, and she moved to another step. “But don’t become complacent. Danger can come from many directions.”

  He saw only the bottom half of her now as she moved on. And then her feet touched the seventh step, for he’d been unconsciously counting as she climbed. She was unmoving, and he waited.

  “I think the biggest danger is not from you, Nicholas, but from within me.” One foot moved and then lowered again to settle beside the other. “I fear I’ll make a fool of myself one of these days if I don’t walk away from you.”

  “But not tonight?” He asked so quietly he wondered if she had heard him.

  Her feet shifted, then moved upward, her voice trailing behind her.

  “No, not tonight.”

  Tempting a Texan

  Harlequin Historical #647

  Praise for CAROLYN DAVIDSON’s recent titles

  A Convenient Wife

  “Carolyn Davidson creates an engaging,

  complex plot with a hero to die for.”

  —Romantic Times

  The Bachelor Tax

  “From desperate situation to upbeat ending,

  Carolyn Davidson reminds us why we read romance.”

  —Romantic Times

  The Tender Stranger

  “Davidson wonderfully captures gentleness

  in the midst of heart-wrenching challenges,

  portraying the extraordinary possibilities that exist

  within ordinary marital love.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  #648 THE SILVER LORD

  Miranda Jarrett

  #649 THE ANGEL OF DEVIL’S CAMP

  Lynna Banning

  #650 BRIDE OF THE TOWER

  Sharon Schulze

  CAROLYN DAVIDSON

  Tempting a Texan

  Available from Harlequin Historicals and CAROLYN DAVIDSON

  Gerrity’s Bride #298

  Loving Katherine #325

  The Forever Man #385

  Runaway #416

  The Wedding Promise #431

  The Tender Stranger #456

  The Midwife #475

  *The Bachelor Tax #496

  *Tanner Stakes His Claim #513

  *One Christmas Wish #531

  “Wish upon a Star”

  Maggie’s Beau #543

  The Seduction of Shay Devereaux #556

  A Convenient Wife #585

  A Marriage by Chance #600

  The Texan #615

  Tempting a Texan #647

  I write of heroes and heroines from the past, of those who broke ground in our country, who survived in a world where only the strong prevailed. Those who were our forefathers, who have earned our respect and admiration. I find my inspiration all around me, in the men and women who daily travel to their places of employment, who raise children to be loyal and honest, loving and kind. I see heroes in our schools, those men and women who educate and mold young Americans. I see them in uniform, the patrolmen directing traffic, the firefighters driving emergency vehicles, pilots flying air force jets, each of them doing their part to support the democracy in which we live. And I find heroes and men like the one I live with, who has devoted his life to keeping his family safe and secure. To all heroes and heroines who live daily lives of such devotion, this book is dedicated. But especially to Mr. Ed, who loves me.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Collins Creek, Texas, April, 1897

  “I don’t have a sister,” Nicholas muttered beneath his breath, reading for the third time a scribbled message carried into his office only moments before.

  “It seems you do,” the sheriff said, grinning widely. He stood in the doorway, the messenger of tidings ill-received; and if the smile he wore was any indication, seeing Nicholas Garvey at a loss was well worth the time he’d spent delivering the message.

  “Are you sure Henry got this right?” Nicholas asked, his mouth taut as he lifted the lined paper for the sheriff’s scrutiny. “Were you there when it came over the wire?”

  “Sure was,” Cleary answered. “That’s why I offered to deliver it by hand. I figured it was important when Henry sputtered out the words and then tried to cover up his scribbles when I looked over his shoulder.” He moved to a chair in front of the wide, mahogany desk. One booted foot lifted and rested against his other knee as he removed his hat and appeared to settle in.

  “Did you read the whole thing?” Nicholas asked, sinking into his own chair, a scowl creasing his forehead.

  “Nope. Only got as far as the words…” He looked up at the ceiling, his thought processes obviously in good order as he spoke. “Let’s see. It said something about you being named a guardian of your sister’s child. A girl, I think.”

  “There’s been a mix-up somewhere,” Nicholas growled with a ferocity that matched his dark, angry visage. “I’ve never had a sister.”

  “Somebody back East doesn’t agree with you,” Cleary said mildly.

  “Well, they can just look elsewhere for a dumping ground,” Nicholas said harshly. “I don’t know what this lawyer expects of me, but raising a child is not on my schedule.”

  “You seem to be quite taken with your godson,” Cleary said, his index finger following the crease in his hat brim. He looked up, his initial reaction to the message apparently diluted by Nicholas’s somber behavior.

  “That’s different, and you know it. I won’t be saddled with a child purported to be my niece, when I know good and well that my background doesn’t include her mother.”

  Cleary stood up, a lengthy procedure, adjusting his gun belt and glancing toward the open door. “I don’t suppose…” He hesitated, frowning.

  “What?” Nicholas rose from the depths of his leather chair, discarding the wrinkled message on his desktop. Hands widespread on his blotter, he leaned forward. “You know a little about the law, Cleary. Is there anything I can do to put a crimp in this?”

  “Is the child on her way here?” Cleary’s innocent expression denied the knowledge he’d gained by reading the message, and Nicholas felt the urge to grind his teeth in frustration.

  “You know damn well she is.” He glanced down at the scribbled note. “Accompanied by a companion, is what it says here.”

  “Who sent it?” Cleary asked.

  “A law firm. Under orders from the court. According to this, the child is alone in the world.”

  “Well,” Cleary drawled quietly. “You oughta make a good pair, then. I’ve never heard you mention any family.”

  “That’s because I don’t have one.” Frustration emphasized every word as Nicholas repeated his original statement. “Where the hell somebody got the idea of sticking me with a five-year-old is beyond me. I’ve got other fish to fry.”

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Patience Filmore, would it?”

  Nicholas looked up, suddenly feeling defensive. “I’ve spent some time with her.”

  “Planning marriage?”

  “Not yet. But it’s a definite possibility.” And yet, his instincts were even now pushing that reasoning
to the back burner. At least until this matter was cleared up.

  “You want to send back a reply?” The lawman motioned to the crumpled message, lifted an eyebrow and waited.

  “And what good would that do? According to this, my visitors will arrive any day now.”

  From the doorway a young man, his hair slicked back with pomade, his shirt starched to within an inch of its life, cleared his throat. “Sir. Mr. Garvey.”

  “Yes.” The single syllable held the force of a bullet and the clerk winced.

  “You have a visitor, sir. A young lady, accompanied by a child, sir.”

  “Well…sh—” A hissing sound died upon leaving his lips as Nicholas turned again to Cleary. “I don’t believe it. How could she have gotten here so soon?” He snatched up the message, smoothing it across his wide palm. “Has the morning train arrived already?”

  “Yep. Pretty near two hours ago.” Cleary turned back and settled once more in the chair he’d vacated. “Maybe I’ll stick around for a while, after all.”

  Nicholas nodded wearily at the clerk. “Show her in.” And then he turned to Cleary, his eyes narrowing in an unmistakable warning. “Not a word from you.”

  A look of solemn promise was obliterated by the glittering humor in the sheriff’s eyes as he watched his friend stride to the doorway. And then, as if the woman who appeared just beyond the threshold had the ability to change his demeanor, the sheriff stood as she spoke to the banker, her accent soft and genteel.

  “I’m Carlinda Donnelly,” she said, extending a hand. “I’ve brought your niece to you, Mr. Garvey.”

  Nicholas felt helpless anger engulf him as the russet-haired female waited for the courtesy of his palm to meet hers. At his obvious reluctance to offer her the simple gesture, her stilted smile faltered, and as he watched, her hand fell to her side. It was snatched up by a tiny female creature whose eyes widened in dismay as she gazed at him.

  Eyes the exact color of blue he’d observed in his mirror every morning of his life. Her dark hair hung in curls past her shoulders, and her petite form was garbed in a dainty flowered dress that met the tops of high-buttoned shoes. The delicate rosebud mouth trembled as she spoke.

  “Are you my uncle?” she asked timidly. And then she looked up at the woman beside her, her whisper loud in the silence as she confided her fear. “I don’t think he likes me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  Nicholas cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I’m your uncle or not,” he admitted after a moment. “If I am, it’s news to me. I’d have sworn up until ten minutes ago that I was alone in the world.” He squatted before the child, his sharp gaze taking in the long lashes, the wide brow, and finally, the small beauty mark beside her mouth. Without thinking, his hand rose to touch an identical brown speck beside his upper lip.

  “It isn’t a matter of not liking you,” he said quietly, unable to be cruel to an innocent child. “It’s just that I can’t imagine who decided you were my responsibility.”

  “A judge in New York City,” the woman said quietly. “Her mother and father were in an accident while traveling in Europe. A fatal accident. She became a ward of the court until your whereabouts were discovered. I’d been caring for her in their absence, and I’ve been hired now by her father’s estate to bring her to you. Another party is vying for her custody, but the judge decided in your favor.”

  He needn’t have given me his blessing. Nicholas scowled at the thought.

  Miss Donnelly retrieved a package from beneath her left arm and placed it on his desk. “This is the result of the court hearing, and includes a copy of the will. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need in here.”

  He glanced down at the envelope, then at the child, his gaze caught by the turmoil in her face. “May I ask for an introduction?”

  Carlinda Donnelly nodded quickly. “Of course. This is Amanda.”

  As if hearing her name spoken aloud was a signal, the child extended her dainty fist, uncurling the fingers as she offered it to the man before her. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir,” she whispered, obviously well mannered and primed for this introduction.

  Nicholas took the fingers in his, looking down at the hand that was resting like a small bird in his palm. “Hello, Amanda,” he said politely, then glanced up at the woman beside him. “Miss Donnelly—” He broke off abruptly, as words failed him. What did a man say to a woman who had just invaded his life, whose courteous gestures he had scorned, and who waited now for his reaction to her presence?

  He glanced aside at Cleary and noted the subtle shake of the man’s head and slight lift of shoulders. No help there. In fact, it looked obvious to him that the sheriff was about to make an exit, standing and brushing the brim of his hat.

  “I believe my wife’s holding dinner for me,” Cleary said, smiling blandly at the visitors and waiting for the doorway to clear.

  “I’m in your way,” Carlinda said. “I’m so sorry.” Stepping back, she allowed him to pass, almost swaying on her feet. She looked confused, travel-weary and disheartened, Nicholas decided. None of this was her fault, and yet he found her a ready target for his anger as he watched Cleary stride toward the front of the bank.

  “I’m not certain what I’m expected to do, Miss Donnelly,” Nicholas said abruptly. “I haven’t the proper facilities to care for a child.”

  “Are you married?” she asked quietly.

  He shook his head. “Certainly not. I’m a businessman, and marriage is not in my immediate future. Right now, I see no need for a woman in my home.”

  She flinched at his words. “You don’t like women?” she asked, flicking a look of conjecture in his direction. “I mean—” Her mouth thinned as if she regretted the inference her words suggested.

  “I like women just fine. In their proper place,” he retorted.

  “And that is…”

  Her hesitance was deliberate. He knew it from his depths, and even as he bristled at her words, he silently saluted her bravery at defying him. “Wherever I decree they are the most useful,” he said smoothly, watching as a red tide washed upward from her throat to cover her cheeks. Beneath her bonnet, her hair was a deep shade of auburn, caught up in a heavy, somewhat untidy knot at her nape. Several curling strands touched her forehead, softening the brown eyes that glared in his direction.

  “I see,” she said harshly, although he very much doubted that she was nearly as sophisticated as she would like him to believe. “Well, perhaps you’ll have to seek out someone to help you in your care of Amanda,” Miss Donnelly suggested. “I’m only the person hired to deliver her into your hands, sir. I suppose there’s no reason not to be on the early train tomorrow morning, back to Saint Louis and then on to New York.”

  She’s bluffing. The thought pleased him. “I don’t think that’s an option,” he replied smoothly. “You can’t leave me here with a child and sashay off without a by-your-leave. It would be grossly unfair to—” he looked down at the little girl, and then continued with a cool smile “—to the child.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her chin lifted defensively. “I beg your humble pardon, Mr. Garvey, but I can do anything I please. I am not a servant in your employ.”

  “That’s true enough, but this is a small town, ma’am. You might find it difficult to board the morning train, should I decide to say otherwise.”

  “You’d keep me here against my will?” Her blush faded quickly, leaving her pale beneath a naturally creamy complexion. Her lips were compressed, their fullness narrowed by the gesture, and he caught sight of a glimpse of panic in her brown eyes.

  “No, of course I wouldn’t. I didn’t mean to say that,” Nicholas answered quietly. He glanced down at Amanda, whose eyes were glued on his face. Sparing her a quick smile, he directed his attention to the young woman before him. It might be time to backtrack and let her off the hook. “Let’s rethink this a bit. I’ll make it worth your while to stay. This whole thing needs to be sorted out.”

  “And where wo
uld you suggest I live while I’m at your beck and call?” she asked. Her jaw was taut and he sensed a quality of brittleness in her demeanor, as if she might shatter into a thousand pieces should she loosen her grip on the situation enveloping her.

  It would not do for the woman to lose control, here in the bank where he prided himself on his immaculate reputation. He reached for her, grasping her wrist and drawing her into his office. Reaching behind her, he closed the door. A hum of voices reached him and he winced, aware that several customers had been privy to the low, murmured argument he’d allowed himself to be involved in.

  She reacted to his maneuvers, tugging at his hold as he led her from the door to a chair across the room. “Please release me, sir,” she said sharply. Beside her, Amanda caught her breath in a sob; and Miss Donnelly looked down, her face reflecting the sadness the child expressed.

  Nicholas felt a tide of confusion sweep over his entire being. Always in control, priding himself on his grasp of business and aware of the enormity of his influence, he’d never felt so totally at sea in his entire career. His early years were another story. But in the past twenty years, he’d come a long way from the young man who’d dug through the refuse in alleyways for food.

  Befriended at fifteen by a man whose life he’d saved during a nighttime robbery attempt, he’d been sent to school, then on to a university. His boyish rescue of the wealthy stranger, who, beset by thieves, had taken the scrawny youth home with him, led to a future he’d never in his wildest dreams thought to hold within his grasp.

  His upward climb in the financial market, bulwarked by the tidy fortune left to him by his childless benefactor, had led Nicholas here. Here to Collins Creek, a small town north of Dallas, where he was known only as the owner of the town’s bank. A situation he’d chosen, where peace and security were his for the asking. Where he was considered to be, over the past two years, the town’s most successful citizen, and given the friendship of the simple folk surrounding him. His past was just that, those years behind him as he sought the tranquillity available in this small town.

  Now, in barely thirty minutes’ time, he was swept back to that life in the city by the appearance of a young woman and her charge, a child alleged to be his niece. Miss Donnelly was dressed in a simple gown, yet wore the look of a woman from New York. That distinctive air of refinement clung to her, and her voice was overlaid with a soft, cultured accent she did not attempt to conceal.