Tempting a Texan Page 2

  Yet, there was no guarantee she was what she appeared to be. He’d learned early on not to take people at face value, and years of living had not eased the pain of experience. She faced him with pride and anger at war within her, her expressive face reflecting the turmoil of the situation in which she found herself.

  Crouching beside Amanda, only the crown of the woman’s hat was visible to his discerning eye. It was circled by a narrow band of grosgrain ribbon, simple, yet stylish, and beneath its brim, he sensed her smile was warm as she spoke to the child.

  “It’s all right, Amanda,” she said quietly, the soothing syllables having an immediate effect.

  “Where will we go, Linnie?”

  Linnie? Nicholas felt a warmth expand within his chest as the child spoke the name she’d chosen for her nurse. And he inhaled sharply as he considered his harshness. “You’ll go to my home,” he said, dropping to one knee, the better to look squarely at the little girl. No matter the woman’s mission here, the child deserved decent treatment.

  Yet Amanda appeared not to welcome his offer. “You don’t like us,” she said firmly. “And I don’t think I like you, either. You’re not a nice man.”

  “That’s not polite,” Miss Donnelly stated matter-off-actly, holding Amanda’s hand tightly. And then she turned her head to look directly at Nicholas. “I’m sure there will be room at the hotel for us. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I’ll keep Amanda for the night and talk to her about the situation. I can’t force the issue with her.”

  Nicholas grasped the woman’s elbow and assisted her to her feet, rising to look down into her dark eyes. “I have a comfortable home just down the street,” he said politely. “My housekeeper will be happy to settle you in. In fact, we’ll leave now and I’ll see to it myself. Amanda will be more comfortable there than in a hotel. You and I will talk this evening, Miss Donnelly.”

  She attempted to withdraw from his hold and his fingers only tightened, putting force behind his statement. “There isn’t room to argue the point,” he told her flatly. “The child must be weary, and I think you’re ready for a chance to sit and relax, yourself.” He reached toward the rack by the door, snatching his wide-brimmed hat from a hook, then ushered her from his office.

  “I’m going home for a while, Thomas,” he said to his clerk. “I’ll return soon. In the meantime, send someone to the train station to collect Miss Donnelly’s things. And those of the child. Have them delivered to my house.”

  The wide-eyed young man nodded, his gaze enquiring as he shot a sidelong glance at Nicholas’s visitors. “Yes, sir, Mr. Garvey. I’ll handle things.”

  The door opened onto a wide, wooden sidewalk, and Nicholas offered his arm, turning to the right. To her credit, Miss Donnelly accepted his gesture, and he looked down to see her narrow fingers ease past the crook of his elbow to rest on his forearm. A warmth settled into his flesh where that elegant hand rested, and his eyes sought her face, intrigued by the rush of heat that coursed throughout his body.

  Her face averted, she seemed to be concentrating on the child who walked nicely on her other side, who, even as he watched, lifted a tiny hand to cover a yawn. He was right, he decided. These two females needed a place to rest, a cool, clean refuge in which to recuperate from their travels. He could think of no other place more fitting than his own home. He’d spend the rest of the day deciding his next move.

  Thus far she’d accomplished her purpose, although living in Nicholas Garvey’s home had been more her goal for Amanda than for herself. Irene had wanted her brother to have his niece, and if being under his roof would accomplish that purpose, Carlinda would stay as long as necessary. She recalled her threat to leave and shook her head. He’d upset her and she’d responded with haste, and now she’d be the one to backtrack.

  Her only hindrance in staying here until Amanda was well settled was the appeal of the man himself to her female person. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him, and autocratic didn’t start to pay just due to his confident aura.

  She looked around the comfortable room she’d been assigned and released a deep breath. The house was large, two-storied and surrounded on the front and two sides by a wide veranda. Sitting over a hundred feet from the sidewalk, it was situated behind a tall fence built of wood, painted white and woven in an intricate pattern, with a wide gate and arbor at its center.

  Her surroundings were cool and comfortable, with fine carpets and gracefully hung draperies at the windows. She’d noted comfortable couches and gleaming wooden tables filling the parlor, visible from the central foyer, where a dining room flanked it on the opposite side of the wide hallway.

  As she’d climbed one side of the two-pronged staircase to the second floor, she’d looked back to see her elegantly clad host watching her progress from below. His lifted hand offered a salute, and then he’d turned to depart through the front door.

  Katie, the woman who kept this place immaculate, had given Carlinda a searching glance as she opened the bedroom door and ushered her inside. “I’ve already put the wee one in the room next door,” she said. “Tucked her in nicely, and barely had her shoes and dress off before she curled up and closed her eyes.”

  That was one mark in the woman’s favor, Carlinda decided. Treating Amanda kindly gave the housekeeper points. It bode well for the child’s future.

  Now, Carlinda walked to the double windows overlooking the front yard and the street, easing aside the white curtain, the better to search the sidewalk below. He was there, walking briskly, crossing the street almost a hundred yards away. His stride was long, his back straight, his hat at a jaunty angle atop dark hair.

  She’d noticed his eyes first, that brilliant blue that proclaimed him as Black Irish. The same blue that had been replicated in the small face of the child she’d brought to him. He was wary. Of that there was no doubt. And well he might be. Nicholas Garvey was a man with secrets, a man with a fortune at his fingertips, and a past that didn’t lend itself to investigation. She’d known all of that. But she hadn’t expected the effect of dark hair and blue eyes, and the flash of white teeth as he spoke and smiled.

  She knew of his past, had heard his sister’s whispered words of confession before she left Amanda behind as she’d set out on the final journey of her life. That she’d been able to furnish the court with a sealed document identifying Nicholas Garvey as the child’s only living relative had been fortuitous for Amanda’s well-being.

  Irene knew about her brother, knew of his success, and was shamed by her father’s series of affairs, one of which had produced Nicholas. Before her marriage to the man who’d given her child a name, she had refused to call on Nicholas for help. But after Irene’s death, Carlinda determined to make the rich financier aware of his sister’s life and death, and place him under obligation to the child left behind by her mother’s tragic end.

  “I’m doing my best, Irene,” she whispered, tracing a line in the wavy glass before her. “He’ll never know, not from me anyway, about Amanda’s beginnings.” Her sigh was deep, her eyes filling with tears as she turned away from the window. Unless she had overplayed her hand, Nicholas Garvey would do his best to persuade her to remain here in his home, at least until Amanda was settled in and made a part of the household. And she would be wise not to protest too much.

  There was nothing left for her in New York City.

  She awoke late in the afternoon in the big bed, its comfortable mattress forming to her slender body, and for a moment she looked around her in confusion. And then her memory kicked in and she recalled the long climb up the staircase, remembered looking back at the dark-clad figure watching her from below. He wore the look of a worthy opponent, and she girded herself for whatever he might say or do. Swinging her feet to the floor she looked around, searching the room for her dress.

  She’d unbuttoned it and placed it on a chair before crawling beneath the sheet on the wide bed. Now it hung over a rack near the wardrobe, freshly pressed by an unknown hand wielding
an iron. No doubt that of the housekeeper. Katie by name, she recalled.

  From the hallway beyond the closed door, she heard a tinkling laugh, almost a giggle, and recognized the voice immediately. Amanda at her best, cheerful and lighthearted.

  Overlaying the child’s tones, a deeper, masculine tone prevailed, and Carlinda hurriedly slid the dress over her head, aware of Nicholas Garvey’s presence just a few feet away. Even as she buttoned the small, black fastenings on her bodice, she heard the single rap of a knuckle on the wooden panel.

  “Yes, I’m coming,” she said, hastening across the room to turn the handle. It swung wide and she looked up into the dark, masculine features of the man she’d traveled halfway across the country to find. “I’m sorry. I only planned to rest for a bit, and I’m afraid I slept longer than I thought.”

  “That’s not a problem, Miss Donnelly,” he said nicely, his gaze sliding down the length of her. “We came to rouse you, since Katie announced that supper was served, and Amanda thought you were likely hungry. She tells me you didn’t eat much today.”

  Carlinda flushed deeply. The child saw more than she should, and this morning had been a hodgepodge of activity, arriving in Collins Creek, pausing only at the hotel for breakfast before they sought out the bank. Unable to eat the meal she’d ordered, her stomach protesting as she planned her approach to Nicholas, Carlinda had only watched and encouraged Amanda’s halfhearted attempts to get through the plate of eggs and sausage before her.

  “I wasn’t hungry,” she said now. “The journey was tiring, and I fear I’d lost my appetite.”

  “Well, you’d do well to locate it now. Katie has outdone herself. We don’t often have company,” he said, taking up Amanda’s hand in his and leading the way to the double staircase.

  “Mr. Garvey has two sets of steps and two bannisters,” Amanda announced gleefully. “And lots of bedrooms.” With her free hand, she tugged at Carlinda’s skirt, and her whispered words were an easily heard suggestion. “I’ll bet he’s got plenty of room for us to stay here.”

  “Yes, I have,” he said, unabashed at listening to her murmured suggestion.

  “I had the impression we weren’t as welcome as the flowers in spring,” Carlinda said, her forced smile for the child’s benefit apparently not lost on Nicholas.

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll have to take this one step at a time. Right now, I think it would be unforgivable to keep Katie waiting. She likes to serve her meals hot.”

  Carlinda’s feet were silent against the carpeted stairs and she slowed her pace, the better to observe the first floor below. Besides the parlor and dining room, two other doors led from the wide foyer, both of them open. As she moved downward, a desk was visible inside one room, probably Nicholas’s private retreat, she decided. The other appeared to be a small sitting room, a woman’s room by the looks of things. She was entranced by a glimpse of a delicately constructed sofa and chair, and late-afternoon sunshine pouring through a window.

  “You have a lovely home.” The compliment was sincere, probably the first entirely honest thing she’d said or done today, she thought. And felt a pang of guilt as she considered her omission of all the facts.

  “Thank you,” he answered gravely, although a smile flashed as he met her gaze. “I don’t often have an opportunity to offer my hospitality. I was amiss in not extending a welcome to you and Amanda when we first met today. I fear my thoughts were in a state of flux, and my mind did not function as well as it should have.”

  “You were presented with a done deal, as they say, Mr. Garvey. I can’t blame you for being taken unaware and being less than welcoming.”

  “Nonetheless,” he said with a shrug, and she looked up to catch a glimpse of heat in the depths of his blue eyes, a quickly masked impression. He’d looked at her as a man might who sought the interest of an available woman. For just a moment, she’d felt the warmth of masculine interest, and she stiffened against the lure of such a thing being cast in her direction.

  Perhaps staying in this house was not a good beginning. He might think she was obtainable, a woman of loose virtue, should she agree too quickly to his hospitality. And yet, she could not in good conscience leave Amanda here without her. “We don’t want to put you to any trouble,” she murmured, reaching the bottom of the staircase. “I’m certain the hotel would do very well for us.” She looked up at him. “At least until you have an opportunity to check out the facts of this matter.”

  “I won’t hear of it.” His tones were clipped, bringing an abrupt end to the discussion and she subsided, unwilling to argue in front of Amanda. As though he understood her position and agreed, he nodded at the open door of his study. “After supper, perhaps you’ll join me in here and we’ll discuss this at greater length.”

  Carlinda nodded, and stepped up her pace to the dining room, where a long table was set with three places and, at one end, a tureen of soup sent up a steam of fragrance. She was seated with a courtly gesture, and she opened the linen napkin beside her plate, aware of Amanda’s copycat gesture as the child followed her example.

  Nicholas served the soup, waving Katie’s offer of help aside as the woman brought a plate of fresh bread from the kitchen. It was delicious, a clear broth with traces of rice and bits of chicken adding flavor, providing a light beginning to the meal. It was followed by a roast, again served by Nicholas, who stood before his chair and offered thin slices of the meat to his guests. Small potatoes, cooked with the skins intact, were accompanied by whole green beans, redolent with the scent of bacon and onions.

  It was a filling repast, and when Katie brought forth a tart for each of them, Carlinda was tempted to refuse. And then she caught sight of the dark, thick juice of purple berries that spread before the force of Nicholas’s fork as he cut into the dainty bit of pastry.

  “I shouldn’t,” she sighed, even as she watched the tiny wisps of steam rise from the delicacy.

  “It’s a specialty of Katie’s,” Nicholas said, coaxing her with a smile. “She’ll be insulted if you refuse a bite.”

  “I fear I’ll eat the whole thing,” Carlinda said, tasting carefully of the hot offering. “Don’t burn your mouth,” she warned Amanda.

  “I’ve got cream to put over it, if you like,” Katie said from the kitchen doorway, then approached with a small pitcher of golden liquid as Amanda nodded her agreement. “It tastes good this way,” she told the child, pouring a generous amount.

  “I’ll take some, too,” Nicholas said, offering his dish.

  “And you, miss?” Katie asked.

  “If it tastes better that way, I suppose I should join the group,” Carlinda agreed.

  The meal was long, Nicholas asking Amanda about the trip, skirting the topic of her parents and offering small glimpses of his life in this small Texas town. He delivered an occasional aside to Carlinda, but his attention was focused on the child who sat at his right hand.

  The resemblance between the two of them was obvious to anyone who cared to look, Carlinda decided. Even Katie glanced back and forth between the man and the young girl who absorbed his interest, and before the end of the meal, she had shot a look of understanding at the other woman.

  Nicholas pushed away from the table finally. “I believe I’ve eaten more than my share, Katie,” he said, watching as she cleared the plate from before him.

  “You don’t usually eat enough,” she snipped. “About time you sat down and did my cooking justice.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said obligingly, looking suitably chagrined. And then he rose and spoke kindly to Amanda. “Would you like to sit on the porch for a while?” he asked. “Or perhaps look at the stereopticon in the parlor?”

  “Stere—” Amanda halted halfway through the word, obviously puzzled at its meaning.

  “A stereopticon is something you hold up to your eyes and then look at pictures with,” he said. “I have a whole box of prints you can see.” He took her by the hand and led her from the room, sending an apologetic
look in Carlinda’s direction.

  “In the parlor?” Amanda asked brightly, double-stepping to keep up with his long strides. “What kind of pictures do you have?”

  “Some of Rome or Venice or even London,” he said. “And lots of New York City and other places here in America.”

  “I’ve already been to New York,” the child told him flatly. “I’d rather see somewhere else.”

  “How about Niagara Falls?” he asked. “Or maybe ships on the ocean?”

  “Let’s steer clear of P-a-r-i-s,” Carlinda said quickly, spelling the city’s name in a rush of letters, lest Amanda get the drift of the word she attempted to avoid speaking.

  “Is there some reason for that?” he asked in a muted tone as he stepped to a bookcase where the instrument lay. Amanda settled herself on a sofa, smoothing her dress over her legs with a practiced hand, anticipation alive in her blue eyes. He glanced back at her, and Carlinda detected a softening in his eyes, those eyes so like the child’s.

  “The accident took place in Paris,” she murmured. “I try not to mention it. She was quite traumatized for days after we heard the news.”

  “I wasn’t aware you knew her mother. You were with Amanda, even back then?”

  Carlinda hesitated, then nodded briefly. “Shall we light a lamp, so she can see these better?” she asked, changing the subject deftly.

  Yet, even as he acceded to her suggestion, she was aware that the issue would be raised again. And she prepared herself for a battery of questions.

  Chapter Two

  Nicholas’s study was a reflection of the man, the fittings surrounding him luxurious, yet masculine. An enormous desk, its surface glowing with the sheen of polished mahogany, took her gaze as Carlinda walked over the threshold. Sitting behind it, leaning back in his chair, Nicholas resembled a king surveying his domain, judging his subject as she entered the throne room. She suppressed a smile at the thought, concentrating instead on the man himself. His hands were tanned, his fingers long, and laced together in a casual display of patience as he glanced up at her.