Cimarron Rose. Nicole Foster

you don’t feel you’re wasting it. I know tonight was less than impressive.”

      Case took his time filling their glasses, appraising Katlyn as he handed her one. She obviously expected his criticism, or worse. Sitting stiffly in her chair, her color bright and her chin high, she kindled a reluctant admiration in him.

      She might be afraid of whatever he had to say, but she wouldn’t cower or plead. If he knew anything for certain about her it was that Katlyn McLain was a fighter.

      “At times, you were very impressive,” Case said, remembering how she had sung that sweet, haunting ballad to him alone. He lifted his glass. “To the St. Louis Songbird.”

      “To the success of the St. Martin,” Katlyn amended as she touched her glass to his.

      She tried to feel relief at his words. Yet she hated accepting any praise as Penelope Rose or the St. Louis Songbird, no matter how slight. She wasn’t Penelope.

      And she wondered if she could ever successfully pretend to be. How she wished her mother had been here this evening. Penelope could have accurately judged the audience’s reaction. Katlyn could have trusted her critique.

      Instead, she had to trust her debut hadn’t been a complete disaster by Case’s reaction. At least he hadn’t fired her.

      Katlyn took a small sip of her champagne, just kept herself from wrinkling her nose at the taste, then put the glass back. As she did, a flash of white caught her eye.

      Through the partly open door Katlyn guessed led to the kitchen, she glimpsed a small barefoot figure in a ruffled nightgown. Emily peeked inside, darting back when she saw Katlyn look her way.

      “So, your daughter is tucked in for the night?” she said, turning innocent eyes to Case.

      “She’s been asleep for hours. With all the chaos around her, I insist she stick to a strict schedule.”

      Before Katlyn could respond the cook shoved into the dining room holding fast to Emily, who all but refused to put one foot in front of the other.

      “I don’t want to go, Tuck,” Emily whispered fiercely to the burly man.

      “Well, I think your daddy wants his supper before midnight. I had less trouble gettin’ a meal done when I was feedin’ twenty hungry cowhands,” Tuck muttered, depositing Emily at Case’s side. “Found her in my kitchen again, spyin’ on you, Mr. Durham.” Muttering about supper being late again, Tuck lumbered back to his domain.

      Emily stared hard at the floor. Katlyn bit her lip to keep from smiling.

      Case looked at Emily a full minute before pulling her into his lap. He lifted her chin with one finger to turn the little girl’s eyes to his. “What are you doing down here this time of night? You know the rules.”

      “I wanted to hear her sing,” Emily said so softly Katlyn barely heard the words. “Becky said she sounded like an angel. I’ve never heard an angel before.”

      “Well, this is not the time or the place,” Case said firmly. “You should be in bed.”

      Emily sniffled loudly and scrubbed at her nose with the back of her sleeve. She ducked her head, her face hidden by a tangle of dark curls.

      A rush of empathy flooded Katlyn. She remembered all the times she’d been scolded for sneaking out to hear her mother sing, all the times she’d been escorted back to bed by a convenient chambermaid or her mother’s dresser.

      Penelope made it clear work supported them and so work came first. Her mother scoffed at the idea of wasting time playing games or simply sitting and talking with her young daughter when there was always practicing and more practicing to be done.

      Growing up, Katlyn recalled having everything she needed—except the one thing she wanted most, a sense she belonged in her mother’s life.

      “I would be happy to sing for her,” Katlyn said softly, her eyes on the little girl. She felt Case’s scowl turn on her but she refused to back down. “It’s a special night. I’m sure Emily would like to share it with you.”

      For the first time Emily lifted her head and pushed the hair away from her big green eyes. She looked up to Case, blinking away tears. “Please, Daddy?”

      The rigid lines softened in Case’s face as he gently brushed a strand of hair from Emily’s forehead. “It’s hours past your bedtime, sweetheart.”

      “And?” Katlyn risked provoking him further. “She can sleep a little later tomorrow.”

      “Don’t make this your business, Miss McLain,” Case said sharply. “I understand my daughter’s needs far better than you do.”

      “That may be true, but couldn’t you make an exception just this once?”

      They stared at each other in a silent standoff, Emily, eyes wide as saucers, glancing from one to the other.

      Case’s first instinct was to flatly refuse Emily’s request and to make it clear to Katlyn McLain just how unwelcome her interference was in his decisions.

      Except when he honestly looked at his reaction, he knew it was also because he didn’t want to give the woman across from him any foothold in his daughter’s affections.

      “All right, Emily, one time,” he said finally. “This one night you may stay up late. But if you ask again, I’m warning you now the answer will be no.”

      Katlyn looked at Emily, making no attempt to hide her smile. Emily stared back at her, unsmiling, but with a distinct sparkle in her beautiful eyes.

      “Would you like to sit on my lap while I sing to you?” Katlyn asked her.

      Emily responded by shoving closer to Case, laying her head against his chest so she could just peer at Katlyn from the corner of her eye.

      Suppressing a smile, Katlyn began to sing a lullaby her mother’s old dresser had taught her, a gentle, soothing melody about a brave princess’s journey through a magical forest to find her prince.

      With her attention focused on Emily, Case could watch Katlyn freely. His irritation with her ebbed as her voice spun out the lilting notes, bringing to vivid life knights in shining armor, fire-breathing dragons and tall castles. Case wasn’t given to flights of imagination. But when she sang like this, it seemed to him she changed the very texture of the air with her song, making it warmer and softer.

      He realized suddenly how beautiful she was. The lamplight favored her ivory skin and wove fire into the dark auburn mass mantling her shoulders. Even Emily seemed entranced by the picture his songbird made, and his daughter was rarely captivated by anything.

      Emily obviously missed having a mother. Case had known from the beginning he could never fill that place in his daughter’s life.

      But he knew also he didn’t want Katlyn McLain filling it, either.

      Katlyn or Penelope or whatever she called herself had secrets, of that he was certain. Just like Emily’s mother.

      He’d been a fool then. But never again. He would never be so gullible as to allow either Emily or himself to be hurt by lies. Women were deceptive. That lesson he had only to learn once.

      As Katlyn finished the last of her song, Case gathered Emily close and stood up.

      “Thank you, Miss McLain,” he said, steeling himself against responding to Katlyn’s look of hurt confusion. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put Emily back to bed. Go ahead with your supper, I may be awhile.”

      Katlyn barely had time to nod before Case whisked his daughter out of the dining room. As they rounded the doorway out of the room, Emily peered at her once over Case’s shoulder, her hand lifting in a small wave.

      Returning the gesture, Katlyn forced a smile. Inside, though, a cold emptiness settled around her heart, quelling the warmth the three of them had shared when she sang. A familiar voice reminded her why.

      You’re