Tempting A Texan. Carolyn Davidson

the taunt. Looking up, he met the sober eyes of his young charge, the niece he’d never known. Now she held her plate in both hands, awaiting his attention, and he lifted a slice of ham to rest at one side, then spooned potatoes and creamed corn as she nodded her approval.

      “Will you be here this evening?” Carlinda asked as he attended to her plate in the same manner. She waited patiently as he served her, shaking her head in a small movement as he would have added another helping of greens.

      “Yes, I expect to be,” he said. “Do you have plans for me?”

      “Oh, no. I just thought we might discuss plans for Amanda’s future, perhaps put together a timetable for my departure,” she said quietly.

      “You’re not leaving, are you?” Amanda asked, her tone sharp, as if horrified by the very thought of such a thing.

      “I must, sometime, I think,” Carlinda told her softly. “You know I only traveled here with you to meet your uncle and be sure you were safely in his charge.”

      “I thought you would stay,” Amanda whispered, her eyes wide, tears threatening to escape past the lower lids. “I thought you liked it here.”

      Carlinda bit briefly at her lower lip. “I shouldn’t have brought this up,” she said, and then turned to Amanda. “It won’t be right away, not today, or even tomorrow,” she explained gently. “We’ll talk about it later, sweetie.”

      “I’ve got lots of other games we haven’t played yet,” Amanda said mournfully.

      “We’ll get to them,” Carlinda told her, and then shot a long look at Nicholas, who responded with a lifted brow and a pursing of his lips.

      Her intent was obvious. Say something. Back me up. And he did neither, only watched and enjoyed her squirming as Amanda plied her with guilt-producing suggestions. By the time the meal was over, the fine line between playing with a knife and using it for a game of mumblety-peg had been explored, and Nicholas had expressed his interest in explaining the more elusive points of the game to them both.

      Amanda seemed to have recovered her cheerful demeanor as she spooned up her pudding, and only Carlinda’s suggestion of a short rest with a book in hand brought the child’s description of tossing jacks on the porch to a halt.

      She frowned, pouting just a bit. “Maybe you should read the book to me,” she suggested, peering up at her nursemaid coaxingly.

      “I could do that,” Carlinda said agreeably. “Why don’t you ask Katie for a quilt we can place on the grass under the tree in back, and we’ll spend an hour in the shade.”

      Nicholas thought for a moment of the picture those words presented, and rued the fact that he had a business to run. He’d already dallied for almost an hour over a meal that normally would have taken him fifteen minutes to consume, and it was with regret that he stood and announced his departure for the bank.

      Katie stood at the door. “Will supper at six be all right?” she asked, her hands folded at her waist. Her gaze shifted from Nicholas to his guests, and then she smiled. “I take it you’ll be here, sir?”

      Carlinda eyed him with suspicion. “If you have other plans, Amanda and I are quite capable of making a meal from leftovers. We don’t want to interfere with your social life, Mr. Garvey. You and I can talk another day, perhaps tomorrow?”

      “I don’t have much of a life outside the bank and my study here at home,” he said, shooting a warning look at Katie, ignoring the memory of Patience and her assumption of his attendance at the Millers’ party tomorrow evening.

      That he’d been calling with regularity on Patience over the past weeks was a fact he’d rather not have revealed right now. “I occasionally eat with the sheriff and his family. Other than that, I lead a rather quiet existence.”

      “Well, don’t think you have to entertain Amanda and me,” Carlinda told him. “I’m sure a gentleman such as yourself must have friends who expect to have him come calling on occasion.”

      “If you’re referring to lady friends, ma’am, I haven’t any commitments in that direction.”

      At Katie’s hasty departure from the doorway and into the kitchen, Nicholas relaxed. Not for the world would he allow anything to halt his pursuit of the woman who watched him from her seat at his right. And tonight he would make clear his interest in her. Coax her to stay on for a while.

      “I’d like you to tell me all you know about my sister,” Nicholas said, his fingers holding firmly to the coffee cup he held. He sat across from her, his demeanor relaxed as he sipped from the steaming cup. He’d chosen to sit on the sofa, and Carlinda moved to perch on an armchair across from him. Now the words he spoke surprised her, and she frowned as she recalled the dossier she’d given him in his office.

      “Surely you read the paperwork from the judge in New York,” she said. “Certainly it contained proof of your relationship.”

      He waved a hand dismissively. “I’d rather hear it from you. All I managed to glean from the court record was her name and that of her husband. Irene and Joseph Carmichael, I believe.” He leaned forward, the cup held between his palms, his forearms resting on his thighs, and his eyes were clouded by some hidden emotion as he awaited her reply.

      “Irene was my friend,” Carlinda began, unsure of what she was obliged to tell about the beautiful woman who’d lived in fear of her secrets being revealed. “She married Joseph. I suppose I should mention that she’d also been interested in his partner, Vincent Preston, at one time. But once Joseph came along, she settled on him, and they shared a whirlwind romance.”

      “Whirlwind?” His inflection was cynical if she read it aright.

      “Yes…perhaps a period of two weeks after meeting him, Irene married Joseph.”

      “And they lived happily ever after?” Beyond cynical, his lifted brow seemed derisive.

      “Hardly. For just about six years, as it happens. After Amanda was born, they settled down to the usual married life. Joseph was successful, and his partner was brilliant. Vincent Preston is a man I wouldn’t want to cross.” And yet I have.

      “How so?” Nicholas asked, interest lighting his gaze. “Is he a scoundrel? Or just a shrewd businessman?”

      Carlinda hesitated, thinking about the tall, almost sinister-appearing gentleman she’d met in the courtroom in New York City. “Harsh, perhaps. Shrewd, certainly. But not a man I’d find it comfortable to spend time with. I think Irene found him frightening. As I did, also.”

      Nicholas frowned, as thought he would pursue that bit of information later. “And what sort of woman was my sister?”

      “Kind…beautiful, certainly. A loving mother and a loyal friend.” It was hard to describe such a creature, Carlinda decided. “A bit flighty at times, but Joseph was passionately in love with her, and I’m sure she returned his affection.”

      Nicholas looked as if he would dismiss her description of their relationship. “As I said—happily ever after.” He changed his tone abruptly, speaking briskly as he questioned her further.

      “I know Irene was not my mother’s child. Am I safe in assuming she was the legal offspring of my father? Of the woman he was married to?”

      Carlinda had the grace to be embarrassed at his forthright query. “You don’t make a secret of your beginnings, I assume, Mr. Garvey.”

      His shrug was negligible. “Not when it all happened so long ago. I’ve long since found that my beginnings were unimportant in the general scheme of things. More important is the man who pulled me from the gutter and sent me on my way to success.”

      “Certainly not your father,” she said flatly. “From what Irene said, he never acknowledged your birth.”

      “She’s right. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to give you his name.”

      “You