Tempting A Texan

It had not happened. The child was gone. Whisked away from his grasp, and, to all reports, into the hands of a blood relation, her mother’s half brother. He hadn’t known Irene had a brother, half or otherwise. The woman had not only robbed him of his child, but made arrangements for his part in the girl’s conception to be unknown.

No one else but him knew the circumstances of Irene’s pregnancy. Probably the fool Irene married, he amended. And he’d thought Joseph Carmichael was an astute man, until he’d snatched up Irene and eloped with her, almost without warning. And had, when a daughter was born only eight months later, accepted the child as his own.

Now it went against his grain that a man of his stature should be put in the position of proving that the five-year-old child named Amanda Carmichael belonged to him. To Vincent Preston.

No matter. The girl was of no value to him. But the estate she’d inherited was another matter, consisting of one half of his company, plus a sizeable bank account.

He clenched his fist, and the paper he held crumpled into a ball of linen stationary. He knew the words it held, had read them over again, twice, and then for the third time. Now he waited for the messenger who would deliver an address into his hand.

There must be hundreds of small towns in Texas. But only one of them was the home of Nicholas Garvey.

A home where Vincent Preston’s daughter was in residence.

The door of Nicholas’s study closed behind her and she leaned back against it, aware of his every movement as he approached. “Mr. Garvey—”

His uplifted hand halted Carlinda’s words of address. “Begin again, please,” he said quietly. “My name is Nicholas.”

Her eyes focused on his throat as she hesitated, and he almost relented as she swallowed and inhaled deeply. But he’d chosen this time to set a precedent, and his hands twitched as he considered touching her chin and lifting it upward, the better to see those dark pupils that examined his collar so intently.

“After the other evening in the foyer, I’d have thought we were beyond the point of formality, Carlinda.” He refused to vary his stance, aware that he was purposely intimidating her, crowding her against the door of his study. Yet he was unwilling to allow her room to step aside. Her body vibrated with some emotion he hesitated to name, but was eager to examine.

Whether it be anger or passion, it mattered little. She reacted to him at a basic level, and furious as she might be, she could not control the response he brought forth from her slender body.

“Carlinda?” He pressed her for an answer, his hand lifting to touch her, hovering an inch above her shoulder, then settling firmly at the nape of her neck. She shivered at the pressure of fingers against her hairline there, ducking her head as if she would dislodge his grip.

“I’m not going away,” he said softly. “Just lift your chin and look at me, please.”

“You’re a bully, of the very worst kind,” she said bluntly.

He watched her jaw tense, caught the sound of an indrawn breath she forced through her nostrils, then smiled into her eyes as she met his gaze. “That’s better. Now repeat after me, my dear. Nicholas.”

She glared impotently, looking, he thought, like a child being reproved. Her lips pressed more firmly together and then, as if she shared his thought, they twitched at one corner and she was lost, the smile gaining strength as he met it with one of his own.

“You’re treating me like a schoolgirl, Nicholas.” She spoke his name, even as she shook her head at his nonsense.

“Sometimes you remind me of one. Now repeat it. One more time,” he whispered. “Nicholas.”

“Don’t push it,” she said flatly. “I understand the message. And I agree that we have passed beyond the boundaries set by polite society.”

“No one knows but the two of us,” he told her quietly. “And we did nothing wrong, Lin.”

“That’s not my name,” she told him, her chin lifting defensively.

“You’ve been Lin to me since the first time I heard Amanda call you by her pet name.”

“She’s a child.”

“But I’m not.” His breath caught and his voice deepened as he answered her sharp retort, and then he released her from his grasp, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he stepped away.

“Did you want to talk to me?” he asked nicely, aware that she would not have entered his study without good reason.

“I met the sheriff’s wife at the general store yesterday afternoon, and I’d like your permission to invite them for supper one evening.”

“I only pay the bills, sweet. Katie runs the house. Whatever day she decrees is fine with me.”

She shook her head again as he uttered the teasing words. “I didn’t want to impose on you, but I liked Mrs. Cleary, and Amanda was totally smitten with her little boy.”

“He’s my godson, you know,” Nicholas said, recognizing the pride in his own voice. “He’s named after me.”

“Nicky, I believe his mama said.”

Nicholas winced. “Yes, I fear Augusta somewhat ruined my influence in town when she shortened my name in that manner.”

“I’ll stop by and see her today and issue the invitation, if that’s all right with you,” Carlinda said. “My thought was to gain some ties for Amanda with your friends. She needs to feel a part of your life.” She glanced up at him. “I hope you won’t mind my playing hostess.”

“Not at all. I was going to suggest such a thing the other night, but things got a bit out of hand and I lost my…”

“Yes,” she said quietly as he hesitated. “You did.”

“It won’t happen again.” He thought his voice held a suitably apologetic tone, but her brow winged upward as if she silently doubted his words.

“I’ll leave you to your work.” Her hand reached behind her for the doorknob and she slipped past the heavy, wooden panel into the hallway.

Nicholas looked at the oak door, minutely examining the molding, the brass fittings, and the handle she’d turned. His fingers touched it as if she might have left some warm trace behind, and then his smile appeared, taunting him with his own foolishness.

The only thing she’d left behind was the faint aroma of wildflowers that seemed to waft from her person. A delicate scent that clung to her clothing and to the woman herself. A scent that haunted him in his dreams.

Perhaps he should go visit Patience. Allow her to put Lin out of his mind. It would take very little encouragement to have the woman in his arms. As angry as she might be, she would no doubt set aside her pique to get her greedy fingers on his assets.

He stalked to the window, brushing aside the lacy curtain to cast his gaze into the side yard. Amanda played on the grass, something held in her hands, and he frowned, leaning closer to the pane to better see what wiggled in her grasp.

A kitten. A tiny, black kitten, all four legs extended, claws at the ready, and Amanda looked around with a frantic cast on her features, as if she sought advice on how to release the scamp without injury to herself.

He lifted the window, leaning out to call her name. “Amanda, look here.”

She responded, half turning to face him. “I think he’s going to stick me with his fingernails,” she said, and then her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she approached the window.

Nicholas swallowed a laugh, and settled for a smile. “Those are claws, sweetheart,” he told her. “Bring him to me and I’ll help you get out of this pickle.”

Amanda walked carefully toward the window, the kitten still squirming as she reached her arms toward the man who seemed to be her only chance of rescue. Nicholas took the wiggling creature and, with quicksilver response, the tiny, needle-sharp claws set themselves into his hands.

“Well, da—” He stifled the curse and brought the kitten to his chest, allowing it to turn and settle its frightened self against his suit coat. The claws left speckles of blood behind and he sighed. Katie would have a fit, muttering to beat the band, he’d warrant, the whole time she worked at removing the blood from the wool fabric.

“Come on in, Amanda,” he told the child, “and we’ll find a bowl of milk for the kitty. Meet me in the kitchen.”

Amanda nodded and smiled, inspecting her own fingers for damage, then ran around the corner of the house toward the back door.

She was in the kitchen when he arrived. He pushed the door open before him. “Katie,” he called, looking down at the tiny, black creature who’d laid claim to his chest. “Do we have a bowl of milk for this scamp?”

Looking up from rolling out a pie crust, his housekeeper frowned. “What are you doing with a cat? I thought you didn’t like animals around the place.”

“It’s not a cat,” Amanda said quickly, hovering at his side. “It’s only a kitten. Just a baby, Katie.”

Katie looked down at the little girl, perhaps catching sight of the eagerness of her gaze as she reached out one small finger to touch the tiny, black head. “So it is,” she agreed. “And kittens need milk, don’t they, darlin’?” She wiped her hands on the enormous apron that covered her from breast to knees and sought out an odd bowl from the pantry. The icebox held a bottle of milk, and Katie poured the bowl half-full, setting it near the door.

“I think he’s from a litter born almost two months ago to the folks next door. They’ve been looking for homes for the lot of them,” she murmured as Nicholas deposited the animal beside the offering. “And just look at your hands, will you,” she said sternly. “You’ve allowed that creature to claw you to bits.”

“Not quite,” he said, disputing her words. “Just a little jab, here and there.”

“I’ll wash them out for you and put stuff on them,” Amanda offered. “Linnie has a box of salve and bottles of medicine in her room. I can fix you right up,” she said importantly, obviously quoting her nursemaid as she grasped his hand to lead him from the kitchen.

“Go on along with you,” Katie said, turning to the sink to wash her hands before she began work anew on the pie crust. “I’ll leave you in good hands, sir. Just do as the little miss tells you and you’ll be fine.” Her eyes crinkled as Amanda nodded agreeably.

“I’ll let you watch the kitty until I get back,” she told Katie.

And then he was led through the hallway to the foyer and up the stairs to the first door on the right. Lin’s room. Amanda’s small fist rapped smartly and, from within, he heard the woman’s reply.

“Amanda, is that you? Come in, dear.”

Before he could announce his presence, Amanda had turned the knob, and he was presented before Lin’s astonished eyes, his hands lifted for inspection as Amanda explained the happenings below stairs.

Amusement ran rife in her indulgent smile as special note was made of each small bit of damage. “I’d say this requires the use of iodine,” Lin mused, stepping to the doorway of her dressing room to retrieve a covered, flowered box from the shelf therein.

“Iodine burns.” His voice was firm as he issued the statement, attempting to pull his injuries from view.

“Amanda will blow while I apply, won’t you, sweetie?”

The child nodded solemnly. “We need to wash his hands first, Linnie. You always tell me that.”

“I didn’t think,” Linnie answered, nodding her head. “You’re absolutely right.” She turned back to smile sweetly at the patient. “Why don’t you sit on the chair over by the window?” And then she watched as Amanda used a bit of soap on a washcloth to scrub at the tiny wounds where the blood had already formed small scabs. Industriously, the girl worked at her task, and over her head, he met brown eyes that scanned him anxiously, perhaps apologetically, he thought.

“I’m not badly hurt,” he assured her with a grin.

“I know. I was just thinking that I was not kind, or even polite, now that I’ve spent a few moments considering it. Earlier, I mean.”

“You were more mannerly than I,” he admitted, wincing as Amanda’s scrubbing touched a particularly sore spot.

“I think that’s enough soap and water, Amanda.”

Lin, for he could no longer think of her as Carlinda once he’d spoken the affectionate shortening of her name, halted the child’s ministrations and reached for the box of medicinals. A bottle with skull and crossbones on the label appeared from the depths of the pretty little box, and he eyed it with trepidation.

“I really don’t think—” he began and was silenced by a sharp look.

“You don’t want to get infection,” she reminded him, daubing the iodine on his wounds. Amanda blew softly as he cringed, making a face, the better to impress her with his pain.

“It’ll be fine, Uncle Nicholas,” she said primly between puffs of air from her pursed lips. “You must be brave.”

He nodded, suppressing a smile as he looked down at the two bent heads, their owners tending to his injuries. “Uncle Nicholas?” he repeated softly, and was given the benefit of Amanda’s immediate attention.

“You’re my very own uncle. Linnie said so, and Katie told me I could call you Uncle Nicholas if I wanted to.” She took a deep breath, her statement having been a mouthful, and then looked up at him anxiously. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Nicholas cleared his throat, a thickening there causing him a problem as he spoke. “No, I don’t mind at all, sweetheart. I kind of like it. No one’s ever called me that before now.” These two females had come to be of major importance in his life in less than a week’s time. He tested the waters now with Amanda, reaching out to touch her cheek with his index finger. She smiled widely and shot a look of triumph at her nursemaid.

The thought of spending time with Patience was gone, obliterated as if it had never been. If he had to take long walks to exercise his nagging needs into oblivion, he would do just that. But using one woman to assuage the pain of another’s refusal was beneath him.

And certainly, all hope was not yet lost.

He knew, knew it with a certainty he could not explain, that Lin would come to him.

Not tonight. Of that he was sure. But sometime, when the passion in her eyes became a desire she could not deny, she would come to him. It was worth the wait. He’d learn to savor the moment, and not to rush his fences. And if those two homilies were somehow not suited to the occasion, it was all right. The end result would be the same.

She would be his.

Augusta Cleary was a vibrantly beautiful woman, yet Lin, a name she realized she had accepted once Nicholas had blessed her with it, was not made to feel any less than attractive in her own right. The men shared their attention between the ladies, and even Nicky, who by all rights should have been in bed at this hour, claimed his own bit of admiration.

“He’s a scamp,” Augusta said in an aside to her hostess as they watched the pair of gentlemen playing on the parlor floor with the little boy. Just past twelve months in age, he was gloriously beautiful, with his mother’s golden hair and his father’s dark eyes, a contrast that would no doubt hold him in good stead with the ladies one day, Lin decided. And then said as much.

“Well, he has me totally at his mercy,” Augusta told her with a rueful laugh. “And Jonathan spoils him dreadfully.”

“Jonathan? I’ve only heard Nicholas speak of him as Cleary,” Lin said.

“He prefers it.” Augusta’s mouth softened as she shed her gaze on the three male figures, wrestling together on the carpet. “But his name is Jonathan, though when I find occasion to use his surname he sits up and takes notice.” Her smile was possessive, Lin thought.

If this was the relationship between husband and wife that Nicholas had been exposed to over the past years, she was hard-pressed to understand why he didn’t speak more warmly of marriage.

“Do you think this boy needs to be tucked into bed?” Cleary asked his wife as Nicky toddled into his father’s arms. He darted a look that seemed to hold a hidden meaning at the golden-haired woman, and Augusta smiled again.

“Whenever you say. I think Amanda was about worn out chasing him before supper. She didn’t protest when you sent her about her chores a few minutes ago,” she said to Lin.

“She needed to feed her kitten. Nicholas feels if she wants a pet, she must be responsible for its care.” And then as Amanda peeped around the parlor door, Lin held out a hand in welcome. “Come in, dear. Nicky is about to be taken home and put to bed by his mama. Do you want to say good-night to him?”

Amanda nodded, her eyes lighting as the little boy half ran across the parlor carpet toward her. “I thought I’d show him my kitty, but I didn’t want him to get scratched up. Maybe I should wait till Blackie learns how to pull in his claws.” She looked up at Augusta solemnly. “Katie says that kitties have to learn that, and that I must be careful in the meantime not to get scratched up like Uncle Nicholas did.”

“Uncle Nicholas?” Cleary said, grinning at the man in question. “Now that has a ring to it. We’ll have to teach Nicky those words.”

“His vocabulary is quite limited at this point, Nicholas,” Augusta said. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for him to spit out all those syllables any time soon.”

“I won’t mind,” her host told her simply, rising from the floor to sit on the sofa. “I’ve learned in the past days to appreciate the title.” He held out a hand to Amanda and she skipped to his side, glowing as his arm circled her waist.

“You begin to resemble a family man, Nick,” Cleary told him beneath his breath, the sound barely reaching Lin’s ear.

She glimpsed a look of chagrin that quickly turned into a frown as the two men rose in unison and walked across the room, Nicholas’s arm sliding up to rest across Amanda’s shoulders, Cleary carrying his son.

Nicholas would not appreciate the designation, she knew. Yet Cleary was obviously given to teasing the man. Perhaps he thought to persuade Nicolas into a relationship matching his own. If so, he had a surprise coming. If she knew anything about it, marriage was far from what Nicholas had in mind for his future. Seduction was more to the point.

“Lin?” Beside her, Augusta called her, using the name she’d begun to respond to with such ease. Now she turned quickly to reply.

“I’m sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?”

“My thoughts probably were matching yours,” Augusta said, glancing at the two men who had walked into the foyer. “I only wanted to know if I might call you by the name Nicholas has bestowed on you. Carlinda is a lovely name, but I noticed that even Amanda calls you Linnie.”

“If you like. Amanda has always shortened it. She was about Nicky’s age when she decided on my title, and it hasn’t changed since.”

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