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 would 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
