assumed threatening proportions. “How much time? And what sort of an agreement are you speaking of?”
He scanned her, that lazy, impudent appraisal she’d endured only yesterday. Was it only yesterday she’d met the man? And now his gaze lifted to mesh with hers. “Time? As long as it takes,” he said quietly. “The agreement we’ll discuss another time.”
And then he rose and placed his hat upon his head, nodding as he took his leave. “I’ll be home for dinner. Tell Katie to have it ready by one, please.”
Carlinda watched as he walked off. Strode was a better word, she decided, admiring his height, the gleam of dark hair touching his collar. He wore his clothing as if it had been tailored to his tall frame, his trousers unpleated and close-fitting against his legs. And the width of shoulders better suited to a lumberjack tested the fabric of his suit coat.
She was besotted. There was no other word for it. The man was beautiful, a word she was certain he would scoff at should it be spoken in his hearing, but she could think of none other to better describe him. A feeling of desolation swept through her as she reflected on the time to come when she must leave this town, the day when she would step on board the train and turn her back on Nicholas Garvey.
She slumped back on the bench and lifted a hand to consult her watch. It hung on a golden chain against the front of her dress and she read the hands through a mist she could not explain. After noon already. She would barely have time to walk home with Amanda and give Nicholas’s message to Katie.
Home. The single word rang through her head as though she’d spoken it aloud. It was not her home. Would never be a home for her to live in and enjoy. For Carlinda Donnelly, the future stretched ahead like a long blank road. And only in her dreams could she envision such a thing as the large, white house where Nicholas Garvey hung his hat as a home in which she might dwell.
She rose slowly and looked about for the little girls, aware that she’d almost forgotten their existence for a few moments. They played quietly beneath a tree only yards away, and Carlinda spoke Amanda’s name, catching her attention.
“Do we have to leave already?” she asked, her lip drawing down into a pout.
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Carlinda promised. “Perhaps Sally can come to visit later today,” she offered, willing to use bribery if need be.
Sally’s frown brightened and she nodded quickly. “I’ll ask my mama,” she said, and danced off toward the other side of the park, then turned to walk backward, waving a small hand in a gesture of goodbye as she made her way to the general store.
“Let’s walk real quick so we can eat dinner,” Amanda urged, fast-stepping as she hastened back toward Nicholas’s home. “Then maybe Sally will come to visit.”
“We have to wait for Mr. Garvey to come home first before we eat,” Carlinda reminded her.
“Maybe he’ll hurry,” Amanda said, reaching for her nursemaid’s hand and skipping by her side. “Sally’s mama is shopping, but she’ll ask her on the way home.”
Nicholas did make haste, it seemed, for barely had they arrived inside the front door and delivered the message when his tall presence came through the front gate.
“Land sakes, here’s Mr. Nicholas now,” Katie said, bustling down the hallway toward the kitchen. “I’ll have the food on in ten minutes,” she called back brightly.
“Let’s go wash up,” Carlinda told her charge, her step light as she climbed the stairs before the man should make his way up the walk and across the porch. For some reason, she felt the need of a few minutes alone, to wash her face and brush her hair into place. To somehow get her thoughts in order before she must once more meet him face-to-face and be assailed by the emotion that filled her.
“You’ve only known him a day,” she told herself firmly, looking into the mirror over her dressing table just minutes later. She’d washed Amanda first, sent her down to the kitchen and gone on to her own room. Now she faced her image, noting the trembling lips, the glittering eyes and the hair that would not be contained neatly, no matter how hard she tried to tame its curls.
“He’s only a man, and he probably has women waiting in line to seek his company.” She lifted a hand to brush her hair back, then dampened it with a bit of water, hoping against hope it would miraculously behave and turn orderly before her very eyes. It was no use. The ringlets hung against her temple once more, and from the hastily formed bun she’d managed to subdue with an assortment of pins only hours ago, bits and pieces of auburn hair had escaped to curl down, touching her shoulders despite all her urging and pinning it in place.
“I can’t do much more,” she whispered, stepping back, the better to assess her appearance. Her dress was suitable, neat and clean, and her shoes wore only a bit of dust across the toes, reminding her of the quick walk back from town. She bent to brush at them with her handkerchief and heard a sound from behind her, as a masculine voice muttered a soft word, and then Nicholas distinctly cleared his throat.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said gravely. “I came up to see if you were ready for dinner. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
She turned quickly, aware that her cheeks were flushed, a condition she seemed to find herself in today, no matter where she was or what she was doing. He’d seen her, watched her bend to brush at her shoes, noted her bottom in the air as she leaned forward. Probably her dress had risen in the back. What if he’d seen her stockings?
She stiffened her spine, resolute in her determination not to be embarrassed any more than she already was, and decided to ignore any what-ifs that flooded her mind.
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said quietly, and walked toward him.
Chapter Three
As if he’d never before seen the back of a woman’s lower limbs and ankles, Nicholas found himself obsessed over the next days by the vision of Carlinda’s slender underpinnings. The remembrance invaded his dreams, haunted his waking hours, even managing to insinuate itself into his thoughts as he discussed a loan with Sam Ferguson two days later.
He felt like an errant schoolboy, and that thought did nothing to elevate his ego. Sam sat across his desk, hat in hand as he enumerated the reasons for needing two hundred dollars. It was a considerable sum, one which should have required Nicholas’s full attention, and he bent his mind to the matter.
“We’ll take a look at your account here,” he said quietly, leafing through the paperwork before him. “I see no reason to deny you the loan, Sam. Your business is thriving. Adding on additional space for feed and supplies makes sense to me.” He looked up and smiled at the anxious livery stable owner. “Give me half an hour and things should be in order.”
Sam’s wide shoulders fit neatly through the doorway Nicholas noted as the man left his office. The papers before him were a blur, but he straightened them and then initialed each of the three pages. “Thomas,” he called, aware that his clerk hovered nearby. He held the papers out as the young man appeared in the doorway. “Take care of this for Mr. Ferguson, will you?”
“Certainly, sir.” Thomas was efficient, his expression bland, but his eagerness to please was a point in his favor, Nicholas decided. “There is a young lady to see you, sir,” he said now, a faint flush apparent as he cut his eyes to the left side of the door.
Patience. He’d lay money his visitor was the very impatient Patience. He’d neglected her for the past three days, and he could pinpoint the exact moment his attention had strayed from her. Upon Carlinda’s arrival, his suit of Patience Filmore had come to a screeching halt. And stood no chance at all of resuming its previous pace.
Now he sighed beneath his breath. “Send her in, Thomas.” Scooping up a stack of papers from his left, he spread them quickly before him and bent his head. Then he looked up as the dark-haired beauty halted before his desk.
“Good