smiling at the childish way she chewed on her lower lip, even feeling mesmerized by the simple play of her fingers in her hair. He found himself pleased. Her temerity inspired him. He had forgotten the sheer joy of a real hell-for-leather argument. The only other person to fight him like this had been his older brother. They had done it with the daily frequency possible only for siblings, and had driven their nanny close to distraction. That had been half the fun. Glancing over at the outraged face of Miss Hornswallow, James could not help but feel a similar childish glee.
Carolly's soft voice interrupted his reminisces, bringing him abruptly back to earth. She'd moved nearer to him. This is fun," she said in a low tone, startling him. Could she read his mind? "I love challenging you, trying to make you think." She gave him a glance filled with wonder. "I like arguing with you. But you know, James, there are so many less important things we could fight about. I'd rather not do it over Margaret."
James stared at her. Would she ever cease to surprise him? "I agree," he said slowly. "I suggest we remove to the library and leave Margaret to her lessons."
Carolly sighed and shook her head. "I'm determined to talk to her." She shifted to look directly at him. "It's important."
"Why?" he asked. His voice was harsher, more abrupt than he intended. "So you can disrupt her routine, upset her delicate emotions, and generally throw her life into chaos?”
"No. That's what I'll do for you." Carolly said, her light blue eyes shimmering with . . . glee? "Yes," she continued. "I can see I already do. I disorient you. I challenge your neatly ordered world." She lifted her chin with clear pleasure. "Good. Maybe there's hope for you after all." Turning back to Margaret, Carolly suggested, "I know! Why don't you stay with us, James? Be with me when I talk to her. See how harmless I can be." She slanted a sideways look at him. It was filled with devilry and mischief, but despite all his mental warnings, James found himself warming to the excitement her eyes promised him. "I truly am trying to help," she added.
He was going to give in. He felt it in his bones. She had a way of setting his blood on fire that he found absolutely irresistible.
Yet something held him back.
Margaret. She was still very young. He was a man. He could walk with his eyes open into the disaster Carolly would no doubt visit on his head and have no one to blame but himself. But Margaret was a child. He would be remiss in his duties if he allowed her to be influenced by such a strange woman. And letting Carolly talk to the girl would just be the beginning. It was a slippery slope.
Reluctantly, he hardened his heart and shook his head. "I cannot allow Margaret's life to be disrupted."
Carolly snorted. "I'd say Margaret's life could use a good disruption. Oh James, look around. Can't you see how stifling this room is?"
James let his gaze wander around the room. The walls were a pristine white; the hard wood furniture, though sparse, appeared more than sufficient for Margaret's needs. The only other objects in the room were three books of sermons stacked neatly in front of Mrs. Homswallow. The fourth lay open in front of Margaret.
Things did seem a bit dull.
"I see nothing wrong with this room," he lied. He didn't want to promise too much too quickly, especially since Margaret was prone to flights of fancy. The last thing he wished to do was promise the child something vague only to see her disappointed. He smiled at his niece. Though perhaps we can get you a few new books." And maybe he'd even paint the room a different color.
Carolly sighed. "Books aren't going to cut it. She needs excitement. Playfulness. A childhood in her childhood." As James was trying to puzzle out those words, she grinned at Margaret. "Well, since we can't meet now, how about a midnight rendezvous? I’ll climb along the wall tonight to meet you. Sound like fun? Then we'll talk boys or
Carolly's soft voice interrupted his reminisces, bringing him abruptly back to earth. She'd moved nearer to him. This is fun," she said in a low tone, startling him. Could she read his mind? "I love challenging you, trying to make you think." She gave him a glance filled with wonder. "I like arguing with you. But you know, James, there are so many less important things we could fight about. I'd rather not do it over Margaret."
James stared at her. Would she ever cease to surprise him? "I agree," he said slowly. "I suggest we remove to the library and leave Margaret to her lessons."
Carolly sighed and shook her head. "I'm determined to talk to her." She shifted to look directly at him. "It's important."
"Why?" he asked. His voice was harsher, more abrupt than he intended. "So you can disrupt her routine, upset her delicate emotions, and generally throw her life into chaos?”
"No. That's what I'll do for you." Carolly said, her light blue eyes shimmering with . . . glee? "Yes," she continued. "I can see I already do. I disorient you. I challenge your neatly ordered world." She lifted her chin with clear pleasure. "Good. Maybe there's hope for you after all." Turning back to Margaret, Carolly suggested, "I know! Why don't you stay with us, James? Be with me when I talk to her. See how harmless I can be." She slanted a sideways look at him. It was filled with devilry and mischief, but despite all his mental warnings, James found himself warming to the excitement her eyes promised him. "I truly am trying to help," she added.
He was going to give in. He felt it in his bones. She had a way of setting his blood on fire that he found absolutely irresistible.
Yet something held him back.
Margaret. She was still very young. He was a man. He could walk with his eyes open into the disaster Carolly would no doubt visit on his head and have no one to blame but himself. But Margaret was a child. He would be remiss in his duties if he allowed her to be influenced by such a strange woman. And letting Carolly talk to the girl would just be the beginning. It was a slippery slope.
Reluctantly, he hardened his heart and shook his head. "I cannot allow Margaret's life to be disrupted."
Carolly snorted. "I'd say Margaret's life could use a good disruption. Oh James, look around. Can't you see how stifling this room is?"
James let his gaze wander around the room. The walls were a pristine white; the hard wood furniture, though sparse, appeared more than sufficient for Margaret's needs. The only other objects in the room were three books of sermons stacked neatly in front of Mrs. Homswallow. The fourth lay open in front of Margaret.
Things did seem a bit dull.
"I see nothing wrong with this room," he lied. He didn't want to promise too much too quickly, especially since Margaret was prone to flights of fancy. The last thing he wished to do was promise the child something vague only to see her disappointed. He smiled at his niece. Though perhaps we can get you a few new books." And maybe he'd even paint the room a different color.
Carolly sighed. "Books aren't going to cut it. She needs excitement. Playfulness. A childhood in her childhood." As James was trying to puzzle out those words, she grinned at Margaret. "Well, since we can't meet now, how about a midnight rendezvous? I’ll climb along the wall tonight to meet you. Sound like fun? Then we'll talk boys or