woman died, leaving the
children with him.” She raised her hands in a helpless flutter and let them
drop. “She was not long in her grave when Meraux sold the house, packed them
up, and brought them here, to a foreign country, where few people speak their
language, and they receive no schooling at all.”
“Have they ever said why he
came here?”
“No, and I am not sure they
know.” Miss McKenzie shook her head, a troubled expression on her face. “I am
especially concerned about Danielle. She seldom reveals any emotion, but I
believe she is afraid. Whether of her stepfather or the situation, I do not
know. Guy does not appear to be similarly affected. He has his dog, and
Danielle sees the lad is entertained.”
“Speaking of the dog, it
appears the animal lives with you, yet you say it belongs to the boy.”
Blackwell gave into his urge to move and began to wander around the courtyard,
although never too far from his hostess.
“One day in the market, I
came to the rescue when Bonnie had escaped and Meraux threatened to dispose of
her. I agreed to take her with the stipulation that they come every day to care
for her. One thing led to another, and they were able to get permission to take
music lessons.” She smiled. “Danielle enjoys it more than Guy, but both like
the English lessons I started.”
Blackwell stopped for a
moment to stare at her. “Why on earth are you doing all this for strangers?”
She took a deep breath and a
slight smile played on her lips. “I like children and they seemed in need of a
friend,” she said simply.
“Humph.” Blackwell resumed
his pacing. She was setting herself up for heartbreak. He could not imagine she
planned to remain long in Portugal and the children could disappear at any
time. Why was she here, anyway?That information had not been part of
their bargain, but he was curious—more than curious . He sauntered over
and sat down. Getting that out of her today was not likely, but he would have
it before he left the country.
“Your turn.”
She leaned a little toward
him and gazed at him with wide-eyed interest, reminding him of an inquisitive
sparrow. Appealing, far too appealing, and his resolve to keep her at arm’s
length hardened.
“I am not sure what to tell
you. As I said, my name is Blackwell, Nicholas Blackwell. I reside in
Hampshire, near to Winchester, with my daughter.”
“You have a daughter?”
Annoyed at her look of surprise,
Blackwell stiffened. “I see nothing unusual in that,” he said with a distinct
chill in his voice.
“Oh, no, it’s lovely! You
are fortunate. How old is she?”
Her rushed reply held
genuine interest and Blackwell relaxed, though he had no intention of discussing
Sarah. “Sarah is almost nine.”
As if sensing his
unwillingness to speak of his daughter, Miss McKenzie turned the subject to one
he was almost as loath to discuss as Sarah.
“How did you come to be here
in Portugal, Mr. Blackwell? You admittedly do not know Danielle, yet here you
are, far from home. Why you, and not one of these so-called powerful friends of
the child who presumably at least know her?”
Unsure of how much to tell
her, Blackwell debated long enough to make her look suspiciously at him. He
settled his face into a bland expression. “One of the gentlemen involved is a
close friend. He knows I have business here and speak the language. For various
reasons, he was unable to come himself and asked that I stand in for him.”
“I see.” She raised her
chin, looked at him with weary patience, and repeated her earlier question.
“Why are you here, sir? You have a reason, apparently a sound one, to seek out
this child. I would like to know what it is, before I allow her to meet you.”
Blackwell stood and said
easily, “That is something I cannot tell you, Miss McKenzie, without Danielle’s
permission. You will have to trust me. I will do her no harm.” He looked down
at her with some sympathy, guessing how difficult this was for
children with him.” She raised her hands in a helpless flutter and let them
drop. “She was not long in her grave when Meraux sold the house, packed them
up, and brought them here, to a foreign country, where few people speak their
language, and they receive no schooling at all.”
“Have they ever said why he
came here?”
“No, and I am not sure they
know.” Miss McKenzie shook her head, a troubled expression on her face. “I am
especially concerned about Danielle. She seldom reveals any emotion, but I
believe she is afraid. Whether of her stepfather or the situation, I do not
know. Guy does not appear to be similarly affected. He has his dog, and
Danielle sees the lad is entertained.”
“Speaking of the dog, it
appears the animal lives with you, yet you say it belongs to the boy.”
Blackwell gave into his urge to move and began to wander around the courtyard,
although never too far from his hostess.
“One day in the market, I
came to the rescue when Bonnie had escaped and Meraux threatened to dispose of
her. I agreed to take her with the stipulation that they come every day to care
for her. One thing led to another, and they were able to get permission to take
music lessons.” She smiled. “Danielle enjoys it more than Guy, but both like
the English lessons I started.”
Blackwell stopped for a
moment to stare at her. “Why on earth are you doing all this for strangers?”
She took a deep breath and a
slight smile played on her lips. “I like children and they seemed in need of a
friend,” she said simply.
“Humph.” Blackwell resumed
his pacing. She was setting herself up for heartbreak. He could not imagine she
planned to remain long in Portugal and the children could disappear at any
time. Why was she here, anyway?That information had not been part of
their bargain, but he was curious—more than curious . He sauntered over
and sat down. Getting that out of her today was not likely, but he would have
it before he left the country.
“Your turn.”
She leaned a little toward
him and gazed at him with wide-eyed interest, reminding him of an inquisitive
sparrow. Appealing, far too appealing, and his resolve to keep her at arm’s
length hardened.
“I am not sure what to tell
you. As I said, my name is Blackwell, Nicholas Blackwell. I reside in
Hampshire, near to Winchester, with my daughter.”
“You have a daughter?”
Annoyed at her look of surprise,
Blackwell stiffened. “I see nothing unusual in that,” he said with a distinct
chill in his voice.
“Oh, no, it’s lovely! You
are fortunate. How old is she?”
Her rushed reply held
genuine interest and Blackwell relaxed, though he had no intention of discussing
Sarah. “Sarah is almost nine.”
As if sensing his
unwillingness to speak of his daughter, Miss McKenzie turned the subject to one
he was almost as loath to discuss as Sarah.
“How did you come to be here
in Portugal, Mr. Blackwell? You admittedly do not know Danielle, yet here you
are, far from home. Why you, and not one of these so-called powerful friends of
the child who presumably at least know her?”
Unsure of how much to tell
her, Blackwell debated long enough to make her look suspiciously at him. He
settled his face into a bland expression. “One of the gentlemen involved is a
close friend. He knows I have business here and speak the language. For various
reasons, he was unable to come himself and asked that I stand in for him.”
“I see.” She raised her
chin, looked at him with weary patience, and repeated her earlier question.
“Why are you here, sir? You have a reason, apparently a sound one, to seek out
this child. I would like to know what it is, before I allow her to meet you.”
Blackwell stood and said
easily, “That is something I cannot tell you, Miss McKenzie, without Danielle’s
permission. You will have to trust me. I will do her no harm.” He looked down
at her with some sympathy, guessing how difficult this was for
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