Temptation Read online

  It seemed hours before they reached Greenwich Village and the brownstone that was her home. But it wasn’t a home without her mother there, Temperance thought. Without Melanie O’Neil’s presence, the house was just a heap of stone.

  When the carriage finally pulled up in front of the house and she saw that it was ablaze with light, Temperance broke into a grin. Her mother was home! She had so very much to tell her, so many things to share with her. In the last three months Temperance had accomplished a lot, but she was always thinking of what was left to do. Should she take on that project on the West Side? It was so very far away, all the way across the park. It had been suggested to Temperance that she buy a motorcar and travel about town in that. Should she?

  There were many things that Temperance wanted to talk to her mother about. Next week Temperance had six meetings with politicians and the press. And there were four scheduled luncheons with men-who-had-money, men who could possibly be persuaded to fund Temperance’s purchase of yet another tenement building.

  Truthfully, sometimes Temperance felt so overwhelmed by what her life had become that all she wanted to do was put her head on her mother’s lap and cry.

  But now her mother was home and Temperance would at last have someone to talk to.

  “Good night,” Temperance called over her shoulder as she practically leaped from the carriage, not allowing Willie to help her down.

  She ran up the steps two at a time and threw open the door to the house.

  And standing in the entrance hall under the crystal chandelier was Melanie O’Neil, clasped tightly in the arms of a man. They were kissing.

  “Oh, Temperance, dear,” Mellie said as she broke away from the man. “I didn’t want you find out until I’d had time to explain. We, ah . . .”

  The man—tall, handsome, gray-haired—stepped forward, his hand outstretched, lips smiling. “Your mother and I were married in Scotland. I’m your new father. And I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that, day after tomorrow, the three of us are going home to live in the Highlands.”

  Two

  Temperance managed to make it through dinner. The man, this stranger, sat at the head of the table—in her father’s chair, her father’s place—and laughed and chatted as though it were a given that both his new wife and her daughter were going to pack up and return to Edinburgh with him to live! All through dinner the man lectured on the glories of that foreign city.

  Winking, and even once touching Temperance’s hand, he told her that he’d be able to find her a husband in no time.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with these American men,” Angus McCairn said, smiling. “You still have your looks, and even though you might be a bit over-the-hill for most men, I’m sure we can find you someone.”

  “Can you?” Temperance asked quietly, looking at the man with hatred in her eyes.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “And we’ll fatten you up on good Scottish beef. You’re on the thin side for the taste of the men of the Highlands. Oh, we’ll have a time of it. As long as I have my dear wife by my side, how can we fail to be happy?”

  Temperance looked across the table at her mother, but Melanie O’Neil kept her head down, pushing the food about on her plate and refusing to meet her daughter’s eyes.

  “Mr. McCairn,” Temperance said slowly and evenly so he’d be sure to hear what she was saying. So far the man seemed to hear only his own voice. “I do not know what you have been told about me, but obviously it couldn’t have been too much.” Her eyes bored into the top of her cowardly mother’s head. How could you have done this?! she wanted to scream. She’d thought that she and her mother were friends as well as relatives.

  But now Temperance tried to calm herself as she looked back at this large man who seemed so out of place amid all the delicate bric-a-brac that her mother so loved to collect. “Mr. McCairn, I—”

  “You must call me Father,” he said, smiling at her warmly. “I know you’re a bit old to be given pony rides, but we can manage something.” He looked at his new wife to share the joke he’d just made, but Melanie just lowered her head closer to her plate. Another minute and her nose would be in the roast beef.

  Temperance had to unclench her fists. If the man made even one more reference to her age, she was going to dump the entire platter of brussels sprouts onto his head.

  But she’d spent the last eight years dealing with difficult men, and she’d rarely lost her temper. “Perhaps it’s a bit early for such familiarity, but what I want to say is that I cannot possibly live in Scotland.”

  “Canna go?” he said, looking from Temperance to her mother then back again. This announcement seemed to bring out the accent in his speech. “What do ye mean that you canna go? Ye are my daughter.”

  Temperance could see that there were little sparks of light beginning to flash in his blue eyes. Little sparks of temper. For her mother’s sake, she’d better diffuse that anger.

  “I have work to do here,” she said softly, “so I must remain here in New York. If Mother must go—” Here she choked and again looked at her mother’s head.

  Melanie took a handkerchief out of her sleeve and put it to her eyes, but she didn’t look up at her daughter.

  “Now look what ye’ve done!” Angus McCairn said loudly. “You’ve gone and upset her. Come, come, now, Mellie, don’t cry. She doesn’t mean it. Of course she’ll go. A daughter always stays with her mother until she’s married, so, with her bein’ as old as she is, you may never lose her.”

  At that Temperance came to her feet. “Mother! How could you have married this insensitive lout?! Couldn’t you have just had an affair with the grocery boy?”

  When Angus McCairn got to his feet, Temperance didn’t think she’d ever in her life seen anyone so angry. But she didn’t back down from him, even when he raised his hand and she was sure he was going to strike her. She’d faced furious men before when she’d told them what she thought of what they were doing to their families.

  “In my office,” he said under his breath. “This is between you and me. I’ll not upset your mother.”

  “My mother is a grown woman, and since she created this impossible situation, I think she should be involved in it.”

  Angus was now so angry he was shaking. When he pointed his finger toward the dining room door, he was trembling. “Go,” he said under his breath. “Go.”

  Temperance looked down at her mother and saw that she was crying hard now, but Temperance had no sympathy for her, for she had been betrayed by the person she loved most in the world.

  Turning on her heel, Temperance left the room, but in the entrance hall she halted. She was not going to enter her father’s office and act as though she knew that now that room belonged to . . . to him.

  Angus strode past her, flung open the door to the library, then stepped aside for her to enter. He took three strides to cross the room, then sat down on the green leather chair that had always been her father’s chair. “Now we shall talk,” he said, his elbows on the carved arms of the chair, his index fingers made into steeples as he glared at her.

  Temperance decided that perhaps this situation called for a more subtle approach. “Mr. McCairn,” she said softly, then waited for him to correct her. But he didn’t.

  Temperance took a seat on the other side of the desk. “I don’t think you understand about my life, about who I am and what I do,” she said with a modest little smile; then she ducked her head in a way that usually made men jump up and fetch something for her. But when she looked back up at Angus McCairn, he hadn’t moved a muscle; there was still much anger in his eyes.

  She gave him a smile. “I’m sure that you must be a delightful man or my mother wouldn’t have married you, and, as much as I’ll miss her . . .” Temperance had to pause or she was going to choke at the thought of her mother being gone forever. “I will miss her but I cannot leave New York. I am needed here.”

  Angus didn’t say anything for several moments, but just looked at her. He