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lesson set before him. But sometimes the childish desire to join the dancers came back.
    Disgruntled, Nicholas slammed his glass on the table and strode out.

Chapter 5
    Eavin tried not to show her surprise when Nicholas walked into the nursery the next morning. He was dressed casually in tight riding pants that clung indecently to strong thighs, and an open-necked linen shirt that revealed too much of the sun-browned column of his throat. His overwhelming masculinity in this tiny room scented with baby lotion and milk made her more aware of the man than ever before, a knowledge that did not sit easily, given her past experiences with men. It took an effort not to flinch.
    Oblivious of her uneasiness, Nicholas studied the infant rocking on her hands and knees on the floor. "Should she be out of bed like that?"
    Eavin wished she had one of the cool short-sleeved muslins she had seen in Francine's wardrobe. The long- sleeved gown she wore now was suddenly stifling, even though it was October and the weather should be turning cool. Ignoring her discomfort, she picked up Jeannette.
    "How will she learn what the world is like if she is not allowed out in it?" Eavin asked more calmly than she felt, handing the child to her father.
    Nicholas looked stunned at finding his hands filled with a small, chubby body. The babe gurgled and blew a bubble, gazing through innocent dark eyes at the stranger who held her.
    "Lay her against your shoulder. Let her get to know you," Eavin instructed, hiding her amusement. Saint-Just suddenly seemed less intimidating with an infant dangling from his hands.
    Gingerly, he adjusted the child to his shoulder, holding her tightly as if fearing she might break or get away. A small palm patted his lean face, and he grimaced, but when he discovered she would not dive from his arms, he took the window seat and stretched his long legs out before him. With curiosity he probed tiny fingers and feet in the same way in which Jeannette explored him.
    "She doesn't see many strangers. Some children are afraid of anything different. She seems to adapt well." Complacently, Eavin took up her embroidery.
    "Francine never knew a stranger. She welcomed everyone." Nicholas felt the wrenching pain of the memory. He had been a young boy when his family had first arrived in New Orleans. He had known no one, and the circumstances under which they had arrived made the world seem an unfriendly place. But he could still remember the golden little girl stopping her duenna in the street so she could say hello. Francine had loved everybody. Unfortunately.
    As if following his train of thought, Eavin replied, "There are good and bad points to that trait. We will need to teach her caution."
    That he would do of a certainty. Filling with an incomprehensible urge to protect this helpless creature, Nicholas raised Jeannette to meet his eyes. The small face looked startled and a trifle wary, and he grinned. "You will learn, enfant . That wicked witch in black over there will teach you to keep a sharp tongue, and I shall teach you to keep a sharp knife. It's never too soon to learn."
    Eavin raised her eyebrows, but she offered no protest. The fact that Nicholas had lowered his evil pride to come in here and acknowledge the child was sufficient to raise him a step higher in her eyes. She was well aware that some men would never have had the maturity to accept another man's child as his own.  
    "It will be good for her to become accustomed to a man's voice. She hears nothing but women as it is."
    "Perhaps that is the way it should be. We could send her to the nuns when she is older, and she would never know about the male of the species." Nicholas sent Eavin a mocking look that demanded reply.
    "That is a little like learning about sunshine and closing your eyes when the nighttime comes and pretending it doesn't exist. Ignorance can be as dangerous as knowledge. More so, perhaps."
    "You are a hardhearted female, Irish. Dominic is scarce gone