by Leanne Banks
“You should have woken me. That’s why I’m here,” she said, offering Ericka a cup of coffee.
“He was just on the edge,” Ericka said, accepting the coffee and taking a long draw. “He kept going to sleep and waking up. Then going to sleep and waking up.”
“You should have awakened me after the first time,” Nanny said.
“I think it became a challenge,” Ericka said.
“Oh,” Nanny said in a dark voice. “That’s bad. No one should ever challenge a Devereaux.”
Ericka laughed and took another long drink from her coffee. “You’re so right.” She paused a half beat. “The security man suggested I do something with light to help Leo. Something about his sight being a strong sense. So I’m going to do some research.”
“This from the American?”
Ericka nodded. “Who knew?”
Nanny shook her head. “I would not have expected that.”
“Neither would I have,” Ericka said.
Nanny lifted her hands in the sign language for applause. “Good for you. Good for Leo.”
Ericka smiled and echoed the sign language. “We’re working on it,” she said. “In the meantime, it’s time for me to go to work.”
“Drink another cup of coffee,” Nanny said.
Ericka extended her mug up toward the woman, who refilled her cup. “I’m so glad I don’t have to meet face-to-face with anyone today. Thank goodness this is a phone day.”
“Take a nap midday then have juice and a cookie,” Nanny said. “It will be good for you.”
Ericka chuckled, but she couldn’t help thinking Nanny had a good point. Maybe, if everyone took a nap after lunch followed by a snack of juice and a cookie, then the world would be a better place. She would be less cranky. That was for sure.
She made several calls throughout the day. Coffee kept her going. Just before dinner, she signed off and typed some final notes on her laptop. The conference planning was coming along. She was pleased with her progress.
Ericka stood and shook her body to release her stiffness and tension. A short dip in the pool would do her good, she thought, and she went to her bedroom to change into a bathing suit. It was dinner time, but she was more interested in the sensation of sinking into water than eating. Thank goodness the pool was heated.
Ericka stepped down the stairs into the pool, pausing before the last step. The water was cooler than she’d expected. She finally took that last step and let out a little squeal. Sinking down to her neck, she shivered, but quickly adjusted.
She took a deep breath then plunged her face in the water and began to swim. She made it to the far wall and turned then swam back. Out of breath, she paused and chastised herself. “Go,” she muttered to herself and swam another lap. She returned and grasped the side of the pool, gasping for air.
A warm hand covered hers on the side of the pool. “Are you okay?”
Surprised, she inhaled water and coughed. And coughed. And coughed. She felt a splash beside her and a thump on her back. She hacked a couple more times then took a low, careful breath through her nostrils.
“Did you have to startle me?” she finally managed, looking up at Mr. Walker who was fully dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. Drenched, he stared down at her, his shirt clinging to his perfectly muscled body.
“I thought you were drowning,” he said. “You kept gasping for air but ducking your head under the water.”
“I was pushing myself to go a little farther. I realize it may look pathetic in your eyes, but I haven’t had a lot of physical exercise during the last few months.”
“Oh,” he said, watching her as she continued to catch her breath.
“Have you ever had a baby?” she asked.
His mouth twitched in a cockeyed smile. “Not that I can remember.”
Ericka took a deep breath and headed toward the steps. She felt his hands on her waist guiding her. “That’s not—”
“No problem,” he said, continuing to help her up the steps.
Her heart raced at his touch and she didn’t like the sensation. “Let go of me. I’m fine.”
He didn’t release her until she was steady. She resented the fact that she wasn’t steady one minute earlier. She resented him, too.
“I was just taking a swim,” she said.
He stepped up beside her in his wet street cloths and looked down at her. “Maybe you shouldn’t do as many laps next time.”
“I didn’t do that many,” she retorted.
“Cut yourself some slack. Isn’t your baby still waking up every night?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“And you don’t let the nanny take over nearly often enough, then,” he said.
Ericka took another deep breath, hating that he was speaking the truth. She so wanted him to be wrong. “I can handle it.”
“I’m your security detail,” he said, and extended his hand. “I can’t let you drown yourself.”
She ignored his hand and walked away, her limbs heavy from her exertion. “You ruined my swim.”
“I saved you from drowning,” he corrected.
She turned around and stared at him. “You are a total pain and you will be gone in six days.”
He gave a crooked smile again. “Your brother insisted that you give me a trial period.”
Ericka scowled. I hate you, she wanted to say. “Good night. You’ll be gone soon enough,” she said, and then turned to walk away.
“You know Beethoven wrote some of his most famous work when he was deaf,” he said.
She stopped and her heart stopped, too. Ericka took a deep breath, more moved by his words than she would ever want to admit. “Good night,” she repeated, although even she would admit she sounded less hostile.
Although she turned on a light in Leo’s room, he still awakened in the middle of the night and screamed bloody murder. Nanny was there to help, but Ericka felt responsible. She was his mother. She was the one who should soothe him back to sleep. As soon as she drew him into her arms, he quieted.
As she rocked him in the middle of the night, she wondered if she would ever be the mother he needed. He was such a precious soul. How could she be all he needed?
She dozed a bit with him in her lap then rose and carefully placed him in the crib, keeping her hand on him for several moments. She felt him drift to sleep and carefully walked away.
An hour later, he awakened again. This time, she let Nanny take him. At the same time, she felt like a failure. Why couldn’t she help her son so that he would sleep through the night?
Exhausted, she awakened later than usual and forced herself to climb out of bed. Stumbling toward the bath, she splashed her face with water and brushed her teeth then headed for the kitchen for coffee. She wanted to mainline it through her veins.
Nanny offered her a cup. “Would you like cream and sugar, ma’am?”
“That sounds wonderful,” Ericka said. “Have you gotten any sleep since four am?”
“Yes, ma’am, I have,” Nanny said. “His royal self gave it up after half a bottle. Men,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s all about food.”
Ericka chuckled and took a sip of her coffee. “So true. And this morning?”
“He’s still asleep,” Nanny said.
“That can be good,” Ericka said. “And bad.”
Nanny nodded. “I’ll take a nap in just a few moments,” she said.
“I’m thinking of hiring back-up assistance for cooking and cleaning,” Ericka said.
“It shouldn’t be necessary,” Nanny said. “I know our arrangement is for me to return to my apartment a few days every month. Is that a problem?” the woman asked with a worried expression.
“Not at all. Trust me, you are irreplaceable. I think a little
additional back-up may help. For both of us,” Ericka said. “Leo has us coming and going. There’s too much of cooking and cleaning left to do.”
“Well, it’s not as if you’re a woman of leisure,” Nanny said. “You work very hard.”
Ericka felt a sliver of relief. “Thank you for saying that. I somehow feel as if I should manage all of this on my own.”
Nanny shook her head. “Never. It’s not as if you have a husband,” she said, and then covered her mouth as if she were shocked by her frank words.
Ericka shook her head. “Don’t worry. What you say is true. I’m just trying to figure it all out.”
“And you’re doing a wonderful job,” Nanny said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It won’t help you get any job done, motherhood or your other duties.”
Ericka made more phone calls to continue to secure the arrangements for the upcoming conference. Her sister Bridget called in between calls. “Hello, Bridget, how are you?”
“Pregnant and busy with the twins and all the animals my husband insists on having at our so-called ranch. When I agreed to marry a Texan doctor, I didn’t realize he was serious about recreating home on the range here in Chantaine,” Bridget said in a mock huffy voice.
Ericka smiled at her sister’s tone. Although Bridget had been known as the socialite in her family, she’d been tamed when she’d fallen in love with her doctor husband and the two nephews he’d adopted. “More animals? Horses, cattle, goats. You’re turning into a zoo,”
“Oh, darling, we became a zoo a long time ago,” she said. “Now, I know you’re busy, but Pippa, Eve and I want to have a get-together for lunch before I get much closer to my due date. Before you know it, it will be Christmas. Or I’ll be in labor. One of the two.”
“I’d love to,” Ericka said, “but I’m feeling strapped for time. Between caring for Leo and planning the conference...”
“I feel terrible that you’ve had to take over the conference, but when the doctor put me on limited activity, it squashed my schedule even more. You have a nanny and back-up, don’t you?”
“I have a wonderful nanny, but I think I’m going to have to get someone part-time for shopping and errands,” Ericka said.
Bridget made a tsk-ing sound. “You should have done that right away. Trying to do too much. You’re starting to act like overachiever Valentina before her husband took her away from us.”
Ericka smiled at the description. Bridget had nailed Tina’s personality perfectly. “I’m not sure I’ll ever measure up to those standards,” Ericka said.
“Well, you have too much right now, so I think you should ask for a loaner or referral from the palace. Anyone they recommend will have been properly vetted. You can ask for a few choices,” Bridget said.
“I’ve been trying to avoid placing any extra burdens on the palace,” she confessed.
“Oh, yes. I know all about it. Stefan is huffing and puffing because you won’t stay at the palace where he can make sure you’re safe and secure. Can’t blame you for wanting to escape, though. Even though I live in a circus with these five-year old twins and all these animals, I much prefer living outside the walls. But I insist you let the palace help you out. I also insist you join us for lunch day after tomorrow. No arguments,” Bridget said in her best no-nonsense voice.
“All right,” Ericka said. “When did you become so bossy?”
“You get a family of instant twin baby boys and you’ll be amazed how bossy you become. Ciao, darling. Go eat some chocolate and have some wine. Drink an extra glass for me.”
Although reluctant, Ericka put in a call to palace personnel. Two applicants would apply tomorrow. She fed the baby and carried him around for a while. Suddenly it was eight o’clock and she was tired and cranky. Thank goodness for Nanny. She thought about how Bridget had suggested wine and chocolate, but she was in the mood for something different. Something she’d had when she was pregnant and living in Texas.
A peanut butter and bacon sandwich.
* * *
Treat followed the scent of bacon inside the house. He’d missed that smell. “Bacon?” he said.
Ericka whirled around to look at him. “Technically pancetta.”
“Smells like bacon,” he said.
“It’s not quite the same thing,” she said. “But I’ll make do. If I burn it enough and put it on top of peanut butter, it won’t matter that much.”
“Peanut butter?” he echoed, impressed by her determination.
She nodded and turned back to her frying pan. “My brother-in-law from Texas turned me onto this when I was pregnant. It has turned into one of my favorite stress foods.”
She flipped the pancetta onto a paper towel while she slathered a slice of bread with a peanut butter.
“Hey,” Treat said. “Do you have any extra bacon?”
“Pancetta,” she corrected.
“It smells great,” he said.
She chuckled. “Here you go.”
“I think I want to try it with peanut butter,” he said.
She slid him a sideways glance. “I don’t have a lot of extra peanut butter,” she said. “My sister from Texas sends it to me.”
“Okay,” Treat said. “I’ll just take the bacon.”
She gave a heavy sigh and pulled out two more slices of bread. Slapping some peanut butter on a slice, she followed with a helping of crispy pancetta and squished the sandwich together. She handed it to him on a plate. “Eat at your own risk.”
“I’ll brave it,” he said, then took a big bite and savored the flavors. He took another bite to assess. “It’s delicious. The pancetta’s a little strong, but it’s still delicious.”
“Agreed,” Ericka said. “I’m trying to figure out how to get American bacon, although I know I’ve just offended every Italian I’ve ever met.”
“The pancetta’s not bad,” he said, taking another big bite of the sandwich.
“No, but I want cheap bacon,” she said, and took a bite of her own sandwich.
“If anyone should be able to get it, you should,” he said. “You’re a princess.”
“We have importation rules,” she said, and continued to eat her sandwich. “I wonder if I talked to Stefan. Or if I kept my mouth shut and asked Tina to send me American bacon...”
“What a scandal that could be,” he said. “Princess Fredericka imports forbidden bacon.”
She slid a quelling glance at him, then chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. I could be importing so much worse.”
He swallowed the rest of his sandwich and nodded. He brushed off his hands. “So right. Time for bed?”
She met his gaze and choked on her sandwich.
Treat smacked her on her back. He wondered if he should perform the Heimlich.
Ericka coughed then stepped away from him. “I’m fine,” she insisted, coughing.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, still coughing.
He poured a glass of water and offered it to her.
Ericka sipped it then took a shallow breath. “I think you’re right. It’s time to go to bed.”
Treat nodded. “Let me know if you need me for anything.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Walker,” she said.
“Call me Treat,” he said.
“Treat?” she echoed and shook her head. “What an interesting name.”
“Montreat,” he said. “The name was shortened.”
“Oh,” she said, and then nodded.
“Kinda like Fredericka was shortened to Ericka.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Mr. Walker. Good night.”
“Good night, Princess Fredericka,” he said.
“I need to clean up,” she said.
“I can do that,” he said. “Go on up
to bed. You need your sleep.”
She paused a moment. “If you insist, Mr. Walker.”
“Treat,” he corrected.
She paused a long moment. “Treat,” she finally said in a soft voice. The sound of his name from her lips did something to him. He would have to figure that out later.
“Night,” he said as he watched her leave the room. Treat cleaned the pan and dishes then prowled the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, he heard the sound of Leo crying. He knew Ericka would get up and cradle her baby. He also knew she needed rest.
Treat climbed the stairs. He nearly bumped into Ericka.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I’m checking on your baby,” he said.
“I can take care of that,” she told him.
“But maybe you shouldn’t,” he said. “Even Saint Ericka needs a rest.”
She scowled at him. “I’ve never said I’m a saint.”
“Then stop trying to look like one,” he said. “Go back to bed.”
“Who will hold Leo?” she asked.
“I will,” he said.
“You?” she asked. “You look like you would be better with a football.”
“Football, baby, they’re close to the same.”
“A baby is close to a football?” she said, clearly alarmed.
“I’m joking,” he said. “I’ve rocked a baby before. Trust me.”
“Why should I?” she asked.
“Your brother did,” he said. “He vetted me six times from Sunday.”
Ericka sighed, clearly so weary she could hardly stand. “Just for a few minutes,” she said. “Just a few minutes. Then wake me up. I can handle this.” She turned toward her room and Treat felt a crazy quiet sense of victory as he entered the nursery and picked up the baby.
Chapter Three
Ericka awakened in the night and listened for sounds from the baby monitor. Nothing. She stared up at the ceiling then closed her eyes and told herself she should go back to sleep. Leo wasn’t crying. All was well.
Except the football player was looking after her baby. Rising and pushing her covers aside, she shook her head at herself. She must have been out of her mind to put Leo in his care. Rushing to the nursery, she carefully pushed the door open and saw Treat moving the beam of a flashlight against the ceiling. He saw her and lifted his fingers to his lips to urge her to remain quiet.
