She had little doubt the dark prince would wield his considerable power and influence to find his brother. Sammy, however, might get lost in the shuffle as his uncle concentrated on the bigger goal.
“A bit of a concussion for both of you.” The doctor sat back and regarded her and Sammy. “And you’re both exhausted. I recommend twenty-four hours rest at the minimum.”
“Can he travel, Doctor?” Julian asked, squaring his shoulders into an even-sharper line. “He can rest on the train.”
Katrina tensed at the suggestion. Sammy stirred against her, and she patted him softly, adjusting so she covered his ear with one hand while lightly running her fingers through his hair with the other. Surely the man didn’t intend taking Sammy tonight?
“Your Highness, I understand your urgency to return to France and the search for your brother, but the boy is traumatized. He was told his parents weren’t coming back.”
At this news amber eyes met hers, his disapproval drilling deep into her. No question who he blamed. She swallowed hard but refused to look away.
The doctor went on. “Sammy is in distress. The staff has done their best, especially Katrina, but he’s slept and eaten little since news of the crash reached us. With the addition of this head injury, I highly doubt he’ll get the proper rest he needs on the train.”
“Julian—” Bernadette moved to the prince’s side “—we have rooms ready for you. Why not stay the night and see how Sammy is in the morning? The early train is at eight, not too big a delay.”
No mention was made that if the inclement weather continued, travel might be impeded. There was no need. It didn’t take a genius to figure the odds, and it was well-known that Julian Ettenburl was off-the-charts smart. Yet after only a few minutes in his presence Katrina saw he wasn’t a people person.
Why ever had he been the one to come for Sammy?
She supposed it spoke well of him. But not if he insisted on making the child travel before he was ready. A glance from the Princess had Katrina biting back her opinion.
He showed some sense when he nodded at Bernadette. “We shall stay the night. Though I would like Samson with me.”
“Of course.” Bernadette readily agreed as she sent Katrina a hopeful glance. “Your suite has two rooms. I’ll have a crib set up in the second bedroom.”
“Thank you. You are most gracious.”
“I do hope you’ll join us for dinner. Jean Claude has been closely monitoring the rescue operations. I know he would welcome a chance to speak with you.”
“As I would him.” The Prince sighed, showing the first sign of weariness. “Actually, I find I’m quite famished.”
“Then we shall dine.” She hooked her arm through his and drew him toward the door. “Our chef will be pleased with the opportunity to impress you. Unless you’d prefer to freshen up first?”
“No, that is fine.” He paused to nod at Tessa. “Please see Samson settled into my rooms.” His critical gaze slid over Katrina. “I prefer you resume his care.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Tessa bowed her head in acquiescence.
Heat flooded Katrina’s cheeks at his obvious censure. Arrogant beast. She was happy to see the back of him as Princess Bernadette led Prince Julian from the room.
Tears stung the back of her eyes. Exhaustion, she knew. She didn’t usually let attitude get to her. She lived in a world of royalty, worked in the palace, where arrogance and entitlement were practically job requirements. She’d learned long ago not to let it bother her.
Tonight, as she fought to keep her eyes open, it hurt.
Dr. Lambert righted her when she listed to the side. “My dear, you need to find your bed.”
“Oui.” Oh how she craved her own bed. But first she’d see to Sammy, despite his uncle’s wishes. She wouldn’t let his poor behavior dictate hers.
“Good, you’re going to be sensible. Just as well you live here in the palace. With the concussion, you’ll need someone to check on you periodically through the night.”
She’d like nothing more than to follow the doctor’s orders and head to her room, but in the past few days Sammy had stolen a part of her heart. He’d brought her back to life. She couldn’t rest until she knew he was settled for the night.
“What about Sammy?” Tessa asked. “Should I wake him during the night?”
“Yes. Wake him and check his pupils. If you notice any oddities or if he starts vomiting, call for me.”
Tessa nodded and reached for the sleeping Sammy. He awoke with a jerk and shrank away from his nanny with a weak cry.
Katrina stood, cradling him to her chest. He subsided against her, closing his eyes. “I will carry Sammy to the Prince’s rooms and see him settled.”
Tessa blocked her way. The nanny looked down her nose at Katrina. “I’ll take him.”
She eyed the taller, thinner woman. It hadn’t skipped Katrina’s notice the other woman had kept her silence when the Prince focused his blame on Katrina for Tessa’s lapse of judgment in telling Sammy of his parents’ disappearance. In Katrina’s opinion, the woman was showing no better sense now than she had before.
“I do not think so.” She moved to walk around the woman.
Again Tessa stepped into her path. “His Highness made it clear he wishes me to resume my duties. He will expect me to deliver Sammy to his rooms.”
Sighing Katrina shifted Sammy in her arms, his deadweight beginning to weigh on her. “Look, I am too tired to deal with a crying fit because you want to impress the Prince. He is not even in his rooms. Let me put Sammy down. We all know he is more likely to go back to sleep if I do it.”
“Sammy is my responsibility.” Tessa continued to protest.
“And in a minute I am going to give him to you and go to bed.” In no mood to argue, Katrina pushed past the woman. Sometimes exhaustion had its advantages. “Think about it. Would you prefer Prince Julian come back to a sleeping child or one awake and wailing in misery?”
Tessa had no response for Katrina’s challenge because they both knew she spoke the truth. Which didn’t mean Tessa accepted it graciously. As they fell into step behind the porter showing them to Prince Julian’s rooms, every click of her heels shouted her dissent.
Let her sulk. It was Sammy Katrina cared about. Her head throbbed and her arms began to burn, but one look down at his innocent, tearstained face gave her the strength to continue on. In the end they arrived at the suite before the crib did, and she gratefully sank into a blue silk tufted chair.
The room, a lavish display of antique elegance in blue and gold, reminded Katrina of what she loved about the palace. Tradition and longevity were built right into the brick and mortar of the royal home. She remembered coming here with her father as a child and thinking the palace was the most beautiful place on earth. She’d had so much fun with the other kids in the nursery she’d told papa she wanted to come back and live here someday.
Three years ago, she moved in. She never dreamed it would be under such agonizing circumstances.
But she worked hard, and last year earned a position in the nursery. She loved working with the children. Especially the royal twins, Devin and Marco. Because of her black belt in karate she was often assigned to them. The three-year-old boys were full of mischief and mayhem, yet were so smart and loving they were impossible to resist.
Katrina jolted from a light doze to find Tessa standing over her. She blinked and saw through the open bedroom door off to the right that the crib had been set up.
Good. The last thing she needed was another encounter with the headstrong Prince.
CHAPTER TWO
JULIAN ABSENTLY SHREDDED a piece of bread, unable to focus on the fine meal provided by the palace’s talented chef.
He kept reliving the moment when his nephew shrank away from him with a cry of distress. It tore at his heart both as the child’s probable guardian and as a man. He and his father were the child’s closest relatives. Samson should be reaching for him not seeking comfor
t in the arms of a stranger.
Even if those arms were soft and scented of apple blossoms. Or if the stranger protected him fiercely with flashing violet eyes and a fiery mane of bouncing curls. The woman barely reached Julian’s shoulder, and she’d been ready to personally take his head for disturbing Samson’s sleep.
Probably a guilty conscience.
Fury fried already-frayed nerves at the thought of the meddlesome chit causing Samson undue trauma by telling him his parents wouldn’t be returning. Even if it proved true, that should have been his job and handled once the boy was back among family. And after Julian had a chance to discuss the matter with a professional so he knew the best way to approach the issue without doing the kind of damage Samson was currently experiencing.
“My friend, you should eat,” Jean Claude, Prince of Pasadonia, urged him. “The next few days will be trying. You will need to be at full strength.”
“The meal is delicious.” Julian speared a succulent shrimp from the savory dish. “I apologize for my lack of appetite.” He usually valued a gourmet meal, but preoccupation prevented him from fully enjoying the multicourse fare. Nonetheless he appreciated the royal couple’s efforts. Plus they’d provided a safe haven for Samson during the travesty of the past two days.
Physically anyway. They obviously needed better trained nursemaids.
A soft touch settled over his fingers, and he looked into Bernadette’s sympathetic gaze. “I know you have much on your mind. I cannot imagine how you are holding together.”
“It is difficult,” he agreed, wondering if he should pull his hand away from hers or just leave it until she retreated. He respected the offer of solace, but her touch made him uncomfortable. These awkward moments were why he preferred to avoid social situations.
“I hope you know we support you whatever the outcome of the search.” Jean Claude spoke bluntly. “Of course we hope the rescue will be successful, Donal and Helene are in our prayers, but I know you are already preparing for the worst. If there is anything I can do to help, you have only to ask.”
“You know me too well, my friend.”
He’d met the older man when he was fourteen and Julian’s family visited Pasadonia to witness the crowning of the new ruler, Prince Jean Claude Antoine Carrere. He’d been kind to an awkward kid on an occasion when he could be forgiven for being overwhelmed by his own agenda. Their relationship had grown through the years, and Julian looked on Jean Claude as one of his closest friends and advisors. The fact he was a well-respected world leader only added to the value of his offer.
“My mind boggles at all that must be done. But in truth I cannot focus on anything beyond finding Donal.”
“Understandable.” Jean Claude nodded. “I have my experts watching the weather and will provide you with any updates as soon as I receive them.”
“I appreciate it.” Julian chafed again at the delay keeping him from returning to France. “I’m anxious to get back to the rescue operations.”
“Yes. It is unfortunate that Sammy’s condition has delayed you. It is admirable of you to put his needs first. He has had a difficult time missing his parents.”
Julian clenched his jaw in irritation. “It was upsetting to learn he’d been told of the crash.”
“It was not intentional,” Bernadette rushed to assure him. “Tessa—”
“Excuse me, Your Highness.” Jean Claude’s assistant appeared at his side and handed him a folder. “The current weather report. And the call you were waiting for is holding.”
“I shall be right there.” The Prince glanced at the report and then handed it to Julian. “Not much change. I have to take this call. We will talk before you leave in the morning. Bernadette.”
The Princess gracefully stood and rounded the table. She stopped and kissed Julian’s cheek. “Stay. Finish your meal. A porter will show you to your room.”
He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about me.”
She sighed. “But I do. Good night, mon ami. If you wish to get some air, use the courtyard. The press are everywhere.”
The Prince and Princess left the room hand in hand, an obvious unit set to deal with whatever business awaited them.
For a moment Julian envied his friend. Usually an insular man, it might be nice to have someone to talk to right now. Due to his father’s frail health, Julian couldn’t burden him with his worries, and it would be inappropriate to discuss family affairs with outsiders.
No longer hungry, he followed the porter to his room. When the elevator opened on his floor, Samson’s cries pinpointed Julian’s destination.
He rushed forward then waited impatiently for the porter to open the door. Inside he found Tessa walking Samson, both were in tears. Julian briskly made his way toward the two only to come to a dead stop next to them. What to do?
“What’s the problem?” he demanded.
“The doctor advised me to wake him and check his pupils. Only he wouldn’t go back to sleep. He started crying, and nothing I’ve done has helped.”
“K-k’tina.” Samson’s breath hitched on the wail, but his message was clear.
“He keeps asking for her,” Tessa revealed, the plea in her eyes as heart wrenching as Samson’s tears.
Julian set his back teeth. The woman had caused this problem; it went against everything in him to reach out to her for help.
Feeling helpless, watching both woman and child struggle, he racked his mind for something to do to right the situation. But for all his considerable knowledge and his massive IQ, he lacked experience dealing with women and children, let alone both in a state of distress.
Considering distraction to be an option, he tried to take the boy.
“No!” Samson screamed and hit out at him. “K’tina!”
Bloody hell, he rebelled against drawing that woman back into his nephew’s life. She was the reason he suffered so. But this wasn’t just a tantrum; this was a miserable child seeking solace from the one person he’d connected with during this crisis. How did Julian deny him?
Simple, he didn’t.
He called for a porter seeking information about Katrina and found that she had rooms at the palace. Lucky for him or he’d be out scouring the streets of Pasadonia. He soon stood outside Katrina’s room. He wished for a more formal form of address, but in all the confusion they hadn’t been properly introduced.
A maid answered his knock. She bowed. “Your Highness.”
“I need to see Katrina.” He stepped past the maid into the room.
“She’s sleeping,” the young woman said softly. “I’ve followed the doctor’s orders. I woke her just half an hour ago and she was fine.”
“I’m not here about her injury.”
Through the open door of the bedroom he saw the redhead. Light from the lounge fell across the bed and the lovely woman within it. Long lashes dusted creamy pale cheeks. Dark bruises under her eyes were a violation against the porcelain perfection of her features. Whatever she’d done, he couldn’t deny she’d pushed herself beyond the expected to help Samson.
Suddenly it seemed wrong to ask more of her. But for Samson he must.
“I’m sorry to disturb her, but I need Katrina to come with me. My nephew needs her help.”
“Oh.” The woman looked uncertain and then nodded. “I will wake her.” She slipped inside the room and closed the door.
He paced the small lounge, wishing he were anywhere but here.
People called him cold. And maybe he was. If preferring order and calm were attributes of being cold. He needed both to do the work he did. Overseeing his country’s treasury, including both finances and security, required a clear head and a focus of purpose.
He could work under pressure but he rarely had to. He had the ability to see the big picture, to track patterns and trends. So he prepared and diversified and created contingency plans. Which allowed him to move before the market did.
Some said it was magic or worse called him psychic. Bah. It was just the way h
is mind worked. He enjoyed learning things, and his brain absorbed knowledge like a sponge. He surprised himself with the facts he knew sometimes.
People, on the other hand, were a mystery to him. As was their penchant for displaying high emotions.
A bachelor at thirty, he’d been content in his role as the spare heir. Though his father occasionally addressed his desire for Julian to find a suitable woman and start a family, the pressure had lessened after Donal wed Helene and Samson was born.
Still, Julian was a man like any other, with the same needs. His position, however, called for discretion. He managed that by having a number of lady friends he escorted to the many functions his title forced him to attend. By spreading his attention around, no one—women or press—built up undue expectations.
He supposed his reputation for being cold kept him from being dubbed a playboy.
The woman, Katrina, threatened his hard-won detachment. His attraction to her stunning beauty just made him angrier over the whole situation. As did the intelligence he’d spied in her violet eyes. She struck him as being too smart to make the blunder she had. So what had she been thinking?
Shock, he imagined. But it was no excuse, not in her position.
He may not be able to do anything to help his brother, but he could make sure Samson was cared for. And if that meant disturbing the injured woman’s sleep, he’d do it without remorse. She deserved no more rest than the child she’d traumatized.
The door opened and Katrina walked barefoot into the lounge. She wore a lush white bathrobe that brushed her bare pink-tipped toes. Under it was a white garment trimmed in lace cut nearly as low as the V of the robe.
His gaze jerked to hers from the soft swell of her breasts visible in that V. She was so pale there was very little difference between her skin and the white of her nightclothes. Except for the shadows he’d noted earlier.
“Is Sammy okay?” she asked in a voice husky from sleep, her brow furrowed in concern. “Have you called the doctor?”
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