Her Royal Baby

by Marion Lennox

  There was a long silence. Why didn’t he go? Tammy thought. Why was he just standing there? He was looking at her with such a strange expression in his dark eyes that she felt her colour begin to mount.

  Which was ridiculous.

  She stared down at her bare toes peeking out from the frayed cuffs of her jeans. The silence went on and on.

  And on.

  And then, before she could guess what he intended, he swore softly and crossed to her side. In one swift movement he gripped her shoulders with his strong hands, bent his head to hers and kissed her.

  It was a kiss to seal a bargain rather than anything else. That was what she told herself. What she assumed.

  Or maybe she was so surprised she assumed nothing.

  His mouth on hers was firm, yet it demanded no response. He was asking nothing. But…if it was meant to be an affirmation of the future and nothing more then why did it have the capacity to send a zillion electric shocks straight through her?

  Maybe it was because it lasted too long, she thought through a haze of incredulity at what was happening to her. It lasted much longer than the intention of such a kiss should allow.

  It had been meant as a seal on a contract and nothing more, but his hands were suddenly gripping harder, he was deepening the kiss, letting his body possess her for just these few short moments…

  She was rigid in his hold, though her body was screaming to respond.

  But disaster lay down that road. Tammy’s world had been turned upside down this day, and the last thing she needed was physical arousal.

  The last thing she needed was to respond to this man.

  Yet her body was screaming to do just that. Sense or nonsense, her lips were aching to open and deepen his kiss. Her arms wanted to hold him. To draw comfort from him. To seek security and warmth and a lessening of this awful confusion and loss in his nearness.

  In his body.

  He felt wonderful. She’d never felt anything like this. His size-his maleness-his tenderness and his strength…

  She was so confused she was near collapse, and when he finally put her away from him, holding her still but staring down at her in concern, he saw the depths of confusion and misery in her eyes and he swore.

  ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘You’ve learned of your sister’s death today,’ he said grimly, though his hands still held her. Maybe if they hadn’t she would have toppled right over. ‘You’ve learned of your nephew’s existence and you’ve learned that you need to leave this country. I’ll take care of you, Tammy. I promise.’

  The tenderness in his voice was so unexpected it took her breath away. She stared up at him and to her horror felt a tear sliding down her cheek. He saw it and raised a finger to trace its path.

  ‘Damn, you’re exhausted. I shouldn’t have hectored you like this tonight.’

  ‘No, I…’

  ‘It’s because I don’t have time to take this slowly,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Take what slowly? The kiss?

  Arrangements. He meant arrangements to leave the country. The kiss had nothing to do with it.

  Did it?

  The touch of his fingers on her face unnerved her even more. Tenderness was an unknown quality to Tammy Dexter, and for good reason. She didn’t let people close to her. Ever. She blinked back her tears, pushed herself away from this strange, enigmatic man and gave her face an angry swipe.

  ‘There’s no need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘I need to go to bed.’ She was so confused she was past thinking. She might not want to go to bed, but she needed to be alone. Desperately. Otherwise she might sink into Marc’s arms and stay, never to move again. The temptation was almost irresistible.

  And the temptation was crazy. Her sister had fallen for one of these men-these princes-and where had that got her? Dead, that was where.

  The thought of that was enough to steady her, to make her take another step backward and to fix her features into a semblance of resolution.

  ‘Leave,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll be okay?’

  ‘Yes. Just leave. And Marc…Your Highness…whatever I call you…’

  ‘Marc,’ he said, and he smiled-which sent her resolution into a tailspin, heading for oblivion.

  ‘Marc, then. Just…don’t kiss me again.’

  His smile deepened. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you to.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She glared at him. Arrogant creep. Where was the tenderness now? He was a prince, for heaven’s sake. Royalty. And she was a tree surgeon with bare feet and faded jeans and the worries of the world pressing on her shoulders. So finally she tilted her chin and did what had to be done. ‘Yes,’ she snapped, then stalked to the door and threw it open. ‘Yes, I am. Now, will you leave or am I going to have to call my friends the security guards?’

  His smile was still in place. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ He walked past her. She was still holding the door wide, and as he passed he paused and tilted her chin. Then very lightly, before she could begin to prevent it, he touched her face again, tracking the path of one of those errant tears.

  ‘I’m sorry I had to be the one to break this to you,’ he said softly. ‘So sorry.’ He smiled, a tender magnetic smile of such sympathy that she felt her heart falter within her breast. ‘Sleep well, Tammy Dexter,’ he whispered. ‘Tomorrow our future begins.’

  His finger reached her lips and pressed lightly down-a kiss, but not a kiss.

  And then he left her.

  What had he said? Tomorrow our future begins.

  Her future.

  Until today Tammy’s future had been so carefully planned, but now… She was leaving Australia to travel to a future filled with castles and princes and…she didn’t know what.

  Like it or not, Prince Marc of Broitenburg had given her a future she had no control over. She closed the door behind him and stood leaning against it for a long time, as if by doing so she could lock out his presence. The memory of him. The taste of his kiss.

  ‘Be careful,’ she whispered into the night. ‘Oh, Tammy, be careful.’

  Maybe she shouldn’t go.

  Maybe she didn’t have a choice. And maybe she was glad of it.

  The memory of his kiss had changed more than her future. It had changed her confidence in her own control.

  Help?

  The next two days were crazy.

  Luckily she had her passport, and a visa was no problem. ‘I do have a man at the embassy,’ Marc told her. ‘Charles has to be useful for something, besides spending my country’s money.’

  Tammy’s boss was notified, and the sound of Doug’s dismay overwhelmed her. ‘You’ve got a job with me whenever you want it,’ he told her. ‘I’ll even hold the baby myself if it means I can get you back working for me again.’

  It warmed her. Tammy had worked for Doug for three years, and his workforce wasn’t a standard forestry team. Doug actively encouraged women to work with him, figuring rightly that in this very male world the only women who reached Tammy’s stage had to be good. Mia and Lucy and Tammy were an odd sisterhood, but along with the men they were the only real family Tammy had ever known. Tammy had held herself aloof, but the thought that Doug and the team would actually miss her-someone would actually miss her-was inexplicably comforting.

  No one else would miss her. They wouldn’t even realise she’d gone.

  There was one really unpleasant call to her mother.

  ‘Well, of course I didn’t bother telling you of darling Lara’s death,’ Isobelle told her, and Tammy could hear the sneer in her voice. ‘Why would I? It’s not as if you cared for your sister.’

  How little you know, Tammy thought, but she managed to hold her tongue.

  ‘I’m taking Henry back to Broitenburg,’ she said, and there was silen
ce at the other end of the line. She could hear Isobelle’s mind shifting from defence to speculation.

  ‘You mean…with that prince who’s ruling the place now? What’s his name?’

  ‘Marc.’

  ‘Well, well.’ The sneer in Isobelle’s voice grew even more marked, and Tammy wondered for what must have been the millionth time in her life just why was it that her mother hated her so much. ‘You’ll never get him.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘He might be a catch, but you don’t seriously think you can succeed?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ But she did. Of course she did. Her mother had a one-track mind. Men were a means to an end.

  ‘You’re not pretty enough.’

  ‘I don’t…’

  ‘And he has women. I’ve heard all about your precious Prince Marc. He’s a womaniser. He’ll eat you up and spit you out.’

  Tammy thought about the metaphor and found it wanting. ‘He can’t do both.’

  But Isobelle wasn’t listening to her pathetic attempts at humour. ‘The man’s rich as Croesus,’ she snapped. ‘You seriously think someone like that would look at the likes of you?’

  Okay. She’d had enough, Tammy thought bleakly. She’d let her mother know where her grandson was and that was the only thing she needed to do. She thought of all the things she’d intended to say, and replaced the receiver on the handset without saying another word.

  She had too much else to worry about.

  There was the small issue of clothes. She had jeans, T-shirts, sweaters and a rain jacket. It was hardly a wardrobe fit for living in a palace.

  It was Marc who raised the subject. She hadn’t even thought of it.

  ‘Do you have a permanent residence somewhere?’ he asked. ‘Here in Sydney? Can I send someone to pack for you? Maybe we could ship a container?’

  She stared. ‘What are you talking about? A container of what?’

  ‘Your possessions. If you intend to stay long-term…’

  ‘You could ship my possessions in the bow of a very small rowboat,’ she told him. ‘My “permanent residence” is a room in a boarding house, and there’s hardly anything there. I’ll take a cab over this afternoon and close the place down-grab the few things I need. But it is a few. I figure I might buy a couple of new pairs of jeans when we get there. That is…if they have jeans in Broitenburg?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  He was frowning, but Tammy was bouncing her nephew and didn’t notice. She’d had Henry chuckle twice this morning, and she was working on a third.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘We have formal dinners at the palace.’

  ‘You have formal dinners at the palace,’ she corrected him. ‘Not me. I’ve never been to a formal dinner in my life. If I have a microwave in my room and there’s a supermarket nearby then I’m happy.’

  His frown deepened. ‘I intend you to be part of the royal family. Not a servant.’

  ‘I’m not intending to be a part of any royal family, thank you very much.’

  ‘Henry will be brought up as heir.’

  She jiggled her nephew up and down and gave him a hug. ‘You know, somehow I imagine Henry’s not really interested in formal dinner parties quite yet.’

  But Marc’s displeasure remained. ‘I want some things clear,’ he told her. ‘You’re coming over as a family member. As such there will be formalities you’ll have to face.’

  She thought about it, and was prepared to concede a point. ‘You mean I need to do something about my shoes?’ She stared down at her bare toes and then glanced at the door, where she’d kicked off her boots. Okay, she would have to replace those awful boots. ‘I’ll buy some trainers.’

  ‘That’s some concession.’

  She grinned. ‘Why, thank you-Your Highness.’

  His scowl deepened. ‘It won’t work.’

  ‘You’re telling me I should go out and buy a tiara or two and the odd pair of stilettos before I get to Broitenburg?’

  ‘It might be best. Maybe not tiaras, but…something a little more formal than you have on now.’

  She shook her head. ‘Nope,’ she told him flatly. ‘There’s no point. Broitenburg’s had Lara. It’s had its fairy princess. Now it’s stuck with me.’

  He couldn’t budge her, and in the end Charles drove them to the airport with a huge leather suitcase containing Marc’s belongings, another containing Henry’s baby gear-and a small battered backpack containing all that Tammy possessed in the world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT GREW stranger.

  For a start they sat in the pointy end of the aeroplane. First class. Tammy had never sat in anything other than economy in her life.

  Marc had booked three seats. There was a baby crib in front of them so Henry could be put down when he needed to sleep. There was room on the floor for Henry to crawl, and the stewards were on hand to cater for every whim.

  But from the time Tammy entered the aircraft she felt as if she’d wandered onto the wrong movie set.

  ‘Can’t I go and sit in economy?’ she asked. ‘I don’t feel like I’m flying unless my knees are stuck into my chin.’

  ‘Stick your knees under your chin if you must,’ Marc growled. ‘But you stay here. If you leave me with Henry then I’ll go into a spasm.’

  She cast him a sideways look. He was eyeing Henry as if he might bite. ‘Babies aren’t your thing, huh?’

  ‘They certainly aren’t.’

  Not for the first time she wondered about him. What was it her mother had said about him? That he was a womaniser? Maybe, but the description didn’t quite fit.

  Here in the forced intimacy of the airliner facing a twenty-four-hour flight, there was all the time in the world to ask questions. After all, what could he do if he was offended? Kick her off the plane? No way, she decided. He wouldn’t even tolerate her going to economy.

  So she could chance a few impertinent questions.

  ‘You’re not married?’

  ‘I’ve told you I’m not.’

  ‘Do you have a partner?’

  He raised his eyebrows at that. ‘A partner…’ His dark eyes suddenly crinkled in amusement. ‘You’re covering all eventualities here. Do I have a girlfriend, a boyfriend or a dog?’

  ‘Okay.’ She smiled back. ‘Any of the above. Do you?’

  He thought about it for a minute and then nodded, as though the question was a bit of an imposition but he’d answer it anyway. ‘I have a girlfriend.’

  ‘I see.’ A girlfriend. So what was he doing kissing her? Maybe her mother was right. He was a womanizer.

  She shouldn’t mind. She didn’t. Did she?

  ‘What about you?’ he asked, his tone suddenly curious. ‘My detective says you have no one.’

  ‘It’s hardly fair,’ she complained. ‘I have to believe what you tell me. You get me privately investigated.’

  ‘That’s what money is for,’ he said equitably. ‘But as for me… Since I’ve succeeded to Jean-Paul’s position you need hardly hire a private investigator. Any European women’s magazine will tell you more than you ever wanted to know.’ His brow creased. ‘You were in Europe for three years. I can’t believe you wouldn’t have heard about Lara. She was a real hit with the press-her wedding photos made the front of every major newspaper.’

  ‘I would have been back in Australia by the time she was married,’ Tammy said, thinking her timeline through. ‘Back up a gum tree.’

  ‘Your favourite place?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because people hurt,’ she said honestly. ‘Getting attached hurts. I tried with Lara and look what happened.’

  ‘Yet you’ll try again with Henry?’

  ‘I have no choice.’

  ‘You do have a choice. I told you I was prepared to bring Henry back to Broitenburg by myself.’

  ‘And your girlfriend? What would she think of that?’

  ‘Ingrid is hardly a
baby person, and our relationship is hardly long-term. But you know I’d take care of him.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Henry was on her knee, sucking an ear of his newly acquired teddy with all the intensity of an athlete competing in a marathon. Henry and Teddy had contracted a case of love at first sight, and Tammy suspected Ted’s ear wasn’t going to make Singapore, much less Europe. ‘You’d take care of him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Right. She cast him a suspicious glance. The man looked immeasurably sure of himself. Capable of anything. Capable of caring for babies?

  ‘Then how about starting now?’ she asked him, and before he could demur she lifted Henry across so that he was sitting on the knee of His Highness, Prince Regent of Broitenburg.

  His Highness, Prince Regent of Broitenburg, looked stunned to the socks.

  ‘I…I can’t.’

  ‘You just said you could.’ She closed her eyes with a determination she was far from feeling. In fact she wanted to stay awake and watch. But… ‘I’m going to sleep now, Your Highnesses,’ she told them both. ‘Entertain yourselves.’

  To her surprise she did sleep, and when she woke hours later the cabin lights were dimmed and the man beside her was asleep as well.

  As was Henry. The little boy had fallen asleep on Marc’s knee. The stewards had placed blankets over all of them. From her cocoon of blankets Tammy stared across in the dim light at man and baby sleeping together. They looked warm and contented, and very, very much as if they belonged together.

  They even looked alike! Henry’s tiny lashes were fast shut in an exact replica of his princely cousin’s. His head was tucked under Marc’s chin and, outside the blankets, Marc’s big hand had a tiny fist curled around one of his fingers.

  The sight was suddenly almost too much for Tammy. She gazed at the pair of them and found a lump the size of a golf ball forming in the back of her throat. Damn, what was it about this man that made her feel like weeping? This man and this baby…

  She knew nothing about him, she thought desperately. Nothing. Except that he was Prince Regent of a small and lovely principality and he had a girlfriend called Ingrid.

  ‘Ingrid is hardly a baby person,’ he’d said. Was Marc a baby person? He hadn’t seemed so. Yet sitting here, looking at the way the little boy was snuggled into him, it seemed there was a way into this royal heart. He might seem ruthless and overbearing, but Henry was exposing a side she suspected had never been exposed before.