Her Royal Baby

CHAPTER TEN

THE line between hate and love was a fine one. If Marc had been asked that morning whether he did either he would have laughed. But now…

He was so out of control he hardly knew what he was doing, and when he hauled her close, when his mouth bent and took hers, it was furious, blind, irrational rage that was pushing him.

It was rage.

Of course it was rage. He wanted to punish her. He wanted to make her see how impossible she was. How impossible her being here was. How crazy was the way he was feeling-that he wanted her-that he ached for her-that his body was screaming in a way he didn’t recognise. When she smiled at him his gut twisted in a savage, searing pain. The scent of her… Her nearness… She was like a lovely creature just out of his reach.

She was so desirable.

Why didn’t she fight him? he wondered in that tiny part of his brain that was capable of such thought. She should kick him and run.

Maybe she should leave. She had no place here. She belonged half a world away, her nephew belonged here with the servants, and he belonged in his own château…

No. Nothing was what it seemed. Nothing was happening as it should. His world had tipped and was refusing to right itself. All he knew was the way she felt in his hands-the way her breasts moulded to his chest-the way he wanted her…

He wanted her!

Her lips were opening under his, a rose unfurling from bud, and it was no longer anger he was feeling. The fury was surging out of him to be replaced by an emotion that was even stronger.

He mustn’t!

Dear God, this woman…

She was so sweet. She was so lovely. Her mouth was yielding to his and her hands were clinging to him.

How could she respond? How could she possibly feel what he felt? This yearning, tearing pull…

All his life he’d avoided this, and here, under his hands, was the thing he’d tried so desperately to escape. She was his woman. His! Half of his whole. He’d never known he was incomplete, and yet she fitted to him as though he’d been torn in half at birth and not known. Until now, when she melted with such searing sweetness…

He couldn’t move. He could only hold her and kiss her and feel the surge of change rip his whole being.

Tammy…

And Tammy?

Like Marc she was powerless to stop even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t.

How could she stop? She’d never thought anything could be so sweet-so right.

Oh, Marc was all wrong for her. In the sane part of her mind she knew it. But for this moment she knew nothing. There was a whole gamut of emotions surging and she had nothing to compare them with. She felt as if she was surging into another life though the medium of this man’s body.

What had Shakespeare said? ‘A consummation devoutly to be wished.’

A consummation.

That was what this was, she thought dazedly. A consummation. Whether they took it further than this or not made no difference. She was merging into him right now-changing-learning that there was a whole sweet world that had been locked to her until now.

He was a womaniser. That was what her mother called him. Mrs Burchett agreed and she’d seen nothing to dispel the idea. Tomorrow he’d move on. Tomorrow he would no longer hold her like this-not kiss her as he was kissing her. Tomorrow he’d make no claim on her, nor she on him. She knew that.

Tomorrow…tomorrow was for the whole barren future.

But for now there was only him. The feel of him. The wonder. The aching need.

So her lips welcomed him, her hands clung and she felt her body light with fire. He was her man. For this sweet time-for this minute, maybe, if that was all there was-he was her home.

Marc…

‘Marc.’

Somehow she whispered his name. Somehow he drew back, to take a breath and devour her with his eyes before bending his mouth again to hers.

‘Marc.’

It made him pause. The way she whispered it was a caress in itself, and its sweetness threatened to overwhelm him. Her sweetness…her tenderness…

This wasn’t a woman playing on his terms, he thought dazedly. Women like Ingrid-they understood the rules. They used men and were used by them in turn. He needed a society hostess and a partner and they wanted status. When they became too pushy he moved on, but there were no broken hearts. He partnered experienced women who played the game as he expected.

But there was no game here.

He gazed down into Tammy’s eyes and saw something he’d never seen. She was gazing up at him with all the tenderness in the world. She was giving…

And he knew. If he lifted her triumphantly now and carried her up the wide staircase to his bedchamber she’d give herself with all the joy in her heart.

She’d give herself to him.

Dear God…

For a long time he gazed down into her eyes. She was looking back at him, a half-smile on her lips and her eyes wide and questioning. Teasing, almost… Waiting.

Waiting for commitment?

No. Waiting for whatever he was prepared to give, because the commitment was already there. He could read it in her eyes. They were shining up at him. Her lips were still slightly parted with an invitation that was almost irresistible. She was waiting.

All he had to do was gather her to him and she was his-for however long he wanted her.

He did want her, he thought with a desperate savagery. He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in his life. But how could he take her and then put her away from him?

He couldn’t. If he took her now…

If he took her now he took her for ever. And he couldn’t do it.

He didn’t love.

Or maybe he did.

She was watching him, still with that faint questioning smile, as if she sensed that he was battling with himself. Maybe he knew that here was a woman who’d love him. Who’d give herself to him as she’d given herself to her little nephew. She’d dropped everything and come to the other side of the world. For love.

He had no right to accept a love like that. He was flawed. Hell, his whole damned family was flawed. This place-royalty-was a goldfish bowl. To bring a woman into it-a woman of such innocence-to bind her so that she could never leave…

That was what was being offered here, he thought. She was offering herself. She was offering the devotion his mother had given his father.

A devotion that destroyed.

‘I can’t.’

It was a groan, and the smile on Tammy’s face wavered and died.

‘You can’t?’

‘I can’t do this, Tammy,’ he told her. ‘I’m not… I don’t…’

What was he saying? Her brow furrowed, two tiny lines creasing between her eyes. ‘Marc, I’m not asking…’

‘You’re not asking anything,’ he said savagely. ‘You don’t. You give and you give and you give. Well, damn, I’m not taking. I’m not destroying this.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You’re beautiful,’ he told her. Somehow he broke away and took two blind steps backward. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re wonderful to the core and I’m damned if I’m hauling you into this mess.’

She tilted her head to one side and the creases between her eyes stayed. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Royalty.’

‘I think I already am embroiled in this mess,’ she said candidly. ‘Up to my eyebrows.’

‘And if I take you…? If you and I…?’

‘It wouldn’t just be you doing the taking,’ she said softly. ‘I’m a big girl, Your Highness, and I know what I want.’ The smile came back again-the teasing mischief that made his heart wrench within him. ‘I want you.’

How was he supposed to answer that? One way, his body screamed at him. One way. Lunge back and take her in his arms and carry her up…

No! He was so far out of control he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t. Hell, where was he supposed to take this?

He was doing harm. He was in danger of causing this bright innocence to be destroyed.

He had to get away.

‘I…I need to leave,’ he managed, and her smile died again.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘No.’ He closed his eyes, and when he opened them the way was clear to him. ‘I’m sorry, Tammy, I need to leave right now. Forgive me.’

‘But…’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and wrenched away to open the door so suddenly that Dominic, standing not so innocently on the other side, nearly fell over. Marc didn’t even notice. ‘Give Miss Dexter her dinner,’ he told the butler. ‘I’m not eating here tonight. Look after Tammy for me, will you, Dominic?’

And without another word he took the stairs two at a time and disappeared.

How was a girl supposed to eat after that?

Tammy made a dreary figure, sitting in solitary state at the splendid dining table. Dominic served her in silence, all the time watching out of the corners of his wise old eyes but not saying a word. She was white-faced and silent herself, and he knew without being told that she didn’t require dessert or coffee. As he helped her to rise they heard the unmistakeable sound of Marc’s car disappearing down the long, long driveway.

If anything Tammy’s face grew even whiter, and Dominic placed his hand on her arm in an unconscious gesture of support.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was bleak. ‘I’m…I’m sorry I’ve made a bad fist of dinner. It was delicious. Will you tell the kitchen staff…?’

‘That it was despite their cooking-not because of it-that you couldn’t eat,’ he said gently. ‘Yes, miss. We understand.’

‘Will he come back, do you think?’ she asked, and he turned to look at the disappearing lights of Marc’s car.

‘Not without your encouragement,’ he told her, and she blinked.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You don’t know how to encourage him? No, miss.’ He looked at her for a long minute and then sighed, unconsciously bracing. He needed to talk to this chit of a girl. It wasn’t his place, but maybe the future of the principality depended on it. ‘You understand he’s running scared?’

She stared. ‘I don’t understand.’

There was a long hesitation, as if Dominic was having second thoughts-which indeed he was-and then he shrugged. He liked this wan-faced girl. All the servants did. She’d been here only a couple of days, yet already the place was starting to feel like home-as it hadn’t for years.

‘What do you think would happen if Master Henry wasn’t here?’ he asked, and Tammy frowned.

‘Marc told me. He said the country would lose its royal family.’

Dominic shook his head. ‘That’s not quite true. The crown would pass to Prince Marc.’

Tammy frowned. ‘But…Marc said if Henry didn’t inherit then the monarchy would die.’

‘Only because Prince Marc would refuse to accept the crown. He feels he has no choice. He hates this family and everything it represents.’

The butler shrugged again, clearly deciding to go the whole way. This was no way for a butler to behave, but Dominic was much more than a butler. In Tammy he glimpsed salvation for his country, and if that involved indiscretion on his part then so be it.

‘Marc’s father had an affair with his uncle’s wife with disastrous consequences,’ he said softly. ‘His mother committed suicide because of it. Then there was a girl Marc was involved with. It was some years ago now, but Marc thought he was in love. Being third in line to the throne, he needed his uncle’s consent in order to marry, so he brought her here. Franz, the older of his two cousins, took one look and decided he’d have her for himself. The prospect of the crown was so enticing that Marc was summarily dumped.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘Indeed, miss,’ the butler said dourly. ‘And I’m afraid it grew worse. Franz used her for his own ends but he had no intention of marrying her. She ended up pregnant and alone. She died of drug abuse and we still have no clear answer whether it was suicide or accident.’

‘I…see.’ Tammy did see, and she was appalled. The vision of a much younger Marc, betrayed, scorned, and then having to live with such a consequence, was dreadful. Oh, Marc…

But there was more Dominic needed to tell her. ‘I wonder whether you do see, miss?’ he said softly, his eyes on her face. ‘Every contact Marc ever had with this place turned to poison. When Franz died and Jean-Paul was killed-both incidents that cemented Marc’s disgust of the place-he was landed with the prospect of inheriting what was for him a tainted crown. The only way to escape it was to bring Henry back fast enough to inherit.’

‘So he lied to me,’ Tammy said, frowning. ‘He said…’

‘I believe he said if Henry didn’t inherit then no one could,’ the butler told her. ‘It’s what he believes himself, because he knows he couldn’t bear to inherit. He can hardly bear to step into this palace, much less inherit the crown.’

‘But if I took Henry home…’

‘Back to Australia?’ The butler was watching her and Tammy didn’t know what he was thinking. How could he see what was in her heart? He certainly seemed to. ‘If you did that then you’d be forcing Marc to inherit,’ he told her. ‘He’s said he couldn’t, but if it came to the crunch I believe he would take up his responsibility. He loves his country. He loves his people. It’s this palace he hates.’

‘It’s not this palace,’ Tammy said strongly. ‘This palace is beautiful. It’s the people in his past who are dreadful. People who are dead.’

‘Yes, miss. But how can we teach him that?’

They stared at each other-elderly retainer and young woman-and Tammy saw a reflection of her own fear in the old man’s face.

‘You love him,’ she said on a note of discovery, and Dominic nodded.

‘Yes, miss,’ he said simply. ‘I’ve always worked for his family. Master Marc-I mean His Royal Highness-brought me here after Jean-Paul died to try to clear up the mess that this place was in. I cared for him when he was a tiny boy. I put him on his first pony and I’ve watched him grow. I helped bury his mother and it was me who gave him the news that his ex-fiancée had died. It makes me feel ill to see him suffer again now.’

‘Suffer…’

‘I believe he loves you,’ Dominic said gently. ‘That’s why I’m talking to you like this. It’s not my business, but I can see what’s happening.’

‘He loves me?’ She was staring at the butler as if he’d lost his mind.

But Dominic’s voice was sure. ‘Yes, miss.’

‘He hardly knows me.’

‘He knows you.’ Dominic smiled, a smile of infinite sadness. ‘So do we all.’

‘But…’ She flinched, trying to take this on board. She couldn’t. Marc? Love her? The thing was impossible. He had so many women.

‘Why do you think he’s left now?’ Dominic asked her, and Tammy tried to make her confused mind focus. But all she could see was one clear path-right back to Australia.

‘I can’t stay here,’ she said on a note of finality. ‘I can’t. I…’

‘You love him, too.’

‘No. Yes. I don’t know!’ She turned to stare out of the vast French windows, as if she could still see Marc’s disappearing car. ‘This is impossible. If I took Henry back to Australia then Marc would inherit, like it or not. He’d be forced to take on his responsibilities.’

‘But he’d never learn to love,’ Dominic told her and she turned back to him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘What on earth am I meant to do about that?’

There was no answer. They both knew it. Nothing. What was there to be done?

‘Hell.’ It was a whisper of fear. ‘Oh, Dominic…’

‘Yes, miss,’ Dominic said simply. He opened the door and stood aside while she passed out into the corridor. His confidences were clearly at an end. ‘It is hell. I don’t know what to do about it, and neither does anyone here. We’re hoping for a miracle, and only you can provide it.’

She didn’t get much sleep that night. After waking and playing until midnight Henry decided to revert to European time and snooze like an angel until morning. Not so his aunt. She paced the bedroom, tried unsuccessfully to sleep, and then paced some more.

What could she do?

Leave? Take Henry back to Australia? To a lifetime of childcare and single parenthood?

Would he hate her for robbing him of the throne? Maybe he would. And Marc would be left here-alone.

Could she stay here? Share Henry’s care with Marc? See him every other day? Hope Dominic was right?

Dominic couldn’t be right. How could such a man as Marc love her?

There was no sleep at all.

The following day she did some haphazard work in the gardens during Henry’s afternoon nap. But for the rest of the time she played with him, talked with him, and tried to keep her mind off what was happening to his big cousin.

Her love.

She loved him. The knowledge was now seared into her heart with a clarity that was blinding. She’d fallen in love with her little nephew and then she’d fallen even more deeply in love with his big cousin.

The whole situation was impossible. Absurd. She didn’t belong. Marc himself should be living here. He was either Prince Regent or Crown Prince, depending on what she did.

She could take Henry back to Australia and Marc would be Crown Prince, like it or not. A lonely Crown Prince. A man alone with his shadows. Or she could stay here with Henry and watch Marc be Prince Regent, independent and aloof.

And she’d go quietly nuts.

As the day wore on she hugged her little nephew over and over again, until she was sure he’d object, but he simply cooed at her and tried to pull her hair, and her heart twisted and twisted until she thought it would tear apart.

Because there was one more choice, and as the day wore on she saw that it was the only choice she could make. But it was the hardest decision she’d made in her life. How could she do it?

How could she not?

It was seven at night. Marc was at his desk in the huge front room he’d used as his study ever since he’d inherited Renouys. It was a magnificent room, furnished more for comfort than for style, and it was here that he considered himself home.

Not in that other place, he thought bitterly as he stared unseeing at the work in front of him. Not in the royal palace. His own home was grand enough, but it wasn’t a whisker on the Broitenburg royal residence.

The Broitenburg palace was Henry’s home, he told himself. And Tammy’s. It was no place for him. He’d done his duty for his country. He’d brought his tiny cousin home. If Tammy… No, if Henry needed him then he was available for the short time his assistance was required, but this was where he belonged.

So why did it seem so bleak? Why did this place that had always seemed such a sanctuary suddenly seem so empty?

He should contact his friends, he thought. Not Ingrid. He’d moved on from Ingrid. Other friends. He had a brilliant social circle. All he had to do was lift the phone and he’d have people down here. Or he could drive up to the city-catch up with friends at their home base. See a few shows. Try out the new restaurant everyone was talking about.

It held no appeal at all.

He had work to do. He clicked his computer mouse and a design sprang to life. It was the design Henry had ‘helped’ him with two nights before.

Water still flowing uphill? Hmm. Maybe it needed a little more work.

But, instead of starting to correct things, he found himself staring down at the screen and smiling. Hell, he’d enjoyed playing with Henry so much.

He’d still see him.

He shook himself, realising where his thoughts were taking him. Right back to Tammy!

Sure, he’d see Henry, but from now on he’d see him on his terms, he thought savagely. Not on the crazy terms Tammy had set. Every second day…

Ridiculous.

He glanced at his watch. Seven. Ha! On Tammy’s terms he’d be taking over Henry’s care right now. Well, he’d sorted that out. She’d be back at the palace and she’d settle down to care for Henry and her precious trees. Alone.

Which was what he wanted-wasn’t it?

Of course it was. Tammy had nothing to do with him. So he had no right to be feeling as he was feeling right now. As if she’d just drive up the driveway and open the door and come into his arms…

Crazy. It was a crazy way to think and he had to move on. He and Tammy? No and no and no.

He had to do some work! He turned back to his laptop but was distracted by the sound of a car approaching. He half rose and then settled. It’d be nothing, he told himself, annoyed that his gut had given a stupid, hopeful lurch. It’d be a tradesman. A delivery van. This was a working farm, after all, and he had a farm manager who’d see to things.

He needed to do some work.

But there were voices, muted in the distance, and he found himself pausing so that he could listen without the distraction of a clicking keyboard. There was a soft murmur and a man’s voice responding. André. His farm manager.

‘Over there, miss. Straight through the front door and first turn to the left.’

He froze.

Tammy.

She had to do this. She had to say what she needed to say and get out of here. She had to keep her face in order-not cry-not hold onto Henry a moment longer than she needed to.

How? She was breaking her heart. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. That she’d come to this dreadful decision…

She didn’t know, but somehow she had to do it.

She didn’t belong here. Henry belonged here and so did Marc.

Let the two of them get on with it.

‘Tammy.’

Marc had risen and was out of the study and into the hall before she’d entered the room. At the sight of her he stopped dead.

‘Marc.’ Her tone was cool and careful. She was wearing her customary jeans, T-shirt and battered sneakers and he thought, How the hell had he ever thought someone like Ingrid could be beautiful? Could clothes and grooming make someone beautiful? The thought was a farce.

She was just…lovely.

But Tammy was carrying Henry and she wasn’t thinking of her appearance. Her eyes were frozen.

There was pain behind her gaze, he thought. Why?

Tammy’s voice, when she spoke again, was rigidly formal.

‘It’s time,’ she said blankly, and before he knew what she was about she’d walked forward and placed Henry into his arms. The little boy was delighted to see him. He chuckled and tried to grab a fistful of Marc’s dark hair. Marc let him pull. His eyes were on only Tammy.

‘What are you doing?’ She’d set a bag containing baby things down on the floor. Now she was eyeing him from six feet away and the pain behind her eyes was unmistakeable. Was that a glimmer of tears?

‘I told you; this is not my job,’ she said, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. ‘My role is to see that Henry is cared for and loved. With you I know that he will be.’

‘But…’

‘I didn’t come here to be Henry’s full-time carer. He loves you as well as me.’

‘But I don’t…’

‘Love him? You do, you know.’ Her face was totally expressionless now, as if she was holding herself rigidly under control. ‘You’re capable of all the love in the world, but you won’t let yourself see it. You’re afraid. Well, that’s okay with me-I can wear it-but Henry can’t. Henry needs you, and you need him. You need each other whether you intend to be Prince Regent or Crown Prince. Either way. Take your pick.’

He felt as if he’d been punched. Hard. ‘How do you know…?’

‘I’m not blind,’ she said shortly. ‘You’re running scared, Marc. Well, I have been too, but something’s happened. What’s between you and me…it’s made me see that the world’s what we make it. I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with you, Marc.’ Then, as he made an involuntary protest, she shook her head. ‘No. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not fair to lay my weakness on you. I’m not expecting you to do anything with it. Why would I? I’ve lived a long time without any sort of loving and I know I can keep on that way. So can you, I guess. But Henry’s the one who’s important. He’s a very special little boy. He needs a daddy. He needs you, Marc, and I won’t let you walk away from that need.’

‘So you’re leaving him here?’ Marc said blankly. He wasn’t too sure what was happening here. What she was saying was leaving him stunned, and it didn’t explain the look of blank misery on her face. Or did it? ‘You’re leaving him here until tomorrow night?’

‘I’m leaving him here until he needs me,’ she said bluntly, and turned on her heel and ran down the steps before he could say a word.

Before he could see the tears streaming down her face. Tears of goodbye.

What had she said?

I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with you…

He stood staring out at her retreating back and thought he must have been hearing things. How the hell could she decide she loved him? She’d known him for so short a time.

Didn’t she know he could destroy her? His family-the royal connection-it contaminated all it touched.

Did he love Tammy?

No! He didn’t love anyone. He didn’t do love!

But Henry was in his arms, gurgling up at him, making him rethink everything he’d believed in for so long.

Making him rethink love?

It was impossible, he decided fiercely. Put it away. Think about the arrangements Tammy was trying to force on him. Twenty-four hours of turnabout childcare… How could this work?

It was farcical, Marc decided, but he gave the little boy his supper and tried desperately not to think about the stricken look on Tammy’s face or the reason behind it. How could they juggle the baby back and forth between two households? A day here-a day there?

Maybe Tammy was right. Maybe he should go back to live in the palace with Tammy and Henry on a permanent basis.

No! It was impossible. It made a mockery of all he’d spent his life achieving.

Independence. Sanity.

And the love thing…

No. He didn’t want to go there. He’d kissed her once too often. He’d been a fool to do it and somehow he’d have to undo the damage.

‘Your aunt hasn’t got the sense to see how impossible this is,’ Marc told Henry, and Henry gurgled and grinned and demanded another toast finger. ‘She’ll have to take you full time. Maybe I can take you at weekends. Sometimes.’

But even that was too much. The longer he spent with Henry the more the little boy wormed his way into his heart.

He’d leave him with the servants.

No. He couldn’t do it and Tammy knew he couldn’t. This was emotional blackmail, he thought furiously, and then thought- What had he tried to use with her? He’d tried to offload his responsibilities onto her slender shoulders and maybe it wasn’t fair.

‘I’ll take you home tomorrow night and make her see reason,’ he told Henry, and had a toast finger land on his nose in response. ‘Gee, thanks. Maybe your aunt can teach you table manners.’

But…

She…loved him?

He hadn’t imagined what she’d said. Her words kept ringing over and over in his brain but he shoved them away with all the force he could muster. They didn’t make sense. She hadn’t meant them. Or, if she had, well, then she just had to get over it.

He didn’t do love.

Then Henry dropped his toast, and the ancient collie who always slept by the stove leapt to his feet like a pup of six months and devoured it in a gulp. Henry’s roar of indignation almost raised the roof, and he sobbed inconsolably into Marc’s shoulder.

He didn’t do relationships?

‘We’ll make some more toast,’ he told Henry, then wiped the little boy’s eyes and gave him a shame-faced grin. ‘Okay, I know I’m hooked. I’m hooked on you. But it’s only for today. After that…somehow I’ll get my distance back, and that’s the way I’ll keep it.’

He wanted distance? Unbeknownst to Marc, that was exactly what he was getting.

Half an hour after Henry had demolished his last toast finger-while Marc racked his brains for a bedtime story to encourage his little cousin to sleep-half an hour after that Tammy was boarding a plane headed for Australia.

‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’

‘She left for Australia last night.’ Dominic glanced at his watch. ‘I imagine she’s nearly in Sydney by now.’

‘She can’t have.’ It was seven p.m. Time for handover. Marc had driven Henry back to the palace thinking this was the end. He’d make it clear to Tammy that from now on Henry was hers. But now he was standing at the castle entrance with a sleepy Henry in his arms while he stared at the elderly butler in bewilderment.

He and Henry had had a truly excellent day. Aware that this was the last day he’d agree to have him, Marc had shelved work and given himself up to amuse his tiny cousin. Now, almost asleep, Henry twined his little arms around Marc’s neck and snuggled into Marc’s shoulder. The butler gave the baby a curious glance as he responded to Marc’s demand.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but that’s just what she has done. She had her things in the car when she dropped Master Henry off to you last night, and went straight on to the airport.’

‘You knew she was leaving?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Marc was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘You didn’t tell me? You didn’t contact me?’

‘Miss Tammy asked us not to, and we couldn’t see the need.’

‘You couldn’t see the need!’

‘No, sir.’

‘But…’ He shook his head. Tammy, on a plane. Tammy, returning to Australia. Without him!

The thought made him feel ill. But Dominic was watching him with a strange expression on his face and somehow he forced himself back to practicalities. To things that mattered.

Tammy leaving…

Henry. Think of Henry.

‘She’s supposed to be looking after Henry.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So who’s supposed to be looking after him now?’

‘I believe Miss Tammy assumed you would, sir,’ Dominic said woodenly, and Marc cast him a sudden suspicious look.

‘You’re in on this!’

‘I afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir.’ The butler’s face was impassive-which meant that Marc was even more certain.

‘It’s a plot!’

The butler’s mouth twitched. ‘Are you going to drag me out at dawn and have me shot?’

‘I should.’ Marc eyed him with frustrated bewilderment. ‘Damn, I should. What the hell’s going on, Dom?’

Dominic’s face relaxed a little, his old eyes creasing in sympathy. ‘I believe Miss Tammy meant this for the best,’ he said simply. ‘Would you like to read her note?’

‘She left a note?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Marc took a deep breath. Then he carefully set Henry on the polished wood floor, gave him his shoelace to untie and braced himself.

‘Give it to me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The note was simple and to the point. Marc stood immobile and read it while Dominic looked on.

Dear Marc

I never should have come. When you told me my sister was dead all I could think of was Henry. I assumed he’d need me, and to be honest I needed him as well. Loneliness is like that. It gets you. And I didn’t see how you could care for him. I listened to your words. Not your heart.

But I’ve known you longer now: Long enough to understand that you’ll care for Henry so well I need never worry. Sure, it’d be better if he had both of us, but a split childhood isn’t going to work. Not if that split means you don’t commit to him.

Marc, I know this isn’t any of my business, but it seems to me that you’ve been running scared ever since your mother died. You’ve been terrified of getting involved. Of loving. But you’ve fallen for Henry. I came here because I thought Henry would be alone, but by the time the plane landed in Broitenburg I knew you’d look after him and love him. And these last few days I’ve learned that you need him as much as he needs you. You need to let down the barriers, and caring for Henry will do just that.

Maybe I’m naïve, Marc, but you kissing me…it changes things. It means that I can’t bear to be close to you. Loving you is stupid.

I’m stupid. I hate it, but this is the only solution.

I’m going home.