Her Royal Baby

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS just as well she’d finished her fries. Tammy might well have choked. She stared at the man across the table as if he was out of his mind.

‘Why would I want to come to Broitenburg?’ she said at last.

He smiled.

There it was again. Just as she had herself under control-almost-that smile flashed out and it was enough to sidetrack her completely. But she had to concentrate. What he was saying was stupid.

‘Why shouldn’t you come to Broitenburg?’

‘Because I don’t want to.’

‘Have you ever been?’

‘No. How can I have been? I’m not even sure where it is. And…’

‘There you are, then. It’s the most wonderful country. Mountains. Lakes. Castles. It’s like the Dordogne region of France, only better. Fairytale country. Tourists love us. You’ll love us.’

She was still staring at him. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘How do you know if you haven’t tried?’

‘I live in Australia,’ she said carefully. ‘My career is in Australia.’

‘When I first met you,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘you thought I was offering you a job.’

‘I would never have taken it.’

‘You’d had other overseas job offers?’

‘I’m a tree surgeon,’ she told him, not without a hint of pride. ‘I’m highly qualified.’

‘Despite leaving school at fifteen?’ He was watching her across the table, his eyes thoughtful. ‘I had a phone call this evening from the man I employed to find you. He’s come up with a lot more detail. I know more about you now.’

She flushed, unnerved. ‘S…so?’

‘So you’re probably the most knowledgeable tree surgeon in this country. You’ve done university courses by correspondence so you have book-learning and practical experience. You’ve even worked in Europe.’

‘I…’

‘In the famous gardens of France and England. You worked with the best man available. Lance Hilliard’s reputation is second to none. You talked him into taking you on for three years and at the end of it you could name your price as an international expert. Yet you came back here.’ His calm eyes were probing, questioning. ‘But why?’

This was so none of his business. ‘I love it.’

‘I can see that you do. But why bury yourself…?’

‘I’m not a people person.’

‘I can see that, too.’ He nodded, taking her objection for granted. ‘But I can offer you as much isolation as you want. And as much work. If you’re prepared to use your skills at the castle…’

‘The castle?’

‘The Broitenburg palace sits in hundreds of acres of cultivated woodland,’ he said softly. ‘It’s very beautiful. The head groundsman would be delighted to have you work with him.’

She shook her head in disbelief. The situation was absurd. It was as absurd as this man was unsettling. ‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Why is it ridiculous?’

‘Because I’m staying here.’ She flashed a look at the sleeping baby and then glared back at Marc. ‘I’m staying with Henry.’

‘You can hardly take Henry back with you into the wilderness,’ he said in a voice that was oh so reasonable. Oh so persuasive… ‘Set him up in a tent at the foot of the tree you’re working on? I hardly think so.’

‘I’ll take a break.’

‘For a few months,’ he agreed. ‘Sure. Until your money runs out. And then?’

‘Then…’ She bit her lip. ‘I can get a city job in one of the botanic gardens. I can put Henry in a crèche…’

‘I’ll fight you on that one. The heir to the Broitenburg throne will not be placed in a crèche.’

Anger flashed out at that. How dared he? ‘It’s no different to being left with a nanny in Broitenburg.’

‘No. But if he was left with you in Broitenburg? Wouldn’t that be much better for all of us?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Think about it.’ Before she knew what he intended he’d taken her hands tightly within his. His hold was urgent. His eyes met hers and held, and the warmth and strength and urgency of his hold were compelling all by themselves.

‘Tammy, the royal palace of Broitenburg is a wonderful place to live,’ he told her. ‘All your living expenses would be covered. We could find a really good woman to help look after Henry-you could help me choose her-and you could spend as much time with Henry as you liked. You could choose to be a lady of leisure…’

‘No!’

‘Or not,’ he said smoothly. ‘And if you wanted to work I’d be willing to pay you double your current hourly rate. More.’

She was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘You mean I’d live in the castle?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s crazy.’ She’d seen plenty of castles in her time in Europe, and she’d been fascinated by them, but they were something out of the past-a lifestyle she had nothing to do with. She looked down at the hands Marc was gripping and winced. Her hands were scratched and worn, weathered by the elements and by sheer physical work.

Marc followed her glance and his hold on her fingers lessened. He released his grip but traced the veins on the back of her hand up to her wrist. The feel of his finger moving with such delicacy over her roughened skin was somehow compelling. As if she was moving into a dream. Cinderella beneath the fairy godmother’s wand. She was being drawn into fantasyland whether she willed it or no.

‘It would work,’ he told her, his voice growing more urgent. ‘You could even enjoy yourself.’

‘For how long?’ She was so stunned she could hardly speak.

‘For as long you want. For ever, if you wish it. Until Henry turns twenty-five and I’m no longer in charge.’

‘And if I change my mind? Once Henry’s in Broitenburg I’d never get him out.’ There was no disguising the bitterness in her voice. She didn’t trust him-why should she?

There was a long silence while he thought about it. He was still tracing the lines on her hand. He’d turned her hand over and was fingering the lifeline-as though he could read the future written there. As if he could read the decision hanging over them both.

‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he told her at last.

‘What sort of deal?’ Her tone was still laced with suspicion. She was trying to block out the sensation of his hand-the sensation of his touch. She was using suspicion to camouflage it but she wasn’t sure if she was fooling anyone. The way he made her feel…

But he seemed impervious to the ripples of warmth. The ripples of… In truth she didn’t know what they were. She hadn’t experienced anything like this-ever.

‘I’ll buy you both return tickets to Australia,’ he was saying. ‘First class. If I don’t make you happy then you can come home any time you want.’

If he didn’t make her happy? What sort of promise was that?

‘Over there you’ll have different laws,’ she managed. ‘You’ll have Henry where you want-’

‘I can give you solid assurances.’

‘How?’ She was being rude, but there was no option. She was fighting for Henry’s future and she was the only person to do it. Despite the way this man made her feel…

He watched her for a moment longer and then he sighed. ‘You won’t trust my word?’

‘No.’ That was blunt.

‘I guess in your circumstances neither would I.’ He grinned, and his grin was as unexpected as it was gorgeous. ‘Okay, then, Miss Doubter.’ He hauled out his wallet and produced a couple of cards.

‘I have legal contacts,’ he told her. ‘So far they’ve been useless for anything but telling me I wasn’t able to take Henry home without your permission. But this card is for Paule Tarome-he’s Broitenburg’s Chief Magistrate-and this card is for Angela Jefferson, an Australian expert in international law. I’ll get Paule to fax me an agreement, saying you have all necessary legal permissions to return Henry to Australia at any time you wish. Angela will witness it. Broitenburg is subject to international custody laws. If you’re assured that I’m legally bound to return Henry to Australia whenever you want, will that persuade you to give Broitenburg a trial? For all our sakes?’

For all their sakes.

The phrase hung and hung. Still he watched her, his eyes compelling.

Somehow she met that look. She gazed steadily back at Marc and tried to read his mind.

She still didn’t trust him. She couldn’t. She mustn’t, she told herself fiercely. No matter what strange things the feeling of his hand on hers was doing to her insides, this was Henry’s future.

‘Broitenburg depends on your decision,’ he said, lifting her hand again and holding it in his. His touch was feather-soft. Pressuring but not pressuring. ‘If you refuse then thousands of my people will end up in poverty. We need you. I need you and Henry needs you.’

Good grief. Tammy stared at the man before her and he gazed back as if he had all the time in the world for her to come to her decision.

Henry. Broitenburg.

This man.

Her life was about to change in the most momentous of ways. She had a child.

And Henry had a heritage, like it or not.

If she agreed…

If it didn’t work then she could return and bring Henry with her. Marc would allow her to trial it and see if it was workable.

Should she agree?

Her head was spinning. She felt so far out of her depth she was in danger of drowning, and the concern in this man’s dark eyes was her only lifeline.

She took a deep breath and made her decision.

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘I’ll come.’

He let his breath out in one long sigh of relief and there it was. The decision was made. ‘You won’t regret it.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

‘You won’t regret it,’ he said again. ‘I promise.’ He released her hand and hesitated, already thinking of the consequences of her decision. ‘I’ll need to make a few phone calls.’

Strangely, he sounded as if what he really regretted was being called away right now, and Tammy knew how he felt. There was a part of her that wanted to stay exactly where she was-with her hand in this man’s.

Which was ridiculous. Already he was working through the host of things he had to do before they left, but as he walked to the door, and then turned and looked back, once more Tammy sensed real reluctance to go.

‘Goodnight,’ he said slowly, and she nodded-an absurdly formal nod.

‘Goodnight.’

‘It’ll be okay.’

‘Yes.’

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 silence 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.