Her Royal Baby

‘You could just leave,’ she managed through gritted teeth. ‘That’d solve all our problems.’

‘It wouldn’t solve anything.’ He stared down at her for a long moment. They were so close. She could feel his breath on her hair. She bit her lip and stared straight ahead-at the fine linen of his shirt. His top two buttons were unfastened and his throat was tanned. There was a trace of wisping hair on his muscled chest…

The way her body was reacting was crazy, she thought frantically. She needed every ounce of concentration to focus on Henry, and yet this man had the ability to sidetrack her-to make her think about his body…

Henry. She had to focus on Henry.

‘What did your sister say?’ He put her away from him then, with a rough little gesture that made her stumble. His hands caught her again-as if he hadn’t meant to be so rough. He righted her as he’d right a doll, then stood back and watched her.

‘I don’t have to tell you.’

‘I can’t answer your allegations until I know what they are,’ he said bluntly. ‘I think it’s time for the truth. Don’t you?’

‘I…’

But she got no further. There was an urgent knock on the door, cutting through her attempt at speech.

‘Damn,’ Marc said.

Tammy didn’t move.

‘Are you expecting someone?’ he demanded, but still she didn’t move.

‘Is everything all right in there?’ It was a loud male voice, raised in authority. ‘Miss, can you open the door? We’ve had a report of violence.’

Great. Security. Exactly what she needed. Tammy gave Marc a look that was almost triumphant and marched to the door. She swung it open to find two burly security guards on the other side.

‘Miss Dexter?’

‘Yes.’

They looked past her to Marc, standing behind her. ‘Is this man bothering you?’

Yes. She should say yes. She should have them drag him out of here so she could slam the door behind him and that would be that. They could speak to each other through their lawyers.

‘We need to talk,’ he said urgently as she hesitated. She looked back at him, which was a mistake. His eyes were urgent and compelling, and sending her messages she didn’t understand.

‘Why?’ she managed, and the urgency in his voice increased.

‘Because you and I are all the family Henry has. Because, regardless of what you think of me, I care. Because I have responsibilities I need to face, and because Henry has a heritage neither of us can avoid.’

‘Henry stays with me,’ she said flatly as the security guards looked on.

‘Can we organise a babysitter and talk over dinner?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want us to remove him?’ one of the security guards said, and still she hesitated.

There was so much she didn’t know. She glanced back and found Marc still watching her with the expression she was coming to know. Watchful and non-judgmental.

She’d thought when she first met him that he had a good face. Kind. Maybe she was wrong-her wrist was tingling now from the force with which he’d held her-but still he watched, and she needed to come to a decision.

She thought fast, forcing her confused mind to focus. This was a five-star Australian hotel. Henry was an Australian citizen. Marc could hardly drag the baby from her arms and remove him. If he was planning on removing Henry from the country illegally he’d hardly have gone to the effort of finding her in the first place.

No. This man was a Head of State. He’d have to do things above board.

He could try and persuade her all he wanted. She could afford to listen.

‘We’ll have dinner,’ she told him.

‘I’ll organise…’

‘No. I’ll organise dinner. We’ll have Room Service here in my room, where I can watch Henry.’ She glanced back at the security officers and managed a smile. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she told them. ‘His Royal Highness has a temper, but he’s trying his best to fit into civilised society. If he promises to behave then he can stay. You guys are on call if he steps out of line again, aren’t you?’

There was a sharp intake of breath behind her but she didn’t care. Serves him right, she thought, rubbing her wrist.

Serves him right.

‘We’re at the end of the phone, miss,’ one of the guards told her. Clearly in this hotel they were accustomed to all sorts, and violent patrons were nothing new. ‘Dial 8 or scream. Either way we’ll be here in seconds.’

But they weren’t speaking to Tammy. They were speaking directly to Marc, and their body language said they’d like to haul him out of there right now.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘GREAT.’

‘Great?’

‘Do you know what you’ve just done for inter-country relations?’ Marc demanded as the door closed. ‘These people know who I am and now they’re thinking I’m somewhere between Godzilla and Attila the Hun.’

‘As if I care.’

‘You might not, but I do.’

‘Were there reporters out there with cameramen attached?’ They were both past fury now, and moving on to a level they didn’t know. Sparks were flashing off them like two electric cables coming into contact. You could practically smell the burning. ‘Are the press in this country interested in the doings of some tinpot prince? I don’t think so. Broitenburg is a tiny country. I think you have an exaggerated idea of your own importance… Your Highness.’

She ended her words on a note of bitter sarcasm.

Tinpot prince… She’d called him a tinpot prince.

The words hung between them

With anger still driving her, she turned her back to check Henry. The child was obviously accustomed to sleeping through noise. Now he snoozed on, tiny lashes fluttering closed over his dark eyes. She’d wrapped him snugly in a blanket and he was using a corner of it for comfort, sucking it in his sleep.

Henry was the important one here, she thought, trying desperately to get her thoughts in some sort of order. Henry. Not some crazy foreign prince with an overblown idea of his own importance.

‘Will you tell me what was in the letter?’ Marc asked, and Tammy whirled to face him again. She had so many emotions spinning in her head it was hard to know where to begin. His voice had calmed, but she was still a long way from anywhere approaching calm.

He saw it. His hands came up in a gesture that said he wanted to placate, not inflame the situation further. ‘You must be hungry,’ he said softly. ‘I know I am.’ He picked up the Room Service menu and flicked it open. ‘Let me order dinner for both of us and we’ll eat and talk at the same time.’

‘Here?’

‘Of course here. You’ve made that plain.’ He managed a smile. ‘If I object your very efficient security officers will come and eject me. They’ll create an international incident and that will be that. So… I’m in your hands, Miss Dexter.’

She backed off a pace and glared. ‘Why don’t I trust that smile?’

‘You can trust me,’ he said, so softly that she hardly heard.

But she did hear. She looked at him for a long moment. Their eyes locked and she found her colour mounting. This time it wasn’t from anger.

You can trust me? Did she? What was it about this man?

‘Fine,’ she stammered. ‘Order. Only not frogs’ legs.’