Her Royal Baby

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.

Ingrid is hardly a baby person.

What sort of person was Marc-and what sort of household was Tammy getting into?

It was a household so large that it took her breath away.

No, she thought, stunned. It wasn’t a house in any sense of the word. The limousine swept them along the vast curved driveway and stopped beneath steps that could have graced the parliament of a great nation. Below the steps was a lake, stretching away into the distance, and above…

Above their heads the castle soared skyward. It was something straight out of a fairytale. Built of white stone, three storeys high without its score of turrets and towers spiralling above, it glistened with a beauty that made Tammy catch her breath.

It wasn’t ostentatious-or maybe it was, but it was built with such grace and charm that ‘ostentatious’ was the wrong adjective. It could only be called beautiful. Nestled against a backdrop of magical mountains, surrounded by exquisite gardens and woodland, the scene made her want to jump from the car and explore right now.

She could scarcely take it all in. In the foreground was the fairytale castle, all spires and gargoyles and terraces. Away in the background there were traces of snow, spider-webbing down the grander of the mountain peaks. The sun glistened down on the castle’s stonework, making the ancient palace and its surroundings come alive with vibrant colour.

White swans were sailing across the lake in all their majesty. The grounds swept on further than the eye could see. This place had been neglected, Marc had told her, but Tammy could see no hint of neglect here.

Magic!

Her new home.

‘What do you think?’ Marc was asking and she turned to find him watching her with evident enjoyment. She flushed.

‘I think…it’s a ridiculous flaunting of wealth.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Pretentious.’

‘Really?’

‘And…’ She could no longer prevent herself from stating the truth. She gazed around from the castle, to the grounds, to the lake and back to the castle again.

‘And it’s also very, very beautiful,’ she murmured, and found Marc’s smile had faded.

‘It is,’ he said slowly, and for a moment as his gaze still rested on her face she wasn’t sure exactly what he meant.

Neither was Marc.

But Tammy couldn’t dwell on Marc’s thoughts. She had enough of her own to absorb. She thought back to the shabby one-room apartment that had been her base for the past ten years and had to pinch herself to believe she wasn’t dreaming. And when a uniformed butler made his stately way down the steps and held the car door wide for her she had to pinch herself all over again.

‘This isn’t real,’ she muttered, and found that Marc was watching her still. His laughter had faded completely now and there was a strangely enigmatic expression in the back of his eyes.

‘It’s real.’

‘Welcome home,’ the butler was saying, with all the solemnity in the world, and she closed her eyes and wondered what on earth she had got herself into.

Welcome home indeed.

The staff were lined up to meet them. It was like something out of a television show, Tammy thought dumbly, walking along the line of uniformed staff to be introduced. There must be twenty people assembled in the great hall. Marc knew each of them by name. He greeted them with what seemed to Tammy to be real friendliness.

‘I won’t be able to remember anyone,’ Tammy stammered unhappily, suddenly acutely conscious of her shabby clothes. Maybe Marc had been right. Maybe one dress wouldn’t have hurt. Or two…

‘We won’t expect you to.’ Marc was smiling at her, with the smile that had caused so much trouble. Was it that smile that had made her agree to this crazy journey? ‘But maybe you’d better learn the most important. This is Dominic, our butler and head steward. And, Tammy, this is Mrs Burchett.’

An elderly lady was on the end of the receiving line. She bobbed a curtsey to Marc but her eyes were on the baby in Marc’s arms. Since the flight Henry had moved back and forth between the two adults naturally, and now he was cradled in Marc’s arms as if he belonged. ‘Mrs Burchett is our housekeeper,’ Marc was telling Tammy as Henry gurgled his own greeting, ‘and she’s English. Anything you want to know, ask Madge.’

‘It’ll be a pleasure.’ Madge Burchett beamed, her smile enough to lessen Tammy’s feeling of intimidation all on its own. ‘Oh, hasn’t the wee lad grown? We haven’t seen him since just after his birth. And you’re his aunt.’ Her eyes raked Tammy from head to foot, and Tammy could sense the comparison to her sister. Nothing was said, though, except, ‘You’re very welcome…?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Can I take you and the little one up to your rooms?’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Marc told her. He tried to hand Henry over to the housekeeper but the little boy clung. Marc disengaged his pudgy hands from around his neck and passed him to Tammy. ‘Madge, if you can look after Miss Tamsin…?’

‘I surely can. Will you come this way, please?’

Tammy cast an uncertain look at Marc, but he was already moving away from her. He’d have things to do, she told herself. A million things. He’d handed the baby over to the women. He’d played his part. From now on, his body language said, he intended to lead a very separate life.

As if on cue there was a cry of pleasure from outside and a tall, lithe woman about Tammy’s age came striding into the hall. She’d obviously been out riding. Her outfit was pure dressage-gorgeous. Her chestnut hair was twisted up into an elegant chignon, her flawless skin was beautifully made-up, and the smile she was directing at Marc was truly something to behold. She held a riding crop, but she tossed it aside and ran straight into Marc’s arms.

‘Marc. Darling! How wonderful to finally have you home.’