Her Royal Baby

‘If you hadn’t decided to accompany Henry, then my home would have had to be here.’

‘Then what’s changed?’

‘You, of course.’ He was looking down at her, and his face was still. Expressionless. He was showing no emotion at all-in fact he was so carefully showing no emotion that she wondered just what was going on behind that carefully maintained facade. ‘You,’ he repeated. ‘And me.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ He was far too close for comfort, and suddenly she was finding it hard to breathe.

‘You’ve said it’s impossible.’ Still that expression that said he was holding himself under rigid control.

‘So it is,’ she managed. Damn, she was still too close. He was still too close! ‘I need my own space.’

‘So do I.’

‘Surely this castle is big enough for both of us?’ She felt suddenly desperate. Overwhelmed by the enormity of what he was suggesting. That she be left alone… ‘If you’ll agree to me turning part of it into a self-contained apartment…’

‘I won’t do that. It’s not necessary. I hate this place.’

She eyed him with caution. There was still no emotion on his face at all. Hate? He said the word like a carefully rehearsed line in a play.

‘So you farm out your responsibility…?’

‘I do nothing of the kind. It’s not my responsibility.’

‘Neither is it mine.’

‘You chose to come here,’ he told her.

‘I chose to care for Henry. Not your whole damned castle. Not your whole damned kingdom.’

‘Principality,’ he snapped, and she gasped.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m trying to be serious and you’re fiddling with semantics.’

‘I’m not fiddling with anything. I’m leaving.’

‘You never said you were leaving so soon.’ They were standing chest to breast, anger emanating from each in waves. ‘I can’t take on the castle. It’s way too soon. I’m hardly accustomed to Henry yet.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Dominic and Madge will help you through.’

‘So why won’t you stay longer?’

‘I have to leave.’

‘Why?’ She was practically yelling as she battled something she hardly understood. ‘Why do you have to leave? What do you mean-you and me? Why are you running? Is it this castle? For heaven’s sake, you’d think there were ghosts here.’

His face set. Hardened. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous. I’m not afraid of ghosts.’

‘Then what are you scared of?’

‘Nothing,’ he snapped. ‘I have responsibilities at my own chateau.’

‘Which can’t be handled from here? I don’t believe you.’

‘Believe it or not, it’s the way it is.’

‘No,’ she snapped. She was breathing hard, trying to work things out in her mind. It wasn’t making the tiniest bit of sense. ‘Before we left Australia there wasn’t a hint that you weren’t staying here. Now you say you’re leaving tomorrow. There must be a reason why you’re going so fast. For heaven’s sake, why?’

Why?

The word hung around them. The whole world seemed to draw in its breath, waiting for his response.

Why?

He stared down at her, goaded beyond belief. Why?

She was gazing up at him, her brown eyes dark with anger. Her skin was flushed. Her breast was rising and falling in angry passion, and her brilliant curls were tumbling onto her bare shoulders. She looked…

She looked…

It was too much.

Why?

He knew exactly why, and he could bear it not one minute longer.

He’d sworn not to. The first time had been a damnable mistake. He never should have done it. She’d been too sweet, too vulnerable, too… Too Tammy.

But how could he not? She was here in his hands, gazing up at him, and this thing between them…

He didn’t understand it one bit, but he knew what he had to do.

Of course.

Once again he kissed her.

Afterwards he couldn’t believe he’d done it. It was the last thing he wanted-wasn’t it?

Of course it was. He’d kissed her back in Australia and it had been a mistake. Then he’d kissed her as an affirmation of a promise. But this…this was no affirmation. This was the age-old attraction between man and woman. Quite simply he wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman in his life.

Sense had nothing to do with it. Logic had flown out through the vast French windows. He was crushing her to him with a longing and a passion that had nothing to do with any sense or logic or…or anything.

For now there was only his absolute need.

He needed her. For this moment he needed her like life itself. She was his home. His heart. His life.

His hands gripped her with the fierceness of possession, and in joy he felt her melting into him. Her face was tilting up to his and it seemed she was as desperate as he was-desperate to find his mouth-desperate to reach him.

She was responding! Her lips were beneath his. Her mouth was opening, demanding, searching for something that he’d thought was only his to need-but it seemed the need was hers as well.

This woman was his life, he thought incredulously. He could feel it. She was the other half of his whole. When she smiled, her smile reached his heart in a way it had never been reached. Ever. She was wild and free and untrammelled. Bare of make-up, no pretence about her, fiercely independent…

Yet when she held her little nephew there was such softness about her that she melted his bitter heart.

All through this dinner he’d sat, and he’d wanted her. Worse. All through this day-or had it started on the aeroplane, or even before? The sight of her bare toes on the grass this morning. The thought of her smiling down at him from that damned tree when he’d first seen her.

He was wild with the wanting of her. She should push him away, he thought fiercely. She should fight him. But her body was yielding to his with such infinite sweetness that he practically groaned aloud.

She set him on fire. All he could feel was the wanting, and a fierce heat was coursing through every part of his body. His hands gripped her shoulders tighter and then slid downward. As if compelled, his fingers moved so that he could feel the soft swell of her breasts. The perfect symmetry of her… The perfection…

Tammy.

Had he said her name aloud? He scarcely knew. All he knew was that his body was dissolving in a surge of desire he scarcely recognised.

This wasn’t like him. He didn’t feel like this about women. He didn’t!

Oh, Lord, her own hands were moving now. He felt a tug and her fingers were sliding under his shirt, feeling the strong contours of his back. Teasing him. Wanting him as he wanted her. Aching for him. He could feel her need.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her!

He was powerless to stop. He’d been holding himself in a grip of iron all day. He’d been telling himself that he had to get away. One more day, he’d told himself. One more night and then he’d leave and see her only on formal occasions.

But how could he leave? He couldn’t even put her away from him. Not when she clung to him with such passion-such a fierce wanting-as though she recognised that here was her mate.

Here was his home.

It was a ridiculous thought, a ridiculous feeling surfacing over and over, but he was beyond reason. His mouth was plundering hers and the feel of her was setting him on fire. All he knew was the wanting, and the heat of his