So for Marc it was easy. Almost. It was just a matter of fitting his work around Henry’s schedule.
It didn’t include a social life, but curiously he didn’t seem to want one. The thought of the high life his friends were leading without him left him cold.
But staying in his wonderful chateau for the rest of his life while he cared for Henry wasn’t so appealing either.
So what was it that he wanted?
Tammy.
He wanted her to come back, he thought over and over again, as the time she’d been away grew longer. He wanted her to return and take over Henry so he could get his life back again.
But…he didn’t want his life. He’d just told himself he no longer missed the social hubbub he’d existed in before. Ingrid made a few interested phone calls-testing the water, but the water was ice-cold.
So he worked, he played with Henry, and he bonded to his small cousin as he’d never imagined he could bond in his life.
And he thought about Tammy.
She had to come back.
She wouldn’t. He knew that about her now. She’d made her decision and she’d stick to it. Maybe if he mistreated his little cousin she’d return and whisk him back to Australia. Mistreating Henry wasn’t an option, but that was the only way he’d get her back.
‘So what will we do?’ he asked Henry, and Henry gazed back at him and chortled as if extremely amused by the whole situation.
Great!
There were no answers. He could only take one step at a time-settle back at Renouys and wait.
And even that wasn’t easy. The pressure was on for him to return to the palace.
‘You should be here,’ Dominic told him when he phoned to see how the staff were getting on. ‘You know the whole of Broitenburg wants the royal family to live in residence. You’re the state figurehead. You should be here.’
‘Henry’s the state figurehead,’ Marc growled. ‘And he’s too young to live in that damned pile by himself.’
‘You’re the Prince Regent,’ Dominic reminded him. ‘Like it or not, you’re the person everyone wants to see here. The people want you settled, with a family, in the palace where you belong.’
‘I’m settled with Henry right here.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘You know damned well that I have no intention of getting married. Or living in that royal rabbit warren…’
‘Whatever you say, sir,’ Dominic said gently-and he set down the phone before Marc could say a word.
He was going crazy. Another week went past and then another. The press were screaming for a photo-shoot in the grounds of the palace-Henry back where he belonged. Marc delayed it for as long as he could, but finally had to concede. So they stood in the Broitenburg palace gardens while Henry beamed at every photographer as if he was a personal friend. He chortled and chuckled, he offered his teddy for photographers to inspect, and generally behaved as if he was born to stand in the front of the camera.
‘Can we pop him down on the grass and let him crawl?’ one of the photographers asked, and Marc obliged. But Henry was intent on practising his new skill, which was hauling himself to his feet and standing upright unsteadily by Marc’s side. He could just balance…
‘He could so easily be your son,’ one of the photographers said, wondering at the look on Marc’s face. ‘You look like you love him.’
‘He’s a great kid,’ Marc told them, unable to keep the pride from his face, and the photographers snapped on, entranced.
‘We hear you’re making the association official?’
‘I’m hoping to eventually adopt him, yes.’
‘All we need here is a mother…’ one of the journalists said softly, and Marc’s lips tightened. And then he felt the pressure ease from his leg. He looked down, expecting to see Henry plump down onto his bottom.
But Henry did no such thing. He’d released Marc’s trouser leg and was intent on the next step, but first he had to check he had an audience. This was a baby with style!
He gazed up into his cousin’s face-he gave him a huge grin-and took the very first tottering step of his life. He stepped. He balanced for an interminable moment while the Broitenburg press corps held its collective breath. Then he took one more step for effect before he sat down bump on the grass, deeply satisfied with what he’d achieved.
It was such a moment! Journalists and photographers were cheering and laughing, and Marc was staring down at his tiny charge in stupefaction. Such magic!
She should have been here to share it, he thought savagely, the knowledge of what she was missing hitting him like a thunderbolt. And the knowledge of what she’d given him.
She’d given him this. Tammy knew the joy such a moment would bring and she’d walked away.
The sensation was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t seen it until now. He’d been a blind, stupid fool.
She hadn’t wanted to go. Of course she hadn’t. She’d brought up Lara almost by herself. She knew the hurt such loving could bring but she’d also known the joy. She’d known that in time he’d feel like this-so proud he could burst.
It was a gift that was so precious it took his breath away. Up until now he’d sworn not to love, but he hadn’t known what he was doing. He hadn’t known what love was.
Tammy had known-and what deeper love to have her walk away-gifting love to him?
Tammy…
‘Tammy?’
‘Mother?’
Tammy had been back in Australia for more than a month. An interminable time. Broitenburg was half a world away. She was back sleeping under the stars as she worked again in the wilderness, and the call on her cellphone late at night made her feel more confused than ever.
‘I need to speak to you.’ Her mother’s voice was harsh and angry and Tammy came instantly awake.
‘Is something wrong?’
It’s Henry, she thought. There hadn’t been a minute since she’d left that she hadn’t thought about Henry-or his big dark cousin.
She’d heard nothing. The temptation to contact Dominic or Mrs Burchett had been almost irresistible, but she meant to continue as she’d started.
She’d trust Henry with Marc. She must.
So why was her mother ringing?
‘Do you know the trouble I had to get your phone number?’ her mother was demanding, and Tammy thought about it. That question, at least, was easy.
‘No,’ Tammy said bleakly. ‘I don’t. I gave this number to you years ago and you’ve never rung until now. Even when Lara died you didn’t use it.’
‘So I lost it,’ her mother snapped. ‘But now…’
‘Now?’ A cold dread was creeping round her heart. Had something happened? If something happened to Henry they’d probably contact her mother. Marc would contact her mother. Of course he would.
Why should he contact her?
‘Have you seen the papers?’
The dread deepened. ‘What papers?’ Tammy flicked on her torch and checked her watch. Eleven p.m. Not so late then-for her mother. It was only to the likes of Tammy who rose at dawn that eleven o’clock seemed late.
‘He’s planning on adopting Henry.’
‘Who…?’
‘That Prince Marc.’ Her mother’s voice was practically vitriolic. ‘He’s wants to adopt Henry without even a by your leave. I’m the child’s grandmother. It’s plastered all over the
