‘I did not yelp.’
‘You did so,’ Marc volunteered from behind them. ‘Are you burned?’
‘Do you need a bandage?’ Claire demanded, then slipped off her chair and headed for the bathroom without waiting for a response. ‘You always need a bandage,’ she said wisely.
‘I hardly touched it,’ she said again, and Max lifted her fingers from the water and inspected them one by one. There was a faint red line on one hand, following the curve of her fingers.
‘Ouch?’ he said gently and he smiled.
There was that smile. Only it changed every time he used it, she thought. He was like a chameleon, fitting to her moods. Using his smile to make her insides do strange things. She looked up at him, helpless, and Sophie sighed dramatically in the face of adult stupidity and handed her the dishcloth.
‘Dry your hands,’ she said and edged Max away. ‘We don’t need bandages,’ she called to her twin. ‘There’s no blood. You’ll be all right, won’t you?’ she told Pippa. ‘There’s chocolate ice cream for dessert.’
‘You guys are amazing,’ Max said. ‘You take it in turns to play boss.’
‘It works for us.’ Pippa tugged her hands away-which took some doing-and returned to her place at the table with what she hoped was a semblance of dignity. ‘Everything’s fine.’
But everything wasn’t fine. Everything was…odd. Max was still smiling as he ladled her pie without being asked.
Her insides felt funny.
It was hunger, she told herself.
She knew it was no such thing.
The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, which was just as well for Pippa’s state of mind. She ate in silence. The children chattered to Max, excited by the food, the festive occasion and the fact that this big stranger seemed interested in everything they said. He seemed really nice, she thought, but she tried to keep her attention solidly on food.
‘I need to put the kids to bed,’ she said when the last of the chocolate ice cream had been demolished. ‘Don’t wash up until I get back.’
‘I’m helping Max wash up,’ Marc said and Pippa practically gaped.
‘You’re offering?’
‘If Max can do dishes then I can.’
She gazed at him, doubtfully-this little boy who was growing to be a man.
She knew nothing of raising boys, she thought. She knew nothing of…men. She had nothing to do with them. There was not a single inch of room in her life for anything approaching romance.
Romance? Where had that thought come from?
From right here, she told herself as she ordered the twins to bed. For some dumb reason she was really attracted to Max.
Well, any woman would be, she told herself. It’s not such a stupid idea. He’s connected to royalty, he has a yummy accent and he’s drop-dead gorgeous.
So you’re not dumb thinking he’s attractive. You’re just dumb thinking anything could come of it.
Dumb or not, she read the twins a really long book and tucked them in with extra cuddles. She called Marc and did the same for him. When she finally finished, Max was in the living room, ensconced in an armchair by the fire, with Dolores draped over his feet.
Pippa had hardly been in this room since summer. It was cold and unwelcoming and slightly damp. Now however the fire had been roaring in the firestove for hours. Max was cooking crumpets on a toasting fork. He’d loaded a side-table with plates and butter and three types of jam. The whole scene was so domestic it made Pippa blink.
‘Haven’t we just had dinner?’
‘Yes, but I saw the toasting fork and I need to try it. And now I’m feeling like crumpets, too.’
The fire was blazing. ‘How much wood are you using?’ she said before she thought about it and Max cast her a look of soulful reproach.
‘There’s more where it came from and the least you can do is make a guest feel warm.’
‘You’re no guest.’ She was feeling desperate and desperate times called for desperate measures. Or bluntness at least. ‘You’re here to take Marc.’
‘Don’t dramatise. You know I can’t do that. You’re Marc’s guardian. Well done?’
She blinked. ‘Sorry?’
‘How do you like your crumpet?’ he asked patiently. ‘I’m getting good at this. The first crumpets ended up in the fire-this toasting fork has no holding power. But the last one I made was excellent. You can have this one. Do you like it slightly singed or charcoal-black?’
‘We’ll be out of wood again by the end of the week, and I’m not letting you buy more.’
‘I’m hoping you’ll be in Alp d’Estella by the end of the week.’
Pippa took a deep breath. Things were happening way too fast.
‘We’re not going to Alp d’Estella. You can’t have Marc.’
‘He has a birthright,’ Max said, flipping his crumpet.
‘Maybe he has, but it’s here.’ She closed her eyes. The effort she’d been making since Max had arrived slipped a little. Her vocals in the dairy had been a last-ditch attempt to find control and it hadn’t worked.
She felt so tired she wanted to sleep for a month.
‘Pippa, this is impossible,’ Max said, laying his crumpet down, rising and pushing her into the chair he’d just vacated. ‘Tell me why you’re doing this?’
‘Doing…what?’
‘Trying to keep this farm going against impossible odds.’
‘It’s all the children have,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all I have.’
‘I don’t understand.’ He shifted the sleeping Dolores sideways. Dolores didn’t so much as open an eye. He hauled another chair up beside her and sat down. ‘I need background.’
‘It’s none-’
‘It is my business,’ he said gently. ‘It seems to me that I’m the only relation these kids have. Now that doesn’t give me any rights,’ he said hurriedly as he saw alarm flit across her face. ‘But it does make me concerned, succession to the throne or not. Tell me about you. About this whole family.’
She hesitated. She shouldn’t tell him. What good would it do? But he was looking at her with eyes that said he was trying to understand, that he might even want to help. The sensation was so novel that she was suddenly close to tears.
She fought them back. No way was she crying in front of him.
‘Why is the farm so poor?’ he asked.
‘I told you,’ she said, rattled. ‘The vats are contaminated.’
‘You were poor before that.’
‘It’s not a wealthy farm.’
‘And?’
‘And Gina and Donald didn’t have insurance. They couldn’t afford it. Then the medical costs for Gina and the twins were exorbitant, as was paying someone to keep this place going until I could cope. I’m paying that off still.’
‘Is the farm freehold?’
‘There are still debts.’
‘But a sizeable chunk is paid for?’
‘Yes.’
‘According to the ladies in the Tanbarook supermarket you could sell it tomorrow.’
‘I could,’ she said and bit her lip. ‘Actually I have two buyers. The developers who want to use it as a road, or the Land for Wildlife Foundation. There’s a project going to make a wilderness corridor from the coast to the mountains north of here, and this place would be an important link.’ She managed a smile. ‘They’d pay less but if it was up to me I’d sell the land to them.’ Her smile faded. ‘But of course it’s not up to me.’
‘Why not?’ He frowned. ‘You could sell, to whoever you choose to sell to, and you could take another nursing job.’ Then as she started to protest he placed his finger on her lips. It was a weird gesture of intimacy that felt
