Читать книгу Stolen Kiss From a Prince - Teresa Carpenter - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

JULIAN TAPPED HIS lip as he contemplated the two asleep on the sofa. Snuggled up in Katrina’s arms, Samson appeared more at peace than Julian had seen him since arriving at the palace.

Thank God. He’d taken about all of the boy’s distress that he could handle.

Blast Tessa for deserting them. He was counting on her to help him with the boy on the trip home. She’d best have herself pulled together by morning. If he needed proof he was ill prepared to handle his nephew, he received it tonight. Samson couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

Julian wanted to strangle Katrina when she started talking about Donal and Helene to the boy. Yet when faced with a direct question from Samson, Julian couldn’t lie. Giving the child false hope served no purpose beyond delayed pain. Best he prepare for the worst and be surprised by a miracle.

Which didn’t change the fact he’d be better off if left in the dark about the crash in the first place.

Julian switched his gaze to the woman responsible for some of Samson’s suffering. Her lap provided a comfortable resting place for the child, but Katrina sat in the middle slumped to the right with her head listing at an angle sure to cause a crick by morning.

Dare he risk moving them? For certain they’d be more comfortable in a bed. But as he considered the logistics, he doubted the success of getting them both to the desired destination still asleep, an imperative in his mind.

He admired the Victorian design of the sofa they occupied, but nobody could argue the merits of its long-term comfort. The bench had cushioning, but the tufted back curved higher on one end than the other. Her position in the middle offered her little support on either side.

He supposed he had the answer to his earlier observation. If he were the cold bastard everyone thought him, he’d simply leave the woman and child to their own devices. When she became uncomfortable enough, she’d wake and move to the bed taking Samson with her or putting him in his crib. Problem solved.

But Julian wasn’t that cold. With a sigh he rose and approached the sofa. Settling into the corner he turned toward the sleeping pair and pulled woman and child into his arms.

“Hmm.” She surprised him by opening drowsy violet eyes and staring up at him. “I am going to go to bed,” she assured him in a sleep husky voice.

He waited, but instead of moving away, she snuggled into him with a contented mew, shifting her hold on Samson to keep him secure.

“You smell good,” she murmured.

Him? She was the one who smelled good enough to eat, making him wish he’d eaten more of his meal. Maybe then he’d be less tempted by her.

He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was at home in bed. He pulled to mind a problem he’d been wrestling with before the fateful plane went down and changed his life. Neither solution worked. The subtle, sweet scent of apple blossoms and the soft feel of womanly curves cuddled in his arms brought his body to life.

He ignored the inappropriate reaction.

She was exhausted and injured, and he’d accepted the responsibility of her care. That was the extent of their connection.

“You’re so warm.”

He shook his head, a half smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Go to sleep already,” he said running his hand over the silk of her hair.

And closing his eyes, he followed his own advice.

* * *

Deep in the night, something disturbed Katrina. She stirred slightly and then purred softly. It had been a long time since she woke up in Rodrigo’s arms. How she’d missed this connection, the feel of hard arms holding her close, the warmth of a man’s nearness, the sensual tickle of his breath on her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find the room dark except for the dying embers in the fireplace. Sighing, she snuggled in, hugging him as she drifted toward sleep.

He smelled so good, of musk and man. Her brow furrowed as her foggy mind niggled at a sense of wrongness, but it hurt to think. He shifted beneath her and the thought fled. She realized his movement was what woke her.

Yes. The only thing better than sleeping in his arms was being awake and in his arms. A pain in her head followed the thought. Thankfully it didn’t linger and she dismissed it. Better to focus on the man. Without opening her eyes she angled her head and kissed him.

He went completely still, his sleep-relaxed body going tense. Usually he took it from there. Not tonight.

Tease. She smiled and, opening her mouth, she touched her tongue to his lips, seeking more. His lips parted and she tasted him. She knew immediately this wasn’t Rodrigo.

And while her mind struggled with why that was a good thing, the man gave in to her invitation, sinking into the embrace with an aggressive dance of tongues.

No, this was not Rodrigo. Everything about him felt right. Heat flooded her and she gave in to his demand, sighing in surrender as she wrapped her arms around him and sank into a depth of passion she’d never known before. Wanting more, she pulled him closer.

He slanted his head taking the kiss deeper, the fever higher. He threaded fingers through her hair, holding her still for him while his thumb feathered softly over her temple in a soothing caress.

She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. She wanted that hand, his hands, lower, tracing her curves, igniting a true fire between them. She pressed closer trying to show him, and a squeak sounded between them.

“Oh my goodness.” In an instant everything came flooding back.

The crash.

The toddler.

The man.

No, no, no. She’d let a man touch her. Almost as bad, she’d been smooching with the Prince!

“Mon Dieu, I am sorry.” She pushed back and checked on Sammy, who’d been crushed between the two of them.

A scowl drew his tiny eyebrows together and his mouth twitched a couple of times, but he didn’t waken. Somewhere during the night, he’d switched his weight to Julian. Without looking at the Prince, she lifted Sammy carefully and carried him into his crib. Before leaving the room she switched on the light and checked his pupils, sighed in relief when she found them even and reactive.

Unable to delay further, she returned to the sitting room, where Julian stood by the mantel stoking the fire back to life.

“Your Highness,” she began.

“Stop.” He put down the poker and turned to face her, keeping his hands clasped behind him. “You have already apologized. Now it is my turn.”

“No, please.” How mortifying. “I kissed you. It is my fault. I woke up in your arms—which it was very sweet of you to let Sammy sleep.” His dark brows lowered so she rushed on. “I thought you were my old boyfriend. Oh God. You smelled wrong, but you felt good—”

“You are babbling, mademoiselle—” His sigh reeked of exasperation. “What is your full name?”

“Katrina Lynn Carrere Vicente.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Carrere?” Of course the name caught his attention. “You’re a relative of Jean Claude?” His tone turned grim. “Please tell me you are not related to the Prince.”

“Distantly,” she confessed, “through my mother.” She didn’t mention her father was a close personal friend. No need to make matters worse than they were.

His head dropped forward causing thick strands of hair to fall over his wide brow. He muttered what sounded like, “It just keeps getting better and better.”

Her sentiments exactly.

But the show of emotion lasted only a moment. He quickly drew himself up and straightened his shoulders.

“Mademoiselle Vicente you have my deepest apologies. I should never have touched you.”

“Your Highness.”

He shook his head. “I’ll express my regrets to the Prince in the morning.”

“No.” Her eyes went wide in shock. She felt sick to her stomach. The last thing she wanted was for the royal family to know she’d forced herself on a guest. She couldn’t handle another disgrace. She stepped forward in entreaty. “Promise me you will not.”

“I must.” His posture was rigid. “I have offended a member of his family.”

“No offense. None.” She assured him. “You were the perfect gentleman.”

His eyes narrowed in censure. “I had my tongue down your throat. Hardly the actions of a gentleman.”

“But you kept your hands above my waist. I wanted them on me—” She broke off as his eyes darkened and narrowed even more. What was she saying? So not the place to go.

“I promise I am not offended. It has been a tough couple of days for everyone, and we found a moment of comfort in each other. That is all that happened.”

“Is that how you see it?” His shoulders relaxed slightly.

It was all she would allow herself to believe.

“Yes. You held Sammy and I while we slept, something we both needed desperately. Something I believe you needed, too. The kiss came from the comfort of that gesture. You are leaving in the morning. Can we not forget it ever happened?”

He studied her in silence so long her nerves grew rattled. Finally he beckoned. “Come here.”

Leery, she forced apprehension aside to approach him slowly, until she had to tip her head back to look up at him. He stared down into her eyes, his gaze penetrating. Again he rattled her with his intensity. Would he agree to put her indiscretion aside?

“Yes?” she prodded.

“Just checking your pupils,” he stated. “How do you feel? Any nausea?”

The question confused her until she remembered her concussion.

“No,” she assured him. Did he think her injury affected her thinking? No, only her actions. It was the only excuse she could come up with for her uncharacteristic advances. “I am fine.”

“So it would appear.” He nodded formally. “Tessa is next door. You may use the bed in Samson’s room.”

“Thank you.” At the mention of bed, fatigue washed over her. “I checked on Sammy when I put him down. He was doing fine.”

“Good. That’s good.” He turned back to the fire, clearly dismissing her.

But she couldn’t leave without knowing if he meant to speak to the Prince in the morning. The loss of her career was the least of her worries. She respected and honored the people in this household and wished no harm or embarrassment on them. Not again.

She couldn’t bear her father hearing of this. The disgrace might well jeopardize his friendship with the Prince.

“Please, Your Highness.” She dared to disturb him. “I must know if you plan to reveal my indiscretion to the Prince.”

He stiffened but did not turn. “It shall be as you requested. We simply shared a moment of comfort.”

“Thank you.” She backed away, eager to put this encounter behind her. There was much more to Prince Julian than his reputation gave him credit for. Tonight she could only be thankful for his mercy.

* * *

Sleep eluded Julian. He worried about Donal, his father, Samson, while thoughts of duty warred with his natural inclination to stay in the background. Every instinct he possessed rebelled against losing his brother.

At five in the morning, he gave up all pretense of trying to sleep and rang for coffee, a hot breakfast and an array of items for Samson and the nanny. In anticipation of an early departure he also asked for Tessa to be roused so she could pack and get Samson ready for travel. Next he called and advised his security detail of his plans.

One of the advantages of being in the palace was not having security underfoot every moment.

He’d dressed and packed his own bag when the knock came at the door. He glanced at the closed door of the temporary nursery as he crossed the room. There’d been no movement from that quarter, a hopeful sign Samson was getting the rest he needed.

Another knock sounded as he reached the door. He opened it to find his meal and the lady of the palace awaiting him.

“Bernadette.” He bent over her hand. “You look fresh and lovely, considering the early hour. To what do I owe this honor?”

She moved gracefully into the room. “I have something to discuss with you. I am hoping I might share a cup of coffee with you while you eat.”

“Of course.” He waved her toward the elegant cart the steward had situated near the window and pulled the desk chair around for her use. The steward produced another chair and Julian joined her.

“Thank you, Pierre.” Bernadette smiled a dismissal.

“What do you wish to discuss?” Julian picked up his napkin.

“Non, mon ami, you must eat first,” she insisted. “You barely touched dinner last night.”

“I had a lot on my mind.”

“As you will until Donal is returned to us. First rule of being a ruler—take care of yourself.” She lifted a dome, revealing a hot plate of steaming eggs. “Take a few minutes and enjoy a peaceful meal. Then we shall talk.”

Lifting the coffeepot he poured two cups and placed one in front of her. “What you have to discuss must be really bad.” He tapped his cup against hers. “I believe it’s best if I eat first.” He dug into his vegetable omelet.

“Wise choice.” She sipped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the freshly brewed beverage. She flashed him a sheepish smile. “Jean Claude prefers tea. I like both so I usually defer to him. But I do enjoy a good cup of coffee.”

“There’s nothing better to jump-start the day,” he agreed.

She chatted while he ate, managing to avoid any sensitive topic in the process. The weather, politics and his family were never mentioned. He admired her talent at putting him at ease, allowing him a few minutes peace while he enjoyed his meal.

When he finally set down his fork, she topped off their coffee and got to the point.

“I am afraid I have some upsetting news. Tessa came to see me last night and asked me to let you know she cannot return with you to Kardana.”

“What?” He carefully set his cup in its saucer. This couldn’t be happening. “That is unacceptable.”

“I know the timing is bad.” She placed her hand over his. “However, she is very distraught. You know Helene is a close friend.”

“Samson needs her.”

“Unfortunately she feels too overwhelmed to resume his care. She was in tears as she requested an escort to take her home to England.”

“She’s left the palace?” Shock blocked all thought.

“Yes.” Bernadette confirmed, and with a gentle squeeze she released him. “I hope you will not blame Tessa too much. The last couple of days have been very emotional. Sammy rejected her after she told him of the crash. She tried to help but—”

“Wait.” Julian cut her off. “Are you saying Tessa told Samson his parents were not coming back? I thought Mademoiselle Vicente made the mistake of telling him.”

“Oh no.” Bernadette shook her head, visibly surprised by his assumption. “We were at our wit’s end with Samson when Katrina came on duty. He was inconsolable for hours. She took one look at him, gathered him in her arms and began rocking him. And she talked to him.”

“About Donal and Helene.” Yes, he’d seen a sample of her frankness with the child last night. “He responded to what she told him.”

“He did.” Her admiration for Katrina came through in her earnestness. “He stopped crying to listen to her. And he finally slept for a short time. She did not leave his side until you arrived.”

Her revelation stunned him, sent his mind reeling. Something he experienced rarely. It was unlike him to make assumptions. Then again, the circumstances of the past few days were far from the norm.

The tragedy of the crash had his emotions rising to the surface, yet he was helpless to do anything. Anger at Katrina for the distress she’d caused Samson had given him something to focus on and do something about.

Erroneously, as it turned out.

Not only was his indictment and coldness misplaced, they were an affront to Katrina and the royal house that opened its arms to a hysterical child suddenly thrust upon them. He’d personally witnessed Katrina’s dedication yet discounted it in favor of his preconceived notions.

He cringed inside when he realized he owed her yet another apology.

“...I truly believe it is the best solution,” Bernadette said. Her expression was expectant and Julian realized she’d carried on with the conversation while he’d been examining his conscience.

“I apologize, Bernadette, my mind wandered for a moment. Do you mind repeating your solution? I am most anxious to hear your suggestion. I cannot leave Samson here, but I am far from a nursemaid. Frankly, the thought of changing a nappy is terrifying.”

“Quite a vivid picture.” Her melodic laughter lightened the mood. “But I think you are safe. Sammy is potty trained.”

Finally, something in his favor.

“Plus, no apology is necessary.”

How he wished that were true.

“As I mentioned before, Samson has become attached to Katrina. My suggestion is she accompany you back to Kardana and stay until Tessa is ready to resume her duties or you find a replacement.”

“Oh no.” Horrified at the idea, he summoned a polite smile. “I could not steal off with a member of the royal family. Katrina told me of her mother’s relationship to the Prince.”

“Really?” Bernadette’s fine brown eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “How interesting. Katrina rarely reveals her connection to Jean Claude.” She tapped a finger on the table as she eyed him thoughtfully. “You must have asked her.”

“I did. Why does she keep it to herself? Is it a secret?”

“Heavens no.” Diamonds flashed as the Princess waved a careless hand. “Jean Claude is very fond of his goddaughter. Katrina, dear child, does not care to take advantage of the relationship.”

“Goddaughter.” Just shoot him and put him out of his misery. Katrina conveniently left that little tidbit out when she garnered his promise to forget his slip in protocol last night.

“Yes. Jean Claude went to school with Dom Vicente. They are the best of friends. Katrina has been tripping around the palace since she was tiny.”

“Vicente.” Of course he recognized the name. He should have caught it last night, but the royal name distracted him. “We’ve met several times. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of the relationship.”

“That is at Katrina’s request.” Concern darkened her features. “She prefers not to draw the attention of the press.”

A confession trembled on the tip of his tongue. Only the fact he’d given his word kept him from disclosing his actions.

Well, that and the fact the moment seemed too intimate to share. The few hours holding her were the only solid sleep he’d had in two days. Waking to her mouth on his, her taste and scent surrounding him, drew him into the passionate interlude. Yet her reference to comfort resonated with him.

He’d agreed to forget the incident because she’d been correct. Comfort had led to the embrace. He wouldn’t regret the rest, so how could he condemn them for the kisses?

“She is wonderful with the children,” Bernadette continued. “We would have been happy to have her without a degree in child development, but she insisted on meeting all the qualifications and more. We often have her assigned to the twins. Of course it does not hurt that she is family and has a black belt in karate.”

The more she extolled Katrina’s virtues, the more the muscles tightened across Julian’s shoulders.

“You have made my case, dear Lady. I cannot take away such an important member of your household.”

“Julian—” her eyes shadowed with sadness “—we insist. We want to help. This is one small thing we can do. How is your father?”

He released a deep sigh. Giving his father news of the crash might be the hardest thing Julian had ever done. It was a well-kept secret the King had suffered a stroke a year ago. Mild as the stroke was, it had been a slow road to recovery, with both Donal and Julian taking on more and more of the royal duties as their father tired easily.

His father shrank before his eyes when he learned Donal and Helene were missing and presumed dead. His first thought had been of Samson. He had urged Julian to journey immediately to Pasadonia and return his heir to Kardana.

“I will not lie.” Though he must be ever cognizant of keeping up appearances, “It was a blow. As you can imagine, he is anxious to see Samson.”

“Yes, of course. How is Samson? I have not heard of any complications from his bump on the head.”

He imagined not much happened in the palace she didn’t know about.

“Both he and Mademoiselle Vicente were fine when I checked on them around three. Grumpy but fine.”

Another tinkle of laughter sounded. “For certain it is no fun to be awoken in the middle of the night. Poor Julian. You have had it tough these last few days. What news do you have from France?”

“I’m told the storm is beginning to abate, but less so at the altitude of the projected crash site. The elite team should reach the area soon. They’re hoping to have more to report later this morning.”

“Knowing you wished to leave early, I checked, and the train will be delayed an hour or two while they clear a couple of sections of track. I also checked the travel advisory and many roads and passes are still closed, so the train is still your best choice.”

“That’s disappointing.” The delay chafed at raw nerves.

“Jean Claude ordered our private train car be made ready for the trip. You will be more comfortable. Plus, it will save you from having to deal with the press on the trip. I know it is not what you wanted to hear, but at least the delays will give Katrina time to pack.”

“Pack?” a sleepy voice asked. Julian turned toward the sound to spy Katrina coming toward them. His body stirred at the sight of her mussed red hair and sleep-tousled beauty. “Where am I going?”

* * *

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Katrina nervously twisted the ring on her right hand as she questioned her Princess’s sanity. They were in the bedroom of her suite. Katrina sat on her bed, fighting for composure as she marshaled arguments against Bernadette’s calm insistence. “The press is all over this story. It is the perfect time for someone to come forward and cause irreparable damage, not only to the house of Carrere but to the Kardanians, as well.”

“It is the perfect opportunity for you to learn you have nothing to fear. We worry about you, Katrina. You cannot hide in the palace forever, my dear.” Bernadette folded a lemon-yellow sweater and placed it in the open suitcase. “Young Samson needs your help. It is obvious he has bonded with you. Of course we remain hopeful, but it is likely the poor child will need a strong advocate in the following days.”

“It is not worth the risk. His family—”

“His family needs you.” Bernadette came to the bed and took Katrina’s hands in her own. “King Lowell is rumored to be in ill health and the queen mother is in her eighties. If Prince Donal has perished in the crash, Julian will be engulfed with running the country. I fear they may lose sight of Sammy in their grief.”

“The staff—” Katrina quickly changed the words at the disappointment in Bernadette’s eyes “—are no substitute for family.”

“No. And it may fall to you to remind them all of that. Though losing a child, a grandchild is terrible, they still have Sammy, and he is reason to persevere. Dear, I know your concern is not just for yourself.”

“I would never do anything to hurt Jean Claude.” Katrina rushed to assure her friend and mentor, the slip of the night before haunting her.

“I know.” Bernadette squeezed her fingers. “He knows. We believe in you. It is time for you to believe in yourself. Now—” Bernadette rose and went back to the wardrobe “—let us finish packing. Julian is not a patient man.”

No, patience did not describe the visiting Prince. Which only made the challenge ahead of Katrina harder. But she dared not argue further. Even she recognized there was a limit to testing a royal’s goodwill.

Even her? Especially her!

She’d never been good at decorum. She’d had too much freedom running wild about the palace as a child. Jean Claude adored his goddaughter, so she was given undo leeway. She learned her lesson three years ago when the misuse of that freedom and a lack of good judgment resulted in hurting those she loved most.

Licking her wounds, she’d retreated to the place she felt safest in the world. The palace. More specifically the palace nursery, where she tried to be a good example of decorum to the next generation.

Her stomach twisted at the possibility of bringing shame to her home once again. No matter what Bernadette said, Katrina knew she’d been a disappointment to Jean Claude, worse to her own father. She stiffened her spine. Not this time, she promised them in her heart. She would go with Prince Julian to help Sammy, and she’d mind her manners, follow protocol and be a model of perfect decorum.

If she stuck to the background, there was no reason anyone should notice her.