She smiled and, opening her mouth, she touched her tongue to his lips seeking more. His lips parted and she tasted him.

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 his 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, both 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!

Stolen Kiss From a Prince

Teresa Carpenter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA CARPENTER believes in the power of unconditional love, and that there’s no better place to find it than between the pages of a romance novel. Reading is a passion for Teresa—a passion that led to a calling. She began writing more than twenty years ago, and marks the sale of her first book as one of her happiest memories. Teresa gives back to her craft by volunteering her time to Romance Writers of America on a local and national level.

A fifth generation Californian, she lives in San Diego, within miles of her extensive family, and knows that with their help she can accomplish anything. She takes particular joy and pride in her nieces and nephews, who are all bright, fit, shining stars of the future. If she’s not at a family event you’ll usually find her at home—reading, writing, or playing with her adopted Chihuahua, Jefe.

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to the new generation in my family, which will include a new baby boy and a new baby girl when this book is published.

Alliyah, Faith, Sabina, Amare, Walter, and Ryann, you are my inspiration.

I love you all and wish you all the best.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EXTRACT

CHAPTER ONE

PRINCE DONAL’S PLANE GOES DOWN IN WORST STORM OF THE CENTURY

Today the world prays as superstorm Allie rages, hindering search and rescue attempts from reaching the plane carrying Donal and Helene Ettenburl, Prince and Princess of Kardana. The royal couple left the principality of Pasadonia traveling with other dignitaries for a weekend of skiing in the French Alps. There was no indication when the plane left Pasadonia that the two cold fronts pouring rain and snow over most of Europe would collide into an ice storm. The death toll is in the hundreds and continues to grow as utility outages leave hundreds of thousands without power. A distress call came from the royal flight late Saturday morning and there has been no contact since. French officials have elite search and rescue teams ready to go as soon as weather conditions allow. Prince Julian Ettenburl met with the French officials and rescue teams en route to Pasadonia to be with his nephew, the royal couple’s thirty-two-month-old son, Samson Alexander Ettenburl, who remained behind, a guest of the Pasadonia royal nursery. On the plane with Donal and Helene Ettenburl were...

JULIAN FLIPPED THE news screen off with a sharp flick of his thumb and dropped his phone in his pants pocket. He knew his purpose for being in Pasadonia. Knew the plans for rescue included not only France’s best cold weather rescue crews, but Kardana’s as well. He’d provided the best vehicles, the best equipment, the best people available to find his brother and the future king of Kardana.

The news of the crash nearly killed his father, already frail from a mild stroke a year ago. Julian needed to gather his family and return home as soon as possible. And that included his brother, lost on the side of a mountain. For now he’d settle for his young nephew.

The train trip, the only mode of transportation capable of managing any distance in the storm, had been interminable but had allowed him to make the arrangements for the searchers. Though Prince Jean Claude had invited Julian to wait out the storm in the comfort of the palace, Julian preferred to begin the return trip. He hoped the nursery staff had Samson ready to go.

He arrived at the nursery and was greeted with subdued courtesy by the Matron, a pleasant woman, her plump figure and serene smile giving her a motherly appearance.

“Your Highness. May I express my wish that your brother and all those on his plane will be found soon, safe and sound?”

“Thank you. May I see my nephew?”

“Of course. But Master Samson is sleeping.” Matron advised him. “I hate to disturb him as he’s been restless and distressed missing his parents. You may see him, but I recommend letting him sleep.”

“Thank you, Matron.” Julian inclined his head in acknowledgment of her comments. Fading sunlight flooded the large room through the many windows. Colorful rugs covered the gold marble floor, while masterpieces of fanciful art graced the walls. White furnishings added a crisp cleanliness to the room. He spotted three attendants besides the matron. He had no doubt Samson had received the best of care in these rooms.

“It is my desire to return to Kardana as soon as possible. Please have the Prince’s things packed and ready to go. And have his nursemaid report to me.” He was surprised not to spy Tessa, Samson’s nursemaid, somewhere nearby.

She always seemed to be hovering about, eyeing him. With the encouragement of his sister-in-law. Tessa was a dear friend of Helene’s, and always struck Julian as more of a companion than a child care specialist. He made it a point to avoid them both.

Now he hoped for Helene’s safety.

“It’s best he return home,” he advised the woman before him.

Matron nodded. “It is good he will have people around him he knows. However, he is quite exhausted and likely to be very fussy if you wake him now. Might you wait for a bit?” Her gaze cut to something behind him and back again as she made her plea. “Perhaps after you have dined?”

“Unfortunately, time is an indulgence I cannot allow. Please take me to my nephew,” he demanded, denying her request for a delay.

“Of course.” With a sigh, she gestured toward a door behind him that led to another room.

In here the drapes were closed and the lights turned low. Samson slept in a low race-car-shaped bed in the west corner. An older child occupied a canopied daybed nearby. As Julian stood over him, Samson jerked in his sleep and his tiny brow pinched as if stress followed him into slumber.

So young.

So innocent.

So important.

Looking down on him, Julian felt totally inadequate to care for him. The thought that he might be responsible for raising this child to be King outright terrified him. He was a bachelor by choice. He liked his tranquil life behind the scenes. Being Minister of the Treasury suited him, the numbers, the strategy, the quiet.

One more reason to pray for his brother’s safe return.

“Julian, ami.” Princess Bernadette, a regal blonde, swept into the room. She flowed forward and embraced him in warm arms, kissing the air over both cheeks. “I am so sorry. Tell me you have good news of Donal and Helene?” He shook his head, his gaze going to the thin woman with short platinum blond hair, who followed the Princess into the room. Tessa. Good.

“There is nothing new to report. The weather prevents a full-scale search. America sent a SEAL team to help. They are leading a small group of extreme weather experts on an extraction expedition, but it is slow going and communication is spotty.”

“At least it is something.” She squeezed his hands. “Please know we pray for their safe return.”

He nodded an acknowledgment. “You can understand I am anxious to return to France to oversee the rescue operations.”

“Indeed.” She looked down on Samson. “Poor baby knows something is wrong. He has been fussy. He will be happy to see you. He needs the familiar and to be with family.”

Right. Julian couldn’t remember the last time he’d held the child.

“Thank you for your care of Samson. It has been a relief during these trying hours to know he is in good hands. Now, however, we have a train to catch.” He nodded to the bed. “Tessa.”

With a flick of pale blue eyes, the nanny stepped up to the crib and reached for the toddler. Samson jerked awake. Blinked at Tessa then Julian and let out a scream.

* * *

A shrill scream woke Katrina Vicente. She sprang up in the small bed, her fuzzy mind immediately going to Sammy. The toddler wasn’t dealing well with his parents’ disappearance. He totally rejected his nanny. The dolt, and Katrina didn’t use the word lightly, had told the boy his parents weren’t coming back. Of course he went into hysterics.

Tessa quickly realized her mistake and had tried to correct herself by telling him his parents were lost and everyone was looking for them, but the not-yet three-year-old didn’t comprehend the nuances of the situation. All he knew was he wanted his mama and papa, and they weren’t here.

From that point on he wanted nothing to do with Tessa. She was familiar but not his mother, and he was smart enough to know when he saw her it meant his mother wasn’t back yet.

Hearing his screams she pushed to her feet, ready to take on the dark-haired man who’d dared to wake her charge.

“Mon Dieu.” She rushed forward. “You best have a good reason for waking this child. Or I’ll have your head.” She sent a chastising glare toward the Matron, hovering behind the man’s broad figure.

“K’tina.” Sammy twisted toward her voice and held out his arms.

She reached for him, the pitiful wail wringing her heart.

“Who are you?” The man stepped back, turning so Sammy was beyond her grasp. He stared down his aristocratic nose at her. The deep timbre of his voice easily cut through Sammy’s renewed screams even as the boy thrashed wildly in his arms. “Samson, be still, child.”

“I am the one who got him to sleep.” She’d worked so hard to get him settled. In total despair, he hadn’t been sleeping or eating. The poor baby was completely out of sorts.

He’d been in the middle of a screaming fit when Katrina came on duty early the day before. As nursemaid to the children of Prince Jean Claude and Princess Bernadette, she had become well adept at soothing such scenes. She’d wrapped him in her arms and sang softly to him. He shrieked and thrashed, but she’d held him securely, rocking and singing as he cried. Finally he’d slept for a couple of hours. Bringing much-needed peace to the nursery.

From then on he’d latched onto Katrina and she’d gladly stayed to care for him. She managed to calm him some, got him to eat a little through the day, but he rarely slept more than a few minutes at a time before he woke screaming. Nightmares, Dr. Lambert diagnosed.

And now this man had awoken him from his first decent rest.

“He’s going home,” the man stated.

“Give him to me.” Undeterred by the man’s imposing stance, she invaded his space to reach the boy. Focused on the child’s cries, she tried to take Sammy, but quickly learned she was no match for the man’s strength.

“It’s okay, baby.” She stroked Sammy’s light blond hair seeking to reassure him. “It’s okay. Katrina is here.”

“Mama!” Sammy cried out at the same time he threw himself backward in the man’s arms.

Unprepared for the sudden movement, Katrina was unable to elude him, and his hard head conked into hers. Pain exploded across her temple and black dots grew into bigger dots until darkness threatened to overcome her. She swayed and felt a hard band circle her waist. Slowly the dimness receded, and she found Sammy was in her arms and she was in the stranger’s. Her legs felt weak yet she had no fear of falling. In the background voices buzzed.

“Katrina!”

“My goodness.”

“Call the doctor.”

Sammy clung to her, his small head resting on her chest, his wails growing into full-fledged screams. Disoriented, she blinked up into rich amber eyes.

“I have you.” Warm breath tickled her neck. He led her to the daybed she’d been sleeping in until a few minutes ago. “Sit. We must check out your head.”

“Sammy first,” she insisted, grateful to be off her feet. Though curiously disappointed to lose the security of his arms. The bump on the head obviously distorted her thinking.

Dr. Lambert arrived within minutes. Light bounced off his bald head, and bushy white eyebrows topped expressive eyes. He smiled kindly and spoke in English, the official language of Kardana. “How is our little man tonight? I hear he actually got some sleep before trying to knock you out with his head. I’ll want to look at you, too.”

“I am okay, but Sammy has a sizable knot on the back of his head.” She sent Prince Julian a chastising glare. Oh yeah, she’d finally recognized the gorgeous, dark-haired man. “But, oui, he slept for a couple of hours before he was disturbed.”

“Well, let us see what the damage is.”

The doctor had been by to see Sammy every day, so he didn’t try to move the toddler from her lap. Instead he talked gently to the boy, telling him what he was doing and why. He felt the child’s head, looked into his eyes and listened to his heart. And when he was done with the boy, he did the same with Katrina. Again without disrupting Sammy.

“Did you lose consciousness?” He shone a light in her left eye.

“No.” Katrina carefully kept her attention on the doctor and not the tall, brooding man standing arms crossed over a broad chest on the periphery of her vision.

“She came close,” a deep voice put in.

The reminder brought to mind the feel of his strong arms cradling her. She’d been pressed against his hard body, the warmth of his masculine heat reviving in her moment of weakness. The memory sent blood pounding through her veins, adding to the throb in her head.

She didn’t care for the thought of spending the night in the medical wing, so hopefully the doctor wouldn’t attribute her racing heart to the bump on the head.

No, that came from the brilliant action of telling the Prince of Kardana she’d have his head for waking his nephew.

Not that she hadn’t meant the reprimand at the time. Sammy needed the rest. But he also needed family. Ever since Tessa disclosed his parents were missing, Katrina had taken to following the doctor’s example of talking to Sammy, explaining what had happened and what was being done to find his parents. It seemed to calm him.

He may have a limited vocabulary, but he understood a lot more than he said.

The one thing she’d promised him, again and again, was his family would come for him and then things would be better. He’d be with people who loved him, who would care for him, who would do everything they could to bring his parents back to him.

Unfortunately Julian Ettenburl didn’t quite fit that picture. Warm and loving were not words she’d use to describe him. Cold and stoic fit him better. And impatient. Though that was more a feeling than anything he did.

His utter stillness revealed nothing of what he felt, nor did his fine-hewed features or his intelligent hazel eyes under straight brown eyebrows. His brother was touted as the handsome one, being blond and eye-catching. A soldier in the royal corps, he was seen as a man of action, a man in control. The world viewed him as a true Prince Charming.

Julian was darker, his features more defined, his demeanor more brooding, a testament to his preference to shun the limelight. Having seen them both, Katrina found the younger brother more attractive if infinitely less charming. She ducked her head, not that she had any interest in him, or in any man.

She had little doubt the dark prince would wield his considerable power and influence to find his brother. Sammy, however, might get lost in the shuffle as his uncle concentrated on the bigger goal.

“A bit of a concussion for both of you.” The doctor sat back and regarded her and Sammy. “And you’re both exhausted. I recommend twenty-four hours rest at the minimum.”

“Can he travel, Doctor?” Julian asked, squaring his shoulders into an even-sharper line. “He can rest on the train.”

Katrina tensed at the suggestion. Sammy stirred against her, and she patted him softly, adjusting so she covered his ear with one hand while lightly running her fingers through his hair with the other. Surely the man didn’t intend taking Sammy tonight?

“Your Highness, I understand your urgency to return to France and the search for your brother, but the boy is traumatized. He was told his parents weren’t coming back.”

At this news amber eyes met hers, his disapproval drilling deep into her. No question who he blamed. She swallowed hard but refused to look away.

The doctor went on. “Sammy is in distress. The staff has done their best, especially Katrina, but he’s slept and eaten little since news of the crash reached us. With the addition of this head injury, I highly doubt he’ll get the proper rest he needs on the train.”

“Julian—” Bernadette moved to the prince’s side “—we have rooms ready for you. Why not stay the night and see how Sammy is in the morning? The early train is at eight, not too big a delay.”

No mention was made that if the inclement weather continued, travel might be impeded. There was no need. It didn’t take a genius to figure the odds, and it was well-known that Julian Ettenburl was off-the-charts smart. Yet after only a few minutes in his presence Katrina saw he wasn’t a people person.

Why ever had he been the one to come for Sammy?

She supposed it spoke well of him. But not if he insisted on making the child travel before he was ready. A glance from the Princess had Katrina biting back her opinion.

He showed some sense when he nodded at Bernadette. “We shall stay the night. Though I would like Samson with me.”

“Of course.” Bernadette readily agreed as she sent Katrina a hopeful glance. “Your suite has two rooms. I’ll have a crib set up in the second bedroom.”

“Thank you. You are most gracious.”

“I do hope you’ll join us for dinner. Jean Claude has been closely monitoring the rescue operations. I know he would welcome a chance to speak with you.”

“As I would him.” The Prince sighed, showing the first sign of weariness. “Actually, I find I’m quite famished.”

“Then we shall dine.” She hooked her arm through his and drew him toward the door. “Our chef will be pleased with the opportunity to impress you. Unless you’d prefer to freshen up first?”

“No, that is fine.” He paused to nod at Tessa. “Please see Samson settled into my rooms.” His critical gaze slid over Katrina. “I prefer you resume his care.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Tessa bowed her head in acquiescence.

Heat flooded Katrina’s cheeks at his obvious censure. Arrogant beast. She was happy to see the back of him as Princess Bernadette led Prince Julian from the room.

Tears stung the back of her eyes. Exhaustion, she knew. She didn’t usually let attitude get to her. She lived in a world of royalty, worked in the palace, where arrogance and entitlement were practically job requirements. She’d learned long ago not to let it bother her.

Tonight, as she fought to keep her eyes open, it hurt.

Dr. Lambert righted her when she listed to the side. “My dear, you need to find your bed.”

“Oui.” Oh how she craved her own bed. But first she’d see to Sammy, despite his uncle’s wishes. She wouldn’t let his poor behavior dictate hers.

“Good, you’re going to be sensible. Just as well you live here in the palace. With the concussion, you’ll need someone to check on you periodically through the night.”

She’d like nothing more than to follow the doctor’s orders and head to her room, but in the past few days Sammy had stolen a part of her heart. He’d brought her back to life. She couldn’t rest until she knew he was settled for the night.

“What about Sammy?” Tessa asked. “Should I wake him during the night?”

“Yes. Wake him and check his pupils. If you notice any oddities or if he starts vomiting, call for me.”

Tessa nodded and reached for the sleeping Sammy. He awoke with a jerk and shrank away from his nanny with a weak cry.

Katrina stood, cradling him to her chest. He subsided against her, closing his eyes. “I will carry Sammy to the Prince’s rooms and see him settled.”

Tessa blocked her way. The nanny looked down her nose at Katrina. “I’ll take him.”

She eyed the taller, thinner woman. It hadn’t skipped Katrina’s notice the other woman had kept her silence when the Prince focused his blame on Katrina for Tessa’s lapse of judgment in telling Sammy of his parents’ disappearance. In Katrina’s opinion, the woman was showing no better sense now than she had before.

“I do not think so.” She moved to walk around the woman.

Again Tessa stepped into her path. “His Highness made it clear he wishes me to resume my duties. He will expect me to deliver Sammy to his rooms.”

Sighing Katrina shifted Sammy in her arms, his deadweight beginning to weigh on her. “Look, I am too tired to deal with a crying fit because you want to impress the Prince. He is not even in his rooms. Let me put Sammy down. We all know he is more likely to go back to sleep if I do it.”

“Sammy is my responsibility.” Tessa continued to protest.

“And in a minute I am going to give him to you and go to bed.” In no mood to argue, Katrina pushed past the woman. Sometimes exhaustion had its advantages. “Think about it. Would you prefer Prince Julian come back to a sleeping child or one awake and wailing in misery?”

Tessa had no response for Katrina’s challenge because they both knew she spoke the truth. Which didn’t mean Tessa accepted it graciously. As they fell into step behind the porter showing them to Prince Julian’s rooms, every click of her heels shouted her dissent.

Let her sulk. It was Sammy Katrina cared about. Her head throbbed and her arms began to burn, but one look down at his innocent, tearstained face gave her the strength to continue on. In the end they arrived at the suite before the crib did, and she gratefully sank into a blue silk tufted chair.

The room, a lavish display of antique elegance in blue and gold, reminded Katrina of what she loved about the palace. Tradition and longevity were built right into the brick and mortar of the royal home. She remembered coming here with her father as a child and thinking the palace was the most beautiful place on earth. She’d had so much fun with the other kids in the nursery she’d told papa she wanted to come back and live here someday.

Three years ago, she moved in. She never dreamed it would be under such agonizing circumstances.

But she worked hard, and last year earned a position in the nursery. She loved working with the children. Especially the royal twins, Devin and Marco. Because of her black belt in karate she was often assigned to them. The three-year-old boys were full of mischief and mayhem, yet were so smart and loving they were impossible to resist.

Katrina jolted from a light doze to find Tessa standing over her. She blinked and saw through the open bedroom door off to the right that the crib had been set up.

Good. The last thing she needed was another encounter with the headstrong Prince.

CHAPTER TWO

JULIAN ABSENTLY SHREDDED a piece of bread, unable to focus on the fine meal provided by the palace’s talented chef.

He kept reliving the moment when his nephew shrank away from him with a cry of distress. It tore at his heart both as the child’s probable guardian and as a man. He and his father were the child’s closest relatives. Samson should be reaching for him not seeking comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Even if those arms were soft and scented of apple blossoms. Or if the stranger protected him fiercely with flashing violet eyes and a fiery mane of bouncing curls. The woman barely reached Julian’s shoulder, and she’d been ready to personally take his head for disturbing Samson’s sleep.

Probably a guilty conscience.

Fury fried already-frayed nerves at the thought of the meddlesome chit causing Samson undue trauma by telling him his parents wouldn’t be returning. Even if it proved true, that should have been his job and handled once the boy was back among family. And after Julian had a chance to discuss the matter with a professional so he knew the best way to approach the issue without doing the kind of damage Samson was currently experiencing.

“My friend, you should eat,” Jean Claude, Prince of Pasadonia, urged him. “The next few days will be trying. You will need to be at full strength.”

“The meal is delicious.” Julian speared a succulent shrimp from the savory dish. “I apologize for my lack of appetite.” He usually valued a gourmet meal, but preoccupation prevented him from fully enjoying the multicourse fare. Nonetheless he appreciated the royal couple’s efforts. Plus they’d provided a safe haven for Samson during the travesty of the past two days.

Physically anyway. They obviously needed better trained nursemaids.

A soft touch settled over his fingers, and he looked into Bernadette’s sympathetic gaze. “I know you have much on your mind. I cannot imagine how you are holding together.”

“It is difficult,” he agreed, wondering if he should pull his hand away from hers or just leave it until she retreated. He respected the offer of solace, but her touch made him uncomfortable. These awkward moments were why he preferred to avoid social situations.

“I hope you know we support you whatever the outcome of the search.” Jean Claude spoke bluntly. “Of course we hope the rescue will be successful, Donal and Helene are in our prayers, but I know you are already preparing for the worst. If there is anything I can do to help, you have only to ask.”

“You know me too well, my friend.”

He’d met the older man when he was fourteen and Julian’s family visited Pasadonia to witness the crowning of the new ruler, Prince Jean Claude Antoine Carrere. He’d been kind to an awkward kid on an occasion when he could be forgiven for being overwhelmed by his own agenda. Their relationship had grown through the years, and Julian looked on Jean Claude as one of his closest friends and advisors. The fact he was a well-respected world leader only added to the value of his offer.

“My mind boggles at all that must be done. But in truth I cannot focus on anything beyond finding Donal.”

“Understandable.” Jean Claude nodded. “I have my experts watching the weather and will provide you with any updates as soon as I receive them.”

“I appreciate it.” Julian chafed again at the delay keeping him from returning to France. “I’m anxious to get back to the rescue operations.”

“Yes. It is unfortunate that Sammy’s condition has delayed you. It is admirable of you to put his needs first. He has had a difficult time missing his parents.”

Julian clenched his jaw in irritation. “It was upsetting to learn he’d been told of the crash.”

“It was not intentional,” Bernadette rushed to assure him. “Tessa—”

“Excuse me, Your Highness.” Jean Claude’s assistant appeared at his side and handed him a folder. “The current weather report. And the call you were waiting for is holding.”

“I shall be right there.” The Prince glanced at the report and then handed it to Julian. “Not much change. I have to take this call. We will talk before you leave in the morning. Bernadette.”

The Princess gracefully stood and rounded the table. She stopped and kissed Julian’s cheek. “Stay. Finish your meal. A porter will show you to your room.”

He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about me.”

She sighed. “But I do. Good night, mon ami. If you wish to get some air, use the courtyard. The press are everywhere.”

The Prince and Princess left the room hand in hand, an obvious unit set to deal with whatever business awaited them.

For a moment Julian envied his friend. Usually an insular man, it might be nice to have someone to talk to right now. Due to his father’s frail health, Julian couldn’t burden him with his worries, and it would be inappropriate to discuss family affairs with outsiders.

No longer hungry, he followed the porter to his room. When the elevator opened on his floor, Samson’s cries pinpointed Julian’s destination.

He rushed forward then waited impatiently for the porter to open the door. Inside he found Tessa walking Samson, both were in tears. Julian briskly made his way toward the two only to come to a dead stop next to them. What to do?

“What’s the problem?” he demanded.

“The doctor advised me to wake him and check his pupils. Only he wouldn’t go back to sleep. He started crying, and nothing I’ve done has helped.”

“K-k’tina.” Samson’s breath hitched on the wail, but his message was clear.

“He keeps asking for her,” Tessa revealed, the plea in her eyes as heart wrenching as Samson’s tears.

Julian set his back teeth. The woman had caused this problem; it went against everything in him to reach out to her for help.

Feeling helpless, watching both woman and child struggle, he racked his mind for something to do to right the situation. But for all his considerable knowledge and his massive IQ, he lacked experience dealing with women and children, let alone both in a state of distress.

Considering distraction to be an option, he tried to take the boy.

“No!” Samson screamed and hit out at him. “K’tina!”

Bloody hell, he rebelled against drawing that woman back into his nephew’s life. She was the reason he suffered so. But this wasn’t just a tantrum; this was a miserable child seeking solace from the one person he’d connected with during this crisis. How did Julian deny him?

Simple, he didn’t.

He called for a porter seeking information about Katrina and found that she had rooms at the palace. Lucky for him or he’d be out scouring the streets of Pasadonia. He soon stood outside Katrina’s room. He wished for a more formal form of address, but in all the confusion they hadn’t been properly introduced.

A maid answered his knock. She bowed. “Your Highness.”

“I need to see Katrina.” He stepped past the maid into the room.

“She’s sleeping,” the young woman said softly. “I’ve followed the doctor’s orders. I woke her just half an hour ago and she was fine.”

“I’m not here about her injury.”

Through the open door of the bedroom he saw the redhead. Light from the lounge fell across the bed and the lovely woman within it. Long lashes dusted creamy pale cheeks. Dark bruises under her eyes were a violation against the porcelain perfection of her features. Whatever she’d done, he couldn’t deny she’d pushed herself beyond the expected to help Samson.

Suddenly it seemed wrong to ask more of her. But for Samson he must.

“I’m sorry to disturb her, but I need Katrina to come with me. My nephew needs her help.”

“Oh.” The woman looked uncertain and then nodded. “I will wake her.” She slipped inside the room and closed the door.

He paced the small lounge, wishing he were anywhere but here.

People called him cold. And maybe he was. If preferring order and calm were attributes of being cold. He needed both to do the work he did. Overseeing his country’s treasury, including both finances and security, required a clear head and a focus of purpose.

He could work under pressure but he rarely had to. He had the ability to see the big picture, to track patterns and trends. So he prepared and diversified and created contingency plans. Which allowed him to move before the market did.

Some said it was magic or worse called him psychic. Bah. It was just the way his mind worked. He enjoyed learning things, and his brain absorbed knowledge like a sponge. He surprised himself with the facts he knew sometimes.

People, on the other hand, were a mystery to him. As was their penchant for displaying high emotions.

A bachelor at thirty, he’d been content in his role as the spare heir. Though his father occasionally addressed his desire for Julian to find a suitable woman and start a family, the pressure had lessened after Donal wed Helene and Samson was born.

Still, Julian was a man like any other, with the same needs. His position, however, called for discretion. He managed that by having a number of lady friends he escorted to the many functions his title forced him to attend. By spreading his attention around, no one—women or press—built up undue expectations.

He supposed his reputation for being cold kept him from being dubbed a playboy.

The woman, Katrina, threatened his hard-won detachment. His attraction to her stunning beauty just made him angrier over the whole situation. As did the intelligence he’d spied in her violet eyes. She struck him as being too smart to make the blunder she had. So what had she been thinking?

Shock, he imagined. But it was no excuse, not in her position.

He may not be able to do anything to help his brother, but he could make sure Samson was cared for. And if that meant disturbing the injured woman’s sleep, he’d do it without remorse. She deserved no more rest than the child she’d traumatized.

The door opened and Katrina walked barefoot into the lounge. She wore a lush white bathrobe that brushed her bare pink-tipped toes. Under it was a white garment trimmed in lace cut nearly as low as the V of the robe.

His gaze jerked to hers from the soft swell of her breasts visible in that V. She was so pale there was very little difference between her skin and the white of her nightclothes. Except for the shadows he’d noted earlier.

“Is Sammy okay?” she asked in a voice husky from sleep, her brow furrowed in concern. “Have you called the doctor?”

“His injury is not the problem,” he assured her, his brusqueness more for his benefit than hers. “Tessa woke him as instructed, but he will not go back to sleep.”

She gave a resigned nod, the action making her head appear too heavy for her slender neck. There’d been no sign of softness or frailness when she attacked him in the nursery. Just fierce protection of Samson.

Now he saw how tiny she was, clearly no more than five-four at the most. At six-two he towered over her. The oversize robe didn’t help. Nor did her fiery mane of hair, which she’d tamed into a braid that hung halfway down her back. But without makeup, her skin appeared starkly white against the vibrant color of her hair.

“Shall we go?” She moved forward, swaying slightly.

He ground his teeth, half tempted to send her back to bed. More than tempted to join her there. He dismissed the inappropriate thought, disgusted with his libido for rising up when his full attention should be on his brother’s family.

Samson’s needs came first.

“Where are your shoes?” he demanded, focusing on the practical.

She stopped and frowned, as if it took an effort to think. He was reminded she, too, had taken a knock to the head.

“I’ll fetch them.” The maid disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later with a pair of fuzzy slippers. Katrina slipped them on; her pink-tipped toes peeked through the end.

She rubbed her forehead. “Would you prefer I take the time to dress?”

Yes. There was something entirely too intimate about her in nightgown and robe.

“No.” Again he thought of Samson, saw tear trails on pale cheeks. “Let’s go.”

He followed her from the room and was surprised when the maid also stepped into the hall.

“It is all right, Anna.” Katrina bid the maid. “Thanks for watching over me. You can go now.”

“Oh, but I have doctor’s orders,” the young woman protested.

Annoyed by the delay, Julian bit back his impatience to address the woman. “What are your instructions? I’ll see she’s cared for the rest of the night.”

Clearly upset with the change in circumstances but unable to countermand his authority, Anna outlined the doctor’s instructions. “You must wake her every few hours and ask her questions to make sure she is coherent. If she’s not, or you notice anything strange about her pupils, or she gets sick, you need to call the doctor immediately.”

As she spoke, he automatically looked into Katrina’s eyes to check her pupils and found himself lost in the solemn depths. Blinking, he turned to the maid, acknowledged her instructions and sent her on her way. While he took care of that, Katrina started ahead of him.

Her actions caused him to scowl. Protocol demanded she follow him. Sighing, he decided to cut her some slack; she had a concussion after all. However, it didn’t escape his notice she appeared to know the way.

Though it may only mean she’d asked after where Samson would be, Julian believed it was more than that. She’d probably been the one to put him to bed. He wasn’t okay with that. He’d charged Tessa with taking the boy to his rooms, made it clear he’d wanted her to resume care of the boy.

Already his authority was being undermined.

Something he would not tolerate.

“Mademoiselle—” Damn. What was her name? He quickly closed the distance between them. “I wish to make myself clear. Your assistance with Samson is appreciated. That does not mean I will abide interference with my decisions regarding his care.”

“Of course,” she responded as she pressed the button to call the elevator.

“Are you mocking me?” he challenged, crowding her.

She blinked those big violet eyes at him as she shrank back, making him feel as if he’d chastised an innocent.

“No,” she said, and entered the elevator. She moved into the corner, her toes curling into her slippers. She pulled the edges of her robe together and tightened the sash. “I know you want what is best for him.” A wan smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Otherwise I would not be here right now.”

He searched her features for any hint of guile but saw only the ashen evidence of her exhaustion. She looked so fragile he thought of sending her back to her bed. Only the thought of Samson’s suffering kept him resolute.

“Excellent.” The elevator doors opened and he waved her forward. “As long as you understand.”

They traveled the remainder of the distance in silence. Which made the sound of Samson’s cries all the more grating as they approached the door to Julian’s rooms.

Inside the suite, tears stained the cheeks of both Tessa and Samson. The nanny had been walking the boy, trying to soothe him, but upon his and Katrina’s arrival, she began sobbing.

“I can’t take anymore.” She thrust Samson into Katrina’s arms and fled.

Katrina didn’t hesitate. She wrapped Samson close and started talking to him. “Hey, baby, it is fine. I am here. Does your head hurt?” She kissed his light curls. “Mine, too.”

Though he continued to cry, there was no denying Samson preferred the redhead to the blonde. Instead of fighting the embrace by curling up and putting his arms and legs between his body and Tessa’s, he clung to Katrina’s lusher figure.

Finding the scene painful to watch, knowing this might just be the beginning of Samson’s trials, Julian moved to the fireplace to start a fire. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Katrina continued to coo to Sammy until his sobs lessened and eventually he sat up in her arms. She used the collar of the fluffy robe to wipe his pale cheeks. Poor baby, he had such a hard road ahead of him. Ever the optimist, even she had to acknowledge the chances of his parents surviving both the crash and the icy weather were long odds.

Still, she prayed and she hoped. Miracles happened every day.

“Mama? Papa?” Samson asked around a shaky breath.

Biting the inside of her lip, she shook her head. “We do not know yet.”

Tears leaked from his eyes. “I want Mama.”

“I know, baby. She wants to be with you, too. And look...” She walked to the fireplace where Prince Julian stood. “Uncle Julian has come to get you.” She met brooding brown eyes. His discontent with her conversation showed in the stiff set of his shoulders. He’d soon learn Sammy did better with information than platitudes. “He is going to take you to where they are looking for Mama and Papa, and then he will take you home.”

“Unca Julie.” Boy studied man for a minute then surprised her by holding out his arms indicating he wanted to go to his uncle.

Julian’s eyes went wide when she plunked the toddler in his arms.

“Uh, hum.” He cleared his throat, clearly at a loss what to do with the boy.

“It is a good thing.” She mouthed the words, not wanting to disturb the moment. Though she stayed close enough to be enveloped in the dual scents of manly musk and baby shampoo.

This was the first time Sammy had voluntarily gone from her to someone else. It showed a level of trust that boded well for the future.

“Mama? Papa?” He put the question to his uncle.

Julian paled. She understood his pain. It broke her heart every time she had to tell Sammy his parents weren’t coming home yet.

Julian’s gaze shot to her.

She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “Talk to him. He is a sharp biscuit. He does not talk much, but he understands more than you might think.”

Skepticism flashed over his aristocratic features before he turned his attention to Sammy. He hoisted the child up in his arms so they were eye to eye.

“Samson,” he began, and for a moment she worried he’d lecture the young Prince on duty and decorum. But Sammy’s intent attention must have swayed him. “The best searchers in the world are looking for them.” And then he added. “I want to see them, too.”

More tears leaked down Sammy’s cheeks. He reached out, grabbed Julian’s ears and leaned his forehead against his uncle’s. The two shared a moment of loss and hope.

The poignant picture had Katrina swiping at her own cheeks.

Emotion must have gotten to Julian, because he squeezed too hard causing Sammy to squirm. He turned and held his arms out to her.

She looked to Julian, hating to end the closeness between the two, but he seemed happy to hand Sammy off to her. Hoping the exchange was enough to allow the boy to settle into sleep, she carried him into the room where the crib had been set up.

He frantically shook his head and began to cry. “No. No tired.”

Rather than force it she backed up. Right into a hard male body.

“Oh!” She swung around even as his hands went to her waist, and suddenly she found herself in the Prince’s arms. She looked up, and up, past his stubborn chin to eyes of molten gold. Oh yeah, definitely the better-looking brother. And way too close.

“Sorry.” She winced internally at the squeak in her voice as she stepped back. Or tried to. His fingers tightened on her waist, holding her still as his hot gaze strolled from the gapping neckline of the robe to the racing pulse in her neck, to the bite she had on her lip, to her eyes. She played it cool even as a shiver traced down her spine and her pulse raced.

Wrong time.

Wrong place.

Wrong man.

Wrong woman.

He obviously agreed, because his hands dropped and he stepped aside.

Breathing a sigh of relief she moved past him to pace the room. Julian moved to the fireplace to stoke the fire. Way wrong man. She’d spent enough time in the palace from childhood on to know the demands placed on royalty. And the price was too high. If she ever worked out her trust issues, she wanted a kind man and a simple life.

Two strikes against Prince Julian.

Okay, that wasn’t totally fair. These weren’t the best circumstances. Obviously he was under a lot of pressure.

Her arms were beginning to burn from fatigue so she took a seat on the antique sofa and tucked Sammy comfortably against her. He denied it, but he was tired. Part of his objection was probably to the crib. He hated to be called a baby. But what he really craved was human contact.

Calling to mind one of his favorite stories, she began a tale about a train named Thomas while slowly running her fingers through his baby-fine blond hair. After all he’d been through, she hoped it wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep.

Thanks to Julian. He might be brusque and rude, but she gave him points for putting Sammy’s needs before his own. She knew he would have preferred to leave Pasadonia without ever seeing her again. Or more on point, without Sammy seeing her. Yet he’d come for her rather than let Sammy cry himself into exhausted slumber.

She smothered a yawn, forced her eyes open and skipped ahead in the story.

So maybe there was a little kindness buried somewhere inside the cold Prince.

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.

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