Marion Lennox: Her Royal Baby

‘So he’s been with Kylie, or someone like her, since his parents died?’ Tammy was stroking the little boy’s curls, trying to find some sort of response from him. ‘Or longer. Has he been with nannies since birth?’

‘I’d imagine so,’ Marc told her. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Does anyone know?’ She rose then, standing to her full five feet six inches and glaring at the pair of them. She held the baby against her as if she was prepared to battle the world on his behalf. ‘Does anyone know anything about how my nephew has been cared for? He’s obviously been fed and clothed. Has anything else been done?’

‘I…’

‘Anything at all?’ Tammy’s rage was threatening to overwhelm her. ‘Have you ever seen anyone give this little boy a hug? Has anyone ever played peek-a-boo with him? Has anyone loved him ?’

Marc bit his lip. He was on the back foot here, and he knew it. ‘He’ll be looked after when he gets home.’

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Or at least not by you he won’t. Nor any of your nannies-even if you have nannies by the thousand. If Lara’s named me legal guardian then I can only be thankful. Henry’s at home right now. He’s staying in Australia and he’s staying with me. Thank you very much for bringing his situation to my attention, Prince Whatever-Your-Name-Is, but I don’t think we need trouble you further. If I can just collect his things, I’ll take him now.’

‘But-’

‘I’m his legal guardian. The rest of you can go to hell!’

SHE wasn’t budging.

Tammy didn’t release the child for a moment, almost as if she feared if she put him down Marc would snatch him from her. She held him tight and moved around the room, collecting anything that looked like his and tossing it into a heap on the armchair.

‘Can we talk about this?’ Marc demanded and Tammy shook her head.

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘You can’t take him.’

‘Watch me.’

‘You can’t afford to keep him.’

That stopped her. She whirled to face him, her face rigid with fury. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t afford to keep him-like this.’ She motioned around her at the five-star luxury and the glorious views. ‘But if you think this is what he needs then you’re mistaken. He doesn’t need money. He doesn’t need nannies and views and Room Service. He needs hugs and cuddles and someone who cares. Which you’ve shown very clearly that you don’t.’

‘I do.’

‘Yeah. Pull the other leg. It plays “Jingle Bells”.’

‘Will you slow down?’ She was tossing a packet of milk formula onto her pile with such ferocity that it bounced onto the floor.

‘No.’

‘Please?’

‘No!’

‘Have you thought it through? How can you look after a baby?’

‘I can look after a baby better than you.’

‘You obviously don’t have the money for decent childcare.’

‘Who says I don’t?’ Another formula packet hit the first and suffered a similar fate. Marc leaned over and retrieved both packets, setting them side by side on the chair. Behind them the nanny-Kylie-looked on with wide-eyed wonder.

‘You don’t have spare money. I just need to look at you to tell…’

Mistake. Bad tactical error. There was one packet of formula open. Tammy lifted it up, stared at it-and then threw it straight at Marc.

It sprayed out in all directions, covering him with a white misting powder. The parcel hit him mid-chest, and slowly slid to the floor.

The action shocked them all. Tammy stopped dead and stared at the white-dusted man before her-and then she winced.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘It’s my best uniform,’ he told her, but was that a slight quiver in his face? Surely not. Surely he couldn’t be close to laughter. And why did she suddenly feel she was fighting back the same emotion?

‘I guess you have hundreds more at home,’ she managed, and he nodded.

‘Yeah, but they’re at home.’

‘Gee, you’re going to have to travel home like that, then.’

‘I do have other clothes.’

‘Brocade and velvet and the odd crown and stuff?’ she agreed.

‘I’m not always dressed up in this rig.’

‘Bully for you.’ She purposefully turned her attention away from his powder-coated form-and the sudden and unexpected gleam of laughter in his dark eyes-and concentrated on her pile again. Fiercely. ‘Do you have anything I can put these things in?’

‘I have no idea.’ He was watching her, fascinated. ‘Kylie, do we have anything we can put these things in?’

‘I dunno,’ Kylie said resentfully. The nanny was looking more confused by the minute. ‘If she’s taking the kid, does that mean you don’t want me any more?’

‘His aunt has authority to care for him. I’ll pay you to the end of the month,’ Marc told her, and her face cleared.

‘All right, then. I’m fed up with this job anyway.’ She beamed at Tammy as if she was releasing her from a life sentence and began to be helpful. ‘There’s suitcases in his bedroom. You’re not his Aunty Tammy, are you?’

Tammy paused. ‘Yes.’ She focused on the girl-sort of. It was actually really hard not to stay focusing on Marc. The dangerous gleam was still in Marc’s eyes. He might look ridiculous-a prince with powder coating-but he still packed a lethal punch. Big and handsome and magnetically attractive…

But she needed to concentrate on what the nanny was saying. ‘You knew about me?’ she managed.

‘There’s this letter addressed to you. It’s in one of the suitcases.

‘A letter? From who?’

‘I dunno,’ Kylie said. ‘I saw it when I packed away the baby stuff he’d grown out of. It’s addressed to a Tamsin Dexter and underneath is written “Aunty Tammy”-in quotation marks, like the title’s a bit of a joke. There’s no address or I would have posted it.’

‘Fetch it,’ Marc told her, his eyes resting on Tammy. He was clutching at straws now. This might buy him some time. Somehow he needed a way of talking this woman into seeing reason, and it was growing less possible by the minute.

Tammy’s anger was still firing her actions, and the worst part of it was that her anger was reasonable. Henry’s treatment made him furious himself.

‘Sure.’ Kylie cast an uncertain glance at the pair of them and flounced out of the room.

‘Fetch the whole suitcase,’ Tammy called after her. ‘I need to pack this stuff.’

‘Okay.’ But the girl’s voice was muffled. She was already foraging in what must be enormous storage cupboards. This was some hotel.

Marc and Tammy were left glaring at each other, the only thing between them one little boy. Henry gazed back and forth between this unlikely pair of adults, his face showing no emotion at all.

‘You can’t just take him,’ Marc said conversationally and Tammy raised her eyebrows in polite disagreement.

‘Yes, I can. You said he’s an Australian citizen and I’m his aunt. And his guardian. You’re not even his uncle.’

‘No, but-’

‘But nothing. Blood counts.’

‘Your mother has given me permission,’ he told her, but even he knew he was clutching at straws. The more he saw of Tammy the more he realised that she was intelligent, and she discarded his statement before he could finish saying it.

‘My mother would promise anything if money was involved. If Lara made a will naming me Henry’s guardian, surely that’s what matters?’

Marc took a deep breath, fighting for words. ‘Look, Miss…’

‘Tammy,’ Tammy said pleasantly-and waited.

‘Tammy. Can we at least discuss this?’

‘That’s what I’m doing.’