Teresa Carpenter - Stolen Kiss From a Prince

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.”