Teresa Carpenter - Stolen Kiss From a Prince

“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.”