Teresa Carpenter - Stolen Kiss From a 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.