Her Royal Baby. Marion Lennox
were piled on the armchair, but she needed more than his possessions. She needed to find out everything about the child she intended to take care of. Things like immunizations, allergies… Maybe this man didn’t know, but somewhere there must be records. Maybe she couldn’t flounce out of his life quite yet.
He could see her weakening and pressed his point. ‘Stay tonight. Kylie can keep the child and we’ll talk.’
‘If you call Henry the child one more time,’ she said carefully, ‘then I’ll walk away and never look back. Henry is Henry.’ She hugged him closer. ‘He’s his own little person and it’s time everyone started treating him as such. So, no, Kylie isn’t going to look after Henry. I’ll look after Henry.’
‘But we need to talk.’
‘Then we talk with Henry.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Can’t incorporate a baby into your busy schedule? Too bad.’ She looked around as Kylie appeared with the suitcase. ‘Thanks.’ She sat on the floor, perched Henry on her lap and started tossing belongings into the case. She handled Henry as if she coped with a baby all the time.
What on earth was her story? Marc wondered. What was her background? Did she have kids of her own? The investigator had said she was single, but…
He knew nothing about her. She was still in her filthy overalls, but already Henry was relaxing against her, leaning against her breast as if he’d found himself somewhere that might be home.
And, looking down, Marc felt a tug of something he didn’t recognise. This woman was as far from his world as any woman had ever been, he thought. All the values he’d been brought up to hold dear—all the values the women in his world set store by—they simply didn’t matter to Tammy.
He had to persuade her to release the baby. He must!
She wasn’t going to do it.
The impossibility of the situation crowded in on him, and for a moment he closed his eyes in sheer desperation. When he opened them he found Tammy looking up at him with curiosity.
‘You’re in real trouble, then?’ she asked, and for the first time there was a trace of sympathy in her voice.
He might as well be honest. He had nothing else to lose. ‘I’m in trouble.’
She regarded him for a long minute, and then seemed to come to a decision. ‘Give me couple of hours alone with Henry now,’ she told him, ‘and then I’ll stay in this hotel tonight. I’ll take a room here, and after I get Henry to sleep we can have dinner together. Is that okay?’
It wasn’t okay—it wasn’t nearly enough—but it was all he was going to get.
‘Fine.’
‘Great.’ She threw the last of the things in the suitcase and jammed it shut, then took the letter Kylie was holding and looked at it with something approaching fear. She stared at it—and then shoved it into her backpack as if it might contain poison.
‘Okay. Let’s get me shifted into another room, and we’ll go from there.’
‘You can stay here,’ Marc said stiffly. ‘There’s no need to hire another suite. I’m paying for this place to the end of the month.’
‘I’m not staying in your suite,’ Tammy said firmly. ‘I have enough to pay for myself. There’s no way I’m being dependent on you, Your Highness. I’ll take my own room and I’ll see you at seven tonight. Not before.’
And that was that.
As seven approached Tammy was more confused than ever.
Confused? That was an understatement. Her head was spinning. Grief and anger and shock were tangling in her mind like some horrible grey web, not letting her go.
But underneath… Underneath there was Henry. Nothing else mattered, she thought. She’d booked herself a bedroom—not the suite Marc had tried to book for her but one she’d chosen herself. Even in her much more modest room the bed was king-sized. Tammy perched herself and the baby in the middle of the bedclothes and simply sat with him. She hugged him and crooned to him, and tried and tried to make him smile.
He watched her with enormous eyes, as if she was a part of his window—something to be regarded with vague interest but not interacted with.
She ordered baby food from Room Service and a grave waiter appeared with a tiny bowl of stewed apple. She sat Henry on her lap and his mouth opened like a little bird. He was obviously accustomed to being fed, but not like this. She played aeroplanes with him, as she’d once played aeroplanes with his mother.
He looked at the spoon she was waving in front of him as if it had betrayed him. He was obviously accustomed to being fed efficiently and fast—nothing more.
Undeterred, Tammy kept right on playing. She turned him around so he was facing her and the spoon was spinning.
‘Nope, Henry, you have to catch the aeroplane. Here it is. Whoooooo…’
The spoon spun in circles in front of his eyes, touched his tongue, darted away again, and then swooped in.
Tammy giggled and Henry’s eyes moved to her as if she was the most mysterious creature he’d ever seen.
‘Let’s do it again, shall we?’ she asked, still laughing, and the aeroplane started its tortuous circle again.
And on the fifth swoop…
Henry’s eyes lit with what Tammy hadn’t yet seen. A tiny gurgle came from deep within his throat and his rosebud mouth curved up into a smile.
And Tammy reached out to hug him in delight and darn near burst into tears again.
This would work. Her world had been turned upside down, and she wasn’t sure where she was, but one thing she was sure of—wherever she went, there went Henry.
She cradled him until he slept and then finally, reluctantly, set him down in the hotel cot. He needed toys, she thought. He needed—something. There hadn’t been a single toy in that cold, huge room.
She could hardly bear to take her eyes from him.
But it was six-thirty. Reluctantly she showered and changed into clean jeans and a T-shirt, which was all her backpack provided, then hauled a comb through her washed curls and settled down to wait for Marc.
And to read her letter.
It was from Lara. Written four months ago, it had been stuffed in the suitcase and left unread for all this time.
It was important.
She was re-reading the letter for the third time when a knock at the door announced Marc’s arrival.
For a moment she considered not answering, but then…he had brought her here, she thought. He had paid for a nanny for Henry. If it hadn’t been for Marc, then Tammy might never have learned of Henry’s existence. The letter might have stayed unread for ever.
Henry’s fate didn’t bear thinking of.
She set down the letter and crossed to open the door, fury still her overriding emotion.
But the man on the other side of the door took her breath away. For a moment she forgot all about her anger. Whew!
His Royal Highness, Prince Regent of Broitenburg, dressed in royal regalia, was really something. But just plain Marc, casually dressed in jeans and an open-necked shirt, was something else entirely.
His hair was now ruffled and curled. His grey eyes were smiling, the laughter lines on his tanned face creasing into deep and delicious crinkles. His smile was questioning, and his eyes searched the room until he found the sleeping Henry.
Whew, indeed! He made her want to take a step back…
Or maybe he made her want to take a step forward—but she wasn’t going into that.