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Him? She was the one who smelled good enough to eat, making him wish he’d eaten more of his meal. Maybe then he’d be less tempted by her.
He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was at home in bed. He pulled to mind a problem he’d been wrestling with before the fateful plane went down and changed his life. Neither solution worked. The subtle, sweet scent of apple blossoms and the soft feel of womanly curves cuddled in his arms brought his body to life.
He ignored the inappropriate reaction.
She was exhausted and injured, and he’d accepted the responsibility of her care. That was the extent of their connection.
“You’re so warm.”
He shook his head, a half smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Go to sleep already,” he said running his hand over the silk of her hair.
And closing his eyes, he followed his own advice.
* * *
Deep in the night, something disturbed Katrina. She stirred slightly and then purred softly. It had been a long time since she woke up in Rodrigo’s arms. How she’d missed this connection, the feel of hard arms holding her close, the warmth of a man’s nearness, the sensual tickle of his breath on her cheek.
She opened her eyes to find the room dark except for the dying embers in the fireplace. Sighing, she snuggled in, hugging him as she drifted toward sleep.
He smelled so good, of musk and man. Her brow furrowed as her foggy mind niggled at a sense of wrongness, but it hurt to think. He shifted beneath her and the thought fled. She realized his movement was what woke her.
Yes. The only thing better than sleeping in his arms was being awake and in his arms. A pain in her head followed the thought. Thankfully it didn’t linger and she dismissed it. Better to focus on the man. Without opening her eyes she angled her head and kissed him.
He went completely still, his sleep-relaxed body going tense. Usually he took it from there. Not tonight.
Tease. She smiled and, opening her mouth, she touched her tongue to his lips, seeking more. His lips parted and she tasted him. She knew immediately this wasn’t Rodrigo.
And while her mind struggled with why that was a good thing, the man gave in to her invitation, sinking into the embrace with an aggressive dance of tongues.
No, this was not Rodrigo. Everything about him felt right. Heat flooded her and she gave in to his demand, sighing in surrender as she wrapped her arms around him and sank into a depth of passion she’d never known before. Wanting more, she pulled him closer.
He slanted his head taking the kiss deeper, the fever higher. He threaded fingers through her hair, holding her still for him while his thumb feathered softly over her temple in a soothing caress.
She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. She wanted that hand, his hands, lower, tracing her curves, igniting a true fire between them. She pressed closer trying to show him, and a squeak sounded between them.
“Oh my goodness.” In an instant everything came flooding back.
The crash.
The toddler.
The man.
No, no, no. She’d let a man touch her. Almost as bad, she’d been smooching with the Prince!
“Mon Dieu, I am sorry.” She pushed back and checked on Sammy, who’d been crushed between the two of them.
A scowl drew his tiny eyebrows together and his mouth twitched a couple of times, but he didn’t waken. Somewhere during the night, he’d switched his weight to Julian. Without looking at the Prince, she lifted Sammy carefully and carried him into his crib. Before leaving the room she switched on the light and checked his pupils, sighed in relief when she found them even and reactive.
Unable to delay further, she returned to the sitting room, where Julian stood by the mantel stoking the fire back to life.
“Your Highness,” she began.
“Stop.” He put down the poker and turned to face her, keeping his hands clasped behind him. “You have already apologized. Now it is my turn.”
“No, please.” How mortifying. “I kissed you. It is my fault. I woke up in your arms—which it was very sweet of you to let Sammy sleep.” His dark brows lowered so she rushed on. “I thought you were my old boyfriend. Oh God. You smelled wrong, but you felt good—”
“You are babbling, mademoiselle—” His sigh reeked of exasperation. “What is your full name?”
“Katrina Lynn Carrere Vicente.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth.
“Carrere?” Of course the name caught his attention. “You’re a relative of Jean Claude?” His tone turned grim. “Please tell me you are not related to the Prince.”
“Distantly,” she confessed, “through my mother.” She didn’t mention her father was a close personal friend. No need to make matters worse than they were.
His head dropped forward causing thick strands of hair to fall over his wide brow. He muttered what sounded like, “It just keeps getting better and better.”
Her sentiments exactly.
But the show of emotion lasted only a moment. He quickly drew himself up and straightened his shoulders.
“Mademoiselle Vicente you have my deepest apologies. I should never have touched you.”
“Your Highness.”
He shook his head. “I’ll express my regrets to the Prince in the morning.”
“No.” Her eyes went wide in shock. She felt sick to her stomach. The last thing she wanted was for the royal family to know she’d forced herself on a guest. She couldn’t handle another disgrace. She stepped forward in entreaty. “Promise me you will not.”
“I must.” His posture was rigid. “I have offended a member of his family.”
“No offense. None.” She assured him. “You were the perfect gentleman.”
His eyes narrowed in censure. “I had my tongue down your throat. Hardly the actions of a gentleman.”
“But you kept your hands above my waist. I wanted them on me—” She broke off as his eyes darkened and narrowed even more. What was she saying? So not the place to go.
“I promise I am not offended. It has been a tough couple of days for everyone, and we found a moment of comfort in each other. That is all that happened.”
“Is that how you see it?” His shoulders relaxed slightly.
It was all she would allow herself to believe.
“Yes. You held Sammy and I while we slept, something we both needed desperately. Something I believe you needed, too. The kiss came from the comfort of that gesture. You are leaving in the morning. Can we not forget it ever happened?”
He studied her in silence so long her nerves grew rattled. Finally he beckoned. “Come here.”
Leery, she forced apprehension aside to approach him slowly, until she had to tip her head back to look up at him. He stared down into her eyes, his gaze penetrating. Again he rattled her with his intensity. Would he agree to put her indiscretion aside?
“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.”
