Stolen Kiss From a Prince

by Teresa Carpenter

  “GiGi!” Sammy exclaimed. This time she had no hope of containing him as he practically jumped from her arms. He ran the short distance to his great-grandmother, climbed into her lap and wrapped his tiny arms around her neck.

  The starch went out of the woman as she melted with love. She hugged Sammy so tight he protested and squirmed free of the embrace. But he sat in her lap and chatted away.

  Katrina felt awkward standing there amidst the family in such a private moment of grief. The feeling magnified when Julian and the King moved a few feet away and began a hushed conversation.

  “I rided on a train with K’tina,” Sammy informed his great-grandmother. “I played ball with Unca Julie.” Then, with total indignation, “Mama and Papa wen bye-bye and not come back!”

  And while the room wheeled from that, he smiled with simple guile. “GiGi bring me present?”

  Giselle blinked back tears as she hugged the boy to her again. “Ja, I always have a present for Meingeliebterjunge. It is in my room.” Her beloved boy wiggled away and hopped to the floor. He grabbed her wrinkled hand and tugged. The queen mother patted the seat beside her, groping for a dainty handkerchief.

  “Sammy, let GiGi rest now.” Katrina took a quick step forward.

  Sammy stared up at his great-grandmother before turning big eyes to Katrina. “Why GiGi sad?”

  “She has missed you,” she explained, keeping it simple. “Would you like me to take him?” she asked quietly.

  “Nein, he is fine. I am comforted having him near.” The older woman waved to a cream sofa. “Miss Vicente, please have a seat. You must forgive me...I am distracted.”

  “I understand.” Katrina settled on the edge of her seat.

  “Oma, forgive me.” Julian bent and kissed his grandmother’s cheek and then turned to include the King. “The fault is mine. Vater, Oma, this is Katrina Vicente from Pasadonia. She has been a great help with Samson’s care.”

  Katrina immediately popped to her feet and curtsied to the King.

  “Miss Vicente.” He patted her hand then gestured for her to resume her seat as he reclaimed his. “Welcome. We thank you for your efforts on Samson’s behalf.”

  “I am pleased to be of assistance. He is a delightful child.”

  “I spoke with Bernadette yesterday.” Giselle dabbed at a lingering tear. “She described a situation that was less than delightful.”

  “Yes, well, Sammy was upset.” He was the last one she blamed for any of this.

  “Quite a shame, the fuss Tessa made.” Giselle crossed her hands in her lap and tilted her chin up. “Such a disappointment.”

  Katrina said nothing to that. It wasn’t her place.

  “It matters not. We are home now.” Julian took a place at the mantel. “And there is much to do.”

  Sammy sat quietly as he’d been taught, his little head moving with the conversation. His solemn expression worried her. He was taking everything in, but how much did he comprehend?

  “Your Majesties, you have my deepest condolences.” She purposely used a word Sammy wouldn’t understand. “Princess Bernadette has released me to help for as long as you need me.”

  “Our Pasadonian friends have been very gracious. As have you, my dear,” King Lowell said. “We have difficult days ahead of us and as you appear to have a calming effect on young Samson, we would appreciate your assistance while he adjusts to the news and we find a replacement for Tessa.”

  “Of course,” Katrina agreed.

  “Tessa go bye-bye,” Sammy piped in, his brow furrowed. “Mama and Papa go bye-bye.”

  A look passed between the three royals.

  “Ms. Vicente—” Julian offered her a hand up “—we need to take care of some family business with Samson. Grimes will give you a tour of the nursery and show you to your room.”

  “I understand.” Everything inside Katrina rebelled. They were going to tell Sammy about his parents. And she’d been dismissed. She’d hoped to have more time to prepare him, though how do you really prepare for such news?

  At the least she would have liked to be here for him.

  Wasn’t this why she’d come? To help him through the trauma? But no matter how close she’d gotten to Sammy, to Julian, these past few days, she wasn’t family. Placing one foot in front of the other, she forced herself across the room.

  “I wanna go with K’tina.” It was a plaintive call.

  She longed to answer the plea, to wrap him in her arms and buffer him from the coming confusion and pain.

  The doors closed behind her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FURY PROPELLED KATRINA through the palace halls. The in-house physician had sedated Sammy. Again. After being told the news his parents wouldn’t be coming back, ever, he went into a screaming fit. The physician had been called and the boy sedated. She hadn’t liked it then, but had understood to a small degree. Watching the boy’s distress was not easy, knowing he was hurting saddened family and caregivers alike.

  But there was no excuse, none, for continuing to dope the child. Not for two days.

  Grief needed to be dealt with. Smothering it only delayed the process; it didn’t relieve it. A point she intended to make to Julian who, according to the doctor, had authorized the prescribed regimen. She would already have voiced her opinion, but she hadn’t seen him since the evening meal the day they arrived. And there’d been no opportunity for a private moment at that time.

  She reached his office and addressed the pale, dark-haired woman with dark-rimmed glasses seated behind the desk. A nameplate listed her name as Marta. “I wish to see His Highness, Prince Julian.”

  “Nein.” The woman didn’t bother to look up from her computer. “His schedule is full.”

  Katrina gritted her teeth, knowing patience and courtesy would get her further than acrimony. “Carl—” The dark head shook again. “Then I wish to make an appointment with the Prince.”

  This earned her an exasperated examination ending in a scowl. “Nein,” Marta repeated dismissing her. “There is much demand on his time.”

  “I am here on a matter concerning Prince Samson,” Katrina informed the woman as she gave her name. “It is of great importance.”

  Marta heaved a put-upon sigh. “Everything is of great importance,” she muttered, and Katrina came to the conclusion this woman was used to working with Julian in his capacity as head of the treasury. A position, apparently, that required less decorum than Prince Regent. But she picked up the phone and called through to the inner sanctum.

  After a brief exchange, she hung up and announced, “His Highness will come to the nursery to see you.”

  “When?”

  Marta scowled. “When he can.”

  Katrina supposed that would have to do. She thanked the woman and returned to the nursery. She paced as she watched over a very still Sammy. She’d already addressed her concern to the Queen Mother, but the older woman had faith in the elderly doctor. She made it clear she felt the sedation was easier on Sammy than the distress.

  His listlessness scared Katrina.

  “Sammy, time to wake up.” She sat on the bed and gently ran her fingers through his hair. Hourly she tried to wake him. But he didn’t stir. Hadn’t stirred for the past three hours. She shook his shoulder and called his name louder. Nothing. Fear for him made her determined not to leave his side.

  Just let the doctor try to give him another dose. The whole palace would hear her protests.

  Her only hope was to persuade Julian of the danger of continuing to sedate the toddler.

  An hour later she sat tapping her nails in the elegant nursery sitting room furnished in pale greens and yellows. No bright colors or playful pictures here. No toy boxes or riding horses. It was a beautiful room, but a sad nursery. With the door open onto the bedroom it allowed her to keep an eye on Sammy in supreme comfort.

  Finally Julian strolled in followed by Neil. “Ms. Vicente, what is so urgent that it demands my presence?”

  She surged to her fe
et. “Ju—Your Highness, thank you for coming. I am concerned for Sammy.”

  “Samson,” he corrected as he moved deeper into the room. “We are in Kardana now. You must call him Samson.”

  She bit back a groan. Not exactly the sympathetic attitude she’d hoped for. “He is not yet three,” she protested.

  “He is a Prince.” It was a bald statement of fact. One that did not invite argument.

  If that’s how he felt, he had the wrong girl for the job. All her frustration and fear exploded in a tirade. “He is a young boy who just lost his parents. He needs love and attention, understanding and patience, structure and routine.”

  Each word brought her one step closer to him until she invaded his space. She vaguely registered him signaling Neil, and the other man leaving the room. Mostly she focused on having her say.

  “Now is not the time to lecture him on the burdens of the crown. Now is when he needs to be held and told he is loved.”

  “You called me here to tell Samson I love him?” His tone held the cutting edge of ice. “Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with right now? Funeral arrangements, press releases, the realignment of my duties, taking on the military, updating myself on world issues, the pending Europol vote. I’m a tad busy to be stopping by the nursery every five minutes to pamper a grieving child.”

  “So it is okay to drug him?” she tossed at him. “Just put him to sleep and your conscience is free for you to go about your duties?” Disappointed, she retreated a step. “After the time you spent together on the train, I expected better of you.”

  “Drugged?” He demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  “I am talking about the doctor sedating Sammy. I am talking about the future king of Kardana being kept insensible to the point he cannot be awakened. Tell me, Prince Regent, how do you suppose the citizens of Kardana would react to such a picture?”

  “You forget your place, Ms. Vicente.” He walked past her to glance in at Sammy asleep in his bed. “You forget I saw the distress Samson went through before. Yes, I authorized the palace doctor to give him a mild sedative to ease him through the trauma. I was assured he would suffer no ill effects.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she paced over the floral antique carpet. Her ire calmed somewhat at his assurance. She had to remember she was speaking to a royal Prince.

  “I am sorry, but see for yourself.” She waved him into the bedroom. “It is four in the afternoon and he’s been asleep for hours. I could barely rouse him to eat lunch. He was lethargic and then he went right back to sleep. It is not healthy. Some sedatives are addictive. I am sure this is not something you want for Sammy, ah, Samson. The doctor—”

  Julian’s raised hand stopped her. The imperious gesture raised her hackles, but he was doing as she suggested and moving into the next room to check on his nephew. She bit her lip and followed.

  “Hey, Samson.” Julian sat on the bed and ran his hand over the boy’s head. “Wake up.”

  As with her, there was no response. He tried repeatedly to awaken Sammy, but got little more than a drowsy protest. When Julian glanced at her, she saw real concern in his honey-brown eyes. “This is not good.

  “Neil,” he called as he lifted the child into his arms. The security officer appeared in the doorway. “Bring Dr. Vogel to me. And have Grimes bring me a change of clothes.”

  Neil bowed his head and disappeared. Katrina saw the elbow of another agent as he took over point on guarding Julian. She was surprised to see such close security inside the palace and wondered if there was something he was dealing with that he hadn’t mentioned in his list of issues. But seeing him carry Sammy into the bathroom distracted her from the random thought.

  “Here, hold him.” Julian handed the limp child to her.

  “What are you doing?” She cradled Sammy to her as Julian removed his jacket and went to work on the buttons of his white silk shirt.

  “We need to wake him up.” He reached into the shower and turned on the water before stripping off his shirt and tossing it over the sink. His wallet went on the counter. The muscles in his broad back and arms flexed as he kicked off his shoes and removed his socks. He might be a numbers man, but he definitely kept in shape.

  Catching on to Julian’s plan, Katrina began to disrobe Sammy. The pants and underwear came off with a tug, a sign he’d lost weight over the past few days. The shirt was a tougher matter as it needed to go over his head and his deadweight made it difficult to maneuver.

  “I’ve set it at cool not cold. I don’t want to freeze the lad. If that doesn’t work, I’ll adjust it.” Julian finished setting the temperature and turned to help. He yanked the shirt off, and gathering Sammy into his arms, he stepped into the tub under the full blast of the water. He was soaked in seconds.

  Sammy startled when the first rush of spray hit him. And still it took him a few minutes to come completely awake and begin to struggle in his uncle’s arms. Katrina used the time to gather towels. Julian hadn’t closed the curtain, so she dropped one on the floor to absorb the splashing. The remaining three she kept on hand for the bathers.

  “Let him get mad,” she advised Julian. “The adrenaline will help fight the effects of the sedative.”

  He nodded, indicating he’d heard, but kept his attention focused on containing the slippery child.

  Enthralled, Katrina watched. And what a sight. Saturated with water the heavy weight of Julian’s trousers drooped down his hips to reveal the top of black knit briefs. Rivulets of water rolled over broad shoulders and down muscles bunching and flexing in his bid to keep the flailing Sammy from hurting himself. Or Julian. The boy had already landed a couple of good hits.

  She supposed she should leave. Julian had the situation well in hand. Literally. But she was helpless to drag herself away. A wet, half-naked Prince Julian tempted her beyond good sense.

  Besides the tub was slick; he could slip. Best she remain to catch him if he slipped. The visual of getting her hands on all that slick skin made her mouth water. She swallowed hard and began an internal lecture on the impropriety of lusting after her host and employer. Add in the royal factor, and it broke so many rules she lost count.

  “Get a grip,” she muttered.

  “I have him.” Julian shot her a glance over his shoulder. “But I now have a healthy respect for the term greased pig. Chasing them is a favorite event at our Harvest Festival each May. Do you suppose it’s been long enough?”

  “Yes.” She leaned in and got misted with spray as she turned off the water.

  Then she enveloped Sammy in a big white towel and took him from Julian. The boy shivered in her arms. She rubbed briskly over his little body and turned for the bedroom. She spotted the other towels and picked up one to offer Julian, but when she looked back, he was unzipping his pants.

  He lifted one dark eyebrow.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She dropped the towel back on the counter and made a quick escape.

  In the bedroom, she tugged a new shirt and pants from the wardrobe and dressed the irate child.

  “Unca Julie stupid.” Sammy announced.

  “Uncle Julian was helping you.” She corrected the boy. Her hands shook with relief at seeing him alert and talking. “You were asleep and would not wake up. Uncle Julian took you into the shower so the water would revive you.”

  He considered that while she put his right shoe on. “What revive mean?”

  “It means wake up.” A deep voice answered from the bathroom door. Julian stood there attired in a towel tucked low on his hips. “How you doing, lad?”

  Sammy eyed his uncle. “You waked me up in the shower.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why was I sleeping a lot?”

  “The doctor gave you some medicine,” Katrina explained when Julian seemed at a loss for an answer. “But Uncle Julian is not going to let him give you the medicine anymore.”

  “It was bad medicine?”

  “No, but medicine is differ
ent for everyone because everyone is different. You are little and Uncle Julian and I are bigger, so we can take something that may not work as well for you.”

  “Cause I little?”

  “Yes.” Good enough for the child’s explanation anyway.

  “Is that my present from GiGi?” He scrambled to his knees on the bed and pointed. A large gift bag with a smiling puppy on the front sat on a table inside the door to the sitting room.

  “Yes,” Julian confirmed. “You can open it if you like.”

  The boy was across the room in a shot, pulling a good-sized dump truck from a cloud of tissue. “A tuck!” He dropped to the floor and began to play.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes. Distracted by the rude awakening in the shower and now the gift from his great-grandmother he was happily occupied, but he’d soon remember the loss of his parents.

  And she would be there for him, she vowed silently. As heart-wrenching as his pain was to witness, she preferred it to the unresponsiveness of overmedication.

  “Hey.” Warm fingers wrapped around her hand. “He’s okay.”

  “Yes.” Rather than gape at Julian’s naked chest, she looked down to where his large hand engulfed her smaller one. She’d missed his touch. The heat coming off him warmed her, and she felt the shaking ease. “I am sorry for the things I said, but seeing him so listless scared me.”

  “You were right to call me.” He dropped her hand to run his fingers through his damp hair. “I should never have let it get to this point.”

  “You cannot be everywhere doing everything.” She remembered his secretary’s muttered comment about everything being of the utmost importance. Obviously there was a high demand for his time. “I know you are busy.” She dared a glance through her lashes. “Every time I see you, I am apologizing for something new.”