Stolen Kiss From a Prince

by Teresa Carpenter

  “Yes.” Katrina laughed softly. “It is his favorite toy and has proved useful these past few days.”

  “I did not get it for him, you know. Someone else produced it.”

  “It does not matter. Regardless of who picked it out, it is your love that generated the gift. And he has taken great pleasure in it.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so.” She sent Katrina a sharp glance as she sipped from her fragile china cup. “I was concerned over the matter with Dr. Vogel. Quite distressed over his dismissal.”

  “I am sorry.” Uh-oh. The visit was going so well, Katrina hated to see the benefit slide away because of her earlier actions. “Was he a friend?”

  “Heavens no,” Giselle denied with regal disdain. “The man is a bore. But he was familiar. And I believed he had our best interests in mind. But seeing Samson doing so well, I must wonder.”

  “The new pediatrician visited Sammy this morning. He seemed to like her. She saw no lingering effects from the sedation.”

  “Excellent. Please keep me advised.”

  “Of course.” She set her cup on the table. “We should be going. I brought a book to read to Sammy in the garden. Thank you for allowing us to share your tea.”

  “You do not fool me, child.” Giselle sent Katrina a shrewd glance as she gestured for the book. “I know when I am being manipulated. However, I recognize the good it does Samson. You may join me for tea tomorrow.”

  Katrina smiled and handed her the book.

  *

  Her walk through the gardens with the King proved equally as successful. When she happened across him, while pushing Sammy in his stroller, she saw grief weighed heavily on him, just as he leaned heavily on his cane. But seeing Sammy lifted his mood.

  She asked if they might join him and before long she had him pushing the stroller and sharing memories of Donal and Julian playing knights and robbers about the lush grounds.

  The stroller made him steadier on his feet, and they walked well past the time he usually allotted for his daily exercise. He told Sammy stories of his father while sharing some of the history of the palace. There was no mistaking the pride in his heritage.

  Katrina finished the jaunt with promises Sammy would join him for his walk the next day.

  *

  Julian proved the hardest to pin down. Okay, she dragged her feet a little. But he did spend most of his time behind closed doors in his office. And he missed more meals than he made. Avoiding her? She finally resorted to joining him for breakfast at six so Sammy could start his day with his uncle.

  She found him seated reading a newspaper on an east-facing terrace overlooking the expansive gardens. Dawn bloomed on the horizon and a chill lingered in the air.

  A maid stood just inside the door. Katrina stopped. “Excuse me, Master Samson and I will be joining His Highness for breakfast.”

  “I will advise Grimes.” She bobbed a curtsey.

  Katrina smiled her thanks, swallowed hard and strolled out to the terrace. She saw the appeal of his chosen spot. It was a beautiful setting at a beautiful time. The deep navy of night gave way to a magenta edged with a rosy glow. Soon the sun would add a bright gold as the sky lightened. The garden reached clear to the terrace. Bougainvillea laced up the columns surrounding them, and newly bloomed rosebushes bordered the brick porch.

  “Good morning.” She greeted Julian with forced cheer. They had such a complex relationship. From moment to moment she never knew if he was going to kiss her or freeze her out. Today she just hoped for cordial.

  He lowered one end of his paper and eyed her over the bend.

  “Good morring, Unca Julie,” Sammy echoed.

  She ramped up her smile and childishly crossed her fingers as she ignored protocol to pull a chair out, seating first Sammy and then herself.

  “Please, join me,” he offered ruefully. But he did fold his newspaper and set it aside. “Good morning Samson. Ms. Vicente.”

  “My lord. I am being presumptuous, I know, and I did promise Bernadette I would be on my best behavior.” She bit her lip a little over that confession. “But you are so busy and have made such a good effort to spend time with Sammy, I thought we should make some effort to come to you, too.” She winced at the yellow bruising on his hands. “How are you?”

  “Better than I have a right to be. The bandages came off yesterday. The doctor advises me I’m lucky I didn’t break a few bones.” He flexed his fingers. “That’s because of you. I’m in your debt again.”

  “Not at all. We all need to vent occasionally.” Not wanting to dwell on the incident in case he changed his mind, she changed the topic. “I see we have interrupted your reading.”

  “No. This—” he tapped the paper “—has become more habit than necessity these days. I now have advisors that present me with the news.”

  “You do not sound too pleased with the service.”

  “I like gathering my own information.”

  “Ah. And so you will.” She glanced significantly at the paper. “Perhaps you will lose this need once you gain trust in your advisors. I imagine it will take time for everyone to work comfortably together.”

  “An excellent observation. You’re very intuitive.”

  “No.” A blush heated her cheeks under his focused attention. “Just a good listener.”

  “Yes,” he mused. “I have noticed.”

  “What is giving you fits?” she asked, because obviously something was. “No need to give names or details. Generalities are sufficient.”

  He simply shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “You are a temptation, Ms. Vicente.”

  She bowed her head to avoid the intensity in his gaze. “I only mean to help.”

  “I can’t deny I need help.” Weariness flowed through his words. “Or someone to talk things through with. I wish my father were stronger.”

  “And perhaps he wishes he was needed more.”

  “Indeed?” His retort was sharp. “You know my father so well?”

  “No, but we had a visit in the garden yesterday. I got the impression he sometimes feels useless.”

  “Quite the good listener,” he observed. “That’s ridiculous. He’s the King.”

  “I know. But he is still human. And when we have been ill, we sometimes doubt our abilities. Once we let the reins slip away, it can be difficult to grasp them again.”

  “You’re saying he wants to rule again but doesn’t know how to regain his authority?” The notion clearly astounded him.

  “Possibly. I hardly know for certain. I am just going on instinct. At the very least he might appreciate the distraction of a conversation.”

  “I hungy,” Sammy announced.

  “I am, too.” Julian switched his gaze to the boy, and Katrina breathed again. “I’m having pancakes.”

  “Yeah. I wan’ pancakes, too!” Sammy bounced in his seat. “K’tina wan pancakes?”

  “Yes, pancakes and maybe some eggs and sausage.”

  “I wan’ eggs and sausage,” he demanded.

  She laughed. “You want it all.”

  “I hungy.” He nodded.

  The maid appeared followed by a footman, both carrying trays they placed in the middle of the table. “May I make you a plate?”

  “Thank you, Amy, we will serve ourselves,” Julian responded.

  “Allow me.” Katrina began to lift lids and soon had full plates in front of everyone. Sammy glowed as he chomped on a pancake. He also had eggs and meat, along with some fresh berries. Julian had a much larger serving of the same. She stuck to eggs, sausage and a few berries.

  Silence fell with the arrival of the food. Once a few bites were consumed, the quiet gave way to giggles as Julian teased Samson by trying to steal some of his berries. Katrina sat back and watched them have fun. Something she felt they both needed. These moments with his family really helped Sammy with his loss.

  And from what he’d revealed, Julian would also benefit from a few minutes of levity. His phone rang, and
she experienced a letdown, because truthfully, she enjoyed this time with the two of them. So much for applauding her own efforts.

  But Julian surprised her by rejecting the call and responding with a text. For the next ten minutes he devoted himself to Sammy as they finished the meal. He talked to him like an equal, and Sammy responded well to him even when the topic turned serious.

  “Samson, your Mama and Papa’s funeral is tomorrow.”

  Sammy nodded solemnly. “K’tina told me. We are goin’ say bye-bye to Mama and Papa.”

  “That’s right.” Julian wiped his hands and set the cloth napkin on the table. His gaze touched her before going back to the boy. “It will be a very long day. We want to say a proper goodbye, and the citizens of Kardana need to be able to say bye-bye, too.”

  “K’tina says lots of peoples loveded them.” Sammy’s bottom lip began to tremble. “But I loveded them most.”

  “Yes, we loved them best,” Julian confirmed, reaching for the napkin he just discarded and wiping Sammy’s cheeks. “You will have to be a big boy and sit still for a very long time.”

  “I be good,” Sammy promised. “K’tina says I make Mama and Papa happy when I am good. She says they will smile at me from h’ven.”

  “She’s right. Katrina is very smart.” Julian threw her a thankful glance. “Come give me a hug.”

  Sammy hopped up and threw himself into his uncle’s arm. He wrapped his little arms about Julian’s neck and clung. Man and child comforting each other. She blinked back the sting of tears.

  “Your Highness.” A nursemaid named Inga stood at the end of the table. In her mid-twenties, the petite blonde showed sense and compassion the few times Katrina took Sammy to the nursery.

  At her appearance, Julian kissed his nephew on the head and patted his back. “Sammy, Uncle Julian needs to talk to Katrina for a few minutes. Inga is here to take you back to your room, okay.”

  He looked ready to protest, but Inga stepped back and pointed to his tricycle. “I brought your bike, but you must be careful and stay close to me.”

  His eyes lit up. “Okay.”

  “Thank you, Inga.” Julian nodded his dismissal.

  Heart racing, Katrina watched Sammy ride away. What was this about? Was Inga her replacement? With the funeral tomorrow, was Julian thinking her services were no longer needed? She should be happy at the prospect of going home. Yet the thought made her stomach hurt.

  “Katrina.” Julian drew her attention away from the departing child.

  “You are very good with him,” she told him. “He still gets sad, but he is going to be fine.”

  “Yes. In large part due to you. K’tina says,” he mimicked. But he covered her hand with his. “I was surly earlier and I apologize. As you’ve guessed, I’m on edge. There are so many issues demanding my attention. I keep asking myself, what would Donal do? But the answer doesn’t always feel right, and I end up arguing with myself.”

  “Julian, you must not do that to yourself.” Unthinking, she turned her hand to thread her fingers with his. “Donal is gone. It is sad, but a fact nonetheless. Yes, he was well respected, but I urge you to follow your own way. You will not truly feel comfortable in the position until you do.”

  “You are probably right, but it is not as easily done as said. My advisors were his advisors, and they expect me to act as he would have. The Europol vote comes up soon and I’m being urged to approve the change as it has been presented. I agree with the primary purpose, but I have reservations about the execution of those changes.”

  “Then you must speak up,” she urged him. “The advisors will adjust once you exert yourself. You are a highly intelligent man, a logical thinker. If you have reservations, others probably do, as well. And remember you have to live with your decision. If you do not speak up and the problems you foresee occur, how will you feel?”

  He rubbed his eyebrow. “Not good.”

  “You wish to honor Donal, which is admirable, but how long will you act as his ambassador? Soon enough you will not know his opinion on issues and you will be forced to address the question or vote from your own perspective. You should just start now. Plus, who is to say Donal wouldn’t have agreed with your position if you had discussed it with him? I believe the best way to impress your advisors is to be yourself.”

  “So wise. Am I supposed to tell them K’tina says?” he teased her.

  She blushed. Blast her unruly tongue. But how did she hold back when he seemed so alone, so torn as he struggled to do right by his country and his brother. Since she’d already offered her unsolicited opinion, she added, “You are supposed to be true to yourself, to act on your own convictions. And talk to your father. You do not have to do this alone.”

  “Perhaps I’ll do that. Thanks for the advice, but that is not why I asked to speak to you. The funeral is tomorrow. I want you to sit with the family.”

  Shock stole her voice, panic kicking her pulse into high gear. Never had she expected this possibility. Her palms grew clammy. To sit with the family would bring her to the attention of the press. Speculation would be rife and they wouldn’t stop until they knew every detail of her life.

  “No.” She pushed her plate away. “It is a time for family. It would be inappropriate.”

  “I’ve already made the arrangements,” he advised her as if she had no choice in the matter.

  “Your father will not approve.”

  “I spoke with my father. He gave his approval.”

  “But no,” she protested, “this is not right. I am not family.”

  “Katrina, it’s okay. No need to get upset.” He leaned in, cupped her hand in both of his.

  Oh, she was in such trouble. His touch comforted and distressed her at the same time. She wasn’t prepared for this moment. Had hoped never to have to tell him of her shame.

  “I would rather not.” She tried to dissuade him. “My presence will just provoke speculation when the focus should be on Donal and Helene. The whole country is mourning. They do not wish to see a stranger sitting with the royal family.”

  “It doesn’t matter that you are not family. You are Jean Claude’s goddaughter, a valued guest. People will understand. Sammy loves you. You, more than anyone, will be a comfort to him tomorrow.”

  Unfair. She’d do almost anything for the child, but appearing at the funeral with the young Prince would only bring more heartache down on the Ettenburl family, and they’d already suffered so much.

  “It is best if I stay in the background,” she insisted.

  “He needs you.” Julian was relentless in his persistence. He lifted her bowed head on one finger until she looked him in the eyes. “I need you.”

  “Oh Julian—” his image blurred as tears welled in her eyes “—I cannot.”

  ‘My dove, do not cry.” His thumb swiped away an escaped tear. “Is this about the pictures?”

  She froze, literarily went ice-cold. “You know?”

  She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think. How was it possible he knew about the pictures? Only a handful of people in the world knew. He was not one of them.

  “Jean Claude told me before we left Pasadonia.”

  “Oh my God.” She felt raw, exposed. Betrayed.

  “He thought I should know of your concerns. It was an honorable move on his part.”

  “Honor?” She laughed harshly. The ugliness of the pictures flashed before her mind’s eye. No wonder he felt free to kiss her. He thought she was easy.

  “There is no honor in this matter. Everyone should have just let me stay home.” She jumped to her feet. Home was exactly where she needed to go. “I am sorry you were made a part of my—” she swallowed hard “—unfortunate incident.” She pushed her chair in, held tight to the finials. “I believe it is time for me to return to Pasadonia.”

  Pasadonia, but maybe not the palace. How could Jean Claude tell this man of her shame? Had Bernadette known? Had her father? Her thumb went to her mother’s ring, caressed the metal. She’d neve
r felt so alone.

  She stepped back, dipped into a curtsey. “By your leave, Your Highness.” And then she fled. She didn’t run, but moved with great purpose through the drawing room, down the halls, up the stairs to her room next to Sammy’s suite. Happy to reach her refuge, she shoved the door closed.

  And turned to find Julian looming large before her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KATRINA BLINKED AT Julian. “How?”

  “This is a sixteenth-century castle. There are many secret passageways throughout.”

  “So it is okay to invade my privacy?” She walked around him. “Please go away.”

  “No.” He crowded her, forcing her farther into the room. “I’m sorry. I never meant to cause you pain.”

  “How could it not hurt?” She backed away from him, needing distance, needing to be alone to bind her wounds. “It was the most devastating time of my life. A stupid, shameful time.”

  “Katrina.” He took a step forward. She took two back. He stopped, his expression anxious. “What happened?”

  “You know.” She wrapped her arms around herself to contain the pain, to hold back the tremors. Unable to look at him, she chose the ceiling instead. Such exquisite crown molding. “He told you. Just go. I am sorry for your loss, but I do not want you kissing me anymore. Despite what you think, I am not a loose woman. I will not be used in that way again.”

  “I don’t think that.” He sounded appalled. “How could I believe such a thing of you?” Now he sounded closer.

  Damn him. He stood in front of her, too close, too solid, too concerned.

  “You are the kindest, most giving woman I know. I think of you as smart, and intuitive, and gutsy. You’re also sexy as hell, which is why I like kissing you.” He cupped her cheek, rested his forehead on hers. “Jean Claude told me there was an incident in your past that resulted in some compromising photos being taken. He assured me all evidence of the documents has been purged, but you still fear they may reappear and cause an embarrassment. Now you tell me the rest.”

  “Is that not enough?” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. With a sigh she gave up fighting. His heat, his strength were too much temptation. “It is best if I leave before the embarrassment can be visited on the House of Kardana.”