‘You don’t have spare money. I just need to look at you to tell…’
Mistake. Bad tactical error. There was one packet of formula open. Tammy lifted it up, stared at it—and then threw it straight at Marc.
It sprayed out in all directions, covering him with a white misting powder. The parcel hit him mid-chest, and slowly slid to the floor.
The action shocked them all. Tammy stopped dead and stared at the white-dusted man before her—and then she winced.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘It’s my best uniform,’ he told her, but was that a slight quiver in his face? Surely not. Surely he couldn’t be close to laughter. And why did she suddenly feel she was fighting back the same emotion?
‘I guess you have hundreds more at home,’ she managed, and he nodded.
‘Yeah, but they’re at home.’
‘Gee, you’re going to have to travel home like that, then.’
‘I do have other clothes.’
‘Brocade and velvet and the odd crown and stuff?’ she agreed.
‘I’m not always dressed up in this rig.’
‘Bully for you.’ She purposefully turned her attention away from his powder-coated form—and the sudden and unexpected gleam of laughter in his dark eyes—and concentrated on her pile again. Fiercely. ‘Do you have anything I can put these things in?’
‘I have no idea.’ He was watching her, fascinated. ‘Kylie, do we have anything we can put these things in?’
‘I dunno,’ Kylie said resentfully. The nanny was looking more confused by the minute. ‘If she’s taking the kid, does that mean you don’t want me any more?’
‘His aunt has authority to care for him. I’ll pay you to the end of the month,’ Marc told her, and her face cleared.
‘All right, then. I’m fed up with this job anyway.’ She beamed at Tammy as if she was releasing her from a life sentence and began to be helpful. ‘There’s suitcases in his bedroom. You’re not his Aunty Tammy, are you?’
Tammy paused. ‘Yes.’ She focused on the girl—sort of. It was actually really hard not to stay focusing on Marc. The dangerous gleam was still in Marc’s eyes. He might look ridiculous—a prince with powder coating—but he still packed a lethal punch. Big and handsome and magnetically attractive…
But she needed to concentrate on what the nanny was saying. ‘You knew about me?’ she managed.
‘There’s this letter addressed to you. It’s in one of the suitcases.
‘A letter? From who?’
‘I dunno,’ Kylie said. ‘I saw it when I packed away the baby stuff he’d grown out of. It’s addressed to a Tamsin Dexter and underneath is written “Aunty Tammy”—in quotation marks, like the title’s a bit of a joke. There’s no address or I would have posted it.’
‘Fetch it,’ Marc told her, his eyes resting on Tammy. He was clutching at straws now. This might buy him some time. Somehow he needed a way of talking this woman into seeing reason, and it was growing less possible by the minute.
Tammy’s anger was still firing her actions, and the worst part of it was that her anger was reasonable. Henry’s treatment made him furious himself.
‘Sure.’ Kylie cast an uncertain glance at the pair of them and flounced out of the room.
‘Fetch the whole suitcase,’ Tammy called after her. ‘I need to pack this stuff.’
‘Okay.’ But the girl’s voice was muffled. She was already foraging in what must be enormous storage cupboards. This was some hotel.
Marc and Tammy were left glaring at each other, the only thing between them one little boy. Henry gazed back and forth between this unlikely pair of adults, his face showing no emotion at all.
‘You can’t just take him,’ Marc said conversationally and Tammy raised her eyebrows in polite disagreement.
‘Yes, I can. You said he’s an Australian citizen and I’m his aunt. And his guardian. You’re not even his uncle.’
‘No, but—’
‘But nothing. Blood counts.’
‘Your mother has given me permission,’ he told her, but even he knew he was clutching at straws. The more he saw of Tammy the more he realised that she was intelligent, and she discarded his statement before he could finish saying it.
‘My mother would promise anything if money was involved. If Lara made a will naming me Henry’s guardian, surely that’s what matters?’
Marc took a deep breath, fighting for words. ‘Look, Miss…’
‘Tammy,’ Tammy said pleasantly—and waited.
‘Tammy. Can we at least discuss this?’
‘That’s what I’m doing.’
‘You’ve already made up your mind.’
‘To care for my nephew? Yes, I have. I don’t have a choice because I don’t see that anyone else is doing it.’
‘I promise you—he’ll be looked after in Broitenburg.’
‘By nannies? No.’
‘Kylie isn’t a good example.’
‘She’s not, is she?’ Tammy agreed politely. She picked up the book Kylie had been reading and grimaced. ‘The Vampire’s Slave. A little bedtime reading for Henry—I don’t think. You can see as well as I can that there’s been minimal attention paid to Henry. He’s had his physical needs met and that’s all. And yet you employed her.’
‘I was desperate. I had to find someone fast and I was on the other side of the world.’
‘And it took you weeks to come and check on him. Great. Good worrying. Well, now he’s in his aunt’s care, so you don’t need to worry any more.’
‘You don’t understand. I need him.’
She raised her eyebrows at that. ‘You need a baby?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s the heir to the throne.’
She thought about that for a whole two seconds before rejecting it entirely as a reason for anyone needing a baby. ‘Then he can be heir to the throne right here,’ she told him. ‘I’m not giving him back. He can ascend to the throne, or whatever he has to do, when he’s old enough to choose for himself. But you—the lot of you—have shown yourselves to be incapable of caring for a baby.’
‘And you’re capable?’ he demanded, goaded.
‘Strangely enough, yes,’ she flung at him. ‘I’m even experienced.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Well, there you go, then. Distrust on either side. We make a perfect pair.’
This was getting out of hand. ‘Can we at least talk?’ he said urgently. ‘Stay here tonight. I’ll pay for a night for you in this hotel.’
Tammy took a deep breath. Anger was threatening to overwhelm her. ‘Gee,’ she said, as if awed. ‘In this hotel! A proper bed, with sheets and everything?’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’
‘There’s no need to be patronising.’
‘You