Rafael’s toys are here,’ he said. ‘Mama, come and see. Come and see.’
‘I don’t…’
‘You have to come,’ he said before she could protest. ‘There’s pancakes for breakfast and Cook’s made heaps and heaps ’cos the truck drivers have come all the way from the border this morning and Anna’s here and she’s really crabby and I’ll sit on your bed and wait for you to get dressed.’
She stared at her little son, helpless in the face of his enthusiasm. How could she tell him she’d been thinking of putting a little kitchenette up here, so that she didn’t have to go down to the royal kitchens?
What sort of mother would say that?
He wanted her to come.
She peered through the casement. Men were unloading vast crates, carrying them into the main entrance.
‘Where’s Rafael?’
‘He’s in the dungeons,’ Matty said with relish, as if the dungeons were truly gruesome. ‘Cook said once upon a time there were ghosts in our dungeons with clanking chains, but Uncle Rafael said that the best way to get rid of ghosts is to bury them with sawdust. He’s working already. Anna says he’s burying his head in the sand but I think he’s burying it in sawdust.’
‘Well,’ Kelly said cautiously, digesting this with care. She’d spent a lot of time figuring things out before she’d gone to sleep. Rafael had kissed her. Rafael was a de Boutaine. The man was obviously a womaniser, just like Kass.
She could deal with this situation, she thought. Disdain—that was the way to go. And distance.
‘Maybe if Rafael’s working I can come down to breakfast.’
‘And then come to the stables?’ Matty pleaded. ‘Will you come riding?’
‘I don’t ride,’ she said flatly. She pushed back her bedcovers. The silk dress was draped over the bedside chair. She pushed it back so it fell on to the floor behind, out of sight. ‘Sorry, Matty, but that’s an absolute.’
It was like a vast family. The huge kitchen was filled with people and noise and food.
For Kelly, whose only experience at the castle was silence, fear and formality, the sight that met her eyes as she walked into the kitchen was almost astonishing.
There was a big, buxom woman flipping pancakes in the world’s biggest frying-pan on the vast electric range. There were two younger girls, one stirring what seemed to be a vat of batter, the other peeling a mound of potatoes a foot high. The men Kelly had seen carting the crates were seated at one end of the table, wrapping themselves round mounds of the pancakes, looking as if all their Christmases had come at once. Laura was there, talking to a man Kelly recognized as Crater. Crater. The sight of him made her flinch. She hadn’t seen him since she’d arrived yesterday.
There was a younger woman as well—tall, almost statuesque, looking svelte in cream linen trousers and a lovely Aran pullover. Her blonde hair was piled high in an elegantly casual knot, she wore fabulous, dangling silver earrings and she looked amazing.
Kelly recognized her from the photograph she’d seen on the Internet—Anna.
‘I’ve brought Mama down to breakfast,’ Matty said in his clear voice, and everyone in the kitchen turned and looked at her. Kelly wanted to run.
But Matty had her hand and was tugging her forward. ‘I said we were having pancakes so she came,’ he said and Crater rose from his seat next to Laura and came round the table with his hand outstretched in welcome.
‘Princess Kellyn. Your Highness.’
‘Kelly,’ she whispered, and dropped Matty’s hand and backed instinctively away. The last time she’d talked to this man he’d been talking through the impossibility of her ever seeing her son again. She couldn’t bear it.
‘I need to apologise,’ the elderly man said softly, but Anna was suddenly there, standing beside Crater, looking belligerent.
‘Hell, no,’ she said. ‘Don’t apologise to this woman. She’s stuffed my life.’
‘Hey,’ Rafael said from the doorway behind her. He’d come in behind her without her hearing. ‘She’s stuffed whose life?’
‘Everyone’s,’ Anna said. ‘Every single one of our kids.’
‘Whose kids?’ Kelly asked blankly.
‘Twenty kids thinking he’s their hero,’ Anna said bitterly. ‘Twenty kids…’
‘Who now need to swap their allegiance to you,’ Rafael told her.
‘I don’t do kids,’ Anna said flatly. ‘I run a business. A business, Rafael, not a damned charity. Here you are, hauling the personal stuff over here, and if you think…’
‘I absolutely think,’ Rafael said and put his arms round her and hugged her.
But Anna hadn’t finished with her grievance yet. She swiped his hands away and glowered. ‘Don’t you try your sweet-talk on me. Richard’s having all sorts of fits—he didn’t even want me to come now. And how the hell Kelly got you here…’
‘I don’t think I know what’s going on,’ Kelly said.
‘That’s because you haven’t had breakfast,’ Laura said calmly, rising from the table and handing her a warmed plate. ‘Wrap yourself round some pancakes.’
‘Then you can come down and see what I have in my dungeons. Meanwhile, we need to stop Anna being mean to you,’ Rafael said. ‘Come on, Anna, you can handle it. It’s not like I had any choice.’
‘Because of Kelly.’ Anna glowered. ‘You said you’d just need to spend a little time here for ceremonial duties, that all you had to do was persuade Kellyn to take over her rightful role and you could fade into the background again. Someone take that woman’s pancakes away from her.’
‘Not on your life,’ Kelly said, concentrating on the only thing she could understand. Cook was ladling a stack of hot pancakes on to her plate and they smelled extraordinary. She didn’t have a clue what was happening between Rafael and Anna, but guilt was hovering, ready to pounce.
She didn’t have to accept it. She didn’t have to find out what Anna was talking about, she told herself. Rafael’s life was none of her business. She sat at the far end of the table, one of the truckers handed her a jug of maple syrup and she got down to business.
‘I knew you’d like pancakes,’ Matty said, pleased, and she smiled at his pleasure. This was her business—making her son smile.
The kitchen felt great, she thought as she ate. It was big and warm and friendly. She didn’t feel out of place back in her jeans and baggy sweater. Even Anna’s hostility seemed not particularly hostile—more resigned.
It was none of her business but some things seemed impossible. Maybe she could just ask…
‘So you two have twenty children?’ she ventured cautiously, and Rafael
