he could’ve kicked himself in his traitorous mouth, he would’ve. His insistence on her calling him Jake had come in a moment of weakness…right after he’d agreed to accept her as Sammy’s nanny.
He’d had to take Sammy along with him to the palace one day when the sitter didn’t show. Isabel had simply nodded to Rowena, who stepped forward and charmed Sammy so much he allowed her to lead him away, all smiles. And his son had returned the same way. Right then, he’d known Rowena was worth her weight in platinum and he’d offered her the nanny job on the spot.
That was his excuse at the time. What was it now?
But…he had to finish what his mouth started. Didn’t he?
“When you agreed to stay here with Sammy, you also agreed to call me Jake, not Mr. Stanbury. We shook hands on it, remember?”
“Oh. That’s right.” The faintest blush touched her cheek, and she forced a smile. “I’m sorry…Jake. I just…I guess I didn’t want to seem forward.”
Her blush caught and held Jake’s attention. He’d never seen Annette blush. His ex-wife was so calculating that she was no longer capable of blushing.
Damn. Why did Rowena have to go and do that?
There’d been enough of these seemingly insignificant clues to keep him guessing. To keep him from believing—deep down—the conclusions he’d come to about Rowena. To keep him thinking that there was more to her than she wanted anyone to see.
Jake wanted to peel back the layers and search for the real woman beneath.
Unsettled by the revealing realization, Jake didn’t even try to keep sarcasm from his voice. “And you’re never forward, are you, Miss Wilde?”
Her face registered mild shock at his rude comment. She started to say something, then pressed her lips together and used them to place a kiss on Sammy’s head. From that position, she said softly, “If I have to call you Jake, then you should call me Rowena.”
Jake was too much a lawyer to be dragged from the subject so easily. “I—”
Suddenly a bright ray of light struck Jake’s eye, catching his attention. Glancing around, he saw afternoon sunlight streaming into the west-facing bank of windows, lighting up the room.
Then he saw why. The heavy velvet curtains had been taken down, though one at each window had been draped on the curtain rod as a swag. Not enough to get in the way, just enough to add a decorative touch.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, a bit defensively. “I couldn’t bear to live here in all the gloom.”
“Gwoom?” Sammy lifted his head to look straight up at her. “Whatsat?”
She peered down at him. “Remember how dark the room was before you helped me? Gloomy is just another word for that.”
“We do all rooms, right? You said?”
Rowena smoothed Sammy’s hair off his face, then glanced up at Jake. “If your father doesn’t mind.”
Jake let go of his pique. Rowena’s ambitions were no concern of his. “I guess that explains what the step stool is doing here. Yes, please take down as many curtains as you like. This is much better. I didn’t like it being so dark, either, but I didn’t realize I could do anything about it.”
She lifted a slender shoulder. “No one has lived here for three years. Every dowager queen redecorates when she moves in, anyway. I’m just saving Queen Josephine the trouble of—”
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked when she broke off suddenly.
Her eyes were wide as they met his. “I’m talking as if she’d be moving in soon. Which means I must think, deep down, that…”
“That my uncle is dead.”
She nodded fearfully.
Jake was touched by the tears in her eyes. Her emotion was sincere. He’d bet his next consulting fee on it. She really loved his uncle.
He wanted to lean forward and place a comforting hand on the arm wrapped around his son, but didn’t. “It’s frustrating to everyone, not knowing. I never met my uncle, but from what I’ve heard, he’s a good man.”
She searched his eyes, then asked, “You think he’s alive?”
Jake didn’t look away. “I don’t know. If he wasn’t, I think they would’ve found…some evidence.”
“You mean his—” Her gaze dropped to Sammy, then she sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“He’s okay,” Jake said. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too. Everyone’s worried.”
Their gazes met again, and held. Hers asked questions her lips wouldn’t.
Had he kidnapped…and killed…King Michael?
It was the first intimation that she might think so, and once again the possibility flitted across his mind that Rowena had been placed in his house to spy.
Jake wasn’t the only suspect, of course. His cousin, Nicholas, Jake’s father, Edward, and his older brother, Luke, were also considered to have motivation since they were first, second and third in line for the throne, respectively.
Jake was fourth in line, but because he’d been the first to see the smashed railing where the King’s car had skidded off a cliff and plummeted to the rocky beach below, he was at the top of the list of suspects. He’d called the police, which made him the first on the scene, and automatically made the odds on him rise considerably. At least in the eyes of the authorities.
He supposed he should be flattered that they considered him capable of such a momentous crime—which required significant finesse and forethought—all with a two-year-old in tow after barely having stepped off the plane.
But somehow, he wasn’t.
He believed the fabled Chamber of Riches—reputed to hold a king’s ransom in royal jewels—was just that…a fable. Obtaining the key to the Chamber was supposedly his motive.
Living here, Rowena would have ample opportunity to find any evidence linking him to his uncle’s disappearance, which had happened on the day Jake had landed in Edenbourg.
There wasn’t any evidence to find, of course, but they didn’t know that…yet.
The thought of Rowena going through his things while he was away made him want to open the front door and toss her straight out into the royal rose bushes.
Then he realized that wasn’t what he wanted to do at all. What he really wanted to do was convince her of his innocence. He wanted her to believe in him, to believe he wasn’t capable of killing anyone, much less his uncle. Even one he’d never met.
Damn. This definitely was not starting out well.
Rowena was the first to look away. “What time would you like dinner?”
Her
