can’t believe it could be grander than this. Do you live here?”
“When my work requires it.” He gestured for her to accompany him up the grand staircase.
The heavily carpeted treads made her feel uncertain—or was it the presence of the enigmatic man at her side? Either way, she was glad of the ornate balustrade to steady herself. Soon she would discover who she really was, and how her baby came to be a prince of Carramer, if that’s who he really was.
Marie must have taken a route reserved for the servants, because she was already fussing over Sarah’s suitcase when Josquin opened the door onto a lavish suite of rooms. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” he said.
Sarah had never seen anything like the suite spread out before her. Two bedrooms opened off a circular sitting area. Beyond it was a covered patio with a panoramic view all the way to the sea. The sun sparkled off an expanse of white sand that begged to be explored. Sarah hugged Christophe, making a silent promise to show him the beach. She couldn’t wait to build his very first sand castle.
Marie carried some of Sarah’s clothes into what turned out to be a walk-in closet, also with an ocean view.
“Comfortable? We may move in here for good,” she said.
Josquin’s mouth twitched. “Be careful what you wish for, Sarina.”
She eyed him curiously. “What did you call me?”
“A local variation of your name,” he said easily. “Does it trouble you?”
“I suppose not.” More troubling was her feeling that his use of the name hadn’t been entirely fortuitous. She wished he would tell her what he knew of her background and get this over with, but she sensed that Prince Josquin would do things in his own way and time.
She turned to the maid. “Marie, which is the baby’s room?”
“It’s all right, Marie. I’ll take care of this.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy, and Josquin opened a connecting door onto a spacious bedroom equipped with everything a baby could possibly need. Sarah settled Christophe onto a changing table beside an exquisitely decorated antique crib. Above it was a mobile of horses. She set them twirling. This was a far cry from the tiny bedroom she had turned into a nursery in her apartment back home, and she found herself wishing that her friends from the art gallery were here to see this.
Josquin angled his lithe body against the door frame and watched. Christophe reached for the mobile, kicking his legs in delight. “Horee, horee,” he chortled.
“They sure are, sweetheart,” she said, dodging flying feet as she set about changing him. “What a clever boy you are.” So far his vocabulary had been restricted to bowie, his word for the bottle he had recently started to use, and her favorite word, Mama.
She buried her face against his tummy, blowing a raspberry against his velvet skin. “I love every one of your words, don’t I? One day we’ll have long talks and you’ll tell me I don’t know anything because I’m only your mother, so I’d better enjoy horee while I can.”
Josquin looked intrigued. “He’s already starting to speak?”
She looked up. “First words at one, sentences at two.”
“So my cousins tell me.”
“You don’t have children of your own?”
“I’m not married.”
She wasn’t sure why, but the information lifted her spirits. “As a de Marigny, don’t you have to take care of the succession or something?”
“Prince Lorne and Prince Michel both have sons, so the succession isn’t something I need worry about.”
She felt her eyebrows lift. “No daughters?”
“Women do succeed to the throne under some circumstances, but it is more usual in Carramer for titles to pass down through the male line.”
She looked at Christophe. “Like the Valmont one?” He nodded, and she added, “How can you be sure you have the right child?”
Josquin shifted slightly. “You took a DNA test once.”
“That’s right. It’s how I discovered I was adopted.” A horrible thought occurred to her. “You gained access to my medical records? How could you?”
“It was necessary.”
“You had no right.”
“I had a duty,” the prince cut across her. “I may not approve of the investigator’s methods, but I needed answers quickly.”
She lifted Christophe off the table and sat down with him on a rocker placed beside the crib. The baby pawed at her breast but she hesitated. She had fed him discreetly in public before without feeling self-conscious about it, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it in front of Prince Josquin.
He solved the problem by pacing to the window and looking out, keeping his back to her. She unbuttoned her blouse and Christophe began to feed eagerly. She felt the tug as an emotional pull deep inside her. But the contentment that usually accompanied it eluded her today.
She kept her voice low as she said, “You mentioned a time problem before. What did you mean?”
The prince kept his back to her. “Prince Henry has a serious heart condition with an unpredictable prognosis. He wishes to see his heir securely settled in Carramer in case the worst should happen.”
Settled. How long had it been since she’d felt settled anywhere? She shifted Christophe to her other side. “I’m sorry about Prince Henry’s ill health,” she said, “But your plan has a rather permanent sound to it. What if I decide not to stay?”
“Then you are free to leave.”
She heard the tension in the prince’s voice and wondered what he wasn’t telling her. “You still haven’t told me what you know about my parents,” she said.
He swung back and froze, apparently riveted by the sight of her feeding Christophe. His voice sounded husky as he said, “Your father was Henry’s only son, Philippe de Valmont.”
She heard only one word. “Was?”
“He died in a waterskiing mishap soon after you were born. He never knew he had a daughter.”
“And my mother?”
“Her name is Juliet Coghlan.”
Sarah drew a sharp breath. “My father’s secretary?” Sarah had known the woman through her childhood, without suspecting that they could be mother and daughter. Suddenly she understood why Juliet had been so affectionate toward her, giving her small gifts and treats, and making time for her, no matter how busy she had been.
Sarah remembered visiting her father’s office to find him and his secretary in the midst of a blazing argument. Uncharacteristic tears had streamed down Juliet’s face as she stormed out of the inner office. She had come up short at the sight of the distressed
