to speak with you.”
“As I would him.” The Prince sighed, showing the first sign of weariness. “Actually, I find I’m quite famished.”
“Then we shall dine.” She hooked her arm through his and drew him toward the door. “Our chef will be pleased with the opportunity to impress you. Unless you’d prefer to freshen up first?”
“No, that is fine.” He paused to nod at Tessa. “Please see Samson settled into my rooms.” His critical gaze slid over Katrina. “I prefer you resume his care.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Tessa bowed her head in acquiescence.
Heat flooded Katrina’s cheeks at his obvious censure. Arrogant beast. She was happy to see the back of him as Princess Bernadette led Prince Julian from the room.
Tears stung the back of her eyes. Exhaustion, she knew. She didn’t usually let attitude get to her. She lived in a world of royalty, worked in the palace, where arrogance and entitlement were practically job requirements. She’d learned long ago not to let it bother her.
Tonight, as she fought to keep her eyes open, it hurt.
Dr. Lambert righted her when she listed to the side. “My dear, you need to find your bed.”
“Oui.” Oh how she craved her own bed. But first she’d see to Sammy, despite his uncle’s wishes. She wouldn’t let his poor behavior dictate hers.
“Good, you’re going to be sensible. Just as well you live here in the palace. With the concussion, you’ll need someone to check on you periodically through the night.”
She’d like nothing more than to follow the doctor’s orders and head to her room, but in the past few days Sammy had stolen a part of her heart. He’d brought her back to life. She couldn’t rest until she knew he was settled for the night.
“What about Sammy?” Tessa asked. “Should I wake him during the night?”
“Yes. Wake him and check his pupils. If you notice any oddities or if he starts vomiting, call for me.”
Tessa nodded and reached for the sleeping Sammy. He awoke with a jerk and shrank away from his nanny with a weak cry.
Katrina stood, cradling him to her chest. He subsided against her, closing his eyes. “I will carry Sammy to the Prince’s rooms and see him settled.”
Tessa blocked her way. The nanny looked down her nose at Katrina. “I’ll take him.”
She eyed the taller, thinner woman. It hadn’t skipped Katrina’s notice the other woman had kept her silence when the Prince focused his blame on Katrina for Tessa’s lapse of judgment in telling Sammy of his parents’ disappearance. In Katrina’s opinion, the woman was showing no better sense now than she had before.
“I do not think so.” She moved to walk around the woman.
Again Tessa stepped into her path. “His Highness made it clear he wishes me to resume my duties. He will expect me to deliver Sammy to his rooms.”
Sighing Katrina shifted Sammy in her arms, his deadweight beginning to weigh on her. “Look, I am too tired to deal with a crying fit because you want to impress the Prince. He is not even in his rooms. Let me put Sammy down. We all know he is more likely to go back to sleep if I do it.”
“Sammy is my responsibility.” Tessa continued to protest.
“And in a minute I am going to give him to you and go to bed.” In no mood to argue, Katrina pushed past the woman. Sometimes exhaustion had its advantages. “Think about it. Would you prefer Prince Julian come back to a sleeping child or one awake and wailing in misery?”
Tessa had no response for Katrina’s challenge because they both knew she spoke the truth. Which didn’t mean Tessa accepted it graciously. As they fell into step behind the porter showing them to Prince Julian’s rooms, every click of her heels shouted her dissent.
Let her sulk. It was Sammy Katrina cared about. Her head throbbed and her arms began to burn, but one look down at his innocent, tearstained face gave her the strength to continue on. In the end they arrived at the suite before the crib did, and she gratefully sank into a blue silk tufted chair.
The room, a lavish display of antique elegance in blue and gold, reminded Katrina of what she loved about the palace. Tradition and longevity were built right into the brick and mortar of the royal home. She remembered coming here with her father as a child and thinking the palace was the most beautiful place on earth. She’d had so much fun with the other kids in the nursery she’d told papa she wanted to come back and live here someday.
Three years ago, she moved in. She never dreamed it would be under such agonizing circumstances.
But she worked hard, and last year earned a position in the nursery. She loved working with the children. Especially the royal twins, Devin and Marco. Because of her black belt in karate she was often assigned to them. The three-year-old boys were full of mischief and mayhem, yet were so smart and loving they were impossible to resist.
Katrina jolted from a light doze to find Tessa standing over her. She blinked and saw through the open bedroom door off to the right that the crib had been set up.
Good. The last thing she needed was another encounter with the headstrong Prince.
CHAPTER TWO
JULIAN ABSENTLY SHREDDED a piece of bread, unable to focus on the fine meal provided by the palace’s talented chef.
He kept reliving the moment when his nephew shrank away from him with a cry of distress. It tore at his heart both as the child’s probable guardian and as a man. He and his father were the child’s closest relatives. Samson should be reaching for him not seeking comfort in the arms of a stranger.
Even if those arms were soft and scented of apple blossoms. Or if the stranger protected him fiercely with flashing violet eyes and a fiery mane of bouncing curls. The woman barely reached Julian’s shoulder, and she’d been ready to personally take his head for disturbing Samson’s sleep.
Probably a guilty conscience.
Fury fried already-frayed nerves at the thought of the meddlesome chit causing Samson undue trauma by telling him his parents wouldn’t be returning. Even if it proved true, that should have been his job and handled once the boy was back among family. And after Julian had a chance to discuss the matter with a professional so he knew the best way to approach the issue without doing the kind of damage Samson was currently experiencing.
“My friend, you should eat,” Jean Claude, Prince of Pasadonia, urged him. “The next few days will be trying. You will need to be at full strength.”
“The meal is delicious.” Julian speared a succulent shrimp from the savory dish. “I apologize for my lack of appetite.” He usually valued a gourmet meal, but preoccupation prevented him from fully enjoying the multicourse fare. Nonetheless he appreciated the royal couple’s efforts. Plus they’d provided a safe haven for Samson during the travesty of the past two days.
Physically anyway. They obviously needed better trained nursemaids.
A soft touch settled over
