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Authors: Teresa Carpenter
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see. His admission broke her heart.
Katrina checked on Sammy, found him lying on the floor playing with a dump truck and a racer. Satisfied he was occupied, she did the unpardonable. She touched a royal Prince without his consent.
“We shall pray together.”
*
Warm fingers slid around Julian’s hand. Shocked by the touch, by the comfort, he tightened his hold until he heard a gasp. Still, she made no attempt to pull away. Instead she squeezed back, answering his silent cry of need.
His gaze went first to her reflection, but it was not enough. Driven by a compulsion deeper than his will, he looked into violet eyes drowned in tears. He quickly turned back to the unseen view, undone by her unstinting compassion. He swallowed past a constriction in his throat.
Protocol dictated he rebuff and reprimand her.
He could do neither. The connection soothed him as little else could. Suddenly he understood what drew Sammy to her, and nothing would do but he stand silent and hold her hand as the train raced toward the answers he sought.
The helplessness and lack of news frayed his nerves. Rather he knew. Then he could do as he’d been trained and put emotion aside while he acted in the best interest of his country. Katrina might not approve, but there were times when duty served one better than affection.
“K’tina, I hungy.” Too soon, Sammy wiggled his way between them.
Julian immediately and reluctantly released her. He felt her continued compassion in the weight of her gaze and the softness of her touch on his arm before she knelt down to meet Sammy eye to eye.
“I am hungry, too.” She tapped the little boy on the nose. “Shall we see what cook has for lunch?”
His eyes lit up at the question. “I wanna cheese sanwiss.”
Listening to their byplay, Julian pushed the button for the porter. A growl of his stomach made him aware of his own hunger.
The porter appeared. “How may I serve, my lord?”
“We should like lunch please.” Julian ordered. “Has the chef anything prepared?”
“Grilled cheese sandwiches,” the man announced without a blink. “Or a nice salmon steak with rice and steamed vegetables with a tomato bisque as a starter.”
“Lovely.” Katrina stood and looked down at Sammy. “Would you like soup with your sandwich?”
Sammy considered this, his nose wrinkling up as he contemplated the major decision. Finally he nodded. “I ’ike tomato soup.”
“We’ll start with the soup.” Julian directed the porter, who bowed and went to advise the chef.
Katrina towed Sammy off to clean up for the meal, leaving Julian alone to pull himself together. He watched her disappear out of sight.
But unfortunately she did not leave his mind.
Young, smart, beautiful and impossibly idealistic, she was a very dangerous woman with her weapons of comfort and compassion. How easily she slid beneath his guard. She made him act against his nature at a time when he needed to be strong, be resolute. Another moment and he’d have kissed her.
Again.
Inexcusable. Yesterday it had at least been an accident.
He closed his eyes as he remembered the news that followed the incredible, unfortunate embrace. Katrina was Jean Claude’s goddaughter. Taking advantage of her would not only be a betrayal of a friend, the insult might incite an international incident. Neither he nor Kardana could afford such at this time.
There would be no more intimate moments with Ms. Vicente.
Sammy came clambering up the stairs. Julian helped to seat him while studiously avoiding the nanny’s regard. It was the way it must be.
*
Katrina absently pushed the salmon around her plate. He’d been remarkably kind after her earlier blunder. She’d felt so close to him for those few minutes they spent holding on to each other.
But in the time it took her and Sammy to wash up, Julian had distanced himself again. It shouldn’t, but his coolness hurt. She knew better, of course. Any closeness between them was entirely in her
Katrina checked on Sammy, found him lying on the floor playing with a dump truck and a racer. Satisfied he was occupied, she did the unpardonable. She touched a royal Prince without his consent.
“We shall pray together.”
*
Warm fingers slid around Julian’s hand. Shocked by the touch, by the comfort, he tightened his hold until he heard a gasp. Still, she made no attempt to pull away. Instead she squeezed back, answering his silent cry of need.
His gaze went first to her reflection, but it was not enough. Driven by a compulsion deeper than his will, he looked into violet eyes drowned in tears. He quickly turned back to the unseen view, undone by her unstinting compassion. He swallowed past a constriction in his throat.
Protocol dictated he rebuff and reprimand her.
He could do neither. The connection soothed him as little else could. Suddenly he understood what drew Sammy to her, and nothing would do but he stand silent and hold her hand as the train raced toward the answers he sought.
The helplessness and lack of news frayed his nerves. Rather he knew. Then he could do as he’d been trained and put emotion aside while he acted in the best interest of his country. Katrina might not approve, but there were times when duty served one better than affection.
“K’tina, I hungy.” Too soon, Sammy wiggled his way between them.
Julian immediately and reluctantly released her. He felt her continued compassion in the weight of her gaze and the softness of her touch on his arm before she knelt down to meet Sammy eye to eye.
“I am hungry, too.” She tapped the little boy on the nose. “Shall we see what cook has for lunch?”
His eyes lit up at the question. “I wanna cheese sanwiss.”
Listening to their byplay, Julian pushed the button for the porter. A growl of his stomach made him aware of his own hunger.
The porter appeared. “How may I serve, my lord?”
“We should like lunch please.” Julian ordered. “Has the chef anything prepared?”
“Grilled cheese sandwiches,” the man announced without a blink. “Or a nice salmon steak with rice and steamed vegetables with a tomato bisque as a starter.”
“Lovely.” Katrina stood and looked down at Sammy. “Would you like soup with your sandwich?”
Sammy considered this, his nose wrinkling up as he contemplated the major decision. Finally he nodded. “I ’ike tomato soup.”
“We’ll start with the soup.” Julian directed the porter, who bowed and went to advise the chef.
Katrina towed Sammy off to clean up for the meal, leaving Julian alone to pull himself together. He watched her disappear out of sight.
But unfortunately she did not leave his mind.
Young, smart, beautiful and impossibly idealistic, she was a very dangerous woman with her weapons of comfort and compassion. How easily she slid beneath his guard. She made him act against his nature at a time when he needed to be strong, be resolute. Another moment and he’d have kissed her.
Again.
Inexcusable. Yesterday it had at least been an accident.
He closed his eyes as he remembered the news that followed the incredible, unfortunate embrace. Katrina was Jean Claude’s goddaughter. Taking advantage of her would not only be a betrayal of a friend, the insult might incite an international incident. Neither he nor Kardana could afford such at this time.
There would be no more intimate moments with Ms. Vicente.
Sammy came clambering up the stairs. Julian helped to seat him while studiously avoiding the nanny’s regard. It was the way it must be.
*
Katrina absently pushed the salmon around her plate. He’d been remarkably kind after her earlier blunder. She’d felt so close to him for those few minutes they spent holding on to each other.
But in the time it took her and Sammy to wash up, Julian had distanced himself again. It shouldn’t, but his coolness hurt. She knew better, of course. Any closeness between them was entirely in her
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