Stolen Kiss From a Prince. Teresa Carpenter

more than that. She’d probably been the one to put him to bed. He wasn’t okay with that. He’d charged Tessa with taking the boy to his rooms, made it clear he’d wanted her to resume care of the boy.

      Already his authority was being undermined.

      Something he would not tolerate.

      “Mademoiselle—” Damn. What was her name? He quickly closed the distance between them. “I wish to make myself clear. Your assistance with Samson is appreciated. That does not mean I will abide interference with my decisions regarding his care.”

      “Of course,” she responded as she pressed the button to call the elevator.

      “Are you mocking me?” he challenged, crowding her.

      She blinked those big violet eyes at him as she shrank back, making him feel as if he’d chastised an innocent.

      “No,” she said, and entered the elevator. She moved into the corner, her toes curling into her slippers. She pulled the edges of her robe together and tightened the sash. “I know you want what is best for him.” A wan smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Otherwise I would not be here right now.”

      He searched her features for any hint of guile but saw only the ashen evidence of her exhaustion. She looked so fragile he thought of sending her back to her bed. Only the thought of Samson’s suffering kept him resolute.

      “Excellent.” The elevator doors opened and he waved her forward. “As long as you understand.”

      They traveled the remainder of the distance in silence. Which made the sound of Samson’s cries all the more grating as they approached the door to Julian’s rooms.

      Inside the suite, tears stained the cheeks of both Tessa and Samson. The nanny had been walking the boy, trying to soothe him, but upon his and Katrina’s arrival, she began sobbing.

      “I can’t take anymore.” She thrust Samson into Katrina’s arms and fled.

      Katrina didn’t hesitate. She wrapped Samson close and started talking to him. “Hey, baby, it is fine. I am here. Does your head hurt?” She kissed his light curls. “Mine, too.”

      Though he continued to cry, there was no denying Samson preferred the redhead to the blonde. Instead of fighting the embrace by curling up and putting his arms and legs between his body and Tessa’s, he clung to Katrina’s lusher figure.

      Finding the scene painful to watch, knowing this might just be the beginning of Samson’s trials, Julian moved to the fireplace to start a fire. This was going to be a long night.

      * * *

      Katrina continued to coo to Sammy until his sobs lessened and eventually he sat up in her arms. She used the collar of the fluffy robe to wipe his pale cheeks. Poor baby, he had such a hard road ahead of him. Ever the optimist, even she had to acknowledge the chances of his parents surviving both the crash and the icy weather were long odds.

      Still, she prayed and she hoped. Miracles happened every day.

      “Mama? Papa?” Samson asked around a shaky breath.

      Biting the inside of her lip, she shook her head. “We do not know yet.”

      Tears leaked from his eyes. “I want Mama.”

      “I know, baby. She wants to be with you, too. And look...” She walked to the fireplace where Prince Julian stood. “Uncle Julian has come to get you.” She met brooding brown eyes. His discontent with her conversation showed in the stiff set of his shoulders. He’d soon learn Sammy did better with information than platitudes. “He is going to take you to where they are looking for Mama and Papa, and then he will take you home.”

      “Unca Julie.” Boy studied man for a minute then surprised her by holding out his arms indicating he wanted to go to his uncle.

      Julian’s eyes went wide when she plunked the toddler in his arms.

      “Uh, hum.” He cleared his throat, clearly at a loss what to do with the boy.

      “It is a good thing.” She mouthed the words, not wanting to disturb the moment. Though she stayed close enough to be enveloped in the dual scents of manly musk and baby shampoo.

      This was the first time Sammy had voluntarily gone from her to someone else. It showed a level of trust that boded well for the future.

      “Mama? Papa?” He put the question to his uncle.

      Julian paled. She understood his pain. It broke her heart every time she had to tell Sammy his parents weren’t coming home yet.

      Julian’s gaze shot to her.

      She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “Talk to him. He is a sharp biscuit. He does not talk much, but he understands more than you might think.”

      Skepticism flashed over his aristocratic features before he turned his attention to Sammy. He hoisted the child up in his arms so they were eye to eye.

      “Samson,” he began, and for a moment she worried he’d lecture the young Prince on duty and decorum. But Sammy’s intent attention must have swayed him. “The best searchers in the world are looking for them.” And then he added. “I want to see them, too.”

      More tears leaked down Sammy’s cheeks. He reached out, grabbed Julian’s ears and leaned his forehead against his uncle’s. The two shared a moment of loss and hope.

      The poignant picture had Katrina swiping at her own cheeks.

      Emotion must have gotten to Julian, because he squeezed too hard causing Sammy to squirm. He turned and held his arms out to her.

      She looked to Julian, hating to end the closeness between the two, but he seemed happy to hand Sammy off to her. Hoping the exchange was enough to allow the boy to settle into sleep, she carried him into the room where the crib had been set up.

      He frantically shook his head and began to cry. “No. No tired.”

      Rather than force it she backed up. Right into a hard male body.

      “Oh!” She swung around even as his hands went to her waist, and suddenly she found herself in the Prince’s arms. She looked up, and up, past his stubborn chin to eyes of molten gold. Oh yeah, definitely the better-looking brother. And way too close.

      “Sorry.” She winced internally at the squeak in her voice as she stepped back. Or tried to. His fingers tightened on her waist, holding her still as his hot gaze strolled from the gapping neckline of the robe to the racing pulse in her neck, to the bite she had on her lip, to her eyes. She played it cool even as a shiver traced down her spine and her pulse raced.

      Wrong time.

      Wrong place.

      Wrong man.

      Wrong woman.

      He obviously agreed, because his hands dropped and he stepped aside.

      Breathing a sigh of relief she moved past him to pace the room. Julian moved to the fireplace to stoke the fire. Way wrong man. She’d spent enough time in the palace from childhood on to know the demands placed on royalty. And the price was too high. If she ever worked out her trust issues, she wanted a kind man and a simple life.

      Two strikes against Prince Julian.

      Okay, that wasn’t totally fair. These weren’t the best circumstances. Obviously he was under a lot of pressure.

      Her arms were beginning to burn from fatigue so she took a seat on the antique sofa and tucked Sammy comfortably against her. He denied it, but he was tired. Part of his objection was probably to the crib. He hated to be called a baby. But what he really craved was human contact.

      Calling to mind one of his favorite stories, she began a tale about a train named Thomas while slowly running her fingers through his baby-fine blond hair. After all he’d been through, she hoped it wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep.

      Thanks