The Blacksheep Prince's Bride. Martha Shields

walked back to the sink to rinse out the dishcloth. She’d known this question was coming and had a ready answer. “I’m here because Sammy needs someone to take care of him. Someone who’s around more than the occasional sitter. Isn’t that why you asked for a nanny?”

      “Yes…but why you?”

      “There is a distinct shortage of qualified nannies in Edenbourg. Even baby-sitters, for that matter. Our unemployment rate is so low that our daycare workers are paid much higher than those in the States.”

      “And just what are your qualifications?”

      “You didn’t ask Isabel when she suggested to you that I come?”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Yes, Mr. Barrister.” She raised a brow to let him know she recognized his arrogance. “I worked in child care during secondary school. And…” she shrugged “…children seem to like me.”

      “Sammy certainly does. I’m amazed at how much you’ve brought him out already.”

      “Then why are you worried?”

      Jake shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “I’m his father. It’s my job.”

      She sighed. “I’m here because I like children. I really do like Sammy. And Isabel asked me to help, since you might be here a while. I’d do anything for her. She’s as dear to me as a sister.”

      “I might be here a while.” Jake pounced on her offhand comment. “Why? Because I’m guilty?”

      Rowena could’ve kicked herself. “Guilty of what?”

      “Of kidnapping the king.”

      The lawyer in Jake was definitely showing. Blunt, and to the point. “Did I say that?”

      “Do you think it?”

      She studied him across the oak table, and decided she could be just as blunt. “Are you?”

      “No,” came the quick reply.

      Rowena was amazed. Not because he denied it, because she believed him. “Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”

      “I’m not a citizen of this country, and evidence can be manufactured.”

      She waved his concern away. “Edenbourg is not a third-world country ruled by a despot. We may have dungeons in our castles, but they haven’t been used in at least a hundred years.”

      “But you—”

      “I was told you’re working with Prince Nicholas on the revised trade agreement with the European Union, and that’s why you’ll be here a while.”

      He did not look convinced. “You and I both know—”

      “All clean.” Sammy held up his hands as he appeared in the doorway.

      Rowena brightened with more relief than pride in Sammy’s accomplishment. “Great job. Want to help me fix your papa’s waffles?”

      “Oh boy! I mash booberries, ’kay?”

      Rowena dragged the step stool so Sammy could reach the counter. “Well, we don’t mash them. But you can pick out the best ones.”

      The next time she glanced toward the door, Jake was gone.

      Two days later, Jake settled back against the stone railing of the terrace overlooking the palace gardens and crossed his arms over his chest. He adopted this body language a lot, he’d noticed, when he was in the company of his father and brother.

      He usually made a conscious effort to uncross everything, but within a few moments, something else was crossed.

      “Jake, you’re not listening,” Edward Stanbury said.

      Jake stifled a sigh. His father was as bad as his two-year-old, wanting attention focused on him at all times. The only problem was, his father was fifty-five. “Yes, I am. You’re agreeing with Luke that we shouldn’t support Nicholas’s position on the immigration clause.”

      “You let a foreign underclass in,” Luke sniffed, “and you open yourself to all kinds of criminal activity.”

      “That’s not necessarily true. Meanwhile, with an economy as strong as Edenbourg’s, menial jobs go begging for workers.”

      “Yes, but what happens when the economy weakens?” his father argued. “Once you let these people in, it’s harder than hell to boot them out again.”

      “And if you don’t have jobs to give them, you have to support them.” Luke lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in Jake’s face. “They’re a liability any way you look at it.”

      Jake didn’t flinch against his brother’s stream of smoke. He’d learned a long time ago it was best not to let Luke know he was getting under his skin. “They’re not always a liability. Having a full workforce will strengthen the economy, so it doesn’t get weak. Right now, Edenbourg is begging for workers in the lower-paying jobs. It’s worse here than in the States because, as a rule, Edenbourg citizens have a higher level of education.”

      “You always were soft on…” Luke’s attention focused on something behind Jake. He whistled lecherously. “Now there’s something that’s not a liability…in any country.”

      It had to be a sexy woman. Jake glanced over his shoulder. His brother was too predictable.

      A woman was bent over a child at the edge of the small pond about a hundred yards away, giving them a view of a well-rounded rear end.

      “Damn, they grow ’em right over here, don’t they?” Luke tossed down his cigarette. “I think I should go show that sweet young thing just how friendly Americans can be.”

      The woman straightened then, and the sun glinted off deep red highlights in her dark hair.

      Rowena.

      Jake grabbed his brother’s arm. “That’s Sammy with his new nanny.”

      “Well, I’ll be…” For once, Luke didn’t finish his vulgarity. “No wonder you’ve been antsy to go home the last couple of nights.”

      “Isn’t that Princess Isabel’s lady-in-waiting?” Edward asked. “What’s her name?”

      “Rowena Wilde.” Jake released his handful of Luke’s pinpoint cotton shirt. “And the reason I go home at night is to spend time with my son.”

      “Yeah, right.” Luke grinned. “So when are you going to invite your father and brother home for supper? Is she a good cook, as well?”

      “As a matter of fact, she—” Suddenly, Jake stiffened.

      Rowena and Sammy were disappearing around the end of the pond, heading for an arbor swing on the other side. From his vantage point above the gardens, Jake could see something Rowena couldn’t.

      Hidden by a hedgerow and running straight toward them was an enormous mastiff.

      “What’s wrong?” Edward asked.

      “Sammy’s afraid of dogs.”

      Jake bolted down the terrace and took the endless layers of stone steps three at a time. Heart pounding in dread, he vaulted over rose bushes and blasted through a hedge. Still, it took several minutes for him to reach the pond.

      When he did, what he saw was so far from the bloody, screaming carnage he expected to see, he skidded to a halt.

      Rowena knelt on the ground next to Sammy. The dog sat facing them, tongue lolling, his huge paw lifted and placed in Sammy’s hand by Rowena.

      His little boy, who’d always been terrified of dogs of any size, was giggling. Actually giggling.

      As Jake gaped, Rowena lifted her gaze and her beautiful smile widened. “There’s your papa.”