back to him. Heaven knows whether she said it, but that was the impression she gave. She acted distraught at the thought of her grandchild being orphaned. So I thoughtâ¦I thought that heâd be best staying with his grandmother. I had to take urgent steps to ensure that I took control until Henry came of age so I put Henryâsarrival down as something that could wait until the last minute. I had no worries about himâuntil I got the call from your countryâs Social Services.â
Passion gave way to anger, just like that. Isobelle had made herself an enemy of this man, and the tone of his voice made Tammy shudder.
âWhat the hell was she thinking of?â he demanded.
The answer to that was easy. âHerself.â
Marcâs eyes flew to hers again. âYou donât sound surprised.â
âIsobelle suits herself. She always has. Sitting around waiting for Henry to grow up so she can be a loving grandmother to a twenty-five-year-old prince is hardly her style. Sheâll be off with her next millionaire now.â
âYouâre not in contact with her?â
âIâll speak to her about this.â Tammy glanced down at the letter and Marcâs anger was reflected in hers. âOh, yes. Iâll speak to her.â
âBut meanwhileâ¦â
âMeanwhile you still need to take him?â
He nodded, anger fading to be replaced by determination. âIâm sorry, but, yes.â
âAnd Iâm sorry, but, no. I canât let you.â
âYou must.â
âItâs a dilemma, isnât it?â she told him. âBroitenburg needs Henry, but Henry doesnât need Broitenburg. You might be prepared to sacrifice one little boy for the greater good, but I canât.â She bit her lip. âMarc, I donât need to be a psychologist to see that heâs damaged already. Itâs so hard to make him react. Lara knew what was happening. In her letter sheâs frightened; not for herself but for Henry. She asks me to help. She commits him to my care.â
âButâ¦â
âBut now Iâm all heâs got,â she said softly. âI canât give him a crown or a country, and I canât save your politicalideals. All I can do is care for one little boy, and thatâs what Iâll do.â Her voice softened into compassion and she rose, pushing her chair back from the table. Decision made. âIâm sorry, Marc. Iâd like to help you but I canât. Unless I know heâll be loved, I justâ¦canât.â
He rose, too. He stood staring down at her for a long, long moment, reading the resolution in her face. She wouldnât relent. Her face was grim and set. Implacable.
Heâd never met a woman like this, he thought. She stood barefoot and bereft of any make-up. Her shirt and jeans were worn and faded. They were clean, but that was all that could be said for them. Her still-damp curls were trailing across her shoulders and he had the most impossible urge to reach out and touch one. Just one.
Impossible.
The whole set-up was impossible.
âI think weâve come to an impasse,â she was saying. âI thinkâ¦maybe you have to leave.â
âThereâs one way out of this mess.â
âYes?â She raised her eyebrows in polite disbelief.
He thought about it for a long minute, and the more he thought about it the more it seemed the only solution possible.
âYou could come to Broitenburg with Henry.â
CHAPTER FIVE
I T WAS just as well sheâd finished her fries. Tammy might well have choked. She stared at the man across the table as if he was out of his mind.
âWhy would I want to come to Broitenburg?â she said at last.
He smiled.
There it was again. Just as she had herself under controlâalmostâthat smile flashed out and it was enough to sidetrack her completely. But she had to concentrate. What he was saying was
Tarah Scott, Evan Trevane