Free Stolen Kiss From a Prince by Teresa Carpenter

imagination. He was a Prince. She had a shameful secret.
    End of story.
    Though she owed him one, she wouldn’t embarrass him with another apology. No. She’d learned her lesson. It was best if she kept her distance. Reaching for her napkin, she wiped Sammy’s face. From this point forward, her undivided attention went to the boy.
    Twenty minutes into the tense meal, Neil appeared at the table with a satellite phone. “My lord, it is the French President.”
    For the space of a second Julian’s gaze met hers. Then, stoic as a blank wall, he took the phone and moved into the lounge area. “ Bonjour, Monsieur le Président .”
    Katrina bit her lip, her attention switched from Julian’s tense shoulders to little Sammy innocently eating his sandwich. If the president was calling, he must have news of Prince Donal. Sadly, Julian’s posture did not hint at good news.
    Heart going out to her charge, she gently ran her fingers through his soft hair. He grinned up at her then dropped the last of his sandwich on his plate.
    “I done.”
    “Good boy.” She wiped his mouth and handed him his lidded cup. “Now finish your milk.”
    He shook his head, his blond hair wisping about his face.
    So not the time to press the issue. She stood and helped him from his seat. With a last look at Julian’s broad back, she carried Sammy down to his room.
    Katrina paced the master suite while her small charge lay on the bed and watched a movie on DVD. His eyes were already blinking and she knew he’d be asleep soon. Since his uncle’s arrival, he’d really settled down and behaved rather marvelously.
    Unfortunately, that was likely to end soon, as it did not appear as if the news Julian received was very encouraging. She wrung her hands, distraught on behalf of both child and man. What a devastating loss this would be for both of them.
    She twisted the ring on her finger, feeling helpless as she waited to hear the exact nature of the news Julian received from the president. Yet the very fact it was the president calling seemed significant. She’d longed to stay, to be there for Julian, but the return of his reserve made such a move impossible. So she’d given him his privacy.
    Equally as important was not letting Sammy overhear anything he shouldn’t. They’d all learned that lesson. Too bad she wasn’t as good at handling her own lessons, like the slight problem of remaining impartial.
    Her mother showed concern when Katrina first told her she wanted to be a nanny at the palace. Of course she’d only been eight years old. Still, she remembered her mother’s words at the time. “You have such a soft heart...I’m afraid you will get hurt. A nanny must care but not become attached. You, my dear one, care too much.”
    To this day that was her biggest problem. Sammy had already wormed his way into her heart and, by extension, his uncle. But her mother was right; it wasn’t her place to become emotionally attached. If she hadn’t exactly learned that particular lesson, she more than learned the one where she refused to allow herself to be used.
    She nearly pulled the ring off, twisted it back into place. The problem with her and Julian was they kept forgetting she was the nanny. Her by getting too attached, and him because he saw her as Jean Claude’s goddaughter. The reappearance of his stoic manner indicated he’d come to his senses. Now it was her turn.
    A knock sounded on the door. She rushed forward to find Neil standing in the narrow corridor. She shook off a stab of disappointment.
    “His Highness would like to speak with you in the lounge,” he announced.
    “Is it bad news?” she whispered, anxious to know what was happening.
    “I don’t discuss crown business.” His bland expression didn’t change, but the sadness in his eyes said what he would not.
    “Of course.” She acknowledged his discretion and took it as a reminder this was not her household. Harsh, but now was the time to get a grip and start