They belonged together. More and more she knew it. Back in Australia she’d thought her relationship with Henry was the only one possible. Now she’d grown to realise that Marc needed his small cousin as much as Henry needed Marc. She’d fallen for Henry with every inch of her being, but loving him meant doing what was best for him.

Even if it meant her loss…

Marc was waiting for her to keep speaking. What had she said? That she was sorry? ‘Actually, I’m not,’ she corrected herself. ‘I’m not sorry. Sleepless nights go with the territory of baby-care. It’ll be my turn tonight.’

‘Take him now.’ Marc’s smile was all embracing-pleading. He’d be able to get anything he ever wanted in life just by smiling like that, she thought bitterly. He lifted the mug from her and placed the tea and toast on the bedside table, then turned to smile that gorgeous smile at her from across the room. He was practically naked, she thought, a little bit desperately. Did he have any idea of the effect the sight of his body was having on her?

Apparently not. He’d moved on. ‘You’ve made your point,’ he told her. ‘I’ve cared for him all night. Now take him back.’

But she was shaking her head. She had to stand her ground. She must. ‘No.’

‘What do you mean-no?’

‘I mean it’s a twenty-four-hour thing,’ she told him. ‘You take his care for twenty-four hours. Then it’s my turn. I come on duty at dinner tonight.’

‘But…’

‘But what?’

He sighed and ran his fingers through his thatch of dark hair. ‘I can always get Mrs Burchett to take care of him.’

‘Of course you can,’ she said coldly. ‘That’s a royal thing, after all. Hand over your responsibility to the servants.’

‘He’s not my responsibility.’

‘Whose responsibility is he, then?’

That was easy. ‘Yours.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m here to make sure Henry’s cared for and loved. I’m not here to take on his full-time care. I’m not here waiting for you to palm off your responsibilities.’

‘I am not palming-’

‘Yes, you are.’ Somehow she managed a smile. ‘So there. I’ve delivered your breakfast and my job here is done.’

‘Your job?’ He glared. ‘You sound like Superman, who’s just saved the world as we know it. What do you mean, your job here is done?’

‘Toast and marmalade.’ She grinned again. ‘Not quite saving the world, but close.’ She had to get out of there. Now! ‘I’m glad you’re getting on so well,’ she told him. ‘Have a happy day. Leave Henry with Mrs Burchett if you must.’ Tammy knew enough of Mrs Burchett to realise that Henry would be very well cared for in that elderly lady’s arms. ‘But you must realise that he’s bonded to you.’

‘Tammy…’

‘I’m off to care for some trees,’ she told him, and kept right on determinedly smiling. ‘That’s my career.’ She motioned to the laptop on the floor. ‘Like yours. By the way, that looks like a really interesting irrigation system. I may not be too good at geography, but that water seems to be running up the mountains. Well done, you. What an engineer!’

And before he could say another word she turned and fled, leaving him staring after her, as stunned as he’d ever been in his life.


Marc ate his toast and drank his tea and watched Tammy’s slim figure through the window as she made her way back down the south lawn to the woodland beyond. She was carrying what looked from here to be a chainsaw. It was too big for such a slight girl, he thought, and then he thought of Ingrid carrying a chainsaw. He found himself wincing. The image was too ridiculous.

Tammy looked free and happy and intent on the task at hand. She didn’t look like someone who’d dumped a baby on him for effect. She truly looked as if she wasn’t going to spare a thought for him all day.

He wasn’t accustomed to women treating him like this, he decided. Women with chainsaws. Women who dumped babies on him.

Women who made him smile.

He wasn’t accustomed to women like Tammy.

Maybe there were no women like Tammy. She disappeared behind a beech grove and he felt her departure like a physical wrench.

Maybe he could wander down there some time today and see what she was doing.

No. He was going home today. He was leaving!

Or was he?

Beside him Henry slept on, blissfully unaware of the tension in the adult world. And why not? Henry was being cared for and played with and loved for the first time in his small life. Marc put a hand down to touch his tiny fingers and involuntarily Henry’s small hand curled around his. There was a clenching in his chest that was so sudden and so savage it was as if someone had kicked him.

He was supposed to be leaving! Today!

He could hand Henry over to Mrs Burchett, he thought desperately. Madge would love him to bits. Henry would be fine with Madge.

But Henry hadn’t bonded to Madge. He’d bonded to him. To Marc.

He did not want this!

What did he want?

Tammy.

Hell, and that was the way of madness.

He should go back to sleep, he thought. He’d only had two hours’ sleep. There was no reason to get up.

But Tammy was somewhere down in the woods, playing with a chainsaw.

He wasn’t going near Tammy. He was going home.

Yeah, right. He glanced down again at the linking of his large hand with the tiny one of his little cousin and he knew he was doing no such thing. He’d stay here today. He wouldn’t go near Tammy, though. Hell, a man had some pride and if she thought…

She thought nothing. She wanted nothing from him. She didn’t dress to attract. He’d seen her dressed to kill, but that had only been to stop Ingrid treating her as a poor relation. When Marc was around she didn’t care what she wore.

Had she even noticed that he was a man?

Of course she had. When he’d kissed her she’d kissed him right back.

The memory of those kisses was enough to make him groan and shove a pillow over his head. Hell, he didn’t respond like that to women. He didn’t.

He’d care for Henry today, and at dinner tonight he’d have it out with Tammy. They had to sort out some sort of sensible arrangement. She must agree to take on Henry’s permanent care.

He had to get out of here before he went nuts.


The day seemed endless. More than once Marc looked longingly at the housekeeping bell, but something held him back. Maybe it was the way Henry clung to him. Maybe it was the way the baby chortled when he tried to make him laugh, or maybe it was the thought of Tammy’s scorn if she returned to the house and found Henry handed over to the servants.

It wasn’t just Tammy, he conceded as the day wore on. It was the thought of Henry’s distress. The baby had somehow crept around his heart, and he didn’t have a clue what to do with how he was feeling.

He’d care for Henry today, but tonight he’d hand him over to Tammy and escape, he thought. Immediately! The way he figured it, if this was how he felt then Tammy must feel the same. He’d call her bluff. If he found it hard to dump Henry with the servants, then Tammy would find it impossible.

All it needed was his departure. So…he’d stick around until dinnertime tonight and then he’d go.


It was a really long day.

Tammy didn’t return to the house for lunch. She’d taken a packed lunch, Mrs Burchett told him, and the compulsion to carry Henry down through the beech grove to see what she was doing became almost overwhelming.

He did take Henry outdoors. The baby loved the garden, and to his own astonishment Marc found himself wandering round talking to the little boy as if he could really understand.

‘This is what you’ll inherit one day, Henry. Your responsibility. And your pleasure.’

And there was pleasure, he discovered. He’d always found this place oppressive, but today it was somehow different. The lakes and formal gardens, and beyond them the acres and acres of woodland, looked different. He found he was looking at it with Tammy’s eyes and finding it wonderful.

Tammy would do wonders with this place.

His steps turned involuntarily towards the beech grove. ‘Your Aunty Tammy is just through here…’

But he stopped himself-somehow. They’d lead different lives, Tammy had decreed, and he could only agree with her. He must.

So instead of taking Henry to see his aunty wielding a chainsaw he forced his steps back to the house. A couple of storybooks later and a good dinner and Henry was asleep. Finally.

Maybe he could leave now.

It was five o’clock. Henry was deeply asleep. Tammy had agreed to take over his care from seven o’clock, and it’d be a miracle if Henry woke before then. Mrs Burchett could easily and safely keep an eye on him. He could just walk out the door right now and drive away and that would be that.

But his laptop was still set up with his work on it, and it was sort of easier just to sit next to his big bed where Henry lay sleeping and make plans for a proper irrigation system-one where the pipes didn’t go up the mountain-and keep an eye on Henry as well. After all, if he woke…

Or he could just watch him and think about Tammy…

And then it was too late. ‘Dinner’s in ten minutes,’ Dominic told him. ‘Miss Tammy’s in the front salon. I’ve lit the fire.’

It sounded really good to him, and walking away now would be boorish. Wouldn’t it?


Tammy was in jeans.

Marc had dressed as he normally dressed for dinner in any of the royal residences-in a dark suit and tie-and her appearance by the fire set him aback. Maybe he’d grown accustomed to her in her sister’s gorgeous dresses. The jeans she was wearing were clean and fresh, but still they jarred.

‘I’m not a princess,’ she said, jutting her chin as he paused in the doorway and he thought, How the hell did she know what I was thinking?