Marion Lennox - Her Royal Baby

Crown Prince of Broitenburg?

No.

He was her Marc.

‘Of course I’ll marry you,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, my love, how can you doubt it? Of course I’ll marry you.’

‘You will?’

He hadn’t been sure. She could see it in his eyes-in the exultant joy that flashed across his face and in the way he fumbled uncertainly in the pocket of his jeans. He hadn’t thought she would.

He was smiling and smiling-their eyes locked as he fumbled for the blasted box-and then he swore as the tiny crimson box came too fast out of its hiding place. The lid came up; Tammy saw a flash of diamonds and then watched as a tiny sparkling ring tumbled downward to the leaf litter below.

Henry saw it fall. He watched as this bright sparkling thing landed at his feet and he gave it his very serious attention. Slowly he bent and lifted it to inspect it from all angles.

‘We’d better go down,’ Tammy said-very, very unsteadily. How could her voice be anything but unsteady through tears? ‘If my nephew’s holding what I think he’s holding.’

‘He’s holding our future,’ Marc told her. His hands caught her to him and he kissed her-a kiss of love and wonder and promise of joy to come. ‘He’s holding our future in his hands.’

‘Then we’d better go down fast,’ Tammy said between laughter and tears and pure, bright joy. ‘We’d better descend right now, before the heir apparent to the throne of Broitenburg decides he might eat it.’

‘It’s a letter from Tammy.’

It was teabreak for Doug and the team. The billy was steaming on the campfire and Tammy’s old foreman had ripped open the letter with the royal insignia and was planning to read it to the three team members clustered around. ‘Will you listen to this?’

He read.

Dear Doug, Lucy, Danny and Mia

Thank you so much for your letter. This is such a wonderful place that I hardly have time to be homesick, but I do miss you.

We’ve been so busy. Marc has taken on the role of Crown Prince, with all the responsibility that entails. We’ve officially adopted our beloved Henry, so one day he’ll inherit the throne-as he should-but this way responsibility comes as it would if his father had survived. We figure this way he’s going to have a much more carefree childhood, with the attention taken from him. It’s the right decision. Henry’s happy as a piglet in mud, as are we all.

The reason I’m writing now is to ask for your help. The woodland here needs serious work. Otto, our head gardener, and I have been trying to treat the trees, but the woodland was planted three hundred years ago. We need manpower, and Marc and I were wondering whether the four of you would like to take a couple of months’ break from Australian natives and help us out.

There’s a lot I can do myself, but Marc is being funny about me abseiling right now. I guess he’ll be like that for the next few months. Can you imagine why? I admit my bump will get in the way a bit, but we’re so excited it’s worth it. Marc can’t keep the grin from his face. He walks around the palace smiling and smiling-almost as much as I am.

Well. Enough of bumps and babies and soppy romance with happy endings. We’d like you to do the work so you have first offer. Can we send you plane fares?

Will you come?

Doug set down the letter and picked up the magazine Lucy was holding out to him. Lucy was a damned fine tree surgeon but she wasn’t a patch on Tammy. Could he take the team to this odd place called Broitenburg?

‘It’s too darned foreign. I bet they don’t have meat pies and tomato sauce,’ he said doubtfully. ‘They’d probably try and make us eat truffles.’

‘I’ve always wanted to try truffles,’ Lucy said. ‘And…it looks great.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Lucy had the magazine opened to the centrefold, and she pointed. ‘Look.’

Doug looked down at the photograph. It had been taken six months ago, on Tammy’s wedding day.

There they were. Marc and Tammy. Bride and groom. He was in his full royal regalia, sword by his side, stunningly handsome. She was all in white-a fairy princess. But, amazing as the wonderful clothes were, the focus was their faces.

The love in their eyes shone out for the whole world to see. Here was a true prince with his princess. Marc with his Tammy.

There was an elderly gentleman standing beside them-‘Dominic, Head Steward of the household’, the blurb said. He was holding a little boy with all the pride of a grandpa. Behind them were the castle staff, and there was joy on every single face.

In the background was the castle, glistening in its glory.

‘It looks a happy place to be,’ Lucy said, and her voice sounded wistful.

‘Magic,’ Danny agreed. Danny was almost seventy years old, and had never been out of Australia in his life. ‘All them turrets and things. And look at Tammy in that glittery white dress with the veil and all. She looks like a real princess.’

‘She is a princess,’ Mia said, and they all laughed.

But there were serious issues at stake here. ‘Tammy wants us to come,’ Doug said as their laughter faded. And they all thought about it.

‘There’s nothing to say, then, is there?’ Danny said at last into the stillness. ‘She’s the princess. What royalty commands, royalty gets. Let’s go fix her trees.’

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