Her Royal Baby (16 page)

‘Neither I have.' Tammy's voice had been a squeak of alarm but Marc's was rock-steady.

‘You'll fall.'

‘I've fallen.'

‘I don't…' She was breathing way, way too fast. It was such a shock—seeing him. This was a very different Marc from the one she'd seen first. He was wearing casual jeans and a faded sweater—gear more suitable for climbing trees than for being Prince Regent of Broitenburg—but he was still Marc for all that.

He was still capable of taking her breath away.

‘I don't know what you mean,' she said at last. He was twenty feet up and climbing as surely as if he'd spent his life in trees. ‘You've fallen where?'

‘I've fallen for you.'

That was another breath-taker. She had some serious thinking to do here, but her thinking mechanisms seemed all upside down. Below them Henry was watching in wide-eyed wonder. His cousin climbing trees was something new.

‘You should be in Broitenburg,' Tammy managed. ‘Aren't you risking Henry's ascendancy or something? Bringing him here?'

‘Henry's ascendancy no longer matters.'

‘I don't know what you mean,' she repeated. She succeeded in sounding cross this time and his grin widened,
despite the problems he was having in the climbing department. She really was too far up for comfort. He was making this climbing business look easy, but he really should have a harness and he had to take care. He hadn't come this far to break his neck.

At least not before he kissed her.

At least not before he claimed her.

‘I'm officially adopting Henry,' he told her as he tried to focus on staying in the tree. ‘If you agree. I have the papers in the car. That means Henry gets to inherit regardless. If he stays out of the country for longer than specified then he loses out on being first in line to the throne, but if he's officially my son then he gets to be second in line after I inherit.'

‘Which means he inherits if you fall on your head,' she managed. ‘Marc, be careful. You need a harness to be safe.'

‘I don't need anything of the sort.' He'd reached her now, hauling himself up onto the wide branch she'd tied herself to. She was swinging beside him in her sling-seat and he caught her and pulled her into him. The motion made him wobble, and she had to put out her hands to catch him and steady him. And hold…

‘Hey.' He held her right back, and it was just as well she was wearing a harness as it meant that at least one of them was anchored to the tree. And if one of them was anchored then both of them were, because neither was letting go.

‘Tammy.' His face was two inches from hers and he was smiling into her eyes with such a look…

She stopped breathing altogether at that. After all, why should she breathe? There were much more interesting things to do in life than breathe.

‘Have you missed me?' he asked, and she just gazed at him with a look that meant it was his turn to stop breathing. Stupid question, her look said. Yeah, it was definitely a stupid question.

He hadn't realised she was this beautiful, he decided. He'd imagined her all the time she was away, and his imagination had said she was the most gorgeous woman in the world. His imagination had underestimated it. Her eyes were melting into him. She was small and waif-like, but warm and rounded and tanned and lovely. Now her wide eyes were filled with confusion, but filled with something else as well.

His Tammy.

‘I…did you come to get the adoption papers signed?'

‘No.'

‘Then why…?'

‘Because I didn't see,' he murmured and her hands held him in tighter. She was just stopping him from falling. She was just stopping herself from falling.

They were stopping each other from falling—but they were both falling so fast the world was whizzing past them.

The world didn't matter.

‘You didn't see…what?' she whispered, and he held her tighter.

‘How much you were giving.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘Neither did I.' He was holding her strongly now, regardless of the fact that they were sitting on a branch thirty feet in the air. He was holding her as if he was holding the woman he loved rather than the woman who would keep them both safe through her harness.

Maybe it was the same thing. Maybe this was the woman who would keep him safe for ever.

‘I fell in love with Henry,' he told her.

She was so confused she didn't have a clue what was happening, but her heart was beginning to sing. Joy. Oh, joy…‘Of course you did.'

‘But I hadn't realised,' Marc said seriously. He put her away from him then—just a little—so he could gaze into
those wonderful eyes and make her see. ‘You fell for Henry the first time you met him. Because you knew what love was.'

‘Yes, but…'

‘But you let him go,' he said. ‘You let him go so he'd love me. So that I'd know what love was. So I'd lose this crazy shield I'd built up. You didn't run away from responsibility. You gave away the most precious thing in the world. You gave me love.'

‘I…'

‘It was a gift without price,' he said, and the smile behind his eyes was such that she stopped breathing all over again. ‘I hadn't seen it. And then Henry took his first steps.'

‘Henry's
walking
?'

‘He sure is.' They both looked down to where Henry was taking teetering steps on the mossy forest floor. ‘I was there to see it. So was half the press corps of Broitenburg. But you weren't. You'd left. You'd given me love and then you'd left. And you should have been there. You should be there.'

‘Marc, I c…can't…' she stammered, and he put his finger on her lips and shook his head.

‘You can't do what I asked you? No. I won't accept taking Henry every second day and you can't take full responsibility for him. Because that way I'd be the loser. Only I didn't see it until now. So I'm not here to relinquish responsibility, Tammy. For anything.'

‘I don't…' She couldn't go on. She was so confused she was speechless.

But Marc knew what he had to say and he said it.

‘I'm taking responsibility for my country,' he told her seriously—because this had to be said. It had to be cleared between them. She had to know what she was getting into. If she'd take the next step… ‘When Jean-Paul died I was appalled. I wasn't stepping into his shoes because I couldn't
accept the role of royalty. I thought royalty was a goldfish bowl and there was nothing in it for me. But I've learned to see. Sure it's a goldfish bowl; sure, it's a huge load of responsibility but it means I can take control of my country's future. I can care for my people. I can care for you.'

He pressed his fingers on her wondering lips and he smiled—such a smile!

‘When I first met you I was desperate to offload that responsibility,' he told her. ‘I wanted Henry to have it regardless. I'd have put Henry into the care of nannies, I'd have done what I had to to keep him materially cared for and I'd have kept my distance. But now…thanks to you…'

‘I haven't done anything.'

‘Oh, but you have.' The tenderness in his eyes was all-enveloping. ‘You look at me just as you're looking at me now. You trust me as you trusted me when you walked away and left me with Henry. You love…'

‘I can't…'

‘You can't love me?' The smile died a little and his brow furrowed. ‘Tammy, you must. You must. You see, I love you so much. If I've killed it… Tell me I haven't killed it. Tell me I can't have been that stupid.' His hands held hers, urgently pleading. ‘I want you, Tammy. I want you to be my wife. I want you and me to return to Broitenburg in all honour—husband and wife with our son between us, ready to accept the crown and all it entails. Ready to take on the joys and the sorrows of our country. Ready to take on the joys and sorrows of our family.

‘But mostly…' His voice softened and there was a look of such uncertainty in his eyes that Tammy felt her heart twist within her. ‘Mostly joy. Tammy, if you'll marry me—if you'll love me for ever… I can't imagine any greater joy than that. Will you marry me, my heart? Will you be Crown Princess of Broitenburg, mother to Henry—wife to me? Will you be my love—now and for ever?'

And what was a girl to say to that?

Tammy Dexter, tree surgeon extraordinaire—clad in overalls with her hair braided down her back, with a smut on the end of her nose and with tears in her eyes—Tammy Dexter looked long and deeply into the eyes of the man she loved with all her heart.

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.

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.'