Stolen Kiss From a Prince. Teresa Carpenter

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СКАЧАТЬ ruler, Prince Jean Claude Antoine Carrere. He’d been kind to an awkward kid on an occasion when he could be forgiven for being overwhelmed by his own agenda. Their relationship had grown through the years, and Julian looked on Jean Claude as one of his closest friends and advisors. The fact he was a well-respected world leader only added to the value of his offer.

      “My mind boggles at all that must be done. But in truth I cannot focus on anything beyond finding Donal.”

      “Understandable.” Jean Claude nodded. “I have my experts watching the weather and will provide you with any updates as soon as I receive them.”

      “I appreciate it.” Julian chafed again at the delay keeping him from returning to France. “I’m anxious to get back to the rescue operations.”

      “Yes. It is unfortunate that Sammy’s condition has delayed you. It is admirable of you to put his needs first. He has had a difficult time missing his parents.”

      Julian clenched his jaw in irritation. “It was upsetting to learn he’d been told of the crash.”

      “It was not intentional,” Bernadette rushed to assure him. “Tessa—”

      “Excuse me, Your Highness.” Jean Claude’s assistant appeared at his side and handed him a folder. “The current weather report. And the call you were waiting for is holding.”

      “I shall be right there.” The Prince glanced at the report and then handed it to Julian. “Not much change. I have to take this call. We will talk before you leave in the morning. Bernadette.”

      The Princess gracefully stood and rounded the table. She stopped and kissed Julian’s cheek. “Stay. Finish your meal. A porter will show you to your room.”

      He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about me.”

      She sighed. “But I do. Good night, mon ami. If you wish to get some air, use the courtyard. The press are everywhere.”

      The Prince and Princess left the room hand in hand, an obvious unit set to deal with whatever business awaited them.

      For a moment Julian envied his friend. Usually an insular man, it might be nice to have someone to talk to right now. Due to his father’s frail health, Julian couldn’t burden him with his worries, and it would be inappropriate to discuss family affairs with outsiders.

      No longer hungry, he followed the porter to his room. When the elevator opened on his floor, Samson’s cries pinpointed Julian’s destination.

      He rushed forward then waited impatiently for the porter to open the door. Inside he found Tessa walking Samson, both were in tears. Julian briskly made his way toward the two only to come to a dead stop next to them. What to do?

      “What’s the problem?” he demanded.

      “The doctor advised me to wake him and check his pupils. Only he wouldn’t go back to sleep. He started crying, and nothing I’ve done has helped.”

      “K-k’tina.” Samson’s breath hitched on the wail, but his message was clear.

      “He keeps asking for her,” Tessa revealed, the plea in her eyes as heart wrenching as Samson’s tears.

      Julian set his back teeth. The woman had caused this problem; it went against everything in him to reach out to her for help.

      Feeling helpless, watching both woman and child struggle, he racked his mind for something to do to right the situation. But for all his considerable knowledge and his massive IQ, he lacked experience dealing with women and children, let alone both in a state of distress.

      Considering distraction to be an option, he tried to take the boy.

      “No!” Samson screamed and hit out at him. “K’tina!”

      Bloody hell, he rebelled against drawing that woman back into his nephew’s life. She was the reason he suffered so. But this wasn’t just a tantrum; this was a miserable child seeking solace from the one person he’d connected with during this crisis. How did Julian deny him?

      Simple, he didn’t.

      He called for a porter seeking information about Katrina and found that she had rooms at the palace. Lucky for him or he’d be out scouring the streets of Pasadonia. He soon stood outside Katrina’s room. He wished for a more formal form of address, but in all the confusion they hadn’t been properly introduced.

      A maid answered his knock. She bowed. “Your Highness.”

      “I need to see Katrina.” He stepped past the maid into the room.

      “She’s sleeping,” the young woman said softly. “I’ve followed the doctor’s orders. I woke her just half an hour ago and she was fine.”

      “I’m not here about her injury.”

      Through the open door of the bedroom he saw the redhead. Light from the lounge fell across the bed and the lovely woman within it. Long lashes dusted creamy pale cheeks. Dark bruises under her eyes were a violation against the porcelain perfection of her features. Whatever she’d done, he couldn’t deny she’d pushed herself beyond the expected to help Samson.

      Suddenly it seemed wrong to ask more of her. But for Samson he must.

      “I’m sorry to disturb her, but I need Katrina to come with me. My nephew needs her help.”

      “Oh.” The woman looked uncertain and then nodded. “I will wake her.” She slipped inside the room and closed the door.

      He paced the small lounge, wishing he were anywhere but here.

      People called him cold. And maybe he was. If preferring order and calm were attributes of being cold. He needed both to do the work he did. Overseeing his country’s treasury, including both finances and security, required a clear head and a focus of purpose.

      He could work under pressure but he rarely had to. He had the ability to see the big picture, to track patterns and trends. So he prepared and diversified and created contingency plans. Which allowed him to move before the market did.

      Some said it was magic or worse called him psychic. Bah. It was just the way his mind worked. He enjoyed learning things, and his brain absorbed knowledge like a sponge. He surprised himself with the facts he knew sometimes.

      People, on the other hand, were a mystery to him. As was their penchant for displaying high emotions.

      A bachelor at thirty, he’d been content in his role as the spare heir. Though his father occasionally addressed his desire for Julian to find a suitable woman and start a family, the pressure had lessened after Donal wed Helene and Samson was born.

      Still, Julian was a man like any other, with the same needs. His position, however, called for discretion. He managed that by having a number of lady friends he escorted to the many functions his title forced him to attend. By spreading his attention around, no one—women or press—built up undue expectations.

      He supposed his reputation for being cold kept him from being dubbed a playboy.

      The woman, Katrina, threatened his hard-won detachment. His attraction to her stunning beauty СКАЧАТЬ