‘Yes, but-’

‘But nothing,’ she told him. ‘Take me with you.’

‘Take you to Sydney?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ she snapped. ‘You tell me I have a nephew and I’m his guardian-’

‘He doesn’t need you.’

That was blunt. She paused and bit her lip. ‘So he has someone who loves him?’ she demanded, and it was his turn to pause.

‘He has people-a nanny who’s caring for him-and once I have him back to Broitenburg I’ll employ someone thoroughly competent.’

Competent. The word hung between both of them and Marc immediately knew that it wasn’t enough.

‘That’s not what I asked,’ she said.

He knew what she meant but was helpless to offer more. ‘I…’

‘Why on earth did Lara send him home?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted honestly. ‘It seemed odd to me. But Jean-Paul and Lara were in Paris four months ago. Then they were in Italy and Switzerland. I’ve seen neither of them since just after the child was born. It wasn’t until after their death that I knew the child had been sent to Australia.’

The child…

That was a mistake. The brief description was chilling, even to him, and it made everything suddenly worse. Bleaker. Marc thought about it and amended it. ‘Henry,’ he said gently, and Tammy flushed.

‘Yeah. Henry. The child. How old did you say he is?’

‘Ten months.’

‘And he’s heir to some royal thing?’

‘Yes.’

‘And so you want to take him back to Broitenburg so he can be looked after by nannies in the lap of luxury until he’s old enough to be king?’

‘Prince,’ Marc corrected her. ‘Broitenburg is a principality.’

‘Prince, then. Whatever,’ she said distractedly. ‘It makes no difference. Are you married?’

‘What?’

‘You heard. Are you married?’

‘No. I…’

‘So who gets to play mother to Henry?’

‘I told you. He’ll have nannies. The best.’