‘But as legal guardian I get to decide whether he goes or not.’

She’d cornered him. He hadn’t wanted to admit it. Get her signature and get the child. At home it had seemed easy.

‘If you refuse to let him return to Broitenburg I’ll apply for custody myself,’ he said stiffly.

‘You do that. You’re going home tomorrow, did you say? Good luck getting legal custody by then.’

He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. There’d been no one near the child for months and now this! ‘Until five minutes ago you didn’t know of the child’s existence. You can’t want him.’

‘So why do you want him?’

‘He’s part of the Broitenburg royal family. A very important part. He has to come home.’

‘But maybe he’s my family, too,’ Tammy muttered. She swung open the front passenger door of the limousine and tossed her pack on the floor. Then she climbed in after it, sat down against the luxurious leather and stared straight ahead, refusing to look back at Marc. ‘Maybe he needs me. As I see it, it’s up to me to decide. So, are you going to take me to Sydney or are you planning on making me catch a bus? Either way, I’m signing nothing until I’ve seen him-and maybe not even then.’

It was an incredibly strained journey.

How could she just pick up her pack and leave? Marc wondered. Most women-all the women he’d ever met-would have taken hours to prepare. Hours to decide. But Tammy appeared to have everything she needed in the battered pack at her feet and wanted nothing else.

‘I have a tent, a sleeping bag, a toothbrush and enough food and water for twenty-four hours,’ she told him when he enquired how she could just leave her work and make the journey to Sydney without further fuss. ‘We were planning to camp out tonight.’

‘So now you’re planning on camping somewhere in Sydney’s parks?’ he asked, and she glowered, and went right on staring straight ahead.

‘I’ll get a hotel. You needn’t worry about me. Just show me where my nephew is and I’ll look after myself. I’m not asking any favours from you.’