‘Yeah, but they’re at home.’
‘Gee, you’re going to have to travel home like that, then.’
‘I do have other clothes.’
‘Brocade and velvet and the odd crown and stuff?’ she agreed.
‘I’m not always dressed up in this rig.’
‘Bully for you.’ She purposefully turned her attention away from his powder-coated form-and the sudden and unexpected gleam of laughter in his dark eyes-and concentrated on her pile again. Fiercely. ‘Do you have anything I can put these things in?’
‘I have no idea.’ He was watching her, fascinated. ‘Kylie, do we have anything we can put these things in?’
‘I dunno,’ Kylie said resentfully. The nanny was looking more confused by the minute. ‘If she’s taking the kid, does that mean you don’t want me any more?’
‘His aunt has authority to care for him. I’ll pay you to the end of the month,’ Marc told her, and her face cleared.
‘All right, then. I’m fed up with this job anyway.’ She beamed at Tammy as if she was releasing her from a life sentence and began to be helpful. ‘There’s suitcases in his bedroom. You’re not his Aunty Tammy, are you?’
Tammy paused. ‘Yes.’ She focused on the girl-sort of. It was actually really hard not to stay focusing on Marc. The dangerous gleam was still in Marc’s eyes. He might look ridiculous-a prince with powder coating-but he still packed a lethal punch. Big and handsome and magnetically attractive…
But she needed to concentrate on what the nanny was saying. ‘You knew about me?’ she managed.
‘There’s this letter addressed to you. It’s in one of the suitcases.
‘A letter? From who?’
‘I dunno,’ Kylie said. ‘I saw it when I packed away the baby stuff he’d grown out of. It’s addressed to a Tamsin Dexter and underneath is written “Aunty Tammy”-in quotation marks, like the title’s a bit of a joke. There’s no address or I would have posted it.’
‘Fetch it,’ Marc told her, his eyes resting on Tammy. He was clutching at straws now. This might buy him some time. Somehow he needed a way of talking this woman into seeing reason, and it was growing less possible by the minute.