The Blacksheep Prince's Bride. Martha Shields
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see them!” Sammy cried. “Can I pet baby deers?”
“Sorry, Sammy.” Rowena smiled over her shoulder. “They’re not like Boo-Boo. They’re wild. If you tried to get close to them, they’d run away.”
“Are they scared of me?”
“Yes, they are.”
“They think I hurt them?”
“Yes, like you used to run away because you thought dogs would hurt you. They don’t know that all you want to do is love them. Oh. There they go.”
“Where?” Sammy asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they went home to see their papa.” Rowena eased on the accelerator.
Seconds later, Sammy said, “Ena, guess what?”
“Yes, Sammy?”
“I’m not afraid of dogs.”
“I know you’re not.” She beamed at him in the rearview mirror. “Why?”
“’Cause all they wanna do is love me.”
“You’re such a brave boy, Sammy. I’m proud of you. And your papa is proud of you, too. Aren’t you, Jake?”
Jake twisted so his son could see the pride in his eyes. “I’m very proud of you, Sammy. And I love you very much.”
“I know, Daddy.”
As he turned back around, Jake’s attention was caught by Rowena’s profile. For such a small woman, she had a strong face…and a strong mind to match.
She glanced over and caught him staring. “What?”
“You should be a child psychologist…or a mother.”
A flinch passed over her face so quickly, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a shadow thrown by a tree they passed.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“You don’t think…which one?”
“Either.”
“You don’t want children? I can’t believe that. You’re such a wonderful mother to kids who aren’t even your own…and you seem to love them.”
“I do love children. They still believe that wonderful, magical things can happen.”
“Like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t want children of your own.”
“I just…” Her face tightened, and she kept her eyes firmly on the road. “I don’t want to talk about it, all right?”
“Can’t you have children?” Once again, Rowena’s reputation reared its ugly head. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t married yet. Titled men needed heirs.
“I…” She glanced pointedly in the rearview mirror.
Jake turned to check on Sammy, who was absorbed in an antique toy soldier Rowena had borrowed from the palace nursery. His son was paying them no attention whatsoever. Rowena was not going to find an out there. “He’s not listening.”
“How do you—”
“Rowena, is that it? Can you not have children?”
The look she finally threw at him would’ve melted Jake on the spot if he were ice cream. “Why are you interrogating me? Am I on the witness stand? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” Jake settled back against his seat again, but didn’t take his eyes off her. He had no idea why knowing this was so important to him. But somehow, it was. “I’d just like to know.”
“At the risk of being rude, Mr. Stanbury, the state of my reproductive organs is none of your business.”
He stared at the delicate curve of her cheek. “Why do you always do that?”
“What?”
“Anytime I ask something personal, you call me Mr. Stanbury.”
“That’s your name, isn’t it?”
Jake was too good a lawyer to be sidetracked. “You’re trying to remind me that you’re my employee. It’s as if you…”
He trailed off.
It’s as if she hid behind her servant’s mask. As if she held it up like a shield anytime someone tried to get close. The way she had done the other night when he’d suggested she read in the library.
He frowned. That didn’t jive with the image he had of her. Someone wanting to marry a title would play down—not emphasize—her lower status.
“As if I what?”
But now that he thought about the times he’d seen Rowena in a roomful of people, she’d been flitting around, yes, but there seemed to be a method to her flightiness. She would talk to every man in the room—except him, of course—but only for a moment. And she was usually carrying a tray of something, using it as a barrier between her and the men obviously interested in her.
It was as if she knew that behind her shield, she could flirt all she wanted…and still be safe.
“As if what?” she repeated.
He met her worried glance until her gaze was pulled back by the demanding road.
He didn’t want to play this hand just yet. He needed to test his theory…to see if he could determine her motivation. As a lawyer, he’d learned that motivation was everything. With the right motivation—right, at least, in their minds—people were capable of committing terrible crimes…even against themselves.
He knew Rowena wouldn’t be satisfied with a brush-off, so he’d distract her by making her angry. “As if you enjoy being a servant. As if you love pointing out your inferiority.”
On cue, she bristled. “I’m not inferior. Just different.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m a nanny, and you’re a prince.”
“I’m American. Americans don’t have titles.”
“You’re fourth in line for the throne. Third if the king…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence, and he couldn’t blame her, but for another reason. “The last thing in the world I want is the throne of Edenbourg.”
She glanced at him carefully. “You don’t want to be king?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I just quit one high-stress job so I could raise my son. I certainly don’t want to jump in the middle of one with twenty-four-hour stress.”
She brought the car to a halt at the entrance to a roundabout and studied him as if she couldn’t decide whether or not she could believe him. Her expression reminded him of his suspicion about why she’d been placed in his household. Was she there to ascertain his involvement in the king’s disappearance…or just to take care of his son?
“It’s a lot of money,” she pointed out as she eased into the empty roundabout.
He shrugged. “I have plenty of money.”
“Not this much. Just think about how much the crown jewels are worth.”
“You mean the fabulous riches locked up in some vault somewhere that no one can enter but the king and his heir, enough to buy the world two times over?”
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