A Princess Under The Mistletoe

“It hasn’t been that long,” she said. “Just six months, right?”

“But he’s four years old and he hardly ever smiles,” he said.

“He smiled when you took him for ice cream,” she said, wanting to encourage him.

He looked at her and chuckled. “That’s not something I can do every night.”

“True,” she said. “But we can figure out other things. His favorite foods. Maybe a pet would help.”

“A pet?” he echoed. “I’m barely surviving with these two. Add in an animal and I’ll have to wave a white flag.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t allowed pets when I was a child. Except one of my nannies allowed me to sneak in a few visits with her hamster, Willie. That was a lot of fun.”

“Why so many nannies?” he asked. “I can’t imagine you causing a lot of trouble, although most of us can’t resist getting into trouble every now and then.”

“I didn’t,” she said. Was that a hint of a sexy glint in his eye? Or was she imagining it? “I stayed out of trouble. My sister and brother, though, made up for me.”

“Is your family originally from Chantaine?” he asked.

“No. We’re from the mainland, but my parents did a lot of traveling,” she said. Uncomfortable with the curiosity she glimpsed in his gaze, she waved toward the stove. “Janece left a pot of pasta and sauce for dinner tonight. Sam has wandered in here a few times, but I thought you might like to eat together.”

“That will work, and it’s one of his favorite meals,” he said. “I’ll wash up, change clothes and help serve it.”

“I can serve it,” she said. “I just don’t possess advanced cooking skills.”

“Me neither,” he said. “That’s why a part-time cook and housekeeper was part of my package of compensation for this job. And a nanny,” he said, meeting her gaze. “The children may not show it yet, but we’re glad you’re here to help.”

“Speaking of helping, we need to think about celebrating the holidays. Sam mentioned that everyone at preschool is talking about Christmas.”

Gavin raked his hand through his hair. “I haven’t really been in the mood for Christmas.”

“Well, you can’t just ignore it,” she said. “Children love Christmas.”

“Maybe we should keep it low-key this year,” he said.

“Sam mentioned that he didn’t think you would want decorations,” she said.

“He may be right. Besides, we left our decorations in storage in the States.”

“He also said you don’t want to do fun things anymore. It’s not my place to tell you how you should act, but perhaps if he saw that you could enjoy some aspects of life, then maybe he would feel free to do so, also.”

Gavin stared at her for a long moment. “You’re right. It’s not your place to tell me how to act.”

Sara felt his assertion for her to step back. Yes, sir, she thought. Adelaide let out a squawk from her infant seat. She’d been snoozing and now clearly wanted to be entertained. “Dinner may take a few more minutes. I suspect the queen of the house will need her diaper changed and she doesn’t like to wait. Can’t say I blame her,” said Sara.

* * *

After dinner, Sara took Sam and Adelaide for a walk down the street while Gavin worked on the palace construction project for a bit. “A beautiful evening for a walk, isn’t it, Sam?”

Sam shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to play my video game.”

“You can do that tomorrow. The sun is still shining, so we should take advantage. Getting outside is good for you. I always loved getting outside when I was a child.”

Sam glanced up at her and sighed. “Did you have video games?”

“Not that I remember,” she said. “I had a piano and my house always seemed dark.” Sara glanced at Adelaide and noticed the baby’s eyes were closed. “Oh, no, Adelaide is falling asleep. Help me keep her awake so she’ll sleep through the night.” Sara thought a minute, then began to sing. “Two little blackbirds sitting on a hill. One named Jack. One named Jill.” She wiggled her finger on the handle of the stroller. “Fly away Jack. Fly away Jill. Now your turn,” she said.

Sam gave her a blank look.

“Surely you’ve played this game before. It’s been around forever.”

Sam shrugged.

“Two little blackbirds sitting in the snow. One named Fast. One named—” She broke off and waited and waited. And waited. “One named Fast. One named Ssss—”

“Snake?” he said. Sara smiled.

“One named Fast. One named Slow,” she said and continued the rhyme. “Two little blackbirds soaring in the sky. One named Low. One named?” She glanced at him expectantly. “It needs to rhyme with sky.”

“High,” he finally said, and Sara spotted a twinge of triumph in his eyes.

“High,” she said. “Say it louder so we keep Adelaide awake.”

Sam yelled the word and Adelaide gave a start, blinking her eyes. “Good job. Two little blackbirds...”

They played the game for the rest of the walk. She hadn’t heard Sam speak so much since she’d started working with the family, and although she couldn’t exactly call it conversation, it counted as interaction. She planned to put Adelaide on her tummy on a blanket to get her moving a bit. Hopefully both children would sleep well after the exercise. Princess Bridget had told her that one of the keys to parent and child happiness was to wear out the children, and Sara was taking that child-care tip to heart. Trouble was she wondered if she would last through the evening herself.

In fact, after she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she took a book with her to her room and fell asleep midpage. She awakened in the middle of the night, her book resting on her chest and the light from the lamp making her squint her eyes. Reaching for the cup of water she liked to keep on the bedside table, she realized she’d forgotten to bring a cup last night.

Not wanting to awaken Sam by going into the adjoining bathroom, she tiptoed from her room and down the dark hallway. She poured herself a cup of water and drank most of it, then turned off the light at the kitchen sink and slowly made her way down the hall.

She bumped into something that wasn’t a wall. Panic rushed through her. A squeak escaped her throat and she nearly dropped her cup.

“It’s me,” Gavin said before he swore under his breath, probably from the water she spilled on him. “What?

“I am carrying a cup of water,” she said, trying to catch her breath, caught in an unexpected swirl of emotions and sensations. He felt so strong and sure against her. He was holding her to keep her from falling. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her other than her family. “You startled me.”

“I heard a noise and thought it might be Sam,” he said, still holding her in his arms.

She felt so safe. His strength vibrated throughout her. Clinging to him, she felt a surprising mix of awareness and emotion thrum through her.

Still struggling for balance, she leaned against him. She inhaled his scent and nearly fell. “Sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t mean to pour water on you.”

“Could be worse,” he said, still holding her.

Sara wanted him to keep holding her. She wanted this feeling never to end. Where were these thoughts coming from?

“Yes,” she said. She still clung to him, soaking him up.