Page 21

By Alicia Montgomery

No matter how many times Poppy Baxter wiped her hands, her palms refused to stay dry. Though she rubbed them down the polyester-blend fabric of her trouser suit repeatedly, sweat would inevitably begin to form on them again, even in the temperature-controlled environment of the Wilfordshire Nanny Staffing Agency waiting room.

She shifted on the leather couch, trying to ignore the other people around her: all young, good-looking women—and one man—groomed and made-up, wearing clothes that probably cost more than what she earned in a week as a primary school teacher. Used to earn, she corrected herself. That was the reason she was here, after all.

“Is he yours?”

The question jolted Poppy out of her thoughts, and she quickly glanced beside her where her son, Wesley, had his head bowed down, so deeply engrossed in his book it was as if no one else was in the room.

“Yes, he is,” she said to the woman on the settee across from them.

“He’s adorable.” The woman smiled, got up, smoothing her hands down her wool skirt. Circling around the chrome and glass coffee table, she knelt in front of Wesley. “Hello, poppet. How old are you?”

Wesley’s gaze flickered up her, then to Poppy’s, before rolling his eyes. “Nine,” he replied, then returned to his book.

“Nine going on thirty,” Poppy said with a nervous chuckle.

She remained unfazed by Wesley’s curtness. “Oh wow, nine years old.” She glanced at the book’s title. “And you’re reading Greek myths and legends already. That’s a big book for a boy your age. Which one is your favorite? I bet it’s Hercules. Every boy wants to be strong and brave like Hercules.”

Without looking up from the pages, Wesley said, “Hercules was an ill-tempered, unstable brute. Why would I want to be like him?”

Her expression only faltered for a moment. “You’re so precious.” She looked up at Poppy, her face a cheerful mask. “And very smart. I bet you’re proud of his … uh, critical thinking skills. You must be so progressive about his education, and not one of those parents who censor what their child reads.”

It wasn’t like she could even stop Wesley from reading whatever book he got his hands on. He’d already read most of the books in the Sheffield Primary School library, and so this year, she started taking him to the local public library.

The woman stood up and looked around her slyly, then reached into her skirt pocket and placed something in Poppy’s hands. “If you find the candidates here lacking, my schedule is open as of the moment. I’m sure we could come to an agreement.”

“Excuse me?” Glancing down at her palm, Poppy read the card the young woman had placed in her hand. It read “Allison Brown, Professional Nanny.” Then it dawned on her. “Oh, I think there’s a misunder?—”

“Ms. Baxter? Poppy Baxter?”

At the sound of her name, Poppy shot up from the couch. “Er, that’s me.”

The woman standing in the doorway peered at her through black-rimmed glasses, though her expression revealed nothing. “Right. Come along this way, please.”

“Thank you. One moment if you please.” Turning to Wesley, she said, “You have everything you need for now?”

“I’ll be fine, Mum.” He reached out and put a hand over hers. “You’ll get the job. Good luck.”

Her heart warmed. Despite how she messed up her own life, she still couldn’t believe Wesley had turned out to be such a wonderful child. “Thank you, Wes.”

The young woman’s expression now turned to disdain as she realized Poppy was not a potential client, but competition. “I’ll be taking that, thank you.” She snatched the card back and bristled as she turned away and marched back to her seat.

Poppy huffed, then shrugged. Not like I lied to her. Turning on her heel, she headed toward the office door, following the woman inside.

“I’m Miriam Fletcher, Director of Placement here at Wilfordshire,” she introduced, her voice crisp and clear. “Have a seat, Ms. Baxter.” She pointed to the chair in front of the large glass desk, then sat on the seat behind it.

“Thank you.” Poppy did as instructed, keeping her back straight as she sat on the edge of the chrome and leather chair.

Ms. Fletcher opened the brown folder sitting on top of her desk, lowering her head as her eyes scanned across the page. “Ms. Baxter. You were a former primary school teacher for six years. So, tell me.” She lifted her gaze toward Poppy, eyes boring into her. “Why the sudden career change? Aren’t you overqualified to be a nanny?”

Because my wanker of an ex-husband had to get himself involved in a scandal that not only cost him his job, but also mine. Poppy swallowed hard. Though that was the truth, she couldn’t say it out loud. But she couldn’t lie either, so she settled on the answer she’d practiced at home. “I love—loved my job, truly. The teaching profession is in my blood, and it’s always been my dream to mold the fine young minds of the next generation. However, over the years, I felt like I wasn’t making much of a difference in the classroom. I wanted to make a more immediate impact by helping parents, by giving them peace of mind knowing their children were safe and happy at home.” It wasn’t complete rubbish, but she couldn’t very well tell Ms. Fletcher that after she was forced to resign from her job, no one else would hire her, and now, nannying was her only choice.

“Ah, I see.” Ms. Fletcher closed the folder. “And I assume that the news about your ex-husband’s departure from his team has nothing to do with your career change?”

Poppy’s stomach sank. I’m an idiot.

How could she even think the staff at Wilfordshire wouldn’t look into her background? And it wasn’t like it was easy to hide. The press wouldn’t leave her and Wesley alone after the news came out about Robbie’s true nature. They stalked them everywhere, even at work. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The other teachers and parents were concerned for their safety and those of the other children, and so the headmaster had no choice but ask her to resign and ask Wesley to leave the school.

That had been a few weeks ago, before Christmas. She thought the news would die down by now, but it was January, and this was the first callback she’d gotten. She knew the moment anyone saw her name on her CV they’d figure out who she was, so she was surprised to have even gotten this interview in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as humiliation crept into her chest. Though her knees wobbled, she managed to get up. “I’ll see myself out?—”

“Wait. Please sit down, Ms. Baxter.”

The words stunned her so much that she plopped back into the seat.

“Is it true?” Ms. Fletcher asked. “About your husband?”

“It is.” Her lips pursed together. Fucking Robbie .

“And your son …”

The humiliation in her gave way to indignation. “I’m not here to discuss my son,” she said in the coldest voice she could muster. “And if you think I’m going to sit here and take your gossip mongering just because I’m desperate for a job, then?—”

“Oh no!” Ms. Fletcher interrupted, her face turning a shade of red. “Please. My apologies. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“Then why did you call me for an interview if you already knew who I was? And who Robbie is? Am I even here for a real job?”

“You are.”

Poppy found herself stunned for a second time. “I-I am?”

She sighed. “Ms. Baxter … may I call you Poppy?”

She allowed the tension to leave her body. “Yes.”

“Then you may call me Miriam.” Folding her hands together over the table, she leaned forward. “I can only imagine what you and your son have been going through, and I’m sorry. The holidays must have been difficult.”

The woman’s change in demeanor and the kindness in her eyes made something break inside Poppy. “I … yes.” She swallowed the tears burning in her throat. Stupid, stupid Robbie .

Brash, confident, and arrogant; Robbie Baxter, star of the Wexford Wildebeest rugby club, had been on top of the world. Everyone had celebrated her ex-husband for his natural athletic ability and for leading the team to two consecutive championships. But then one night, a drunken pub fight while out celebrating with his teammates revealed the secret he’d been keeping for years: He was a cheetah shifter. Unfortunately, shifters weren’t allowed in human sports leagues because of the unfair advantage of their supernatural speed and strength.

Robbie had been playing professionally for ten years. He’d managed to keep his shifter nature a secret in the smaller leagues and from most people, even Poppy. At nineteen and barely an adult herself when they met, she’d been dazzled by his charm. Then she got pregnant a few months later and they got married. One day, she’d caught him shifting in their backyard, and he confessed everything.

To say that she was shocked was an understatement, and she warned him that he could get caught. She begged him to try another career, but he loved the game so much, and he promised not to use his shifter abilities to gain an unfair advantage or draw any attention.

Of course, that promise barely lasted longer than their marriage.

Five years ago, he’d caught the eye of a Super League scout and was recruited to Wexford. It seemed cliché, but the fame and fortune all went to his head, and he ended up cheating on her multiple times. She stuck around for Wesley’s sake, but one day she’d decided enough was enough and filed for divorce.

He kept playing, rose up the ranks, and delivered the championship titles to his team. Only she knew the secret to his success, and after years of waiting for the axe to fall, it was almost a relief when it did. Almost .

“Poppy?” Miriam said, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you interested in hearing about this family I’d like to place you with?”

It sounded like there was a catch. But with her savings nearly drained, no job prospects, and on the brink of homelessness, she really didn’t have much of a choice. “Yes, please.”

“I have one question before we can proceed.” Miriam cleared her throat. “You don’t have to answer, and if you don’t, I won’t hold it against you. In fact, if you don’t say anything and want to walk out that door, I’ll pass your CV along to my colleague at Denham’s Staffing, and they’ve promised to at least call you in for an interview.” She took a deep breath. “Your son. He’s a shifter?”

Her hands wrung in her lap. “Yes.” But that was all she would say about Wesley. She would fight tooth and nail to protect him from those looking to exploit him.

Miriam looked relieved. “Excellent.” Reaching into the drawer underneath her desk, she pulled out a sheet of paper and pushed it toward her, along with a pen.

Frowning, she looked at the header on top—Non-Disclosure Agreement.

“It’s a standard NDA,” Miriam said. “Please take your time reading it and sign only if you agree.”

Poppy read the ominous-looking document. A few words that popped out sounded scary to her, like “criminal proceeding” and “legal costs” and “enforceable through courts.” She thought about getting up and leaving, but then again, what did she have to lose at this point? Without another thought, she scrawled her name at the bottom.

“Thank you.” Miriam put the NDA away and turned back to her. “Now, Poppy. I have a very special, VIP client who’s looking for a specific type of nanny. And I believe that with your experience, you’re the right candidate.”

“M-me?” She blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Well, your son … he’s a shifter, and you raised him, correct?”

She nodded.

“My clients are shifters, and they’re looking for someone who could possible stay with them long term. Their child is only a year and half, but I’m told in a year or two, he’ll start shifting.”

“Ah, right.” She remembered those days. Wesley had been an exceptionally shy child, and his animal had been too. It wasn’t really that difficult, rather like having a house cat around. The biggest problem she had was coaxing him down from a tree or finding whatever hidey-hole he was in. After a year or two, he’d outgrown that behavior, and since then, he’d always been in control of his animal, as far as she could tell, and rarely shifted.

“So, you see, they want someone who’ll be around for at least two years so the child could get used to their nanny’s presence until that time he goes through the change.”

“That’s fine, but there’s something I don’t understand,” Poppy began. “Why me? I mean, why don’t they find a shifter nanny? Surely they have those?”

“Yes, well …” Miriam sighed. “These shifters are very special. Rather, their animals are. And other shifters aren’t comfortable around … their type.” She cleared her throat. “Tell me, Poppy, have you heard of the Northern Isles?”

“Northern Isles?”

“Yes. They’re a small kingdom, very reclusive, somewhere in the Norwegian Sea. They’re ruled by a special shifter couple.”

“Special shifter couple?”

“Yes. The king and queen of the Northern Isles are dragons. As is their son and heir, His Royal Highness, Prince Alric.”

“Oh, and—” Poppy’s mouth snapped closed as it dawned on her. The special clients.

Miriam wanted her to be a nanny to a prince.

A dragon prince.

“I … uh …” Oh Lord. Her palms started to sweat again. It was one thing to raise a cheetah cub, but another to watch over a real-life dragon who could fly and breathe fire. She placed her hands on the table, ready to support herself in case her knees buckled the moment she got up. “I … thank you for the opportunity but?—”

“Please, Poppy!” Miriam got up first. “Will you at least listen to the terms? And allow me to tell you the salary and the benefits?”

Gripping the edge of the table, Poppy managed to nod. “All right.”

Miriam told her the amount.

Poppy’s jaw nearly unhinged as it dropped. “I beg your pardon?”

The other woman smiled. “You heard me. And that doesn’t include your travel, clothing, and food allowance, plus, you’ll be provided a private apartment in the palace. There will be bonuses, as well as participation in a pension scheme.”

This was a joke, right? But the expression on Miriam’s face was entirely serious.

Oh God . With that money, she could do so much for— Wesley ! “What about my son? I assume they would want me to travel there right away. He … had to be taken out of school before the holidays, and I haven’t made arrangements for him. I suppose my mum and stepdad could look after him.” But that would be such an imposition on them as they were now enjoying their retirement years.

“I realized that when I looked into your background,” Miriam said. “I’ve taken the liberty of discussing it with Her Majesty’s secretary. She thinks that you’re the perfect person for the job, and they’d be willing to accommodate him. Your son can live with you and go to school there. They have an excellent school system in the country and have used English as their standard in the last ten years.”

She could keep Wesley with her? And be paid all that money? This was the perfect job. She’d be a fool not to take it.

“Well? What do you think, Poppy?”

She took a long pause. It was a lot of money. More money than she’d ever seen in her entire life. Even when Robbie started playing for Wexford, he’d been stingy with the child maintenance payments. It pained her to see him living the life of a rugby star while she and Wesley had to scrimp and save while living in a shabby two-bedroom flat.

But with what she could earn with this job, by next semester, she’d be able to send Wesley to that private boarding school she knew he’d wanted to attend. But still … “I’ll need to think about it.”

“I understand completely,” Miriam said. “Do you think you could let me know by the end of the week? I’ll be honest with you: I’ve been doing this for nearly two decades now, and my gut tells me that you’re the perfect fit. I mean, you’re even half American, correct?”

“Yes, I was born in Boston. My father was a professor in Harvard and met my mother while she was on a work holiday program. We lived in Massachusetts until I was nine. But why does that matter?”

“Her Majesty is American,” Miriam said. “Anyway, if you do your research, you’ll find out more about Queen Sybil and King Aleksei. I’ve never met them, but I’m told they’re a lovely couple. Now, if you don’t mind …”

“Not at all.” Poppy stood up. “I’ll let you know by Friday at the latest.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Poppy.”

“Thank you, Miriam.”

It was a miracle she managed to walk out the door as her knees shook with every step. Dragons! She knew they existed. She recalled seeing the footage on the news from when that fifty-foot gold dragon stomped around SoHo a few years back. But she’d never actually seen one or been close to one. Robbie was the only shifter she’d ever encountered as even the big shifter groups, especially in England, tended to stay out in the rural areas.

Could she really move to another country and live with them? Work with them? And take care of a dragon prince?

As she left the office, her gaze immediately went to her son. He seemingly hadn’t moved an inch the entire time, nose still in his book. Oh, Wes . She would do anything to make him happy. He was her life, and she would make the necessary sacrifices to make his dream come true. And she knew this was her chance to give that to him.

And so, two weeks later, that’s how Poppy ended up inside the cabin of a plush, private plane, headed to her new home. The Northern Isles . Not even saying it in her head or out loud made it real, at least, not until this very moment. Everything had happened so fast, and there was so much to do before their departure—give notice to her landlord, pack up their flat, sell their furniture and store what they could at her mum and stepdad’s place.

Then, of course, she had to tell Robbie about the job and that she would be taking Wesley with her. Since she didn’t know where he was currently hiding, she had to send him a text so he could sign off on the relocation agreement and visitation revision. He replied he would only sign the papers if she didn’t ask for a raise on the maintenance.

The fact that it had been so easy to get him to agree to take their son away shouldn’t have surprised Poppy, but it hadn’t hurt any less. But she never let it show, nor did she ever speak badly about Robbie in front of Wesley. It was her one rule, and she’d never broken it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she glanced out the window at the sea underneath them and puffy white clouds flying by.

“Wow, isn’t this something?” she said to Wes, who sat across from her. “I didn’t think they’d send a whole plane just for us.”

Wesley looked up from the personal entertainment system attached to his chair. “There are no commercial flights into the Northern Isles. Of course they would have to send a plane for us.”

“Is that so?” she said in a teasing voice. “What else did you learn about the Northern Isles?”

Wes had been surprisingly accepting when she broke the news that she had accepted the job and they would be moving soon. But then again, her son had always been mature and understanding. She would have worried about him missing his friends, but since, well, he had none, it wasn’t an issue.

Wesley’s brows knitted together. “Not a lot, actually.”

“Oh?”

“There wasn’t much information,” he stated. “Anywhere. I went to the library and asked for books on the Northern Isles, but all they had were some old entries in encyclopedias. I looked online and didn’t see much current news about them.”

That was what she’d encountered as well. Miriam had sent her a packet of information about the country, but it was nothing more than a few sheets of paper with dry facts about the capital, main cities, a few useful phrases in the local language, and the weather. Sure, she’d found a few glossy articles and magazine covers from the royal wedding and some local news stories from the queen’s hometown, but other than that, there was no news about the country or even current photos of the royal couple in the gossip rags.

“Dragons are secretive, you know,” Wes said matter-of-factly. “And very rare. There are only five or six known clans in the world, and no one knows exactly how many there are in existence.”

Poppy tensed at the D word. Should they be saying that out loud? In here? She wasn’t sure, but the idea of seeing a real live dragon set her nerves on edge. Oh God, this was a mistake . She shouldn’t have agreed to this. Sure, she barely had enough savings to pay for next month’s rent, but she could have asked her parents for a loan. Or Robbie.