The Playboy Prince and the Nanny

by Donna Alward

  “Diego.” The voice came from the other side of the cavernous room. “What are you doing here bothering me in my kitchen?”

  He grinned. No protocol here. Just the way he liked it.

  He stepped farther into the room and peered around the corner. “I missed lunch. I thought maybe you’d have something you could feed a poor starving boy?”

  She came bustling around the corner, a huge bowl in hand, her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. “And that poor starving boy would be you?”

  He followed her into the room where the staff usually ate and stopped short at the sight of a young woman sitting primly at the table, a cup of tea in front of her.

  “Oh, hello,” he said.

  The look on her pretty face was priceless. Clearly she recognized him, and there was a fleeting expression of horror and embarrassment that flashed across her features until she schooled it away. She rose to her feet quickly and affected a small curtsey. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that sounds so formal.” He smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.

  “Then what shall I call you? Prince Diego?” Her cheeks pinkened. He was delighted. Young, blonde, blue eyed, fresh faced, and dressed in flowy black trousers and a tailored white shirt. Hmm. New staff? They kept getting prettier.

  “You could try just ‘Diego,’” he replied.

  Senora Ortiz swatted his arm. “No flirting,” she scolded.

  He knew he should be embarrassed, but he wasn’t. Neither did he mind that he was a member of the royal family and he’d just been swatted on the arm by the cook.

  He stepped forward. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t even ask you your name.”

  She swallowed, then smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Rosalie Walters. The new nanny.”

  Her accent was delectable. He took her fingers in his, doubly happy to see her. “Oh, of course! I’m so glad you’re here. My niece and nephew need some happiness and light. It’s been so dreary around here for them.” He looked at her closely, and cocked his head a bit. “That accent. Surrey?”

  She smiled then, a real, genuine smile and not the polite curve of lips of a moment ago. “Guildford, actually. My mum and dad still live there.”

  “I went to school at Cambridge.”

  “I know.” The acknowledgment put a little of the awkwardness back in her eyes, but she recovered nicely. “You’ve hardly any accent at all, Your Highness.”

  “Diego,” he corrected, finally dropping her hand. “I sometimes forget English is actually my second language. I speak it far more often than I do Spanish these days.”

  “Diego, are you going to talk to the nanny all day or have something to eat?” There was a sharp edge to Senora Ortiz’s voice that Diego didn’t mistake. Friendliness was one thing, but fraternizing with the staff would be severely frowned upon.

  “Eat, of course.” He turned his charming smile on the cook and took the plate she’d prepared from her hands. “You’re an angel, Senora Ortiz.”

  She raised one eyebrow this time. “And you are as incorrigible as ever.” She took a second, smaller plate, and placed it in front of Rosalie. Cake. If he was right, it was the cook’s signature orange cake. His mouth watered.

  “Thank you,” Rosalie said softly, and picked up her fork.

  “May I join you?”

  She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. The flush on her cheeks deepened. “Oh. Of course.”

  What else was she going to say, anyway? He was a prince. As much as he might act otherwise, he was now third in line to the throne. It irritated him that people were often nice to him out of obligation. He’d rather earn their regard on his own merits.

  He put down his plate, pulled out a chair, and sat. Senora Ortiz had fixed him a basic chicken sandwich with a few olives and some cheese to the side. He spread his napkin on his lap, picked up the sandwich, and took a good-sized bite. Lord, Miss Walters looked like she was wound tighter than a spring, her back all ramrod-straight and not a hair out of place. There was something about her, though, that reassured him. She was probably nervous—who wouldn’t be? But she looked like she’d be kind. Sweet. Patient. He chewed thoughtfully and watched her take a dainty bite of cake. Max and Emilia would need those qualities in a nanny.

  “Orange cake is Senora Ortiz’s specialty,” he said quietly, wiping his fingers on his napkin. “She’s trying to make you feel at home.”

  Rosalie looked up at him and gave him a wobbly smile. “I’ll confess I’m a bit nervous. And anxious to meet the children. I’m . . . I’m very sorry for your loss.” She tucked a little strand of disobedient hair behind her ear. Her ears were pierced, he noticed, with little pearls in the lobes. Totally appropriate. Classy, and beautiful.

  Her voice was sweet and clear, and one hundred percent genuine. If he was anywhere else, he might like to talk to her for a good long while. And then stop talking altogether. But that would be inappropriate here and she was far too important for him to trifle with.

  “Thank you,” he responded. “It was such a shock. I’m afraid my brother is very grief-stricken. I’m glad you’re here, Miss Walters.” He looked down at his plate for a moment, then back up. “Max and Emilia need to smile again, and get back into a normal routine.”

  “Of course. To lose their mother and their previous nanny . . . their whole world has been turned upside down.” She took a sip of tea and then placed the cup precisely on the saucer again. “Did you know that most children actually thrive on structure? It gives them a sense of security.” Then she laughed, a breathy little sound that was unexpectedly sexy coming from such a tidy package. “Oh, that made me sound like a stick in the mud. I promise I’m not. Consistency is good. Kindness is better, with a little fun thrown in for good measure.”

  Her manners were impeccable. And she was highly trained and recommended. He’d seen that for himself. There was something more, though. She would be firm, he suspected, but also gentle and loving. And that smile . . . When she forgot to be nervous, it lit up her whole face.

  “Your last employer was very happy with you,” he remarked.

  She nodded. “Gregory was a sweet boy. But he got too old for a nanny and he’s off to school now. I was there for two years and honestly, quite sad to leave.”

  “And you traveled with the family as well.”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “You’re awfully well-versed in my qualifications.”

  “That’s because I saw to the hiring of you,” he replied, popping an olive into his mouth. “Well, along with my sister, Luciana. Lucy. She helped before she went back to Canada.”

  “I see.” She put down her fork, then looked up at him again. “Actually, no, I don’t. I wouldn’t have thought that it was your job to hire household staff.” Her brows pulled together in puzzlement.

  He eyed her somberly. “Well, it would have been Cecilia’s,” he said quietly and shrugged. “I have connections in London, you see. I did some asking around, and your agency came highly recommended.”

  “Oh. Of course that would have fallen to . . . Princess Cecilia.”

  He held her gaze. “In the days after the accident, I felt very helpless, especially when it came to the children. This was one way I could ease my brother’s burden.”

  “Hiring someone to care for two small children, sight unseen?” she asked.

  It struck him as curious that she’d challenge him; after all she was the one benefitting from his decision. But he respected her for it, too. He needed someone who’d put Max and Emilia first. He leaned forward, still holding her gaze. “Miss Walters, rest assured you were thoroughly vetted before we offered you the position.”

  A pink stain spread over the crests of her cheeks as she dropped her eyes. “Of course, Your Highness,” she replied.

  He waited for her to look up and when she didn’t right away, he cleared his throat to prompt her to do so.

  “Can you call me something else, please? If not Diego, then, I don
’t know, Mr. Navarro?”

  Her clear blue gaze was utterly guileless. “But you are Your Highness. Or at the very least, Prince Diego. You are in no way, shape, or form, a mere mister.”

  “Couldn’t you pretend?”

  She suddenly focused on her teacup. “No, I could not.”

  He wondered why. Wondered if it was some stupid, silly class notion of aristocracy that he hated. During official functions he wore the appropriate clothing and sash but the rest of the time he preferred to be more casual. A regular suit with or without a tie when he was on charity business, and khakis and button-down shirts, like he was wearing now, for casual wear. Complete with wrinkles.

  That didn’t explain the lack of eye contact, though. He’d almost think she was shy, except there’d been a few moments where she’d dropped her guard and he’d actually felt as if they’d connected. He chalked it up to first-day nerves.

  She finished her tea, took a last bite of cake, and put down her fork. There was still a corner of the piece left on the china, and he thought she looked at it rather regretfully before checking her watch. “It’s three forty-five,” she said, placing a hand on her belly in a telltale gesture of nerves. “Perhaps someone could show me the way to the blue salon?”

  Senora Ortiz came around the corner. “I’ll have one of the maids take you,” she said. “Don’t worry, Miss Walters. You’ll learn your way around in no time.” She smiled reassuringly.

  Diego frowned and got up as soon as Rosalie stood and smoothed her blouse. “Don’t trouble the staff. I’m going that way anyway. I’ll show you.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, and he was grateful she’d left off any form of address this time.

  He led the way out of the kitchen and toward the offices at the back of the castle. But when he looked over at the young woman beside him, he realized the agency had left out one thing when they’d spoken about Miss Walters.

  They’d left out how pretty she was. And not in a drop-dead gorgeous, glamour sort of way. No, she was the kind of woman who emanated simplicity and calm, like a fresh spring day. Like the spray of tea roses on the china set Mariana had always used—beautiful, classic, timeless.

  She was the kind of woman who could cause a man all sorts of trouble . . . without consciously doing a thing.

  He’d have to watch out for that.

  * * *

  He didn’t remember her.

  Rose followed Diego through the castle, a half-step behind him as they made their way out of the north wing and toward what she figured was the back of the building. It was interesting how the different areas of the building had different vibes. The kitchen had been spotlessly clean, beautifully modern and yet warm and welcoming. Her room was in the family wing, next to the children should she be needed and keeping her close to her charges. It was the most beautiful room she’d ever been able to call her own, a bit more finely appointed than she was used to, but light and airy with sheer panels at the windows and a spread of sage-green leaves and pink rosebuds. Not only was there a huge bed and an attached en suite complete with a stunning clawfoot tub, but she had her own sitting area too, with a sage-green sofa and chair and polished end tables.

  Now they were marching toward the business area of the castle, where presumably the king, his sons, and his staff had their offices. The nerves in her stomach were tumbling over themselves now. She hadn’t considered coming face to face with Diego so soon, or her gut reaction to him. His insistence on being so familiar threw her off. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered, but there was more too. When he spoke of the children, there was a softness around his eyes that showed his deep affection for them. And a surprising steel in his voice when he’d informed her she’d been vetted before being hired.

  He was the Playboy Prince. She’d expected charm, and he’d had that in spades. The rest, though . . . she wasn’t sure what to make of him. Or the fluttering in her stomach when he smiled and a half-dimple popped in his cheek.

  Now she was on her way to meet Raoul, so she pushed aside her thoughts of Diego and ran through the protocol in her head yet again. Hopefully she didn’t have any crumbs on her collar or anything.

  They stopped outside a massive oak door and Diego smiled at her reassuringly. “Don’t be nervous. He doesn’t bite. He’ll probably try to ply you with more tea.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, sir.” There. “Sir” might work. Less formal than a fussy title and yet it was respectful and delineated their difference in station.

  He smiled, a crooked little flash that made her pulse give a solid thump. She wouldn’t berate herself for that;Diego was and always had been unfairly sexy and reputably charming. She was human, after all. That was the problem.

  “I don’t like it, but it’ll have to do,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but I can’t shake the feeling that you look familiar.”

  She laughed, but inside she was squirming. She had taken the proper training, passed all her accreditations, and had been working for five years now. But she hadn’t forgotten that at nineteen she’d been struggling to put herself through school and Diego had swept through her life. She’d made an entire weekend’s worth of wages in the time it took for him to get off one train and catch another.

  “I have one of those faces,” she supplied. “Sir.”

  “I take it back. It’s no better than the rest. We’ll have to work on it.” He had the audacity to wink at her.

  She was working up a suitable response when the door opened. “Ah. Diego. Why am I not surprised?”

  She goggled at the sight of the crown prince. Raoul Navarro was older than his brother, and even smiling, his countenance was far more serious. There were lines beside his eyes and mouth, and just a hint of dark circles suggesting lack of sleep. Where Diego wore tan trousers and a light blue shirt, Raoul was clothed in a perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit, complete with white shirt and flawlessly knotted necktie.

  It was a terrible time to lose her carefully rehearsed words.

  “This is Miss Rosalie Walters, your new nanny.” Diego smoothly performed introductions.

  “Yes, Miss Walters. Please come in.” He stood aside. “You’ve gotten settled, I hope?”

  She hastily bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Your Highness. Thank you. The room is beautiful and I’m looking forward to meeting the children.”

  To her dismay, Diego followed her into the room. Now she felt outmatched and outnumbered.

  Raoul gave a short nod, then gestured toward a small seating area. “Would you like some tea?”

  She caught Diego’s eye and nearly smiled at the impish expression on his face. He’d definitely called it.

  “Tea would be lovely, thank you,” she replied. She shouldn’t have been surprised when an assistant immediately came in with a tea tray, but she was.

  “Thank you,” she said to the woman, who placed the tray on the table in front of her. “Shall I pour, then?”

  There were only two cups on the tray. Diego held up a hand. “None for me, thanks.”

  Raoul took a seat in a china-blue chair, looking absolutely regal as he did so. “I assume you’re joining us, Diego?” He looked over at Rose. “Diego took on the job of searching for a nanny,” he explained. “I found in the days after the funeral I was very distracted. Now I’m trying to catch up on state business as well as get on with . . .”

  He cleared his throat. Rose’s nervousness was temporarily forgotten as her heart softened. “I’m so very sorry for your loss, Your Highness,” she said quietly. She handed him a cup of tea and he smiled and took it gratefully.

  “Miss Walters, I think you’ll find that amid all the formalities here, our family is a close one. I’m at a loss with the children.” He put down his teacup and met her gaze. “I don’t know the right thing to say or do. If I should talk about Ceci or not, if they need hugs or space. I apologize for being so personal but . . . I’d like it very much if you could give me your thoughts as you care for them. I’m depending on you to under
stand what they need and to help me provide it.” His expression was one of extreme humility. “I’m the heir to Marazur, but I’m also a father.”

  Oh, she was doubly impressed now. Of course, it added to her pressures but at least she felt as if they could work together to ensure the children’s happiness.

  “Of course,” she replied, resisting the urge to reach out and pat his hand. “I’m looking forward to meeting them both. Getting them back into a normal routine will help a lot. And so will knowing that there are people who love and care about them. I’ve only been here a little over an hour and I can already see that they’re very loved.”

  Diego had been silent so far, but he leaned ahead a little and looked at his brother. “I’m here to help you too, Raoul.”

  Raoul smiled thinly. “Thank you. But I’m fine, really. Work is the best thing for me now. As Miss Walters said . . . a normal routine.”

  Rose looked over and saw Diego frown, but she didn’t have time to think about it as the next ten minutes were filled with Raoul asking various questions about her and her plans. When he was seemingly satisfied, he stood and offered his hand.

  “Thank you, Miss Walters. I don’t want to keep you from settling in or meeting Max and Emilia. Perhaps we can talk again tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” She took his hand briefly, and bobbed another quick curtsy.

  For the first time during the meeting, he smiled. “Miss Walters, it’s going to be tedious if you keep bobbing up and down all the time.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Do you need someone to show you where to go? Senora Romero is our housekeeper. She’ll provide you with household schedules and the like.”

  “I’ll take her,” Diego offered. “I promised Max we’d kick the ball around in the garden before dinner.”

  She held her smile, torn between being annoyed at Diego’s continued nearness and grateful for his assistance. It was nice to have an ally, but she couldn’t allow herself to be too familiar with the family. The truth was, she needed to get settled in her place, which was not drinking tea with princes but in the nursery with children and with the other household staff.