by Donna Alward
“I like your laugh,” he said quietly. The night and the intimacy of the garden prompted hushed tones. It was as if no one else existed. No divide in their station, no official family duties, none of the grief that had permeated the palace lately. He nudged her elbow with his hand. “There hasn’t been much laughter here lately. It’s nice, even if it is at my expense.”
She stopped, turned to him, and looked up into his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you about your life of privilege. You put your pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us.”
He chuckled. “Now I’m going to have to try putting both legs in at once, so I can be special.”
But her face remained serious. “No, I mean it. You have feelings like anyone else, and of course this is a difficult time. And you live in the public eye, which makes it even harder.” She put her hand on his arm, her fingers warm and sure. “Is there a right or wrong way to grieve? And is it really anyone’s business?”
That was it exactly. In addition, Diego was really worried about his brother, and his father, too. Alexander was the king, but it seemed he’d aged a good decade since the accident. He rarely smiled anymore, and he always looked so tired. Raoul, on the other hand, had become something of a workaholic.
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
She released his arm. “Yes, you mentioned that.”
“No,” he said, stronger than he’d spoken before. “It’s not just the children who need you. I think we all do.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s a tall order for a new nanny on her first day on the job.”
“Don’t worry. I just mean . . . you’ve got a sweetness to you. A steadiness. And a great smile. Just do what you do, Rose. That’ll be enough, I think.”
“And you? What will you be doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Now that I’m here, will you be jetting off again, resuming your normal life?”
He frowned. “What makes you ask that?”
She took a step backward. “Emilia said you aren’t here often. That you’re too busy traveling all over and having fun. The kids miss you . . . sir. They think the sun rises and sets on you. If you want them to have stability, perhaps you need to focus on being there for them on a more consistent basis.”
Ouch. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, and Rose was a stranger, really. Her opinion shouldn’t have the power to hurt him, but somehow it did.
“Miss Walters, I do believe you’ve overstepped.”
She lifted her chin. “I beg your pardon, sir, but you overstepped when you came out here tonight and approached me, rather than leaving me to enjoy my walk alone. I don’t mean to be insubordinate or overly blunt, but I’m here to do a job. Not make friends.”
It burned that she was right. Completely right. Truth was, she was pretty and he was lonely. He’d opened up to her, crossing the line between prince and nanny. Then she’d been honest and he hadn’t liked what he’d heard.
She wasn’t sending mixed signals, despite what her gorgeous eyes said, despite the little shiver of attraction running between them. She was here for the job. He was the one blurring the lines.
“I beg your pardon.” He stepped back and sketched a quick bow. “I won’t disturb you any longer. Good night, Miss Walters. Buenos noches.”
He turned on his heel and started back along the path, leaving her alone beneath the arbor. Maybe she expected him to leave again. Maybe they all did. But someone had to lead the family through this crisis, and Diego figured he might just surprise everyone. This was one time he’d stay.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rose watched him walk away, heard his shoes crunch against the fine gravel. She let out a huge sigh. This had never been an issue before. At each house where she’d worked, there’d never been any blurring of lines between employer and employee. Parents had been employers, not friends, and they’d worked together to see to all the needs of the children. No meddling uncles or family members. Especially incredibly attractive ones with a well-documented reputation.
She’d offended him. She understood that much, and when he spun to walk away, she longed to call after him and apologize. But she didn’t. The line had to be drawn and it had to be clear. Might as well do it now.
Still, she thought, as she finally left the shadows of the wisteria, it might have been nice to have a friend here. He certainly cared about the children, and his brother and father too. He seemed . . . lonely. Which was ridiculous, of course. He had lots of friends—the papers were full of them. There was no reason why their conversations today should play on her sympathies. She imagined what it would have been like tonight if they’d just met at the fountain as an ordinary man and woman. Maybe she would have flirted back with him, just to see that teasing gleam in his eye. Maybe she wouldn’t have forced herself to ignore the ripple of awareness that had rushed through her when he grabbed her arm and asked her to stay.
But they weren’t regular people, and she’d do well to remember it.
She found her way back to her room, and wondered where Diego’s was. Close by? In another section or wing? She let herself in quietly, then went to the door that joined her room with the nursery. She peeked in and saw both children sound asleep, exhausted from their time outside today.
She closed the door and let out a long sigh. It was nearly midnight. Her day would begin at six. She really needed to get to bed.
Instead she went to her window and opened it, letting in the perfumed night air. She sat on the window seat and looked out over the dark grounds, a world away from where she’d been this morning.
She didn’t know how long she’d be here, but she could hardly discount the influence this job would have on her future. On top of that, it paid extremely well, so she could send more money home. Nothing meant more than looking after her family.
Nothing. And so, when she finally crawled into bed, she knew that sending Diego on his way was best for everyone involved. Because screwing this up would have ripple effects she didn’t even want to think about.
Six hours later she rose and showered and dressed for the day. She went to the kitchens to eat and then saw to the preparation of Emilia and Max’s morning meal. When that was done she went back upstairs and started them on a morning routine that they’d follow most days. It wasn’t until one o’clock, when the midday meal was served, that Rose learned that Diego had left that morning for Paris.
She’d been right about him after all.
* * *
Rose couldn’t remember a more pleasant job.
She’d been in Marazur for two weeks now, and for the third day in a row she sat in the garden on a blanket, watching the children as they kicked a ball around after their al fresco lunch. The weather was stunning, the summer heat softened by the breeze from the sea that swept over the island. Perfect for picnics and play. She smiled as the duo ran along the level stretch of lush grass. Emilia had long, thick curls, and Rose had plaited it in a Dutch braid, which was Emilia’s favorite. Both children wore ordinary-looking, but fine-quality clothing—shorts, T-shirts, and trainers.
Raoul seemed determined that his children have “normal” childhoods, and it wasn’t just in their casual dress. Other than a television and a DVD player in the nursery, there was a distinct lack of electronic devices at their disposal. Instead they were encouraged to play, and each morning after breakfast they worked on lessons, at their father’s orders.
The schedule suited her just fine, she mused, plopping a berry into her mouth. Max had a hard time sitting still, but the playroom was full of things to keep him busy. At his age, “school” consisted of blocks, creative projects that worked on his fine motor skills, early math manipulatives, and lots of storybooks. With Emilia, things were a bit more structured. Before long, Rose figured a tutor would be brought in to see to the children’s education. For now, Rose followed the curriculum that Mariana had been teaching.
The best part? The children reciprocated by helping her wi
th her Spanish, which was more than a bit rusty.
She sat cross-legged on the blanket, and watched as Max kicked the ball past Emilia and between the orange markers they’d arranged as goal posts. As he jumped and put his arms in the air, Rose laughed. He was all boy, but he was a sweetheart, too. Emilia looked over and tried a crinkly sort of wink—she’d let the goal in on purpose, Rose knew. The siblings were close, which was nice. She supposed that was because they had to rely on each other.
Rose took a sip of water as Emilia and Max switched places, and she thought about her own family. She and Devon and Hayley were close now, but it hadn’t always been that way. She’d been twenty and nearly through her schooling when Hayley had gotten pregnant. Devon, as the oldest, had been hard on Hayley, especially as he was new to his parish and very conscious of appearances. And Hayley had assumed that Rose would be a nanny to her baby when she was born. When Rose had said no, everything had blown up. The tight-knit family had unraveled, and Rose was still hoping they could be stitched back together again.
She sighed. Those hadn’t been the most pleasant years. And things were still strained between her and her sister. It was hard to put the pieces back together when they were now so spread out and disconnected. Diego wasn’t the only one who felt lonely now and again.
“If this isn’t a sight.”
Before she even turned her head, she knew it was him. The voice was warm and soft, with just the hint of an accent. She schooled her features and turned to see him striding across the grass, casually dressed in khaki shorts and a T-shirt. The cotton stretched across broad shoulders. Wow, she thought, but kept her mouth firmly shut.
He approached the kids first. “Ah, mi rayito de sol,” he announced, picking Emilia up and giving her a bear hug. “Como estas?”
The response was a rapid fire of Spanish that Rose couldn’t keep up with. With a hearty laugh, Diego put Emilia back on the ground and reached for Max. Max, with a devilish twinkle in his eye, began to run away, his giggles filling the garden with childish joy. Rose watched as Diego, his smile wide, raced after him, caught him under his arm, and proceeded to hang him upside down by his feet.
“No, no!” shouted Max, giggling and gasping the whole time. “Tio Diego! No!” The giggling turned to full-on belly laughs, and Rose found herself grinning.
“Diego, really,” she commented dryly, but inside she knew this was exactly what Max needed and was grateful to Diego for providing it. While Emilia was more than happy to be active and play outside and get into her share of dirt, Rose knew it wasn’t the same as having “guy time.”
And it wasn’t like Raoul would be out here in a pair of shorts, horsing around. She understood he had duties, but he’d hardly seen the children. She was lucky if he popped in once a day to say hello. She’d been both surprised and disappointed by that, particularly after what he’d said the first day. Now Diego was here, laughing, playing, bringing his incredible energy to their picnic. Not just energy . . . love. He genuinely loved these children, which made it hard for her to remain annoyed at him for leaving. He kept surprising her, and she suspected that beneath all the obvious charm there was a warm, generous heart.
Diego put Max down, made sure he was steady on his feet, and then stood. “It’s good to see them out playing,” he said to Rose, coming over to the blanket and plopping down in a most unceremonious manner.
It was like that night in the garden had never happened. Rose looked at him for a moment, trying to puzzle him out. “You know,” she said, a contemplative note in her voice, “you’re rather like the Cheshire Cat. You appear, and then you disappear. You appear . . .”
He laughed. “I know. And then I disappear.”
“You’ve got the same grin, too,” she pointed out, her lips twitching.
“Alice in Wonderland,” he mused, making a humming sound. “Haven’t read that since I was in short pants.” He looked down at his bare knees. “Oops.”
She did laugh then, she couldn’t help it. “We’ve been reading it at night,” she said. “I started them with The Wind in the Willows. It was my favorite when I was little. And then Emilia picked out Alice. I’m not sure what we’re going to read next.”
“It’s wonderful that you’re reading to them,” he said, resting on his elbows. Looking far too comfortable for her liking. And far too alluring.
“Of course I am. It’s my job, but even so, I’ve always loved reading to children before bed.”
“It’s very Mary Poppins.”
“Book or movie?”
He looked over at her. Goodness, he had stunning eyes, and it was unfair that a man have lashes that lush and dark. “Movie. Ceci made us all watch it when the anniversary edition came out a few years ago.” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a few hours I won’t get back.”
She looked over at the children. They too had flopped onto the grass, and Rose smiled as she saw Emilia lift her hand and point at a cloud floating past.
“Emilia’s quite a little mother to Max,” Rose observed. “She really looks out for him.”
“That’s sweet.”
Rose nodded, but met Diego’s gaze. “It is, but it’s something I want to watch. She’s so little. I don’t want her to feel like she has to take her mother’s place for him. It’s probably helping her with her grief, but it should never become a burden to her or an obligation, you know?”
Diego was quiet for a few moments. She looked over at him and noticed his face wasn’t as relaxed and open as it had been just a minute before. “Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. You’re absolutely right. It’s not good for her and it’s not good for Max, either.”
“For Max?”
Diego’s voice had a strain to it she hadn’t heard before. “When one sibling takes responsibility for the other, it’s easy for them to take over and want to do things for the other. Helping, protecting . . . on the surface it seems admirable and good. But sometimes the other sibling can feel . . . incompetent. In the way.”
“A burden?”
He nodded. “I guess.”
“And you’re speaking of you and Raoul now, yes?” She lifted a shoulder when he stared at her. “Come on, Diego. It’s pretty thinly veiled.”
“When our mother died, Raoul was a great big brother. But then he was so determined that my life not be difficult that he did everything. There was nothing for me. Raoul was the crown prince. Raoul was the heir. Raoul was good at diplomacy and business. I was . . . not in the way, exactly, but not useful.”
Was that why he traveled so much, got his face in the tabloids? He was bored? Uninspired?
“Anyway, I don’t want that to happen to Max. They should both be their own people. And understand me too, Rose, that I know the situation wasn’t easy for Raoul, either. He dealt with all the responsibilities.”
“So much for a life of privilege,” Rose murmured. Now Max’s stubby finger was pointing at a butterfly. They were so sweet. A little stubborn—and Max was terribly cranky when he got overtired—but sweet kids. Remarkably unspoiled, considering.
Diego sat up, crossed his legs so he was sitting like she was. “Did you realize you called me by my first name?” he asked.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. How could she have forgotten herself so easily? It was his fault. He kept ignoring the line between employer and employee. “I’m sorry.” She stammered a little, but Diego shook his head.
“Rose, about the garden that night . . .”
“I really should pack up the picnic.”
She moved to open the basket and tuck away the dishes, but Diego put his hand on her arm. “Stop. And hear me out.”
His fingers were strong, and warm, and felt entirely too good as they circled her wrist. She closed the lid on the basket and sat back hesitantly. “Of course.” She obeyed because he’d told her to and he was her superior. It certainly couldn’t be because of the low note of entreaty softening his voice.
“I thought a lot abo
ut what you said. You’re right. There is a status difference between us, and you are here to do a job and not be a friend.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m a bit too old to have a nanny. But life is hardly ever black and white. I hate all the formality, if we’re being completely truthful. And this place has been so dreary, you came in like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.”
She was touched by the compliment, even understood his perspective. “Hate it or not, Diego, it’s how it is.”
“You’re infuriating.” He ran a hand through his hair and she resisted a smile. He was adorable when he was agitated. Max was a lot like him, she realized, with a catch in her heart.
“Rose,” he said again, and she gave him her full attention.
“I’m sorry I interrupted. Go on.”
“You were right about me overstepping. After Paris, I was in South America again the last few weeks and I couldn’t stop thinking about being home. That’s unusual for me. Normally I can’t wait to get away. Something’s changed.”
Don’t say it’s me, she thought, her stomach clenching. That would be . . . God. Cliché and horrible and . . . so ridiculously fairytale-ish. Ugh.
His jaw was set in a stubborn line. “I’m needed here. Whether Papa or Raoul realize it, I’m needed here. And I’m not going away again until I’m convinced things are fine.” He met her gaze. “Rose, someone has to keep the family together. Family’s always been the most important thing. And it feels like it’s all crumbled to bits in the last two months. Most of all I worry about those two.” He nodded toward Max and Emilia. “What I’m saying is, when we’re, I don’t know, in public, call me ‘sir’ or ‘Your Highness’ or whatever your sense of protocol demands. But please, when we talk about the children, when we work together . . . let me just be Diego.”
His plea touched her. She knew all about trying to keep family together. He could have used other arguments, but he’d chosen the one that had a guarantee of success. Did he know? Did his research into her include her relationship with her sister and niece? Her parents and brother? And yet, looking into his eyes now, she saw sincerity. Honor. Humility.
