The Playboy Prince and the Nanny

by Donna Alward

  “They need you,” he said softly, and his eyes were on the children, not on her. “And they need me. Let me help. Please.”

  “You love them very much,” she stated, wishing his plea hadn’t gone straight to her heart.

  “Has their father been around often?”

  She shook her head. “He’s been busy. He stops in once each day, though.”

  Diego frowned. “That’s not parenting.”

  “It’s not my place to judge,” she replied. “It’s my job to care for them and meet their needs. All their needs,” she added, as Diego looked over. “His Highness is struggling, that’s all.”

  “Emilia looks like Ceci,” he murmured, softly so neither of the children could hear him say their mother’s name. “And I’m sure right now reminders of her hurt a lot. That’s no excuse, though. I’ll speak to him.”

  “Diego, please . . .”

  He reached over and squeezed her fingers. “I’m his brother. It’s not overreaching if I say it. Besides, he needs my help, too.”

  And what about Diego, she wondered. What about his grief? Or maybe he hadn’t been home enough in recent years to feel the loss the same as the others. He certainly seemed okay.

  A whiny shout diverted their attention, and Rose quickly slid her fingers away from Diego’s. Team or not, there were still rules. Maybe they weren’t written down, but it was a simple matter of what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, kneeling on the blanket as Max came rushing forward, big tears in his eyes and his lips set in a line that told Rose a tantrum was in the offing.

  Out came a rush of Spanish that left Rose scrambling and Diego chuckling. “He says that Emilia won’t let him go to the pond to see the fish and he says, in effect, that ‘she’s not the boss of me.’”

  Rose struggled not to laugh. It was such a typically childish thing and more reassuring than troublesome. “Max, darling,” she said gently, “Emilia knows the rule is you can’t go to the pond without a grown-up with you.”

  “Si,” Emilia said, but the tone was belligerent and very “I told you so.” Rose sent a quick look in Emilia’s direction, and the girl was quiet.

  “Why don’t we all walk to the pond together, see the fish, and then we’ll go inside for a story.”

  “And a nap,” Max grumbled. “You will make me take a nap. I hate naps.”

  She touched her finger to the end of his pert little nose. “And you’re very grumpy if you don’t have one. Come on, let’s see the fish first.”

  She grabbed the basket while Diego folded the blanket, and together the four of them walked down the grassy hill toward the pond. It wasn’t particularly huge, but a cute little stone bridge crossed it, and from the apex they could look down into the clear water and see the flash of koi swimming around.

  Rose put down the basket and leaned over to peer into the pond, while Diego lifted Max into his arms so he could see better. Then Rose began a game. She started a story about a koi fish, and each one of them had to add a line to the story. When it was Diego’s turn, he passed, but Rose shook her head.

  “Nope. You have to play or you can’t stay at the pond.”

  The koi had names of Eduardo and Maria, thanks to the children. Maria was being bossy and Eduardo wanted to go play with the other koi.

  Diego sighed, frowned, and thought for a moment. “Eduardo told Maria he was hungry for a snack. And when she turned to get him one, he swam away to join the other koi who were playing . . .”

  He faltered, and Max jumped in. “Football.”

  Rose shook her head. “Nope, sorry Max. It’s my turn.” Max’s face fell a little, so Rose smiled and said, “Polo. The koi were playing polo.”

  Max’s smile disappeared as he giggled. “Fish can’t play polo!”

  “Why not?”

  Emilia, keen on the game, jumped in with, “Eduardo’s polo pony was Flash, because he went so fast. He held his mallet in one fin and the reins in the other as they went flying over the grass, chasing the ball.”

  “Well done, Emilia!” Rose grinned, and the story continued. By the time Maria had come back with empanadas and churros, Eduardo had scored the winning goal. But he took a terrible scolding from his sister.

  “Eduardo explained that sometimes a boy needs to get out and blow off some steam,” Diego said. “And Maria, seeing everything had turned out okay, said she’d try to be more understanding in the future.”

  Rose chuckled. It wasn’t too hard to imagine Diego as Eduardo.

  “What’s ‘blow off some steam’?” Emilia asked, wrinkling her brow.

  They picked up their picnic materials and began walking to the castle again. “Well,” Rose explained, “back when trains were first invented, they ran on steam. When the pressure in the boiler got to be too much, they’d have to let some out to release it before it blew up.” She ruffled Max’s hair. “Sometimes little boys—and girls—need to blow off some steam before they explode.”

  “Miss Rosalie?” Emilia reached over to hold her hand and the girl looked up at Rose, her dark eyes shining. “You are very clever. I want to be smart like you.”

  “Aw, thank you sweetheart.” She was touched by the compliment. “And if you study, and ask questions, and want to learn things, then you will be.”

  “I’m smart,” Max said defensively.

  “Indeed you are,” she replied. Diego hid a smile.

  Together they got the children up to the nursery. Rose supervised hand and face washing and then took Max into the bedroom where he was to nap.

  “I’m too old for naps,” he protested.

  “Nonsense,” replied Diego. “Everyone likes a good siesta.”

  “Not me.”

  “Well, I do.” Diego sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll bet Rose is going to read you a story, too.”

  Max was lying on the bed now, his lids growing heavy. “Don’t want Miss Rosalie. Want Tio Diego.”

  She shrugged at looked at Diego. “You’re literate. I’m sure you can read a story or two.”

  He laughed outright, and the sound made her feel all warm inside.

  “Emilia and I are going to work on her letters and numbers for a while,” Rose said. She always looked forward to this part of the day. “If you read to Max, we can get started right away.”

  “Por favor, Tio,” Max said, sitting up a bit, giving Diego the biggest set of puppy eyes Rose had ever seen.

  “How can I resist this face?” Diego replied, grinning. “Pick out two stories, Max.”

  Rose left the door open partway as she and Emilia went to the polished table where they did their lessons. She put out pencils, crayons, and stickers along with several worksheets of letters and numbers. Emilia’s printing was improving each day, and after a few practice sheets they’d work on a little spelling and maths.

  Emilia had finished the whole alphabet and was in the midst of her numbers when Rose realized she hadn’t heard Diego’s deep voice in quite some time. She got up and went to the bedroom door and paused on the threshold, her heart melting just a little bit as she looked at the pair of them.

  Diego was lying on the bed with Max, a forgotten storybook open between them. Max was curled into the much larger figure of his uncle, his head resting on Diego’s shoulder. Both were fast asleep.

  That’s how it should be with their father, she thought. Oh, she understood that the demands of Raoul’s position were unique, but these kinds of moments were precious and few. Maybe Diego was right. Maybe he should speak to Raoul because, despite the Prince’s assurances on the first day, he really hadn’t been involved with his children much at all.

  Unlike Diego. He’d been gone for two weeks, but in one afternoon he’d shown them fun, love, affection. He’d given them time and made them feel important.

  Diego—renowned playboy, palace bad boy, and notorious womanizer—would actually make a very good father.

  The world was just full of surprises.

  CH
APTER FIVE

  That afternoon set the pattern for the days ahead. Diego found himself increasingly busy between checking in at the stables and his office, and he had no trouble sleeping at night, except that he thought far too often of Rose just before nodding off.

  On the day of his return, he’d awakened from the shared siesta after an hour, his shirt sticky from where Max’s head rested. Carefully he’d extricated himself from the awkward position and tiptoed out to the main room where Rose and Emilia were doing lessons.

  Emilia’s little head had been bent over her work, and Rose was watching, a smile of encouragement on her face as Emilia printed and spelled aloud as she went. They hadn’t seen him yet, and he let the scene before him sink into his memory. She cared about the children. He’d hoped that whoever they hired would, of course, but with Rose it was genuine affection. Her honey-gold hair was twisted up into a knot at the back of her head, and her ivory complexion had already mellowed a little from the Mediterranean sun, giving her a glow. She’d relaxed from her plain black trousers and white blouses too, opting for softer, pale linens in deference to the heat.

  She was beautiful. She was damn near perfect. And that scared the hell out of him almost as much as it drew him to her.

  “Very good,” she praised softly, and Emilia looked up at her with something akin to hero worship.

  Max was asleep, Emilia was studying, and both were happy. He wasn’t a fool; he knew it was because they were getting attention, and the good kind of attention. What children needed were two parents. In the absence of that, they were getting Rose and Diego as substitutions for the real thing.

  In that moment he promised himself that as long as he was needed, he’d be there for the children.

  The first thing he’d done was go to Raoul and make his case. Raoul had dark circles beneath his eyes and he’d been short with Diego, firing back that a bachelor who was rarely at home had no business telling him how to raise his children. It was no less than Diego had expected. He stopped at Raoul’s secretary’s desk on the way out. “Stephani, is he getting any sleep?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, frowning. “He won’t talk to me either. I know I’m just his assistant . . .”

  “You’re more than that. He trusts you. We both need to keep trying, I guess.”

  Her dark eyes met Diego’s. “I hate seeing him so unhappy.”

  “If you ever have any concerns, come to me, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  That day, and every day since, he’d crammed his working hours into the morning and spent his afternoons with the children. The trip to Argentina had been very profitable for the stables, and several deals were in progress that would see new additions to their polo stock as well as the sale of breeding rights. Being able to claim connection to the royal bloodline was a big thing for many breeders.

  In the evenings he worked until dinner on business involving his charities, and then after dinner he sometimes worked until nearly midnight if something was pressing and couldn’t wait. Each morning he had a to-do list for his assistant, Camila, to carry out while he was involved in his day.

  But today he was playing hooky. The children had been fussing more and more about being bored and not getting out of the palace as they used to.

  Ceci had been gone two months. As far as Diego knew, the kids hadn’t left the palace grounds in all that time. Ceci had taken them places quite often. Of course they missed it.

  So he’d arranged a car and proper security, and they were going into the city for lunch and some shopping. Max wanted toys. Emilia wanted everything. The day was sunny and perfect for this sort of an outing.

  They were dressed and waiting for him just past noon when he came to get them at the nursery. Rose had dressed them appropriately, in casual but spotless and pressed clothing. She was looking very pretty too, he realized. Her dress was a floral print on an ivory background, with a wide belt at her small waist and ivory flats on her feet—sensible, he thought, for the walking they’d be doing. A wide-brimmed hat hung from her fingers, along the side of her thigh. There was an innocence about her that filled him with a sense of goodness.

  “Are we ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together.

  Max ran up and pulled on Diego’s hand. “Let’s go! I’m hungry.”

  They were laughing as they piled into the waiting car, the driver shutting the door behind them. It wasn’t until Rose was buckling them into their seats that the atmosphere suddenly got quiet. He looked at Max and saw the boy’s eyes were wide. A glance at Emilia showed her blinking rather quickly. Rose noticed too, and when she turned to Diego for help, he gave a small shake of his head.

  “Okay, what do you want to eat? I think we should eat as soon as we get there.” Diego forced a note of cheerfulness, hoping to distract the children from what he suspected was a very bad memory.

  Emilia shrugged.

  “Come on, you two. You must have some favorites,” Rose nudged.

  Diego wasn’t sure if she’d figured out why they were suddenly so silent, but she leaned forward and smiled at them, trying again. “I don’t know what I’d like,” she said. “The food here is very different. Perhaps the two of you will help me decide.”

  Max mumbled something.

  “I’m sorry?” She peered into his face. “I didn’t quite catch that, Max.”

  “He said churros,” Emilia replied. “They’re fried and have cinnamon on them.”

  “That’s for dessert,” Diego said, as the driver negotiated the way down the lane toward the gates and then the street.

  “At school, we sometimes had ‘Backwards Dinner,’” Rose said, smiling a little. “Forks on the right. Knives on the left. And dessert first.” She wiggled her eyebrows, coaxing a smile out of Max.

  “May we really have dessert first, Miss Rose?” Emilia asked, her eyes lighting up.

  “We’ll see, shall we?”

  The mood seemed to have lightened a bit, and on the way into the city Diego sat back and watched as she engaged in some subtle prodding to get the children to confess to their favorite activities.

  It came as no surprise to Diego that Max’s mostly consisted of food and outdoor activities, while Emilia liked shopping of all sorts. “I think we should visit the market in the square,” he suggested. “We can have lunch at one of the tavernas nearby, visit a few shops, and then haggle with the vendors.”

  “Yes!” Max’s face lit up. “It is so loud and bright. Last time I saw jugglers.”

  Rose nodded, and Diego was happy they’d decided to take the children on an outing today.

  “Jugglers? That’s exciting,” she said, keeping the conversation going.

  “Si,” he answered. “It was just before . . .”

  Max suddenly stopped, and the car was quiet.

  Diego knew the moment she understood. She looked quickly at the children, then back at him. The funeral for their mother had been on the palace grounds, in the chapel. He suspected they hadn’t been in the limousine since the night of the accident.

  The moment passed, and Max and Emilia were talking to each other now in their excitement for the afternoon’s events. Rose looked up at Diego once more and he gave a brief nod. “Now you understand,” he said quietly.

  “Is this why you haven’t traveled lately?”

  He spared a glance at the children and then looked back at her. “I thought it was time I focused on family.”

  “So the bad boy’s reformed?” she asked.

  “Maybe the bad boy needed a purpose,” he answered, and her gaze of approval went straight to his heart. He didn’t often feel as if his choices were appreciated, but this time he knew he was doing the right thing and for the right reasons. The time for playing around was over.

  * * *

  Rose was still considering Diego’s last statement when they entered the city. As flattering as it was to think she had captured his attention, it was far more gratifying to know that he was focused on the well-being of
his family. She nearly asked him what he had planned, but her attention was diverted by the bright sights of tall houses, balconies made colorful by plants and flowers, and even lines of clothing strung between poles in some of the poorer areas. Pedestrians stopped and pointed at the car as they passed, not only because of the sleek black stretch but because of the royal flags adorning the hood.

  “We’re making a bit of a spectacle,” Rose observed, peering out the tinted window.

  “It’s hard to go incognito,” Diego said. “But really, there’s not much to worry about. Besides, Father would hardly agree to us jumping in a plain old car for an afternoon in town.”

  She looked behind them. One of those “plain old cars” was behind them—black, expensive, new. Palace security.

  “Don’t worry. They won’t intrude unless they’re needed. You’ll hardly know they’re there.”

  “Do you always have security?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. But then, I’m a big boy. I’m not the heir. And Marazur is pretty small, considering. Today it’s just because . . .” The sentence trailed off and she knew he meant the children.

  “I see.” She did, or at least she thought she did.

  She learned very quickly over the next thirty minutes as they parked and headed into what she would call the equivalent of a pub. It was light and airy, though, with delicious smells wafting out the door, and gorgeous flowers spilling out of pots along the windows. No dark interior and heavy wood furniture here; instead there were colorful chairs and tables with bright tablecloths. They were led straight through to the back where they could have privacy, and Rose saw a number of heads follow their progress through the little restaurant.

  The children sat together on one side, their backs to the door and the other patrons, while she and Diego faced forward, with everything and everyone in full view.

  It dawned on her that this was on purpose. For protection. She didn’t see any of their security, though. Wherever they were, they were doing a good job of being inconspicuous.