by Donna Alward
“I’m sorry, you two. I have to go take care of something.” He kissed them both on the top of the head, but he was dialing Marco before he even got to the door.
“Marco? You drove Miss Rose to the city today?” He barely waited for the answer. “I need you to pick me up in two minutes.”
The drive to the beach seemed to take forever, even though Marco made it in just under fifteen minutes. Diego didn’t wait for him to stop; he hopped out of the car and strode to the steps that led down a twenty-foot cliff to the sandy beach below.
There were tons of people here. Umbrellas dotted the sandy expanse and he hadn’t even thought to ask what she was wearing.
But then he saw her. She was standing at the water’s edge, holding onto her hat and talking to a man. Jealousy ripped through him without warning, and he clenched his jaw. This wasn’t about his jealousy, though. It was about her safety. The man stepped closer, crowding her space.
Diego had just stepped forward when Rose smiled at the man, turned, and started to walk in his direction.
The man reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her backward.
Diego ran forward, slowing to a walk when he was several yards away. While he felt the urge to slam his fist into this guy’s face, he wouldn’t cause that kind of a scene. Because of Rose. Because she didn’t need the trouble it would cause, and neither did the family.
He pasted a smile on his face, the one he saved for his most dreaded appearances, and put his sunglasses on.
“Rose, darling!” After years at Cambridge and abroad, he could do a pretty good posh accent. It might make him less recognizable, between that and the sunglasses.
She looked up and relief rushed across her features when she saw him. “Oh, hello . . . darling,” she answered, and he watched as the man let go of her arm.
“Everything all right? I’m so sorry I’m late. I was detained with the children. The nanny took the day off.”
The man took a step backward, and Diego moved in and took Rose’s hand in his.
“This nice man captured my hat,” she said, affecting a laugh. “The wind blew it right off! Down the beach it went.”
Diego slid his arm around her waist. “Well, thank God. We wouldn’t want your delicate English skin to burn, would we?” He smiled down at her secretly, and added, “Though I do think there’s an aloe plant at the villa. I could help soothe any tender bits.”
Her already pink skin turned pinker.
“Good day, Miss,” the man said, backing away quickly.
“Thank you for finding my hat!” she called after him, but once he’d turned around, she wilted against Diego. “Just in time,” she murmured.
“Come.” He dropped the English accent and the affected light mood, but still held her hand. “Let’s get you home.”
He led the way back along the beach to the steps, and then up to the waiting car. Marco didn’t even make eye contact with them as they got in the back seat. As soon as they were inside with the doors closed, Diego let go of her hand and turned toward her, the anger he’d held back rising up.
“What were you thinking? A single pretty woman on a beach alone, wandering around? You might as well have printed a target on your back!”
She spun toward him, her eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise. Then her brows pulled together. “It was my day off! I can do what I choose, Diego. I don’t have to ask your permission, you know!”
Marco, to his credit, never even blinked or peeked at the rearview mirror. He just drove steadily, away from the ocean and up toward the city.
“Yes, you can do as you please. We are a free country, after all. But you aren’t familiar with the area, and you’re not fluent, and you are an important member of the staff. You should have . . . cleared an itinerary and taken security!”
Rose lifted an eyebrow. “I’m staff. Not part of the royal family, Your Highness. I hardly rate personal security.” She turned her head and stared out the window.
He hated when she said “Your Highness” in just that way.
“Regardless, you were careless. Thank God I arrived when I did.”
“Thank God . . .” Her lips thinned and her eyes flashed as she turned back to face him. “I didn’t need rescuing, you know!”
“That’s not what it looked like. Or what it felt like when you wilted against me.”
Her pink cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “I was going along with your stupid plan. It’s not like I was going to shout ‘Oh look! It’s the prince!’ to the entire beach.”
“He grabbed your arm.” Thinking about it still made Diego’s gut clench.
“And I would have pulled away and left. Or screamed. It was a public beach, you know.”
“And your bag. Is everything still inside it?”
She looked confused. “What?”
“Check your bag. Are you missing anything?”
He watched as she rooted through her bag, and saw her face whiten. “My wallet. Are you saying . . .”
Diego sighed. “Tourists are targets in certain areas. What was in it?”
She sat back against the cushions of the seat. “Just some money. A credit card.”
“No ID?”
“I didn’t think I’d need my passport at a café and market.”
He appreciated the snap in her tone. He preferred a little heat to crying or dramatics. For all her sweetness, there was a toughness to his little English Rose.
And she’d probably cuff his ears if he ever called her that out loud.
“What are you smiling at?” she demanded.
“Nothing. Sorry. Anyway, we can cancel your credit card. How much cash did you have?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not as much as I left the palace with.”
“Good shopping?”
“Very.” She turned her head to look at him as the level of antagonism in the back seat went from a boil down to a simmer. “How did you even know where I was?”
Diego knew she was probably going to be furious at his next words, but he wouldn’t apologize for taking what he considered necessary precautions. “When you called for Marco to take you to the city, a security detail was sent as well. They heard you give the taxi driver instructions for the beach, and I got a call.”
Her mouth had dropped open and poof! they were up to the boil again. “You had me followed?” Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward so she could see Marco’s profile. “And you. You didn’t think to tell me?” she accused.
“Leave Marco out of it. He was just following my orders. And the security was really just one woman, who would have stepped in and got you out of any sticky situation. Until you got into the cab. She called me and then followed you.”
“I can’t believe you did that.” She scowled at him. “How do you people even live like this?”
He sent her a long, hard look. Was it really so bad that he’d wanted to be sure she was safe? Particularly if she went somewhere alone. The fact that the man at the beach had touched her sent an uncommon jolt of rage through his veins. What if someone had recognized her? She’d had her picture taken once before, and she hadn’t liked the headline that accompanied it. The security had been set up to be unobtrusive, and to step in only if needed.
It had been a part of his life for so long he hardly thought about it anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand her frustration. She wasn’t accustomed to this sort of intrusion. But she could have been a little more grateful for the help.
“You work,” he said stiffly, “for the Navarro household, and for the Crown Prince of Marazur. You are in charge of the heirs to the throne. Did you really think you wouldn’t have your own security?” He let out an exasperated breath. “Did you even read your contract?”
“I thought I’d have the freedom of a day off to myself,” she snapped.
Marco looked in the rearview mirror then. Diego shook his head. Not many people got away with speaking to him in such a familiar and antagonistic way.
He might not be the stern man that his brother was, but he wasn’t a pushover, either.
They turned up the drive to the palace.
Marco pulled around back to the servant’s entrance by the kitchen. Rose didn’t speak and neither did Diego. When Marco opened her door, she scooted out and took her bag with her.
Marco shut the door and got back in behind the wheel. Any other day, Diego might have gotten out with her. Walked her inside. Stopped in the kitchen for a piece of cake or a taste of whatever Senora Ortiz was cooking. But not today. He was annoyed. Supremely annoyed. At her for being so . . . incorrigible. And at himself for caring so damn much.
It was more than inconvenient. It was becoming a problem.
Marco drove around to the front of the house again, put the car in park, and opened Diego’s door. “Sir,” he said quietly.
“Thank you, Marco,” Diego said quietly. “For all you did today.”
“It’s my job, Your Highness.”
Diego smiled then. “And you do it well. You look after us all.”
“Not all of us,” Marco said quietly.
Marco had come out of the limo accident with only scratches and bruises. But he’d have to live with the scene for the rest of his life, and Diego had temporarily forgotten.
“All of us,” Diego affirmed as he placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.
He went inside and straight to his office. Not to the nursery, not to her room, not to the kitchens. He needed to calm down and figure out exactly what he was feeling. Thinking. And to do that, he needed to focus on something else for a little while.
Anything else.
* * *
Rose slammed her bag down on the chair in her suite and put her hands on her hips. He’d had her followed. Followed! She’d thought she’d been enjoying a quiet day alone, and the whole time she’d been watched.
It made her feel odd. And a little creeped out.
And now her wallet was missing. She’d only had twenty or thirty euros left anyway, so that was no big loss. She retrieved the rest of her cards and called the number on the back of one, in order to cancel the stolen one before any charges could be made on it.
When she hung up, she was slightly calmer, but not much. It wasn’t so much that he’d made sure she had security, but that he hadn’t told her about it. To make matters worse, when she’d looked up and saw him crossing the sand, she’d felt . . . rescued.
For God’s sake. Rescued. How pathetic was that? She was fully capable of looking after herself. She’d already realized she should leave the beach and would have done so if he hadn’t rushed in to save the day.
Rose went into her bathroom, and the face that stared back at her in the mirror gave her a start. Her hair was a mess of tangles, and her skin . . . oh, her skin. It was pink, all except for around her eyes, where she’d worn her sunglasses. Her arms too. Diego hadn’t been kidding about her pale English skin. It hadn’t been ready for the brashness of the Mediterranean sun. She put her palm against her upper arm; it was hot to the touch.
She stared in the mirror again and saw her lip wobble. What the heck?
She had nothing to cry about. She had a great job with wonderful children, and for the most part it was enjoyable and not difficult. So she’d had a not-so-great ending to an otherwise great day . . . big deal. Except . . .
She sniffed. Except she’d been delivered to the servant’s entrance and Diego hadn’t even said goodbye. He’d driven away, leaving her standing there, angry and unsure. It had been a very deliberate snub. And she had no reason to be mad about it, because she’d been the one to point out that simple nannies didn’t require personal security. She was the one who kept pointing out the difference in their stations.
As she stared at her disheveled reflection, she was at least honest with herself: she kept pointing it out so she didn’t have to deal with the real issue. She was falling for Diego. Not in an “I’ve got a crush” sort of way, but with a deep affection and respect. And longing. When he’d come striding through the sand this afternoon, her heart had leapt, glad to see him in her time of trouble. He’d brought with him a surety that everything would be all right.
That he’d take care of her.
Her, who’d never really needed taking care of before. Who usually ended up taking care of everyone else.
She could love him very easily.
But he was not for her. Not in a million years.
She bit down on her lip to stop the tremble and turned on her shower. Some cool water and perspective was needed here.
When she got out, she pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top, then went searching through her cosmetic bag for some decent lotion to apply to her burned skin. The gentlest thing she found was a small pot of eye cream, which was guaranteed to soothe. She wasn’t about to use it all on her shoulders and arms, though. Maybe one of the maids would have something. Ernestina was right next door, with the children.
Rose checked the clock on her phone. It was teatime, so perhaps she could sneak in and out again without causing a ruckus. She left her room, quietly entered the nursery, and paused for a moment, listening to the happy chatter and the sound of cutlery on plates and Ernestina’s cheerful voice. The maid really was much happier now that she was back to her usual job. She’d practically volunteered to watch Emilia and Max for the day. There was a difference between a job for a few hours and a job day in and day out, it seemed.
She stepped through to the sitting room and caught Ernestina’s eye. The maid’s gaze widened as she took in Rose’s burned skin. “Oh, Miss Rose! You didn’t take your sunscreen today. Dios mio! You are red.”
So much for being unobtrusive.
“Miss Rose!” Max came hurtling toward her, nearly knocking over his drink the process. “We got to make mantecados with Senora Ortiz today! And we are having them with our tea!”
Emilia held out a plate. “Would you like one, Miss Rose?”
“Of course I would.” She realized she’d forgotten all about lunch today and that her wares were still in her bag, overheated and no longer fresh. She bit into the little cake and held out her other hand to catch the crumbs. “It’s delicious.” Indeed. She was pretty sure the main ingredient was butter.
“Did someone say mantecados?”
Her heart stuttered.
Diego stood in the doorway, beaming, but his smile slipped when he saw her. She realized she was utterly underdressed and her burn was on full display.
“Dios mio.” He echoed Ernestina’s previous sentiment. “I knew you had burned a little, but not this.”
“I actually came to see if Ernestina had something I could use for it. I seem to be strangely low on aloe.” She lifted an eyebrow. He had made that silly statement on the beach about having an aloe plant to assist in her “tender bits.”
Ernestina clucked. “I don’t, but Maria is sure to.” She named one of the other maids. “She has more creams and potions than a girl her age needs.” Ernestina blushed then. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness. I forgot myself . . .”
Diego just laughed. “I don’t care about stuff like that.” He shrugged. “I could have my assistant find you something, Rose. Or Stephani. You know, Raoul’s assistant. She’s the most resourceful person I know. Prepared for any emergency.”
“Anything would be a help.” She spared a glance at Diego, relieved that the earlier hostility appeared to have waned. “I thought Raoul was coming for tea?”
“He got held up on the phone. He sent me with a message to tell the children that he will tuck them in and read stories tonight instead.”
Rose gave him a small nod. “Thank you, Diego.”
Understanding softened his eyes. “You’re welcome.” Raoul had been more present in the children’s lives ever since Diego had intervened.
“I’m going back to my room to lie down. I really did get too much sun today,” Rose said, sending a wave to the children. “The cakes are delicious, Diego. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them. Emilia
? Max? I’ll see you in the morning.”
With a small smile she scooted back out of the nursery and returned to her room.
Whether it was the lack of food, too much sun, or just exhaustion, a headache took up residence behind Rose’s eyes. She drank some water, but her stomach didn’t feel quite right either. The air-conditioned room was a blessing, though, and she decided to crawl beneath her crisp, cool sheets to have a nap.
When she woke much later, the light in the room had dimmed and her headache was more of a dull ache than a full-on throb. She squinted and looked up to see Stephani, Raoul’s assistant, depositing a small tray on a table.
“Oh, goodness.”
Stephani straightened abruptly. “Oh. I’m sorry if I woke you. Diego mentioned you had a touch of heat stroke and a nasty sunburn. I thought I’d leave you a few things.”
Rose sat up. “That’s sweet of you. Thank you, Stephani.”
“It’s no trouble.” She smiled, and Rose thought perhaps it looked a little sad. “You know, I’ve worked for the family for a number of years. Close to a decade, I think. Raoul used to get me to do little errands for Cecilia all the time. I miss her. She was my cousin, you know, and we used to . . .” She frowned. “Oh, this is silly. I shouldn’t be talking about it.”
“No, please,” Rose said, patting the edge of the bed. “Come, sit. I’ve been here a month and while I am very happy and love the staff, I miss talking about . . . things. Only if you’re comfortable, of course. It’s not your job to look after my loneliness.”
Stephani gave her an assessing look. “Begging your pardon, but Diego seems to help in that regard.”
The honest statement took Rose aback. “I . . . I mean, it’s . . .”
“He’s the loneliest person I know,” Stephani said. “And that includes Raoul. Diego just hides it better.” She perched on the edge of the bed. “It’s difficult when you care about someone and they’re on the opposite side of what propriety allows.”
Rose wondered if she was speaking from personal experience. And Raoul had been married to Ceci . . . did that mean Stephani had a thing for Diego?
