The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

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.

“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.