“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.
Rose was true to her word about dessert first, and they ordered churros to start. A basket of them came and Rose dutifully munched on one and found it delicious . . . and addictive. Max looked at her as if to say “I told you so,” while Emilia licked all the cinnamon off her crispy piece before eating the pastry.
They ordered lunch and talked about their plans for the afternoon while they were waiting. Once Rose saw, with some alarm, that a woman with a camera was angling along a wall for a picture. The man who’d shown them to their table, however, stepped forward and guided her back to her table. Diego acted as if nothing had happened, but Rose frowned. She’d never had to deal with any sort of celebrity attention before.
The food arrived and the rich, spicy scent of her paella—ordered on Diego’s recommendation—made her stomach growl. Emilia giggled, Rose rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed. Max’s eyes bulged at the size of his bocadillo, which Diego explained was a sandwich made with specially cured ham. Since Max tended to head straight for the meat at any teatime or meal, she wasn’t surprised by his choice. Emilia, on the other hand, had what appeared to be a potato and egg omelet.