The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

“It’s a date, then.”

She laughed a little, her chest cramping with delicious anticipation and a hint of apprehension about what they were agreeing to. “A date? Here at the palace?”

“Don’t underestimate me.” He flashed her a grin. “I do love a challenge.”

The smile slid from her face. “That’s not what I am, is it? A challenge?” She really hoped not. There was too much at stake, and more for her than for him. She wanted to believe him. Believe in him, the way no one really had before.

“No, Rosalie, you are not.” He turned her to face him. “This is not a game for me. I know it’s fraught with complications. But for once in my life, I don’t want to rush into anything impulsively. I want to take care.”

Her heart melted. “Okay, then,” she whispered, touching the hair just above his ear. “A date for tomorrow.”

“I’ll meet you here around ten? After the children go to sleep?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Sleep well, Rose.” He leaned forward and kissed her lips again, and she walked him to the door as he carried the dinner tray. She opened the door and peeked outside. When she saw the coast was clear, she stood back and let him leave.

Once h

e was gone, she shut the door and rested against it for a moment. Was she out of her mind? This could make a mess of everything. And yet . . . they cared for each other. She certainly cared for him, and for the first time since she’d started calling herself an adult, she felt like she deserved to have something for herself. Not so she could send money to her sister to help with Alice’s upbringing. And not for her parents, either, who had never overtly pressured her but who were so happy that she was able to “travel” a bit as they’d never been able to afford. She was, she realized, a people pleaser.

For a few moments today, while she’d been at the market and the café, she’d started to feel what it was to please only herself. Was she not entitled to what she wanted once in a while?

Of course wanting to snog a prince of Marazur might be aiming a bit high for her first time out, but when opportunity knocked . . .

Who was she to refuse to answer?

* * *

Diego paused outside her door and let out a deep breath. He was nervous. Nervous! Him! Wouldn’t the tabloids get a kick out of that?

He’d left the suit jacket back in his suite, and the tie, too, but wore charcoal gray, finely tailored trousers and a dress shirt, open at the collar. He ran his hand over his hair one last time, then knocked softly on the door.

She answered it, a little smile on her face. “Hi,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Hi. Come on.”

She was wearing a dress. Nothing fancy, just a light, flowy thing that drifted around her thighs and made her legs look very long. She had some sort of a wrap in one hand, but she let him tug her along with the other. He checked the halls both ways, then gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He’d wanted privacy, so he’d gone up to the roof earlier and set everything up himself. The only person in on it was Senora Ortiz, who was his keeper of secrets. She’d sighed and given him a disapproving look, but then had done what he’d requested.

Rose’s sandals tapped on the stone steps, slightly behind him, as he led her up a long stairway to the roof and the parapets. While the weather was still warm and balmy, it was past ten o’clock, and there was a slight chill to the air as they stepped through the doorway onto the flat expanse of stone.

Then he turned and watched her face.

“Ohhh.” She drew out the word, a note of awe trailing on the breeze.

He followed her gaze, taking in the effect of his handiwork.

Lights twinkled in potted shrubs and trees, and hurricane lanterns were placed around the square space, casting a cozy, intimate glow. A thick candle sat on a café table, surrounded by a glass globe to keep the wind from blowing it out. On a stand beside the table was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne inside it. And on the table stood a single rose, which he’d cut from the gardens himself. An assortment of strawberries, figs, grapes, and cheeses sat in crystal dishes.

“You did this?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t take you out somewhere fancy, so I brought it to you. I’ve lived in this castle since I was a boy. I know where things are kept. I just had to convince Senora Ortiz to let me sneak some food out of the kitchen and the dishes from the crystal cabinet. She told me she’s going to count it all in the morning.” He grinned at Rose, who smiled back. Senora Ortiz was stern, but a softie underneath. She wouldn’t bother counting anything. She would, however, worry.