The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

“Does she know who this is for?” Rose asked, and he heard the hesitation in her tone.

“Probably. Maybe not. She won’t talk, though, Rose. You can be sure of that.”

Rose took a step forward, then spun around in a circle. “This is beautiful, Diego. And I’m not afraid of her talking.” She smiled a little, one corner of her mouth turning up as her eyes twinkled. “I’m more worried about her disapproval. I don’t think anyone would want to be on her wrong side.” Her gaze softened. “She’s been more than kind to me since my arrival.”

“Everyone loves you,” he said, stepping forward to take her hands. “Ernestina told me as much yesterday. If anything goes wrong, they won’t place the blame on you.”

She lifted her chin, like she was about to protest, but he shook his head. “No, enough of that sort of talk. Come over here and have a glass of champagne. I’m going to show you the kingdom.”

He poured her a glass of bubbly and then one for himself, touched his rim to hers, and drank. Damn, she was beautiful. When she shivered, he put down his glass, took her wrap from her hand, and spread it over her shoulders. Together they walked to the edge of the wall where he showed her the shadowy view—the faint lights blinking as a plane took off from the island airport, the glow in the sky where the streetlights from the city cast a rosy blush on the horizon. On the other side, they could see past the black line of the trees to the fields and undulating hills beyond, the countryside where farmers grew their lemons, grapes, olives, and much more. He explained how there was another city on the island, farther inland, that was more industrial in nature, that most of their trade was with Spain and Italy, and that tourism played an important part of their economy. “We’re a small principality,” Diego explained, “and we have challenges to meet to stay vital. To stay independent. A lot of people say that monarchies are outdated, but they still like the idea of castles and kings and queens. Now, though, we have to prove our usefulness. It’s not enough to be a figurehead.”

She tilted her head up so she could look at him. “Your insight and talents are underrated, you know.”

He sighed. “I know. I did that to myself. I’m the spare heir. I didn’t have responsibilities the same as Raoul. I went away to school. Played polo. Partied. Showed up in the tabloids too much. For a few years now, I’ve been trying show Raoul and my father that I’m more capable than I get credit for. But living down my reputation has proven harder than I expected.” He rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. “More champagne?”

“Of course.” She held out her glass, and they went to the table for a refill.

“Diego, have you asked Raoul if you could assume some of his duties? Maybe if he knew you wanted to help . . .”

Diego laughed. “I’ve offered. Raoul’s not good at delegating. And besides, he spent the better part of his life trying to shelter me from the burden of the crown, ever since our mother’s death. I was spoiled. I acted like it. I can’t expect his attitude to change overnight.”

“So you what? Manage the polo ponies?”

He nodded. “Lucy did it for a while, when I was still in England and Ireland most of the time. She comes from a racetrack background, you know.” He held out the bowl of strawberries and watched as she selected one. “That was how my father met her mother. And when father sent Lucy to Canada to negotiate some breeding stock . . . well, she ended up staying. I had come home and needed something to do, and I knew horses.”

He loved it, even though it was one of the more frivolous concerns of the monarchy. “Our reputation remains strong. A pony from Marazurian stock commands big dollars.”

He held out her chair so she could sit. “But enough about me. What about you?”

She laughed. “What about me?”

“Tell me everything.” He grinned, but he wasn’t exactly teasing. He did want to know everything. “You grew up in Guildford. You have a brother and sister.”

“And a niece, and two parents, and some old friends I haven’t seen in a very long time. My upbringing was pretty boring, really. I did all right on my A levels. Went to church every Sunday—I notice your palace doesn’t have a chapel, incidentally. I’m Church of England, which must make the Catholic in you shudder.” She winked at him and he laughed. She could do that so easily, he realized. Make him laugh. Smile. She was just easy to be with. She had no expectations of what he should be like, no false glamour. She was simply Rose, no matter where they were or who they were with. He loved that about her.

There was that word again. It was sneaking into his vocabulary more and more.

A gust of wind skimmed over the top of the candle globe, and the flame bobbed and flickered for a minute before settling again. Diego looked at Rose in the candlelight and felt his chest constrict. Her hair fluttered in the breeze and she tucked it behind her ear to get it out of the way. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want the evening to end. He wanted to stay right here, looking at her.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she observed, taking a drink of champagne.

“I was just thinking how lovely you are,” he replied. “And how this might be the nicest date I’ve ever had.”

“Now I know you’re talking nonsense.” She popped a grape into her mouth and smiled wickedly. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Yes, but this is the first time I’ve meant it.”

“And you probably say that, too,” she laughed.

He looked into her eyes. “No,” he answered, his heart thumping madly, anticipating his next words. “Rose, this date with you makes me not want to have any dates with anyone else.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rose stared at him, unsure of what to say. The last hour had been utterly perfect. Candles, twinkling lights, champagne under the stars . . . what more could a girl ever ask for? And Diego, sitting across from her, so devastatingly gorgeous and sexy that she felt like an awkward, naïve schoolgirl. She didn’t belong here . . . and yet he insisted she did.

And now he was saying things that made her hope for the fairy tale. And fairy tales were the one thing she didn’t believe in. It wasn’t that she was bitter. It was more a case of knowing how the world worked, and knowing that happiness had to be earned. Girls like her didn’t have a prince fall into their lap.

“You don’t believe me,” he said gently. “Why?”