The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

“Raoul already knows.”

“He does?” Her eyes opened wide at the knowledge.

“I told him I was in love with you. And he told me to be careful, but don’t underestimate him or my father. We accepted Lucy into the family, even though she is our half sister. And we did it publicly, despite the scandal. The best way to meet criticism is head-on. Lucy came to Marazur, and had her own ball to announce her to the family as a Navarro. Do you think we think less of her because she married a rancher from Canada? Of course not. We love her and want her to be loved. When it counts, family is everything and we stick together. They’ll want nothing less for me. And for you, too. You’ll see. You just need . . .” He nodded, smiling a bit as the answer seemed suddenly so clear. “You just need to have some faith. In my family. In me. In love.”

He looked into her eyes and said it once more, just so she knew for sure. “I love you, Rose. Ti amo.” She trembled beneath his hand. “Say you love me too,” he pleaded.

She nodded slightly. “I do. Oh, I do, Diego. I’m sorry I pushed you away. That I’m so afraid . . .”

“You don’t have to be afraid. Not anymore.”

“I do love you.” Their gazes locked, and as she said the words, the air seemed to spark between them.

“Tonight, then?” he asked.

She nodded. “Tonight.”

And he stepped forward and kissed her until he ran out of breath. Then he reached for the zip on her gown with shaking fingers.

For the first time in his life, he was going to make love to the woman he’d fallen in love with.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rose slipped out of the bed and tiptoed to the walk-in closet. Diego was sound asleep, the remnants of his tuxedo draped haphazardly over a chair, and her elegant dress was in a heap on the floor. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Right now she needed to get some air. To think. To stop panicking.

Being with Diego had been so much more than she’d imagined, and that was saying a lot. And when he’d fallen asleep, she stared at the ceiling, trying to bridge the disconnect between what she was feeling and what would happen next. Tried to imagine herself as a . . . a princess. She couldn’t. And yet she could easily see herself on Diego’s arm, in his life. And the possibility of being an aunt to Emilia and Max . . . there could be nothing sweeter.

She slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a simple T-shirt, then put her hair up in a ponytail. What she wanted right now was a walk in the gardens. The soothing beauty of the flowers and the open air would calm her and help her think clearly. She hooked a pair of plain sandals on her finger, then tiptoed out of the room and down the back servant’s hall until she reached the side entrance to the grounds.

The guests had either departed or had gone to bed. There was a distant clink—probably staff up late, putting everything away. A low rumble caught her ears and she saw a couple of trucks crawling away from the castle, and she figured it was probably the band and their equipment. Tomorrow it would all be back to normal. Except . . .

The garden was quiet and dark, and she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while the perfumed scent of the flowers drifted around her. She slipped on her sandals and began winding her way through the paths, her feet crunching on the fine crushed rock. Maybe she’d go sit on the bench by the fountain for a while. Clear her head. Get rid of this pit of uncertainty that sat in her stomach, which was in direct opposition to the elation she felt at having made love to Diego.

But when she got to the bench, it was occupied. By Raoul.

She paused, but he must have heard her feet on the rock because he looked up, startled. She was surprised, too, because his eyes were red-rimmed and unbearably sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not,” he replied, and slid over on the bench. “I’m s-s-sitting out here feeling sorry for myself.” His words were slightly slurred.

She should turn around and go and leave him in peace. But it was hard to turn away from someone who was so obviously hurting. And inebriated.

“Shall I get someone for you, Your Highness?”

He laughed, a bitter sound. “No. Besides, who would you call? My father? He’s had enough of his own grief. Diego?” His gaze narrowed. “Actually, I rather thought he’d be with you.”

Her cheeks heated.

“I see,” he said knowingly, a little sad smile on his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

A knot of nerves tangled in her stomach, and she quickly changed the subject. “Perhaps Stephani, Your Highness?”

His gaze pierced her, and she wondered if she’d somehow touched a nerve. “She’s gone home,” he said sharply. “Where she belongs.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but Raoul was edgy and she wanted to help him. She went to the bench and perched beside him. “Was today the first party without your wife, your—”

“Raoul,” he interrupted. “No more Your Highness, please. Not now. Not when I’ve had far too much brandy to be sensible.”