The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

“Tortilla Española, Miss Rose. My favorite.” Her ponytail bobbed as she reached for her napkin and spread it gently on her lap. She was a six-year-old girl but also a princess. There was no forgetting it, even in a little taverna.

Diego’s meal seemed somewhat lighter than she’d expected. It looked like some sort of vegetable combination, with a fried egg on the top of it. “What’s that?”

“Pisto,” he replied. “Roasted vegetables. Kind of like a, what’s the dish . . .” He frowned. “Like the one that has eggplant in it.”

“Ratatouille?”

He nodded. “That’s it. Only no eggplant.”

Next to it, her bowl of paella looked huge—and rich.

They dug in and she was delighted as flavors burst over her tongue. Rice, saffron, vegetables, gorgeous shrimp, and spicy chorizo. There was no way she’d be able to finish it all. “Pardon my manners,” she said lightly, “but would anyone like some? There’s too much for just me.”

The children stared at her for a moment. Clearly this was not a done thing at the dinner table.

“Max,” she said, “would you like to try a bite of the sausage?”

He nodded. Carnivore all the way, that one. In return, he offered her a sliver of the ham from his sandwich. She’d never tasted anything like it. Dry-cured was very different than what she was used to.

Then Emilia insisted she try some of her tortilla and a narrow slice of it made it across the table. By the time she’d tested everyone’s choices, she was stuffed, but loving all the different flavors. More than that, she’d enjoyed the whole meal, being with the three of them and knowing they were relaxed and happy.

“Dessert?” Diego asked, but she patted her belly and shook her head.

“That’s what the churros were for,” she said. “I couldn’t eat another bite. That was delicious.”

Diego nodded at someone and a few minutes later he leaned over. “We’re fine to leave now.”

They made their way back out into the sunshine. It wasn’t far to the market; the taverna was just off the main square. “It’s busy in here,” Diego said, his voice firm. “Max, you need to take my hand, and Emilia, you take Miss Rose’s. We don’t want anyone getting separated, do we?”

Emilia slipped her hand into Rose’s, then looked up and smiled. Rose smiled back, feeling her heart catch. Emilia was so trusting. Since the first day when she’d taken Rose through the gardens, she’d abandoned her resentful attitude. She’d been hurt, but Rose could see she simply wanted love and affection. Well, Rose had both of those in abundance. She squeezed Emilia’s hand lightly, reassuring her.

Max, on the other hand, was tugging at Diego’s arm. In no time flat he’d pulled them over to a clothing vendor where football shirts were for sale.

“How does he do that?” Rose leaned over and spoke in Diego’s ear, quite loudly to be heard over the shopping bustle. “He’s only three feet tall!”

“We’ve been here a time or two. He has a good memory, I guess.” Already Max was pointing at a red and black jersey that was about six sizes too big.

The vendor clearly remembered them, too. “Ah, Your Highness,” he said, bowing quickly. “And the young Prince Max. How may I help you today?”

They dithered over shirts, and Rose hid a smile as Max, in all his four-year-old authority, haggled with the vendor while having no idea about the numbers he was saying. But the vendor went along with him, frowning and thoughtfully bargaining until he threw up his hands at an agreed price. Diego took bills out of his wallet, and Rose noticed that it was for the original price listed on the sign. Diego winked at the vendor, took the shirt, and grinned widely as Max shook the vendor’s hand at a bargain well struck.

Since they were at the clothing stalls, Emilia found a pretty skirt and then a little purse among the leather goods, as fine as Rose had ever seen. Rose looked longingly at a soft-as-butter handbag, but decided not to spend the money today. There would be other days. Today was for the children to enjoy.

But then there was a stall with the most stunning silver jewelry. Accented with gemstones and mother-of-pearl, the display glittered and she couldn’t stop herself from going to look.

“Oh, this is gorgeous,” she said, sparing a glance at Emilia. “Don’t you think?”

Emilia nodded, and pointed at a particularly lovely bracelet. It was about half an inch wide, solid silver with little pale pink stones inlaid in a pretty leaf pattern. “How much?” Rose asked.

The vendor named a number of euros that made Rose blink. “Oh.”

Emilia, who’d been rather quiet during the purchase of her skirt, stepped up to the stall table. “No, nononono,” she said, making it sound like all one word. She let go of Rose’s hand and wagged a finger at him, and then let loose with a flurry of Spanish that had Rose gaping.

The vendor stood back, raised his eyebrows, and then to Rose’s surprise, came back with what she thought was another offer. And back and forth they went, while Rose felt both abashed and fiercely proud that the girl was holding her own. Thank goodness the vendor didn’t know who he was haggling with.

Emilia looked up at Rose with triumph in her dark eyes, and gave the vendor’s final offer. There was no way Rose could turn it down now, not after all of Emilia’s hard work. She began to reach for her pocket book when a large hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Allow me,” Diego said, reaching for his wallet once again.