He carried a tray in his hand, and the smell coming from the covered dish was delectable. Her stomach growled but she ignored it.

Stephani had just told her she thought Diego was really lonely. Hadn’t he said something similar, that first night he’d found her by the fountain? It seemed so long ago now, instead of just a matter of weeks.

He’d been angry with her this afternoon. And yet here he was, at her door, bearing what appeared to be a late dinner.

“May I come in?” he said quietly.

“Of course you can.” She stepped aside. She wished she could still be angry at him for what he’d done today, but she couldn’t. Time and a nap had cleared her mind a bit. And while she might not say it out loud, she was very aware that her annoyance was at herself, for feeling such a weakness for him, as well as humiliation for getting herself in an awkward position in the first place.

This was not her world. And yet Diego made sure she was looked after. Protected.

Fed.

“What’s in the dish?” she asked, following him into the suite.

“Oh, Humble Pie, I would imagine,” he said dryly, then smiled at her. “I asked in the kitchen. You didn’t go down for dinner.”

She shook her head. “I think I had some heat stroke. I didn’t feel well, so I took a nap. And Stephani came by with some water and pills for my headache, and aloe for the burn.”

His gaze ran over her arms, cheeks, and chest. “Have you put any on yet?”

“No. And I will, but honest to God, you’ve got to let me at that food. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day. Not since a pastry and coffee this morning.”

He whipped off the lid and revealed a steaming bowl of some sort of stew.

She sat at the table and gestured to the chair beside her. “Have a seat. I take it you’re going to join me in the wine?”

“If you want. I can leave you, if you like. I know you’re not happy with me.”

She’d taken a large, succulent bite of spicy shrimp, and she savored it before she answered. “I’m not mad anymore. Not at you, anyway.”

“I should have told you,” he admitted. “I set it up with the security team the day after our picture got into the paper. I didn’t want you to get caught off guard by the press or anyone else. But not telling you was wrong.”

“It was, but I can forgive it. I know you were just trying to protect me. This is all new to me, that’s all. And you came striding across the sand when I was feeling tired, and cranky, and foolish.” It was all she was willing to admit, but it was the truth.

“Maybe next time you can take a friend.”

Rose laughed. “A friend? I’m friendly with the staff, I suppose. But I don’t have friends, not . . . not a girlfriend.” Not like she’d had back in England. She was suddenly very homesick.

“Are you lonely, Rose?”

She met his gaze. He was opening the wine, his strong wrist turning the corkscrew as he watched her. She put down her fork. “Sometimes. Not often. I’m busy here, and everyone is lovely. They really are. The children keep me occupied and entertained, and I have anything a girl could want. My own suite, the gardens, even the camaraderie in the kitchen at night, for a cup of tea and a sneaky piece of cake.”

“But it’s not family.”

“I’m used to being away from them.”

“And used to not being a burden on anyone? Being the one to take care of others instead of letting others take care of you?”

She speared a chunk of chorizo. “That’s not a bad thing.” Then she sent him a grateful smile. “And just tonight, both you and Stephani have made sure I’m cared for. So there.”

He chuckled and handed her a glass of wine. “Nice try. It might have worked if you hadn’t added the ‘so there.’”

She chuckled in return and ate some more, then took a restorative drink of wine and sighed. This was better. Senora Ortiz’s excellent cooking and a fine wine, while sitting across from a real-life prince. She laughed again, staring into her bowl.

“What’s so funny?” He looked amused as he waited for her reply.

“This is just so surreal. I’m in a bloody castle, you see? And I’m entertaining a prince in my room. El Principe, Diego,” she said, the accent rolling smoothly off her tongue. “I’m pretty sure that no one in my family would quite believe it.”

Except Hayley, of course. Hayley was already pumping her for information in her e-mails. Rose loved her sister, but she would never betray the Navarro family. With or without the confidentiality agreement she’d been asked to sign.

“I’m just a man, Rose. The title . . . that’s an accident of birth. And yes, as you said today, I live a certain way. It comes with the title. But underneath all this”—he waved his hand around the room, then placed it on his chest—“I’m just flesh and blood, same as you. I have needs and wants, same as you. I have feelings that have nothing to do with me being a prince or you being the nanny, and everything to do with you being an incredibly compassionate, strong, beautiful woman.”

“Diego.” Her heart pounded now, thumping against her ribs as his words sounded in her ears and went straight to her soul. This would be such a mistake.

“I know, I know. And I don’t have the answers, Rose. I should but I don’t. All I know is that I have these feelings and they’re not going away.” He put down his glass and focused his gaze steadily on her face. “You make me want to be a better man, Rose. And that is something I have never felt before.”

It was unimaginable that he was saying these things to her. And yet she knew he was, because he was sitting right across from her, as earnest as she’d ever seen him.

“What would you have me do, Diego?” Simply asking the question scared her, because she hadn’t come right out and said no. That she was entertaining the idea was insane. “What if Raoul found out? What about the children?”

He got up from the table and spun away. “So neither of us should be free to have a personal life away from obligation? That’s cruel. And if and when the time comes, I’ll deal with Raoul and our father.” He sounded so sure of himself. Confident and strong.

“Your father is the king,” she reminded him.

“And a man,” Diego persisted, coming over beside her and kneeling by her chair. “He’s not heartless. He’s a man who once loved a woman no one approved of.”

He put his hand over hers.

“Don’t use that word,” she whispered. “It’s . . . precipitous.”

Too soon. This was all too soon.

He lifted her hand and kissed the base of it, by the pad of her thumb. She bit down on her lip, bracing herself for what she was sure was going to be seduction. With each passing moment, she was less inclined to fight it.

She wanted him, too.

The man. Not the prince.

He tugged on her hand and she got up from her chair and followed him to the sofa, where he sat beside her and trailed his fingers lightly over her forearm.

She was afraid. Afraid of starting something that could never end well. Afraid of losing her heart. Of losing everything.

And yet she was helpless to do anything but close her eyes as he leaned closer and touched his lips to hers.

He kissed her with such tenderness. With such . . . care. He wasn’t anything like the papers said. He loved, deeply. He looked after his family behind the scenes, asking for nothing in return. All he wanted from her was this moment. She cared for him too much to deny him.

So she slipped her hand up over his collar and along the back of his neck, drawing his lips harder against her own.

And oh, could he kiss. Soft, yet sure. Slow, but with a pulse-accelerating seduction that stole her breath. He wrapped her in his arms as they fell back against the cushions, lips and tongues tangling as their bodies pressed together. Rose’s tender skin tingled uncomfortably, but she ignored it in favor of the bliss of being held firmly yet carefully, as if she was something delicate and special.

His hand spanned her ribs, then slid beneath her sweater to cup her small breast. She’d only put on a bralette when she’d changed, and his hand was warm through the thin cotton barrier. She pressed against his palm.

He slid his mouth away from hers. “Your face is so hot,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. “And I can’t promise I’ll have much more willpower. Let me help you with the aloe.” He removed his hand from beneath her shirt.

It was like being doused in cold water, or stepping outside on a raw January evening in Surrey. She’d been prepared for . . . everything, she realized. She’d moved into his embrace, sure that they were going to end up in her bed. Now he was putting on the brakes, and rather sharply.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, braving a look at him.

“No,” he answered, his voice low. “You did everything right. But I don’t want to rush. I want us to take our time. Be really, really sure. This is . . .” He looked down for a moment, and then back up. “This is too important to take lightly, Rose. I want to see where it leads, but I want to be careful. For all our sakes.” He held her hand as he spoke, a token of his sincerity.

She’d expected seduction, but not such sweet, serious consideration. She appreciated it, more than he probably understood. She knew all about wanting to do the right thing for everyone. Most of her life choices had been made according to that philosophy.

“Wait. See where it goes?” She bit down on her lip, both excited by the prospect and terrified, too. It was different when she was just thinking about this one night. This one moment. But was he talking about . . . dating?

He sighed. “I want to see where this leads. I’m not in the habit of kissing nannies, or confiding in them. I don’t want to treat you cavalierly, either. You’re too important to my family.” He hesitated. “To me. Caution seems like the right approach.”

“You’re worried,” she said, squeezing his fingers.

“A little. And I want us to get to know each other without a lot of input from my family or the press or anyone else. Can we do that? What you said today was so right. Privacy is a rare commodity. Can we at least cling to what little bit we might have until we figure things out a little more?”

“It’ll feel like sneaking around,” she replied, sitting back against the cushions.

“I know. But don’t we deserve to get to know each other without an audience?” He frowned. “That’s all I’m asking. Just a chance for us to sit like this. Talk. Kiss a little.” The impish grin flitted across his mouth once more. “Be normal.”

It did sound lovely. And despite her misgivings, she saw his point. If they were really going to explore what was happening between them, it made sense to do it privately before creating a stir in the household. It might give them a chance to decide if it was really worth fighting for, or if it was going to burn out as quickly as it had flared to life.

He kissed her again, and it was several minutes before they sat up straight again. Rose’s head spun, both from the kisses and from the heavy beating of her heart.

“Go put that shirt on again,” Diego said. “It’s been hours since you got back. You really need to take care of your sunburn.”

She did as he asked, slipping into her bathroom to change her sweater back to the sleeveless tank. When she came back out, he was squeezing some of the gel onto his hands.

“Sit,” he commanded, pulling out one of the chairs next to her table.

She did as he said. The light scent of the aloe filled the air and the first touch of gel to skin was a cold jolt. She gasped and then laughed, and then closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the cool sensation as he carefully smeared the gel over the back of her neck, the crests of her shoulders, and down her arms. He rubbed some on his hands and placed them on her cheeks, then dropped a soft kiss on her lips before adding more to his palm and placing it on her chest.

Another few moments, a shift of his hand, and they’d be back in seduction land again. But he didn’t go there. He stayed a perfect gentleman, to Rose’s disappointment. His fingertips gently rubbed the cool gel into her skin, easing the heat and the tight feeling the sunburn had caused.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice strained.

“De nada,” he murmured back, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I don’t want to fight any more like we did today, Rose. I will be honest with you from now on. May I see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“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 he 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.

“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.”