He couldn’t believe she’d walked away like that.

Diego stared through the crowd at the rear door of the ballroom and saw her pink dress slip through the gap. He’d been trying to explain his feelings. To show her that they could be together, that it would be all right. And instead she’d run. Run! Rose didn’t run from anything. Nothing scared her . . . except, apparently, this.

He could just let her go. Let the affair die a quiet death, move on, focus on other things. Only he couldn’t, because he suspected rather strongly that he could go just about anywhere and she’d be there. In his head and in his heart. That meant the only thing to do was go after her. His heart clubbed against his ribs as he threaded his way through the crowd to Raoul.

He pulled his brother aside and met his startled gaze. “I’ve got to go. I just didn’t want to leave without making my apologies.”

Raoul frowned. “What’s going on?”

Diego took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I love her, Raoul. I don’t know if she’ll have me or not, but I have to at least tell her how I feel.”

“This is the real thing?” Raoul maintained his stern face. “Because she’s not a girl to be toyed with, Diego. Nanny or not. Rose is a sweet, kind woman.”

“Don’t you think I know that? And I wish it wasn’t complicated. I swear I do. I didn’t set out for this to happen. I certainly wasn’t looking to fall in love. It found me.”

Raoul smiled a little, the curve of his lips breaking his icy features. “Well, you’d better tell her, then,” he answered. “Go.”

“You’re sure?”

“I didn’t know it was like that. Love is love, hermano.”

“Thank you. And happy birthday.”

Diego left through the main ballroom doors, paused to pluck a single white rose from an arrangement, and took the curving stairs two at a time.

He slowed when he approached her door, and ran his free hand over his trouser leg, nervous about knocking. He’d never been in this position before. Never cared enough about a woman to lay it all on the line, but this was different. They would figure it out—how to be together, how to make it work for the children’s sake. Even if he had to move out of the palace while she was here, to give a better impression of propriety . . . he’d do it.

He took a deep breath, let it out, and tapped on the door.

She didn’t open it. “Go away, Diego.” Even muffled by the thick wood, he could hear the frustration and longing in her voice.

“No. There’s something I need to tell you, Rose. And this isn’t going to go away.”

Through the closed door he heard, “So tell me. And then go away.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. This wasn’t how he’d ever pictured saying these words to a woman. He rested his forehead against the door. “I love you.”

The knob rattled as she opened the door a crack. “If you’re just saying that to get me to let you in . . .” Most of her face was hidden, but he could see the strained look in her eyes as she peered out at him.

“I’ve never said those words to another woman.” He held up the rose. “And I’m certainly not going to use them as a ploy. I love you, Rose. And my determination to make this work is because I believe we belong together, not because I’m used to getting my way.”

She stood back and opened the door. “Get out of the hallway,” she said with a sigh. “Before someone hears you.”

He stepped into her suite and held out the rose. “I could send you bouquets of flowers and fill this room,” he said, “but sometimes a single bloom says enough, don’t you think?”

She took it in her hands, an odd look on her face. “And why white?”

He considered telling her he’d plucked it on the run, but instead scoured his brain for meanings. “White roses. They’re wedding roses, did you know that? And new beginnings.” He stepped forward and clasped her hand. “Let’s make tonight a new beginning for us.”

Her eyes glistened as she met his gaze. “Do you realize that once, many years ago, I handed you a white rose?”

He frowned, wondering what on earth she was talking about, when she continued.

“I was selling flowers on a train platform, trying to make money for school. I was so poor in those days . . . my family didn’t even know how tight my budget was, and that some days I hardly had anything for food. I lived on day-old buns, peanut butter, and porridge. You bought a rose from me, and then you bought all my flowers and told me to brighten someone’s day by giving them away.”

He stood back and stared at her. He vaguely remembered the day . . . he’d been . . . where? Somewhere with Ryan, and they’d gone out, and he’d had a very nice evening. Woke in the morning feeling like a million dollars and in a generous mood. And he’d seen the skinny girl with the flowers and had impulsively given her a wad of cash.

“That was you?”

She nodded. “I was going to school to learn childhood education. The degree that took me to the agency and led me here. And that one day of sales got me through the month.”

He couldn’t believe it. She’d been here months already and had never breathed a word. “Did you know who I was?”

She nodded, still holding the stem of the rose in her fingertips. “Of course I did. My roommate was a big polo fan. The ‘sport of kings’ and all that. She was always very excited when there’d be word that you were playing. A real prince.” She smiled a little, a sweet little curve of her lips. “I never told her about the flowers, though. I wanted to keep that little bit of you to myself. That day I saw a Diego Navarro who was different from what I read in the rags. And I’ve seen that generous, caring man time and time again since I arrived here.”

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered. “If that’s true, why do you keep fighting it? Us? Because that sounds an awful lot like fate to me.”

“Don’t you see? If we’re together, I won’t get to have you to myself. Our relationship will be in the spotlight. And I know it’s not fair of me to blame you . . . you didn’t choose this, you were born to it. But it’ll bring attention to the children, and a possible scandal to your family . . .” She blinked and a single tear fluttered on her lashes. “It’s not that I don’t care about you. This is just so different from what I thought I wanted. And I’m . . . afraid.” She looked up at him and her lip quivered. “Look at you. You’re the Playboy Prince. I’m just some plain English girl. I’m scared I won’t be enough for you. That you’ll figure out I’m dull and ordinary, and it’ll be too late. And I’ll be the one left hurting and broken.”

“Don’t say that. If anything, you’re too good for me. You’re sweet and generous and lovely and you go through your day trying to make everyone else’s a little bit better.” He stepped closer and put his hand along her cheek. “I don’t care what people say, Rose. I’ll never inherit the throne, but I still want to have a purpose. These last weeks . . . with you . . . I’ve felt more vital than ever before in my life.” He lifted his other hand and put it along her jaw so he was cupping her face, and then he dropped a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.

Lips that trembled beneath his.

“What is it?” he asked.

She bit down on her lip. “It’s your father. It’s Raoul. They don’t know, and when they find out they’ll never approve. I can’t sneak around anymore, and I’m not sure I’m up to all the barriers we’ll face. You’re the prince. I’ll be labeled an opportunist, a gold digger . . .”

“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.