Rose watched him walk away, heard his shoes crunch against the fine gravel. She let out a huge sigh. This had never been an issue before. At each house where she’d worked, there’d never been any blurring of lines between employer and employee. Parents had been employers, not friends, and they’d worked together to see to all the needs of the children. No meddling uncles or family members. Especially incredibly attractive ones with a well-documented reputation.

She’d offended him. She understood that much, and when he spun to walk away, she longed to call after him and apologize. But she didn’t. The line had to be drawn and it had to be clear. Might as well do it now.

Still, she thought, as she finally left the shadows of the wisteria, it might have been nice to have a friend here. He certainly cared about the children, and his brother and father too. He seemed . . . lonely. Which was ridiculous, of course. He had lots of friends—the papers were full of them. There was no reason why their conversations today should play on her sympathies. She imagined what it would have been like tonight if they’d just met at the fountain as an ordinary man and woman. Maybe she would have flirted back with him, just to see that teasing gleam in his eye. Maybe she wouldn’t have forced herself to ignore the ripple of awareness that had rushed through her when he grabbed her arm and asked her to stay.

But they weren’t regular people, and she’d do well to remember it.

She found her way back to her room, and wondered where Diego’s was. Close by? In another section or wing? She let herself in quietly, then went to the door that joined her room with the nursery. She peeked in and saw both children sound asleep, exhausted from their time outside today.

She closed the door and let out a long sigh. It was nearly midnight. Her day would begin at six. She really needed to get to bed.

Instead she went to her window and opened it, letting in the perfumed night air. She sat on the window seat and looked out over the dark grounds, a world away from where she’d been this morning.

She didn’t know how long she’d be here, but she could hardly discount the influence this job would have on her future. On top of that, it paid extremely well, so she could send more money home. Nothing meant more than looking after her family.

Nothing. And so, when she finally crawled into bed, she knew that sending Diego on his way was best for everyone involved. Because screwing this up would have ripple effects she didn’t even want to think about.

Six hours later she rose and showered and dressed for the day. She went to the kitchens to eat and then saw to the preparation of Emilia and Max’s morning meal. When that was done she went back upstairs and started them on a morning routine that they’d follow most days. It wasn’t until one o’clock, when the midday meal was served, that Rose learned that Diego had left that morning for Paris.

She’d been right about him after all.

* * *

Rose couldn’t remember a more pleasant job.

She’d been in Marazur for two weeks now, and for the third day in a row she sat in the garden on a blanket, watching the children as they kicked a ball around after their al fresco lunch. The weather was stunning, the summer heat softened by the breeze from the sea that swept over the island. Perfect for picnics and play. She smiled as the duo ran along the level stretch of lush grass. Emilia had long, thick curls, and Rose had plaited it in a Dutch braid, which was Emilia’s favorite. Both children wore ordinary-looking, but fine-quality clothing—shorts, T-shirts, and trainers.

Raoul seemed determined that his children have “normal” childhoods, and it wasn’t just in their casual dress. Other than a television and a DVD player in the nursery, there was a distinct lack of electronic devices at their disposal. Instead they were encouraged to play, and each morning after breakfast they worked on lessons, at their father’s orders.

The schedule suited her just fine, she mused, plopping a berry into her mouth. Max had a hard time sitting still, but the playroom was full of things to keep him busy. At his age, “school” consisted of blocks, creative projects that worked on his fine motor skills, early math manipulatives, and lots of storybooks. With Emilia, things were a bit more structured. Before long, Rose figured a tutor would be brought in to see to the children’s education. For now, Rose followed the curriculum that Mariana had been teaching.

The best part? The children reciprocated by helping her with her Spanish, which was more than a bit rusty.

She sat cross-legged on the blanket, and watched as Max kicked the ball past Emilia and between the orange markers they’d arranged as goal posts. As he jumped and put his arms in the air, Rose laughed. He was all boy, but he was a sweetheart, too. Emilia looked over and tried a crinkly sort of wink—she’d let the goal in on purpose, Rose knew. The siblings were close, which was nice. She supposed that was because they had to rely on each other.

Rose took a sip of water as Emilia and Max switched places, and she thought about her own family. She and Devon and Hayley were close now, but it hadn’t always been that way. She’d been twenty and nearly through her schooling when Hayley had gotten pregnant. Devon, as the oldest, had been hard on Hayley, especially as he was new to his parish and very conscious of appearances. And Hayley had assumed that Rose would be a nanny to her baby when she was born. When Rose had said no, everything had blown up. The tight-knit family had unraveled, and Rose was still hoping they could be stitched back together again.

She sighed. Those hadn’t been the most pleasant years. And things were still strained between her and her sister. It was hard to put the pieces back together when they were now so spread out and disconnected. Diego wasn’t the only one who felt lonely now and again.

“If this isn’t a sight.”

Before she even turned her head, she knew it was him. The voice was warm and soft, with just the hint of an accent. She schooled her features and turned to see him striding across the grass, casually dressed in khaki shorts and a T-shirt. The cotton stretched across broad shoulders. Wow, she thought, but kept her mouth firmly shut.

He approached the kids first. “Ah, mi rayito de sol,” he announced, picking Emilia up and giving her a bear hug. “Como estas?”

The response was a rapid fire of Spanish that Rose couldn’t keep up with. With a hearty laugh, Diego put Emilia back on the ground and reached for Max. Max, with a devilish twinkle in his eye, began to run away, his giggles filling the garden with childish joy. Rose watched as Diego, his smile wide, raced after him, caught him under his arm, and proceeded to hang him upside down by his feet.

“No, no!” shouted Max, giggling and gasping the whole time. “Tio Diego! No!” The giggling turned to full-on belly laughs, and Rose found herself grinning.

“Diego, really,” she commented dryly, but inside she knew this was exactly what Max needed and was grateful to Diego for providing it. While Emilia was more than happy to be active and play outside and get into her share of dirt, Rose knew it wasn’t the same as having “guy time.”

And it wasn’t like Raoul would be out here in a pair of shorts, horsing around. She understood he had duties, but he’d hardly seen the children. She was lucky if he popped in once a day to say hello. She’d been both surprised and disappointed by that, particularly after what he’d said the first day. Now Diego was here, laughing, playing, bringing his incredible energy to their picnic. Not just energy . . . love. He genuinely loved these children, which made it hard for her to remain annoyed at him for leaving. He kept surprising her, and she suspected that beneath all the obvious charm there was a warm, generous heart.

Diego put Max down, made sure he was steady on his feet, and then stood. “It’s good to see them out playing,” he said to Rose, coming over to the blanket and plopping down in a most unceremonious manner.

It was like that night in the garden had never happened. Rose looked at him for a moment, trying to puzzle him out. “You know,” she said, a contemplative note in her voice, “you’re rather like the Cheshire Cat. You appear, and then you disappear. You appear . . .”

He laughed. “I know. And then I disappear.”

“You’ve got the same grin, too,” she pointed out, her lips twitching.

“Alice in Wonderland,” he mused, making a humming sound. “Haven’t read that since I was in short pants.” He looked down at his bare knees. “Oops.”

She did laugh then, she couldn’t help it. “We’ve been reading it at night,” she said. “I started them with The Wind in the Willows. It was my favorite when I was little. And then Emilia picked out Alice. I’m not sure what we’re going to read next.”

“It’s wonderful that you’re reading to them,” he said, resting on his elbows. Looking far too comfortable for her liking. And far too alluring.

“Of course I am. It’s my job, but even so, I’ve always loved reading to children before bed.”

“It’s very Mary Poppins.”

“Book or movie?”

He looked over at her. Goodness, he had stunning eyes, and it was unfair that a man have lashes that lush and dark. “Movie. Ceci made us all watch it when the anniversary edition came out a few years ago.” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a few hours I won’t get back.”

She looked over at the children. They too had flopped onto the grass, and Rose smiled as she saw Emilia lift her hand and point at a cloud floating past.

“Emilia’s quite a little mother to Max,” Rose observed. “She really looks out for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

Rose nodded, but met Diego’s gaze. “It is, but it’s something I want to watch. She’s so little. I don’t want her to feel like she has to take her mother’s place for him. It’s probably helping her with her grief, but it should never become a burden to her or an obligation, you know?”

Diego was quiet for a few moments. She looked over at him and noticed his face wasn’t as relaxed and open as it had been just a minute before. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. You’re absolutely right. It’s not good for her and it’s not good for Max, either.”

“For Max?”

Diego’s voice had a strain to it she hadn’t heard before. “When one sibling takes responsibility for the other, it’s easy for them to take over and want to do things for the other. Helping, protecting . . . on the surface it seems admirable and good. But sometimes the other sibling can feel . . . incompetent. In the way.”

“A burden?”

He nodded. “I guess.”

“And you’re speaking of you and Raoul now, yes?” She lifted a shoulder when he stared at her. “Come on, Diego. It’s pretty thinly veiled.”

“When our mother died, Raoul was a great big brother. But then he was so determined that my life not be difficult that he did everything. There was nothing for me. Raoul was the crown prince. Raoul was the heir. Raoul was good at diplomacy and business. I was . . . not in the way, exactly, but not useful.”

Was that why he traveled so much, got his face in the tabloids? He was bored? Uninspired?

“Anyway, I don’t want that to happen to Max. They should both be their own people. And understand me too, Rose, that I know the situation wasn’t easy for Raoul, either. He dealt with all the responsibilities.”

“So much for a life of privilege,” Rose murmured. Now Max’s stubby finger was pointing at a butterfly. They were so sweet. A little stubborn—and Max was terribly cranky when he got overtired—but sweet kids. Remarkably unspoiled, considering.

Diego sat up, crossed his legs so he was sitting like she was. “Did you realize you called me by my first name?” he asked.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. How could she have forgotten herself so easily? It was his fault. He kept ignoring the line between employer and employee. “I’m sorry.” She stammered a little, but Diego shook his head.

“Rose, about the garden that night . . .”

“I really should pack up the picnic.”

She moved to open the basket and tuck away the dishes, but Diego put his hand on her arm. “Stop. And hear me out.”

His fingers were strong, and warm, and felt entirely too good as they circled her wrist. She closed the lid on the basket and sat back hesitantly. “Of course.” She obeyed because he’d told her to and he was her superior. It certainly couldn’t be because of the low note of entreaty softening his voice.

“I thought a lot about what you said. You’re right. There is a status difference between us, and you are here to do a job and not be a friend.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m a bit too old to have a nanny. But life is hardly ever black and white. I hate all the formality, if we’re being completely truthful. And this place has been so dreary, you came in like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.”

She was touched by the compliment, even understood his perspective. “Hate it or not, Diego, it’s how it is.”

“You’re infuriating.” He ran a hand through his hair and she resisted a smile. He was adorable when he was agitated. Max was a lot like him, she realized, with a catch in her heart.

“Rose,” he said again, and she gave him her full attention.

“I’m sorry I interrupted. Go on.”

“You were right about me overstepping. After Paris, I was in South America again the last few weeks and I couldn’t stop thinking about being home. That’s unusual for me. Normally I can’t wait to get away. Something’s changed.”

Don’t say it’s me, she thought, her stomach clenching. That would be . . . God. Cliché and horrible and . . . so ridiculously fairytale-ish. Ugh.

His jaw was set in a stubborn line. “I’m needed here. Whether Papa or Raoul realize it, I’m needed here. And I’m not going away again until I’m convinced things are fine.” He met her gaze. “Rose, someone has to keep the family together. Family’s always been the most important thing. And it feels like it’s all crumbled to bits in the last two months. Most of all I worry about those two.” He nodded toward Max and Emilia. “What I’m saying is, when we’re, I don’t know, in public, call me ‘sir’ or ‘Your Highness’ or whatever your sense of protocol demands. But please, when we talk about the children, when we work together . . . let me just be Diego.”

His plea touched her. She knew all about trying to keep family together. He could have used other arguments, but he’d chosen the one that had a guarantee of success. Did he know? Did his research into her include her relationship with her sister and niece? Her parents and brother? And yet, looking into his eyes now, she saw sincerity. Honor. Humility.

“They need you,” he said softly, and his eyes were on the children, not on her. “And they need me. Let me help. Please.”

“You love them very much,” she stated, wishing his plea hadn’t gone straight to her heart.

“Has their father been around often?”

She shook her head. “He’s been busy. He stops in once each day, though.”

Diego frowned. “That’s not parenting.”

“It’s not my place to judge,” she replied. “It’s my job to care for them and meet their needs. All their needs,” she added, as Diego looked over. “His Highness is struggling, that’s all.”

“Emilia looks like Ceci,” he murmured, softly so neither of the children could hear him say their mother’s name. “And I’m sure right now reminders of her hurt a lot. That’s no excuse, though. I’ll speak to him.”

“Diego, please . . .”

He reached over and squeezed her fingers. “I’m his brother. It’s not overreaching if I say it. Besides, he needs my help, too.”

And what about Diego, she wondered. What about his grief? Or maybe he hadn’t been home enough in recent years to feel the loss the same as the others. He certainly seemed okay.

A whiny shout diverted their attention, and Rose quickly slid her fingers away from Diego’s. Team or not, there were still rules. Maybe they weren’t written down, but it was a simple matter of what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, kneeling on the blanket as Max came rushing forward, big tears in his eyes and his lips set in a line that told Rose a tantrum was in the offing.

Out came a rush of Spanish that left Rose scrambling and Diego chuckling. “He says that Emilia won’t let him go to the pond to see the fish and he says, in effect, that ‘she’s not the boss of me.’”

Rose struggled not to laugh. It was such a typically childish thing and more reassuring than troublesome. “Max, darling,” she said gently, “Emilia knows the rule is you can’t go to the pond without a grown-up with you.”

“Si,” Emilia said, but the tone was belligerent and very “I told you so.” Rose sent a quick look in Emilia’s direction, and the girl was quiet.

“Why don’t we all walk to the pond together, see the fish, and then we’ll go inside for a story.”

“And a nap,” Max grumbled. “You will make me take a nap. I hate naps.”

She touched her finger to the end of his pert little nose. “And you’re very grumpy if you don’t have one. Come on, let’s see the fish first.”

She grabbed the basket while Diego folded the blanket, and together the four of them walked down the grassy hill toward the pond. It wasn’t particularly huge, but a cute little stone bridge crossed it, and from the apex they could look down into the clear water and see the flash of koi swimming around.

Rose put down the basket and leaned over to peer into the pond, while Diego lifted Max into his arms so he could see better. Then Rose began a game. She started a story about a koi fish, and each one of them had to add a line to the story. When it was Diego’s turn, he passed, but Rose shook her head.

“Nope. You have to play or you can’t stay at the pond.”

The koi had names of Eduardo and Maria, thanks to the children. Maria was being bossy and Eduardo wanted to go play with the other koi.

Diego sighed, frowned, and thought for a moment. “Eduardo told Maria he was hungry for a snack. And when she turned to get him one, he swam away to join the other koi who were playing . . .”

He faltered, and Max jumped in. “Football.”

Rose shook her head. “Nope, sorry Max. It’s my turn.” Max’s face fell a little, so Rose smiled and said, “Polo. The koi were playing polo.”

Max’s smile disappeared as he giggled. “Fish can’t play polo!”

“Why not?”

Emilia, keen on the game, jumped in with, “Eduardo’s polo pony was Flash, because he went so fast. He held his mallet in one fin and the reins in the other as they went flying over the grass, chasing the ball.”

“Well done, Emilia!” Rose grinned, and the story continued. By the time Maria had come back with empanadas and churros, Eduardo had scored the winning goal. But he took a terrible scolding from his sister.

“Eduardo explained that sometimes a boy needs to get out and blow off some steam,” Diego said. “And Maria, seeing everything had turned out okay, said she’d try to be more understanding in the future.”

Rose chuckled. It wasn’t too hard to imagine Diego as Eduardo.

“What’s ‘blow off some steam’?” Emilia asked, wrinkling her brow.

They picked up their picnic materials and began walking to the castle again. “Well,” Rose explained, “back when trains were first invented, they ran on steam. When the pressure in the boiler got to be too much, they’d have to let some out to release it before it blew up.” She ruffled Max’s hair. “Sometimes little boys—and girls—need to blow off some steam before they explode.”

“Miss Rosalie?” Emilia reached over to hold her hand and the girl looked up at Rose, her dark eyes shining. “You are very clever. I want to be smart like you.”

“Aw, thank you sweetheart.” She was touched by the compliment. “And if you study, and ask questions, and want to learn things, then you will be.”

“I’m smart,” Max said defensively.

“Indeed you are,” she replied. Diego hid a smile.

Together they got the children up to the nursery. Rose supervised hand and face washing and then took Max into the bedroom where he was to nap.

“I’m too old for naps,” he protested.

“Nonsense,” replied Diego. “Everyone likes a good siesta.”

“Not me.”

“Well, I do.” Diego sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll bet Rose is going to read you a story, too.”

Max was lying on the bed now, his lids growing heavy. “Don’t want Miss Rosalie. Want Tio Diego.”

She shrugged at looked at Diego. “You’re literate. I’m sure you can read a story or two.”

He laughed outright, and the sound made her feel all warm inside.

“Emilia and I are going to work on her letters and numbers for a while,” Rose said. She always looked forward to this part of the day. “If you read to Max, we can get started right away.”

“Por favor, Tio,” Max said, sitting up a bit, giving Diego the biggest set of puppy eyes Rose had ever seen.

“How can I resist this face?” Diego replied, grinning. “Pick out two stories, Max.”

Rose left the door open partway as she and Emilia went to the polished table where they did their lessons. She put out pencils, crayons, and stickers along with several worksheets of letters and numbers. Emilia’s printing was improving each day, and after a few practice sheets they’d work on a little spelling and maths.

Emilia had finished the whole alphabet and was in the midst of her numbers when Rose realized she hadn’t heard Diego’s deep voice in quite some time. She got up and went to the bedroom door and paused on the threshold, her heart melting just a little bit as she looked at the pair of them.

Diego was lying on the bed with Max, a forgotten storybook open between them. Max was curled into the much larger figure of his uncle, his head resting on Diego’s shoulder. Both were fast asleep.

That’s how it should be with their father, she thought. Oh, she understood that the demands of Raoul’s position were unique, but these kinds of moments were precious and few. Maybe Diego was right. Maybe he should speak to Raoul because, despite the Prince’s assurances on the first day, he really hadn’t been involved with his children much at all.

Unlike Diego. He’d been gone for two weeks, but in one afternoon he’d shown them fun, love, affection. He’d given them time and made them feel important.

Diego—renowned playboy, palace bad boy, and notorious womanizer—would actually make a very good father.

The world was just full of surprises.