The Prince's Royal Dilemma. Brenda Harlen

glimpse, Lara’s decision was made.

      She was going to stay and be the new royal nanny.

      Chapter One

      Four and a Half Years Later—

      Three days after the state funeral for His Highness Prince Julian Edward William Santiago and Her Highness Princess Catherine Mary Santiago, Rowan was still trying to accept that his brother and sister-in-law were gone, still struggling to come to terms with their deaths. And now this.

      He lifted his gaze from the legal document on the desk to his brother seated across from him. “What were they thinking?”

      “Probably that arranging for guardianship of their children was nothing more than a formality,” Marcus responded. “They certainly couldn’t have expected that they’d die in a freak explosion on their yacht.”

      The outing had been planned as a family event, with Julian and Catherine’s three children scheduled to join them on the water. But Alexandria and Damon had both been in bed with some kind of twenty-four-hour flu bug from which Christian had just recovered, so the nanny had stayed back with the children while the parents decided to take a few hours for a romantic getaway instead.

      Rowan stared again at the document giving him legal custody of the children. His brother and sister-in-law wouldn’t have filled out the paperwork without his knowledge and consent, though when he’d given it, he’d never anticipated his role as guardian becoming a reality. Now it was, and Julian’s children—the future of the monarchy and the country—were in his care.

      “I know you never expected—or wanted—to be in this position,” Marcus said. “But are you okay with it?”

      “Someone needs to fulfill the royal duties until Christian is of an age to take the throne. But am I okay with it?” He shook his head. “How can I be when the only reason I’m sitting here, in Julian’s office, behind Julian’s desk, is that Julian and Catherine are dead?”

      His gaze shifted to the photo on the corner of the desk. It was a picture of his eldest brother with his arm around his wife, their children around them. They looked so happy together—still obviously in love after fifteen years of marriage and completely devoted to their children. Every time Rowan sat behind this desk, his eyes were drawn to that picture—to the heartbreaking image of the beautiful family that had been torn apart by tragedy.

      As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Marcus reached forward and picked up the heavy pewter frame. His youngest brother’s eyes were troubled as he stared at the photo. “The whole family’s been dealt a tough blow—maybe I should delay my return to Harvard, stay around here to help out in any way I can.”

      Rowan was adamant in his refusal. “Eric volunteered to extend his leave from the navy, too,” he admitted, referring to the middle brother. “And I appreciate your offer as much as his, but there’s really no need for anyone to change their plans.”

      “Nobody but you,” Marcus noted.

      But Rowan was only doing what needed to be done, as both of his brothers would do if circumstances warranted.

      The Santiago family had ruled long and ruled well, and the citizens of Tesoro del Mar trusted in their monarch. As much as they had openly and genuinely mourned the passing of Julian and Catherine, they would accept Rowan’s rule. And Rowan, as much as he’d never wanted to rule, understood that it was his duty even more than his right, a duty that had been impressed upon all of them from their early days in the cradle.

      “The truth is, I feel more equipped to step into the role of prince regent than guardian of three young children.” He stared at the photo Marcus had put back on the edge of the desk and felt the weight of the responsibility heavy in his heart. He was fond of his brother’s children, of course, but after living in London for the past dozen years he didn’t know them very well. And he didn’t know the first thing about parenting.

      Christian he could probably handle. The boy was twelve—old enough to listen to reason, already conscious of the fact that he would rule the country one day and undoubtedly capable of doing so.

      Alexandria was eight, with a rebellious streak that Julian had often lamented was turning his hair prematurely gray, though there had been no disguising the pride his brother felt in his only daughter.

      As for Damon, well, the only words Rowan could think of to describe his four-year-old nephew were “hell on wheels.”

      “The children have a full-time nanny,” Marcus reminded him.

      Rowan nodded. “The nanny is just one more reason I wonder what they were thinking.”

      Marcus frowned. “What do you mean?”

      “Don’t you follow the news?”

      “Not if I can help it,” his brother admitted. “The stories are more often about sensationalism than journalism.”

      “And since she moved into the palace, Miss Brennan has given them plenty of splashy headlines.”

      Marcus shrugged. “She’s young and sexy and has a connection to the royal family—it’s hardly her fault the press feeds on things like that.”

      “A royal nanny should be mature and dignified.”

      “Like Nanny Adele?”

      It was with genuine affection that he thought of the woman who had raised not only his brothers and him but his father and his aunt before them. She’d passed away at the age of ninety-three while Catherine was expecting Damon, and his brother and sister-in-law had hired Lara Brennan—a twenty-year-old redhead who was the opposite of Adele Torres in every way.

      “I guarantee there were never any front-page pictures of our nanny shaking her booty in a dance club,” he told his brother.

      Marcus laughed at the image. “I would think not—at least not if they wanted to sell any papers.”

      Rowan had no doubt the pictures of the royal nanny had sold lots of papers, and that was what concerned him. “What kind of example do you think that sets for Christian and Alexandria and Damon?”

      “I didn’t realize she took the kids with her when she went clubbing.”

      Rowan should have expected such a flippant response from his brother. Marcus was another favorite subject of the press—not just locally but internationally. “You’re deliberately missing my point.”

      “I wasn’t sure you had one.”

      “She works for the royal family, therefore, her behavior reflects on the royal family.”

      “You’re not honestly worried about a silly tabloid photo that faded from the news more than six months ago?”

      “That picture wasn’t the only one,” Rowan reminded his brother.

      “It’s not a crime to have a good time,” Marcus pointed out. “Besides, she’s great with the kids.”

      Rowan couldn’t deny that fact, especially not in that moment when childish giggles floated through the open window. Drawn by the sound, he pushed away from his desk and crossed the room to look down to the gardens below.

      As he’d expected, Lara was there with Alexandria and Damon, on her hands and knees on the ground. He watched as Damon tried to climb over her back, then tumbled off in another fit of giggles. Alexandria, though four years older than her brother, was clearly enjoying the game, too, and her giggles joined his as they rolled on the grass.

      But it was Lara who captured and held his attention, as she’d done from the first with her sparkling eyes and easy smile, and his fascination with the children’s nanny continued to baffle and frustrate him.

      “It’s good to hear them laugh,” Marcus said. “It’s good to know that they can still find joy after everything they’ve been through.”

      Rowan moved back to the desk.