Prince Daddy & the Nanny. Brenda Harlen

      “What are you doing in here?” the princess asked again.

      “I wanted to hear you practice.”

      “I like to be alone when I practice,” she said, demonstrating that she’d inherited her father’s mood as well as his dark eyes.

      Hannah just shrugged, refusing to let the little girl’s attitude affect her own. “I can wait in the hall until you’re finished.”

      “I have my French lesson after piano.”

      Hannah referred to the schedule she’d been given, which confirmed Riley’s statement. “I’ll see you at lunch, then.”

      The princess’s nod dismissed her as definitively as the prince had done only a few minutes earlier.

      On her way out, Hannah passed the piano teacher coming in.

      The older woman had a leather bag over her shoulder and determination in her step. Clearly she had a purpose for being here. Hannah had yet to figure out her own.

      The conference call that Michael had rescheduled came through at precisely eleven o’clock and concluded twenty minutes later. A long time after that, he was still struggling to accept what he’d learned about Miss Castillo—high school teacher turned temporary nanny.

      Phillip Marotta had said only that she was a teacher; Michael had assumed that meant she had experience with children. Because he trusted the royal physician implicitly, he had taken the doctor’s recommendation without question. Apparently he should have asked some questions, but he acknowledged that the mistake had been his own.

      Still, despite the new nanny’s apparent lack of experience, he knew that the doctor had stronger reasons than nepotism for suggesting his niece for the job. And from what Brigitte had told him, Riley seemed to accept her easily enough. Of course, his daughter had had so many doctors and teachers and instructors in and out of her life that she accepted most newcomers without any difficulty.

      So why was he uneasy about Miss Castillo’s presence at Cielo del Norte? Was he really concerned about Riley—or himself?

      When Sam died, he’d thought he would never stop grieving the loss. He was certain he would never stop missing her. But over the years, the pain had gradually started to fade, and Riley’s easy affection had begun to fill the emptiness in his heart. He’d been grateful for that, and confident that the love of his little girl was enough.

      He didn’t need romance or companionship—or so he’d believed until Hannah walked into his life. But he couldn’t deny that the new nanny affected him in a way that no woman had done in a very long time.

      A brisk knock at the door gave him a reprieve from these melancholy thoughts.

      “Lunch will be served on the terrace as soon as you’re ready,” Caridad told him.

      He nodded his thanks as he checked his watch, surprised that so much time had passed. Twenty minutes on the phone followed by an hour and a half of futile introspection. Maybe he did need a vacation.

      The housekeeper dropped a quick curtsy before she turned back toward the door.

      “Caridad—”

      “Yes, Your Highness?”

      “What is your impression of Miss Castillo?”

      Her eyes widened. “I’m not sure I understand why you’d be asking that, sir.”

      “Because I value your opinion,” he told her honestly. “During the summers that I spent here as a kid, you were always a lot more of a mother to me than my own mother was—which makes you Riley’s honorary grandmother and, as such, I’d expect you to have an opinion of her new nanny.”

      “We’ve only spoken briefly, sir, I’m certainly not in any position—”

      “Quick first impressions,” he suggested.

      “Well, she’s not quite what I expected,” Caridad finally admitted.

      “In what way?”

      “She’s very young and … quite attractive.”

      He didn’t think Hannah was as young as Brigitte’s twenty-four years, though he could see why the housekeeper might have thought so. Brigitte had dressed more conservatively and she hadn’t been nearly as outspoken as the doctor’s niece.

      “Not that Brigitte wasn’t attractive,” she clarified. “But she was more … subtle.”

      She was right. There was absolutely nothing subtle about Hannah Castillo. While she certainly didn’t play up her natural attributes, there was something about her—an energy or an aura—that made it impossible for her to fade into the background.

      “But I’m sure that neither her age nor her appearance has any relevance to her ability to do her job,” she hastened to add.

      No—the most relevant factor was her employment history, which he decided not to mention to the housekeeper. No doubt Caridad would wonder how he’d ended up hiring someone with a complete lack of experience, and he was still trying to figure that one out himself.

      “If I may speak freely …” Caridad ventured.

      “Of course,” he assured her.

      “You should spend more time around young and beautiful women and less behind your desk.”

      “Like the young and beautiful woman you ‘hired’ to help in the kitchen when you sprained your wrist last summer?” he guessed.

      “I wasn’t sure you’d even noticed,” she admitted.

      “How could I not when every time I turned around she was in my way?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

      “Maybe she was a little obvious, but I thought if I had to hire someone, it wouldn’t hurt to hire someone who might catch your eye.”

      “Caridad,” he said warningly.

      “Your daughter needs more than a nanny—she needs a mother.”

      The quick stab that went through his heart whenever anyone made reference to Samantha’s passing—even a reference as veiled as Caridad’s—was no longer a surprise, and no longer quite so painful.

      “And in a perfect world, she would still have her mother and I would still have my wife,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world.”

      “Four years is a long time to grieve,” she said in a gentler tone.

      “When Sam and I got married, I promised to love her forever. Is that time frame supposed to change just because she’s gone?”

      “Unless your vows were different than mine, they didn’t require you to remain faithful forever but only ‘till death do us part.’“

      “Could you ever imagine loving anyone other than Estavan?” he countered.

      “No,” she admitted softly. “But we have been together forty-one years and I am an old woman now. You are still young—you have many years to live and much love to give.”

      He glanced at the calendar on his desk. “I also have another quick call to make before lunch.”

      “Of course, Your Highness.” She curtsied again, but paused at the door. “I just have one more thing to say.”

      He knew it was his own fault. Once he’d opened the door, he had no right to stop her from walking through. “What is it?”

      “No one questions how much you loved your wife,” she told him. “Just as no one would raise an eyebrow now if you decided it was time to stop grieving and start living again.”

      He hadn’t been with anyone since Sam had died, almost four years ago. And he hadn’t been with anyone but Sam for the fourteen years before that. He’d loved his wife