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His hopes in that regard were dashed by the sharp poke of a finger in his side.
He shook off the fog of his restless slumber and pushed himself up, trying to focus through the darkness on the child standing beside his bed. “What’s the matter, Alexandria?”
“Damon’s throwing up again.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Where’s Mrs. Harris?”
“In the nursery.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you can fix him.”
Rowan frowned at the note of certainty in her voice. “What do you think I can do that Mrs. Harris can’t?”
“Bring Lara back.”
Mierda. “You have a new nanny now,” he reminded her gently.
“She doesn’t know the song,” Alexandria told him.
He was wide-awake now, but still not able to make sense of the conversation. “What song?”
“The one…” Her voice faltered and even in the pale moonlight, he saw the shimmer of tears that filled her eyes. But she blinked fiercely to hold them in check and tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “The one Mommy used to sing to us. The one that Lara sings when we have bad dreams.”
Rowan squinted at the clock beside the bed. It was three o’clock in the morning and he had a 7:00 a.m. meeting with the minister of state, but he somehow knew that his handling of this crisis could have more immediate and long-lasting repercussions than anything he discussed with Lorenzo over breakfast.
“Damon’s been throwing up every night since Lara went away,” she told him.
He frowned. “What do you mean—every night?”
“Mrs. Harris didn’t tell you?”
“No,” he admitted.
She sighed dramatically. “Damon’s been having nightmares since Mommy and Daddy died. Lara used to sing to him, but now she’s gone and he just screams and cries until he makes himself sick.”
Rowan pulled his robe out of the closet. “Miss Brennan has been gone for ten days.”
Alexandria nodded.
“Are you telling me that your brother has been waking up every night for the past week and a half?”
“Every night since Mommy and Daddy died,” she said again. “But he’s only been throwing up since Lara went away.”
The realization that no one had bothered to tell him about this was making him feel ill. “Let’s go see your brother, then I’ll call Dr. Marotta.”
Despite Mrs. Harris’s entreaties, Alexandria refused to leave her brother’s side, and Rowan didn’t have the heart to force her. Instead, he encouraged the nanny to turn in, promising that he would wait for the doctor, then see to his niece himself. The woman pursed her thin lips in obvious disapproval but acceded to his wishes.
Dr. Marotta arrived within thirty minutes of Rowan’s call. Unfortunately, he had no magical cure for the little boy, though he did give the child a mild sedative to help him settle. When Damon was asleep again, Rowan took Alexandria to her own room.
It was rare for him to be home without guests or other obligations when it was time for the children to go to bed, so he wasn’t accustomed to sharing in the nighttime ritual. But as he helped the young princess into her bed and pulled the covers up under her chin, he found comfort in the routine—and sorrow in the knowledge that it should have been his brother tucking her in. He would give anything to bring Julian and Catherine back for their children, but not even a prince had that kind of power.
“Good night, little princess.”
Her eyes were already closing. “G’night.”
On impulse he touched his lips to her forehead and saw her lips curve in response to the gesture.
He was at the door when she spoke again.
“You’ll get Lara to come back, won’t you, Uncle Rowan?”
His fingers tightened on the knob. “I’ll talk to her.”
It was the most he could promise, but it was enough for his niece, who smiled again as she drifted into sleep.
Dr. Marotta was waiting for Rowan when he exited her room.
“Thanks for coming out tonight, Doctor.”
The old man inclined his head. “It’s an honor and a privilege to serve the royal family, Your Highness.”
He managed a weary smile as he moved down the hall. “Even when you get called away from your bed at four o’clock in the morning?”
“Always.”
He led the way to the library and dropped gratefully into a butter-soft leather chair. “What can you tell me about Damon?”
“Probably nothing that you don’t already know,” the doctor said. “He’s had a lot of upheaval in his life over the past few weeks. He’s confused and upset and he’s grieving.”
“What can I do?”
“Just be there for him.” But he frowned, as another thought occurred to him. “I spoke to Miss Brennan about this a couple of weeks ago, and she gave me the impression that these incidents were decreasing in both frequency and intensity. Maybe I should speak with her again, to inquire if something may have happened to cause a relapse.”
“The children have a new nanny now,” Rowan told him.
“Oh.”
It was all he said—a single syllable—and yet Rowan sensed his unspoken disapproval. Or maybe it was the weight of his own guilt that chafed at him.
Though he suspected he wouldn’t like the doctor’s answer, he had to ask the question, “Do you think it was a mistake to replace Miss Brennan?”
“I wouldn’t presume to advise you, Your Highness.”
“Even if I’m asking for your advice?” Rowan said.
The doctor considered his words. “What I can tell you is that Miss Brennan has been caring for the children for the past several years. Having just lost their parents, they would naturally be resistant to any other major changes in their lives.”
Rowan nodded and thanked him again.
As he headed back to his own room, he thought about Lexi’s plea for him to fix the situation—to bring Lara back. He wasn’t sure that he could, or even if he should.
He was the prince regent now, and as a leader, he had to be decisive and he had to stand behind his decisions. He shouldn’t let a child’s tearful pleas or the memories of the nanny’s impassioned speech create doubts in his mind. He had to do what was best for the children, to ensure they got the guidance and discipline they needed.
Do you think that spending a few hours at the dinner table with them on special occasions has made you an expert on what they want or need?
Even as Lara’s words echoed in his mind, he knew that the situation with Damon clearly proved he was not.
He’d done what was necessary for his own peace of mind, and he’d used his concerns about the children to justify his actions. It didn’t matter that he’d truly believed he was doing what was best for all of them—he should have remembered about good intentions and the road to hell.
Tomorrow he would walk straight down that road and face a woman who could tempt him to sin more easily than the devil himself.
Chapter Three
Lara tiptoed toward the doorway of the room that Marci and Kayla shared to check on them one last time before heading off to her own bed, as she’d always done with Christian, Lexi and Damon.
The thought came automatically, as so many thoughts and memories of the Santiago children did, and was accompanied by a sharp pang of longing. She rubbed a hand over her chest, as if the action might assuage the ache in her heart. She knew there would come a time when she would think of them with fondness and without pain, but she feared that time was a long way in the future.
Pushing open the door of the girls’ bedroom, she saw that Marci’s bed was empty. Her heart jolted, then settled when she noted the two heads snuggled close together on Kayla’s pillow.
She wondered if one of the girls had had a bad dream or if they sometimes just preferred the comfort of sleeping close together. She’d have to ask Luke. After more than a week with his family, she was still getting to know them, learning their routines, discovering their likes and dislikes.
The twins had accepted the news that she was to be their new nanny easily, if not warmly. They were quiet children, polite and well mannered. Certainly they’d given her no trouble, nor had they given any indication that they wanted or needed her presence in their lives.
Luke, at least, seemed grateful to have her around. The widowed father never failed to notice the little things she did—the fresh flowers in the parlor, the tidying of the books in the library, the weeding of the flowerbeds out front—and he was always appreciative of the simple meals she prepared. Though cleaning and cooking hadn’t been part of her responsibilities at the palace, she was grateful for the additional tasks now because they helped her feel as if she was making a real contribution.
As she turned away from the girls’ bedroom, she found herself thinking again of Julian and Catherine’s children. She wondered if their new nanny checked on them at night, if she made sure Christian had turned out his light before falling asleep, if she gently brushed Lexi’s hair away from her face, if she tucked Damon’s covers around him. And she wondered—and worried—who was comforting Damon when he awakened in the night.
Not Prince Rowan, she was certain. His rooms were on the fourth floor of the palace, and the nursery was two stories below. But maybe Damon’s nightmares had finally stopped. For his sake, she hoped so, though she suspected that it would take some time still before he accepted the loss of his parents and managed to sleep without dreaming of them.
She was pulling back the covers to climb into her own bed when she heard a knock at the door. She frowned and glanced at the clock on her bedside table as the knock sounded again. It was almost eleven, and though she was hesitant to answer the door at such a late hour, she was even more reluctant to have the girls awakened by the pounding.
And it was a pounding now, as whoever was at the door was obviously growing impatient.
She grabbed her robe from the back of the chair and shoved her arms into the sleeves, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as the door of Luke’s office swung open. The disheveled hair and creases on his cheek confirmed that he’d fallen asleep at his desk again.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
Lara hovered behind him, her curiosity turning to shock when he opened the door and she saw who was standing on the porch.
But Luke clearly didn’t recognize the prince, because the furrow in his brow deepened. “Can I help you?”
“I need to speak with Miss Brennan.” Rowan’s gaze moved past Luke to settle on her.
She was suddenly conscious of the way she was dressed—or rather not dressed—as she automatically dropped into a curtsy. “Your Highness,” she murmured.
“Your Highness?” Luke echoed, immediately stepping away from the door and offering an awkward bow. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize—”
“It’s all right,” the prince said, interrupting. “I’m the one who should apologize for intruding at such a late hour. I wanted to come sooner but got held up at dinner with the Japanese ambassador.”
His eyes again shifted from Luke to Lara, narrowing as he took in her employer’s rumpled appearance and her nightclothes. His jaw tightened, but he made no remark.
He didn’t need to. She knew what he was thinking, because she knew he’d always had a less-than-favorable opinion of her, and she didn’t care. Not anymore.
She lifted her chin. “Why are you here, Your Highness?”
His eyes lifted to hers, and the intensity in that dark gaze sent a jolt of heat straight through her. Then he spoke the words she’d never thought she’d hear him say, four words she was helpless to resist.
“Because I need you.”
There were any number of people Rowan could have sent from the palace with his inquiry, but he knew that passing off the task would have been cowardly. He needed to see Lara—Miss Brennan—himself, to apologize to her personally and to make his appeal directly. It was the only way he could be sure that she wouldn’t refuse.
She didn’t owe him anything. He was all too aware of that fact. Just as he was aware that she would want to turn down his request. He had enough of both pride and stubbornness to recognize those qualities in someone else. He also recognized weakness, and he knew Lara Brennan had three: Christian, Alexandria and Damon. Yes, she would want to turn him away, but she wouldn’t refuse the children anything.
The man who answered the door—her new employer? her lover? Rowan pretended it didn’t matter—excused himself so the prince could speak with Lara in private.
She led him into the kitchen and gestured for him to sit, though she didn’t take a seat herself. Instead she tightened the belt on her robe and turned away from him to make a pot of tea.
He could have told her that he didn’t want any damn tea, but he knew that what he wanted wasn’t really important right now. And she seemed to need to do something to keep herself busy while she considered the implications of his appearance on the doorstep.
She set the kettle on the stove and flicked a knob to turn on the burner before she faced him again. “Why do you need me?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in response to her blatant skepticism. “I suppose I can’t blame you for being doubtful. And the truth is, I considered every other option before I came here tonight.”
“How did you know where to find me?” she demanded.
“Your friend, Tanis—the one you went to see the day you left the palace.” The chauffeur had given him the address to which he’d taken her, though getting further information from her friend had proven quite a bit more difficult.
“You mean the day you fired me?”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to hold a grudge, Miss Brennan.”
“But you really don’t know anything about me, do you, Your Highness?”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m hopeful that you won’t let your animosity toward me prevent you from helping a child.”
“Who is it? What’s wrong?”
This immediate reaction confirmed his assessment of her character. “It’s Damon,” he told her. “He’s been having nightmares.”
Her tension visibly leaked away. “He’s been having nightmares since his parents died.”
“I know.” He looked away. “I mean, I know now, but I didn’t realize how bad they were.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Dr. Marotta said they’d been getting better, that you were helping Damon deal with the loss.”
“I don’t know that anything can really help.”
“You can,” he insisted.
She just shook her head.
“It’s not just Damon’s nightmares,” he continued. “Alexandria is hardly eating and Christian barely speaks without the words having to be pried out of him.”
“What do you think I can do?”
“You could come back,” he said.
“No.” She turned away from him again, but not before he saw the shimmer of tears that filled her eyes.
“Just like that? You won’t even think about it?”
“I have another job now.”
“The man who answered the door—”
“Luke Kerrigan,” she told him.
“You work for him?”
“What did you think, that I’m just here to sleep with him?”
He knew she was baiting him, and still the thought filled him with inexplicable fury. While she switched off the burner beneath the whistling kettle, he took a deep breath, forced his hands to unclench and calmly said, “I’ll talk to Mr. Kerrigan. I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”
“You mean you’re going to pull rank.”
“I’m going to do what’s best for my brother’s children.”
“What about Luke’s children?”
“I’m sure they’ll miss you,” he said solicitously. “But I doubt that they’ve formed the same kind of attachment to you in a week and a half that my niece and nephews have in the past four years.”
Lara was tempted to laugh, but she was afraid that if she gave in to the emotions that were swirling inside her, tears and rage wouldn’t be far behind. “Am I supposed to thank you for finally acknowledging that fact?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t expect you to thank me at all. But I do expect that my visit has raised questions in your mind and that you’ll want to come back to the palace to at least check on the children.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t want to come back to the palace.”
She pulled cups and saucers from the cupboard, mindless of the delicacy of the china as she banged them together. So much for keeping a rein on her emotions. But honestly, the prince seemed to have an innate talent for pushing her buttons, and his unapologetic manipulation infuriated her. Though at least some of her anger was directed at herself for being tempted by his offer.
Why would she even consider what he was asking?
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
And she was going to tell him just that.
She hadn’t heard him get up but when she whirled around to face him again, he was standing directly in front of her. She chose not to step back—she wouldn’t retreat again.
“I don’t want to return,” she repeated. “And you have no right to come here now and ask this of me.”
“I know,” he admitted, and touched his hand to her arm. “I’m asking anyway.”
It was little more than a stroke of his fingers against flannel, but she felt the heat of the contact sizzle through her veins. She would have thought, after the way he’d treated her, she’d have gotten over her silly infatuation. But all it took was a simple touch, and she was in danger of melting in a puddle at his feet.
Then she glanced up and found his gaze locked on her, and all the air seemed to back up in her lungs as her heart pounded furiously inside her chest. There were flecks of gold in his eyes. She’d never noticed that before. Had never been close enough to him to notice. And though she knew she shouldn’t be this close to him now, she couldn’t seem to move away.
It wasn’t until the prince dropped his hand that she managed to breathe again. And she knew that Tanis was right—Lara was never going to fall in love with anyone else so long as her heart remained enamored of Prince Rowan.
She swallowed and took a step back. “I can’t.”
But her shaky whisper was drowned out by the ring of his cell phone. With a quick apology, Rowan pulled the instrument out of his pocket and connected the call.
Lara was reaching for the teapot when he held his cell toward her. She glanced up at him questioningly, warily.
“It’s Alexandria.”
She took the phone, cursing herself again when the brush of their fingertips made her heart skip and her knees quiver. “Lexi?”
“Lara!” The joy in the child’s voice was unmistakable. “I know Uncle Rowan promised to talk to you, but I wasn’t sure that he would do it today. Are you really coming back? Tonight? We’ve missed you so much, Lara. Damon woke up screaming again but settled down when I told him you were coming home. He’ll try to be really good if you come back. We all will.”
As she listened to the little girl ramble on, panic and love warred inside of her. After having her heart ripped out once already, how could she possibly go back to them? How could she not?
“Mrs. Harris came the day after you went away,” Lexi continued. “But she’s really old and she wears ugly clothes and she never smiles. Christian said she was probably around when there were still dinosaurs, and I know that was like a billion years ago.”
Lara wasn’t surprised that Rowan had hired another nanny, but it was a balm to her bruised ego that the children hadn’t shifted their allegiance so easily.
“She makes us do lessons all the time. We hardly ever get to play in the garden anymore ’cause she makes me wear dresses so that I’ll learn to be a proper lady. But I’d rather be like you, Lara,” the little girl said loyally. “’Cause you’re pretty and fun.”
Though the backhanded compliment made her smile, Lara couldn’t help but wonder if she had given the children too much latitude while they were in her care. But it seemed to her that they had so little time to actually be children and the rest of their lives to be royal.
Pushing aside both yearning and regret, she finally managed to end the conversation without making any promises and handed the phone back to Rowan.
“Did you give her permission to stay up past her bedtime to make that call?” she asked him.
“I didn’t set it up,” he said. “But the truth is, if I’d thought it would sway your opinion, I might have.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you were the type to fight dirty, Your Highness.”
“But you really don’t know anything about me, do you, Miss Brennan? Because if you did, you’d know that when I must fight, I fight to win.”
She poured the tea, though she knew neither of them was going to sit and drink it. “If I agree to go back with you, I need some assurance that you aren’t going to change your mind again.” As she feared he might do after he found out the truth about her background.
“You have my word.”
“I don’t want your word—I want a contract.”
Rowan wasn’t accustomed to being challenged, and he certainly wasn’t used to having his word questioned.
He took a moment to pretend to consider her request, though the truth was, he would have promised her almost anything to secure her agreement to return to the palace. But when she swept her tongue over her lips—moistening them, tempting him—he hesitated, wondering again about the wisdom of acquiescence. The children needed Lara. He had finally, reluctantly, acknowledged that fact. But he needed to find a wife, and having Lara back at the palace could be a major roadblock in that path.
“A legal agreement would help clarify our respective expectations,” she pointed out.
He nodded, because he couldn’t renege on his promise to Lexi any more than he could renege on the promise he’d made to Julian and Catherine to raise their children as they would have done. “I’ll put my attorneys on it first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
She still insisted on speaking with Luke before she would go anywhere with Rowan, to ensure the other man would be able to manage without her while he interviewed for her replacement. Rowan finally offered to send Edna Harris to the Kerrigan residence, figuring it was the least he could do for the nanny whose services would no longer be needed and the man who was being left in the lurch.
But his thoughts were focused exclusively on Lara as he led her out to his black Mercedes SUV and opened the passenger door for her. He caught a whiff of her scent—something both subtle and sexy—as she moved past him to climb into the vehicle.
He felt the now-familiar and always-frustrating ache low in his belly and knew that living in close proximity to this woman was going to slowly drive him out of his mind.
She barely said two words to him throughout the journey back to the palace, but he hadn’t expected that she would. He’d once thought her quiet demeanor was an indication of a docile nature. He now knew better. She had spirit and courage, and he found himself admiring those qualities as much as he worried about them.
He wasn’t usually so far off in his assessments of people, but he’d made some major miscalculations where the young nanny was concerned. She was a woman of strength and depth, warmth and compassion. She was obviously devoted to his niece and nephews and clearly not intimidated by his title or status.
He knew he should be pleased. He’d gone out tonight with the express purpose of bringing Lara back to the palace, and he’d got what he wanted. So why was he so uneasy?
He glanced over at her, noting the softly faded jeans that hugged her hips and the pale-yellow sweater that clung enticingly to the gentle swell of her breasts. She hadn’t put any makeup on, but her natural features didn’t need any artificial enhancement. Her deep green eyes were framed by thick lashes, her cheekbones were high and sharp, her lips full and soft. She was more beautiful than any woman he’d ever known, and more tempting than any woman should have a right to be.
He tightened his hands around the steering wheel and forced his attention back to the road.