Prince Daddy & the Nanny (4 page)

She felt her cheeks flush in response to the errant thought. “I'm a little nervous,” she finally admitted.

“About seafood?”

The teasing note in his voice surprised her, and the corners of her mouth automatically tilted in response to his question. “No. About being here…with you.”

“With me,” he echoed, his brows drawing together. “Why?”

“Because you're a prince,” she admitted. “And I'm not accustomed to dining with royalty.”

“I'm a princess,” Riley interjected, lest anyone forget her presence at the table.

“It's only a title,” her father told both of them.

“That's easy to say when you're the one with the title,” Hannah noted.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But the matter of anyone's birthright seems a strange reason to miss out on a delicious meal.”

She scooped up a forkful of vegetables, dutifully slid it between her lips. “You're right—and it is delicious.”

She managed to eat a few more bites before she noticed the princess was yawning. “Someone looks like she's ready for a nap,” she noted.

“I don't nap,” Riley informed her primly. “I have quiet time.”

“Right, I saw that on the schedule,” Hannah recalled, noting that Brigitte had indicated “nap” in parentheses.

And then, as if on schedule, the little girl yawned again.

“I think you're ready for that quiet time,” the prince said, glancing at his watch.

His daughter shook her head. “I want ice cream.”

He hesitated.

“Please, Daddy.” She looked up at him with her big brown eyes.

“Actually, Caridad said something about crème caramel for dessert tonight,” he said, attempting to put off her request.

“I want ice cream now,” Riley insisted.

“One scoop or two?” Caridad asked, clearing the luncheon plates from the table.

“Two,” the princess said enthusiastically. “With chocolate sauce and cherries.”

The housekeeper brought out the little girl's dessert, but as eagerly as the child dug in to her sundae, Hannah didn't believe she would finish it. Sure enough, Riley's enthusiasm began to wane about halfway through, but she surprised Hannah by continuing to move her spoon from the bowl to her mouth until it was all gone.

“Could I please have some more?” Riley asked when Caridad came back out to the terrace, looking up at the housekeeper with the same big eyes and sweet smile that she'd used so effectively on her father.

“You can have more after dinner,” the housekeeper promised.

The upward curve of Riley's lips immediately turned down. “But I'm still hungry.”

“If you were really still hungry, you should have asked
for some more chicken, not more ice cream,” the prince told his daughter.

“I didn't want more chicken,” she said with infallible logic.

Hannah pushed away from the table. “Come on, Riley. Let's go get you washed up.”

“I'm not a baby—I don't need help washing up.”

It seemed to Hannah that the young princess didn't need help with much of anything—certainly not with manipulating the adults in her life, a talent which she had definitely mastered.

But she kept that thought to herself, at least for now.

She didn't want to lose her job on the first day.

“Riley,” Michael chastised, embarrassed by his daughter's belligerent response. “Hannah is only trying to help.”

“Actually,” Hannah interjected, speaking to Riley, “maybe you could help me.”

The little girl's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “With what?”

“Finding my way around this place,” the new nanny said. “I've only been here a few hours and I've gotten lost three times already. Maybe you could show me where you spend your quiet time.”

Riley pushed away from the table, dramatically rolling her eyes as she did so. If Hannah noticed his daughter's theatrics, she chose to ignore them.

“If you'll excuse us, Your Highness,” she said.

“Of course.” He rose with her, and watched as she followed Riley into the house.

He wasn't pleased by his daughter's behavior, but he didn't know what to do about it. As much as he loved Riley, he wasn't blind to her faults. But the adolescent attitude in the preschooler's body was just one more of the challenges of parenting a gifted child, or so he'd been told. Was Riley's behavior atypical—or did he just not know what was typical for a child of her age?

Surely any four-year-old going through a period of adjustment would need some time, and losing her longtime nanny was definitely an adjustment. He hoped that within a few days, after Riley had a chance to get to know Hannah and settle into new routines with her, her usual sunny disposition would return.

After all, it was a new situation for all of them, and it was only day one.

But as he made his way back to his office, he found himself thinking that he probably missed Brigitte even more than his daughter did. Everything had run smoothly when Brigitte was around.

More importantly, he'd never felt any tugs of attraction for the former nanny like the ones he was feeling now for Hannah.

A
ccording to Brigitte's schedule, Riley's quiet time was from two o'clock until three-thirty. When that time came and went, Hannah didn't worry. She figured the little girl wouldn't still be sleeping if she wasn't tired, and since there wasn't anything else on her schedule until an art class at four-thirty, she opted not to disturb her before then.

Hannah was staring at her laptop screen when she heard, through the open door across the hallway, what sounded like drawers being pulled open and shut. She immediately closed the lid on her computer, wishing she could as easily shut down the shock and betrayal evoked by her father's email announcement.

He'd gotten married, without ever telling her of his plans, without even letting her meet the woman who was now his wife. But she forced herself to push those emotions aside and crossed the hall to the princess's room, a ready smile on her lips, determined to start the afternoon with Riley on a better foot.

Riley didn't smile back. Instead, she scowled again and her lower lip trembled.

“I want Brigitte,” she demanded.

“You know Brigitte isn't here,” Hannah said, attempting to keep her tone gentle and soothing.

“I want Brigitte,” Riley said again.

“Maybe I can help with whatever you need,” she suggested.

The young princess shook her head mutinously, big tears welling in her eyes. “It's your fault.”

“What's my fault?”

“You made me wet the bed.”

Only then did Hannah notice that the little girl wasn't wearing the same dress she'd had on when she'd settled on her bed for quiet time. She was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse with a blue chiffon skirt now, and the lovely pink dress was in a heap on the floor beside her dresser. A quick glance at the unmade bed revealed a damp circle.

“Accidents happen,” Hannah said lightly, pulling back the covers to strip away the wet sheet. “It will only—”

“It wasn't an accident,” Riley insisted. “It was your fault.”

Hannah knew the child was probably upset and embarrassed and looking to blame anyone else, but she couldn't help asking, “How, exactly, is it my fault?”

“You're supposed to get me up at three-thirty—when the big hand is on the six and the little hand is halfway between the three and the four,” Riley explained. “But now it's after four o'clock.”

She probably shouldn't have been surprised that the child knew how to tell time—that basic skill was hardly on par with speaking foreign languages—and she began to suspect that the next two months with Riley would be more of a challenge than she'd imagined.

“Brigitte would have woke me up,” Riley said, swiping at the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.

“
Woken,
” Hannah corrected automatically as she dropped the sheet into the hamper beside Riley's closet. “And I know you miss Brigitte a lot, but hopefully we can be friends while I'm here.”

“You're not my friend, you're the new nanny, and I hate you.”

“I promise that you and I will have lots of fun together this summer. We can go—”

“I don't want to go anywhere with you. I just want
you
to go
away!
” Riley demanded with such fierce insistence that Hannah felt her own eyes fill with tears.

She knew that she shouldn't take the little girl's rejection personally. Despite her extensive vocabulary and adolescent attitude, Riley was only a child, reacting to her feelings of loss and abandonment. But Hannah understood those feelings well—maybe too well, with the news of her father's recent marriage still fresh in her mind—and she hated that she couldn't take away her pain.

“What's going on in here?” a familiar, masculine voice asked from the doorway.

Riley flew across the room and into her father's arms, sobbing as if the whole world had fallen down around her.

The prince lifted her easily. “What's with the tears?”

“I want Brigitte to come back.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat, crying softly.

He frowned at Hannah over her daughter's head, as if the new nanny was somehow responsible for the child's tears.

“She's feeling abandoned,” she told him.

His brows lifted. “Is she?”

She couldn't help but bristle at the obvious amusement in his tone. Maybe she didn't know his daughter very well yet, but she understood at least some of what the little girl was feeling, and she wasn't going to let him disregard the depth of those feelings.

“Yes, she is,” she insisted. “She was upset when she woke up and the only person who was anywhere around was me—a virtual stranger.”

The prince rubbed his daughter's back in an easy way that suggested he'd done so countless times before. “She'll get used to being here and to being with you,” he insisted.

Hannah wished she could believe it was true, but she sensed that the princess would resist at every turn. “Maybe, eventually,” she allowed. “But in the meantime, you're the only constant in her life and you weren't around.”

“I was only downstairs,” he pointed out.

“Behind closed doors.”

“If I didn't have other things to deal with, Miss Castillo, I wouldn't have hired you to help take care of Riley for the summer.” Now that the little girl had quieted, he set her back on her feet.

Hannah wanted to ask if his business was more important than his daughter, but she knew that it wasn't a fair question. She had to remember that the prince wasn't her own father, and she couldn't assume that his preoccupation with other matters meant he didn't care about the princess.

“You're right,” she agreed, watching as Riley went over to her desk to retrieve a portfolio case. “I'm sorry. I just wish this wasn't so difficult for her.”

“I get the impression she's making it difficult for you, too.”

She hadn't expected he would see that, much less acknowledge it, and she conceded that she may have been a little too quick to judgment. “I teach
Beowulf
to football players—I don't mind a challenge,” she said lightly. “Although right now, the challenge seems to be finding a spare set of sheets for Riley's bed.”

“I'll send Caridad up to take care of it,” he told her.

“I don't mind,” she said, thinking that it would at least
be something useful for her to do. “I just need you to point me in the direction of the linen closet.”

Before he could respond, Riley interjected, “I need flowers for my art project.”

“Why don't you go outside with Hannah to get some from the gardens?” the prince suggested. “I'm sure she would love to see the flowers.”

“Can't you come with me, Daddy?” she asked imploringly.

“I'm sorry, honey, but I have a big project to finish up before dinner.”

With a sigh, Riley finally glanced over at Hannah, acknowledging her for the first time since the prince had come into the room.

“I need freesias,” she said. “Do you know what they are?”

Hannah smiled. “As a matter of fact, freesias happen to be some of my favorite flowers.”

 

Michael was going to his office to pick up a file when the phone on the desk rang. He'd just tucked Riley into bed and didn't want her to wake up, so he answered quickly, without first bothering to check the display. The moment he heard his mother's voice, he realized his mistake.

“I have wonderful news for you, Michael.”

“What news is that?” he asked warily, having learned long ago that her idea of wonderful didn't always jibe with his own.

“Your daughter has been accepted for admission at Charlemagne Académie.”

“I didn't even know she'd applied,” he said dryly.

Elena huffed out an impatient breath. “I pulled a lot of strings to make this happen, Michael. A little appreciation would not be unwarranted.”

“I didn't ask you to pull any strings,” he pointed out. “In fact, I'm certain I never mentioned Charlemagne at all.”

“Your sister went there—it's a wonderful educational institution.”

“Even so, I'm not sending Riley to boarding school.”

“Of course you are,” Elena insisted. “And while they don't usually accept children as young as five—”

“Riley's not yet four,” he interrupted.

His mother paused, as if taken aback by this revelation, but she recovered quickly. “Well, if they could take a five-year-old, they can take a four-year-old.”

“They're not taking her at all,” he said firmly.

“Be reasonable, Michael. This is the perfect solution to your child-care dilemma.”

“There's no dilemma, no reason for you to worry.”

“I thought your nanny was leaving.”

“Brigitte did leave, and I hired someone new for the summer.”

“And what will you do at the end of the summer?” she challenged.

“I'm not worrying about that right now.”

“The fall term starts in September.”

“I'm not sending my four-year-old daughter away to boarding school in Switzerland.”

“The child will benefit from the structure and discipline.”

“The child has a name,” he pointed out.

“A wholly inappropriate one for a princess,” his mother sniffed.

“You've made your opinion on that perfectly clear,” he assured her. “But it doesn't change the fact that Riley is her name.”

“Getting back to my point—
Riley
will benefit from the structure and discipline at Charlemagne, and you will no longer be burdened—”

“Don't.” Though softly spoken, the single word silenced her as effectively as a shout. “Don't you dare even suggest that my daughter is a burden.”

“I didn't mean that the chi—that
Riley
was a burden,” she hastened to explain. “But that the responsibilities of caring for a young daughter must seem overwhelming at times.”

He couldn't deny that was true any more than he could expect his mother to understand that Riley was also the greatest joy in his life, so he only said, “I'll let you know if I change my mind about Charlemagne.”

“I really do believe it would be best for Riley and for you,” she said.

“I appreciate your concern,” he lied.

Elena sighed. “I'll look forward to hearing from you.”

Michael began to respond, but she'd already disconnected the call.

He dropped the receiver back in the cradle and went around his desk. Only then did he notice the figure curled up in the oversized wing chair facing the fireplace.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness.” Hannah immediately rose to her feet. “I should have made my presence known, but I didn't have a chance to say anything before the phone rang. Then I wanted to leave and to give you some privacy for your call, but you were blocking the door.”

He waved off her apology. “It's okay.”

“I really didn't intend to eavesdrop,” she assured him. “But for what it's worth, I'm glad you're not planning to send Riley to boarding school.”

He shook his head. “I can't believe she would expect me to even consider such a thing.”

“She?” Hannah prompted curiously.

“My mother.”

Her eyes widened. “That was your mother on the phone?”

He could only imagine how his half of the conversation had sounded to her, and shrugged. “We don't have a traditional parent-child relationship,” he said.

Truthfully, there was more apathy than affection between them, especially since his wife had died. Elena had never
respected boundaries and had never trusted her children to make their own decisions, and he had yet to forgive her for interfering in his marriage and convincing Sam that it was her wifely duty to provide him with an heir—a decision that had ultimately cost her life.

“Riley's grandmother wanted to send her to Switzerland?” Hannah pressed, apparently unable to get past that point.

“She even pulled strings to ensure she would be accommodated,” he said.

“But she's just a child.”

“My mother isn't an advocate of hands-on parenting,” Michael told her.

Hannah seemed to think about this for a minute, then asked, “Did you go to boarding school?”

He nodded. “My brother and sister and I all did, but not until high school. Before that, we attended Wyldewood Collegiate.”

“It would be easy to send her away,” she said. “To let someone else assume the day-to-day responsibilities of her care.”

“No, it wouldn't,” he denied. “It would be the hardest thing in the world.”

 

Hannah's conversation with the prince gave her some unexpected insight into his character and a lot to think about, but she was mostly preoccupied with trying to figure out his daughter. She tried to be patient and understanding, but as one day turned into two and then three, it seemed that nothing she said or did could change the princess's attitude toward her. And if there was one thing Hannah was certain of, it was that the princess's attitude very definitely needed changing.

On Saturday, after Riley had finished her lessons for the day, Hannah decided to take the little girl down to the beach. She'd made a trip into town the day before to get buckets
and shovels and various other sand toys, and she was excited to watch Riley play. She should have guessed that the child would be less than enthusiastic about her plans.

“I don't like sand,” the princess informed her. “And I get hot in the sun.”

“That's why we wear our bathing suits—so we can cool off in the ocean after we play in the sand.”

Riley folded her arms over her chest. “You can't make me go.”

“Go where?” the prince asked, stepping out of his office in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.