Prince Daddy & the Nanny (16 page)

“She's sleeping,” he confirmed.

“She had a busy day,” Hannah noted.

“A fabulous day—thanks to you.”

“I tried not to go too over the top,” she said.

His brows rose. “You don't think it was over the top?”

“I nixed the suggested arrival of the birthday girl in the horse-drawn glass carriage,” she told him.

“I'm in awe of your restraint,” he said dryly. “But truthfully, whatever it costs, it was worth every penny. I've never seen her so happy.”

“Now I'm regretting that I didn't get the carriage.”

“Then what would we do next year?”

She knew he'd only meant to tease her with the suggestion that this party couldn't be topped, but the words were a reminder to both of them that there was no
we
and Hannah wouldn't be around for the princess's next birthday.

“Brigitte called today,” he said, in what seemed to Hannah a deliberate attempt to shift the direction of the conversation. “To wish Riley a happy birthday.”

“That was thoughtful,” she said. “How is she adjusting to life in Iceland?”

“Not easily.”

“Does she want to come back?”

He laughed. “No. As much as she's struggling with culture shock, she is very much in love with her new husband.”

“Then what is it that you're not telling me?” Because she was sure that he was holding something back.

“She did ask if I'd found a full-time nanny,” he admitted. “And when I said I had not, she suggested that I interview her friend Margaux for the position.”

Hannah had to remind herself that this wasn't unexpected. She'd known all along that the prince would be hiring a new nanny because she was leaving at the end of August. “Why do you sound as if that's a problem?” she asked.

“Because I was hoping that I might convince you to stay beyond the summer.”

Her heart pounded hard against her ribs. This was what she hadn't even realized she wanted—what she hadn't dared let herself hope for. “You want me to stay?”

“You've been so wonderful with Riley, and she's going to be devastated if you leave.”

Disappointment washed the roots of barely blossomed hope from her heart. “She'll be fine,” she said, confident that it was true. The child had already proven that she was both adaptable and resilient. It was her own heart that gave Hannah concern, because she knew that when she left Cielo del Norte, she would be leaving the largest part of it behind.

“Okay, maybe the truth is that I'm not yet ready to let you go,” Michael acknowledged.

Not yet ready—but he would be. Neither of them had any expectations of anything permanent or even long-term. At least none that she was willing to admit to him now. “We still have two weeks before the end of the summer,” she said lightly.

“What if I'm not ready then, either?”

She didn't know what to say, how to answer his question in a way that wouldn't give away the feelings in her own heart. Because the truth was, she didn't want him to ever let her go—she wanted him to love her as much as she loved him, and she knew that wasn't going to happen.

He was still in love with Riley's mother, and even if he wasn't, she knew he wouldn't ever love her. Not enough.

Her father hadn't loved her enough to keep her with him, and Harrison hadn't loved her enough to defy his parents. And if she wasn't good enough for the heir of some obscure earldom, there was no way anyone would ever consider her good enough for a Tesorian prince. The princess royal had made that more than clear.

“Let's not think about that right now,” she said, leading the way across the hall.

So long as they had tonight, she wasn't going to think about tomorrow.

 

Afterward, Hannah would wonder how it happened, because she knew she didn't consciously speak the words aloud. She certainly hadn't intended to tell him of the feelings that filled her heart. But when he pulled her close, tucking her against the warmth of his body so that she felt secure and cherished in his embrace, her emotions overruled reason. And as she started to drift toward slumber, the words slipped from between her lips as if of their own accord.

“I love you, Michael.”

His only response was silence. She wanted to believe that he was already asleep and that he probably hadn't heard her impulsive confession, but the sudden tension that filled his body proved otherwise. The muscles in the arm that was wrapped around her grew taut, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

She hadn't intended to confide her feelings. She knew she would be leaving her heart at Cielo del Norte but she'd hoped to at least take her pride. But keeping the feelings to herself certainly hadn't diminished them, and she was through pretending.

She did love him—with her whole heart. And she loved Riley as if the little girl was her own child. But accepting the truth of her feelings forced her to accept the more painful
truths that were equally evident: there was no place for her here, and no future for her with the prince and his daughter.

Once again, she was trying to fit in someplace where she could never belong.

T
he night after Hannah's whispered declaration of her feelings, Michael didn't go to her room. It was the first time since their first night together that he'd gone directly to his big, empty bed. He didn't sleep well. He wasn't even sure that he'd slept at all.

But he knew he was doing the right thing. To continue to be with Hannah when he didn't—couldn't—feel the same way she did wasn't fair to either of them.

It was on Tuesday, after two restless, sleepless nights, that she knocked on his office door.

“Excuse me for interrupting, Your Highness, but I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time.”

He cringed at the formal tone of her voice, hating the distance between them. He wanted to hear her speak his name, not his title. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her so close that he could feel her heart beating against his. He wanted to touch his mouth to hers, to feel her lips
yield to his kiss. But he had no right to want anything from her anymore.

“Of course, Hannah,” he responded to her request.

“I got a notice from St. Eugene's that I'll be teaching a new course in the fall, and I was hoping to go back to Port Augustine at the end of this week.”

This wasn't at all what he'd expected. He wasn't ready for her to leave, and he had no intention of letting her go. She had agreed to stay until the end of summer, to take care of his daughter.

“What about Riley?” he demanded now. “How can you just abandon her?”

“I'm not going anywhere until you've found someone else to take care of her.”

“And what if I don't find anyone else?” he challenged.

He wasn't sure why he was fighting her on this. It was only seven days, and even if he didn't have anyone else by then, he would be happy to spend more time with his daughter during that last week. He didn't need a nanny, but he needed Hannah.

He wasn't sure where that last thought had come from—or how it could simultaneously feel so right and make him break out in a cold sweat.

“Margaux has agreed to come for an interview tomorrow.”

“You're so eager to get away from here that you called her to set this up?”

“No,” she denied. “Margaux called here, on Brigitte's advice, to set a date and time to meet with you. I just took the message.”

“You could have said that I would get in touch with her when I returned to Port Augustine,” he countered.

She looked at him oddly, as if she heard the note of desperation he tried to keep out of his voice. But all she said
was, “I thought you would want this settled before then—to make sure Riley will be in good hands when you go back.”

He couldn't refute the logic in that. Instead, he asked, “Is there nothing I can say to make you stay?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if considering her response, then finally said, “You really don't need me anymore. You and Riley are going to be just fine.”

“Have you told her that you're leaving?”

“She won't be surprised. She knows I have to go back to my real job.”

Just as he'd known it was only a temporary assignment when he'd hired her, so why was he fighting it now?

“I'll let you know after I meet with Margaux tomorrow,” he told her.

“Thank you,” she said.

And then she was gone.

 

Hannah was transferring her clothing from the dresser to her suitcase when Riley came into her room.

“Who's that lady with Daddy?” she demanded. “Is it true that she's going to be my new nanny?”

“That's for your daddy to decide,” Hannah told her.

The princess crawled up onto Hannah's bed and hugged her knees to her chest. “Why don't I get to decide?”

“Because you're four.”

“That's not my fault.”

Hannah tousled her hair and smiled gently. “It's not a question of fault, it's just the way it is.”

Riley watched as she continued to fill the suitcase. Hannah forced herself to concentrate on carefully arranging each item, because she knew that if she looked at the little girl right now, she would fall apart.

After a few minutes, Riley spoke in a quiet voice, “I don't want you to go.”

Hannah's throat was tight, her eyes burning with unshed
tears. She drew in a deep breath and settled onto the edge of the bed, trying to find the words that would make goodbye easier for both of them.

But as soon as she sat down, Riley scooted over to wrap her arms around her, squeezing her so tight that the dam that was holding back Hannah's tears began to crack.

“I don't want to go, either,” she admitted. “But we both knew that I was only going to be here for the summer.”

“The summer's not over yet,” the princess pointed out.

She rested her chin on top of the little girl's head, so Riley wouldn't see the tears that slid down her cheeks. “No, but it's getting close.”

After another few minutes, Riley asked, “Can I come visit you?”

Hannah knew it would be best to make a clean break, to walk away from Cielo del Norte and never look back, but there was no way she could deny the child's request. “That's up to your dad, but if he says yes, it's absolutely okay with me.”

“When?” Riley demanded.

The characteristic impatience in her voice made Hannah smile through her tears. “Anytime.”

 

Margaux was everything Brigitte promised she would be. She was compassionate and knowledgeable and professional, and though his daughter kept insisting that she didn't want a new nanny, Michael remembered that she'd been equally resistant to Hannah at first. So he offered her the job, and she accepted. And when she agreed that she could start right away, he released Hannah from her obligation to stay until the end of the month.

It seemed pointless to have Margaux move into the beach house only to have to move back to the city a week later, so he decided that he and Riley might as well return to Verde Colinas early. Maybe his excuses were just that—certainly
Caridad thought so—and maybe it was true that he didn't want anyone else in Hannah's room. Not yet, while the memories were still fresh. By next summer, he was confident that he would be able to think of it as simply the nanny's room again and not think about all the hours that he'd spent in there with Hannah, talking and laughing with her, and making love with her.

Back in the city, Riley seemed to settle into her new routines fairly easily. Since summer was almost over, he'd started some of her lessons again, but on a much more modest scale. His daughter was polite and attentive to her teachers, and she cooperated willingly enough with Margaux, but still, something didn't seem quite right.

It took him almost a week to realize why the house seemed so somber and silent. Because not once in that entire time, not once in the six days since Hannah had been gone, did he hear his daughter laugh.

When she unpacked at home, Riley put the doll that Sam had given her back in its special place on the shelf. The silly stuffed caterpillar that Hannah had given to her as a birthday gift went on the bed, and Riley slept with it hugged close to her chest every night.

He wished that he could comfort his daughter, but he missed Hannah as much as she did. Maybe he hadn't sent her away, but he knew that he was responsible for her leaving just the same. She'd told him that she loved him, and he hadn't dared speak of the feelings that were in his own heart. Because he hadn't been willing to admit them, even to himself.

Now that she was gone, he could no longer deny the truth. Hannah hadn't just shown him how to build a better relationship with his daughter, she'd helped him heal and gave him hope for the future—a future he now knew that he wanted to share with her.

 

During the first week after her return from Cielo del Norte, Hannah missed Riley so much that she actually felt a pain in her chest whenever she thought of the little girl. As for the prince—well, she didn't even dare let herself think of the man who had stolen her heart.

She kept herself busy. She washed curtains and scrubbed floors; she repainted the walls and bought new throw rugs and cushions. She knew what she was doing: trying to make a fresh start. She wasn't sure that her plan would actually succeed, but she'd realized that the only way she could sleep at night was to fall into bed completely physically exhausted.

After everything was cleaned and painted and rearranged, she carted all of her boxes out of storage and back into her apartment. As she unpacked her belongings, she was amazed to think that only two months had passed since she'd packed it all away. It really wasn't a lot of time, but so much in her life had changed during that period. She had changed.

But she was doing okay—until she got a letter from Caridad. The housekeeper just wanted to let her know that Loretta had finally had her baby—almost two weeks late—and that she and Estavan were the proud grandparents of another beautiful baby girl.

Hannah was genuinely thrilled for them, and she sent a card and a gift for the baby. She'd considered hand-delivering the items, but decided against it. The memories were still too fresh, her heartache still too raw. She did hope to keep in touch with Caridad, as the housekeeper had become a wonderful friend, but there was no reason for her to ever go back to Cielo del Norte.

No reason except that she'd left her heart with Prince Michael while she'd been there. It didn't seem to matter that he didn't want it; she knew that it would always belong to him.

So many times, she thought back to that last conversation
in his office, when he'd asked, “Is there nothing I can say to make you stay?” And she'd wondered if anything might have been different if she'd had the courage to speak the words that had immediately come to mind:
Tell me you love me.

But she knew that even if he had actually said those words to her, she wouldn't believe them. Because actions spoke louder than words, and he'd already made his feelings clear. She'd told him that she loved him—and he didn't even give her the lame I-care-about-you-but-I'm-not-ready-for-a-serious-relationship speech. He'd said nothing at all.

Still, she knew the mistake wasn't in speaking of the feelings that were in her heart; the mistake was in letting herself fall in love with a man that she'd known all along could never love her back. But even that knowledge didn't stop her from missing the prince and his little girl.

She was grateful when school started up again in September. She was anxious to get back into the familiar routines, confident that a return to her normal life would help her forget about Michael and Riley and how much she missed both of them.

Still, she thought about contacting him. Every day, she experienced moments of such intense yearning that she was tempted to pick up the phone, not just to hear his voice but to check on Riley. If she did, maybe he would give her permission to visit the little girl, but in the end she decided that wouldn't be a good idea for either of them. Margaux was the princess's nanny now, and she deserved a chance to bond with the child without Hannah in the way.

She was confident that Riley would adjust to these new changes in her life without much difficulty. She truly was an amazing child, and Hannah just hoped that the prince didn't fill her schedule with so many lessons and classes again that she forgot to be a child.

Instead of contacting the prince, Hannah busied herself working on new lesson plans for the current term. She was
rereading the first play for her freshman drama class when there was a knock at the door Saturday afternoon. She was feeling desperate enough for a distraction that she responded to the summons. If it was a vacuum cleaner salesman, she might even invite him in to do a demonstration in the hope that it would possibly give her a half-hour reprieve from her thoughts of Michael and Riley.

But when she opened the door, she realized that there wasn't going to be any reprieve—because the prince and his daughter were standing in her hall.

“Hello, Hannah.”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She didn't know what to say—whether to invite them inside or send them away. And she was afraid that whatever choice she made would only result in fresh heartache.

“You said I could come visit, remember?” Riley's smile was uncharacteristically tentative, as if she was unsure of her welcome.

Hannah managed a smile, though she felt as if her heart was splitting wide open inside of her chest. “Of course I remember.”

“Can we come in?” the prince asked.

She wished she could say no. And if his daughter wasn't standing at his side, she would have refused. But there was no way she could close the door now.

She stepped back so that they could enter, while questions swirled through her mind. Why were they here? Why now? Subconsciously, she touched a hand to her brow. The scar above her eye had started to fade, but the wounds on her heart were still raw and bleeding.

“Hannah?” the princess prompted, her little brow furrowed with concern.

She dropped her hand away, forced a smile. “Can I get you anything?”

She wasn't sure what to offer—her mind had gone blank
when she'd seen them standing outside of her door and she honestly couldn't remember what was in her refrigerator.

“Not for me, thanks,” the prince said.

Riley shook her head.

Hannah led them into the living room. As a result of all of the cleaning and painting and redecorating, she knew the apartment looked good. Hardly up to royal standards, but then again, she wasn't a royal.

“So—were you just in the neighborhood?” she asked, attempting a casualness she wasn't feeling.

“No, Riley wanted to see you.” Michael tucked his hands into his pockets. “Actually, we both wanted to see you.”

“We miss you,” the little girl said.

“How is school?” she asked Riley, forcing a note of cheerfulness into her voice even as her heart cracked wide open.