The Prince's Nanny (21 page)

“Expect the unexpected,” she murmured to herself on her way down the grand stairway to the front entrance.  The warning applied not only to nannies, but to everyone.  Especially Sabrina.

When she saw him she was once again bowled over by his looks.  He left her breathless.  The memories of what they’d done last night would stay with her forever like a secret place in her mind.  Memories to keep for a rainy day, of which there were sure to be many.

 He’d changed clothes too.  He was wearing designer jeans that fit him perfectly with a casual but expensive collared T-shirt and leather moccasins.  His hair was combed reminding her of how he’d looked in the throes of passion when fashion and hair were the last of his worries.

When he saw her he raised both eyebrows.  Was he too thinking of how she’d looked last night, wrapped in a blanket or wearing nothing at all?  His expression revealed nothing, only a slight shift in his gaze, his eyes narrowed to slits as he surveyed her.

She almost stopped and turned back.  Made some excuse that she couldn’t walk to town.  She’d hurt her ankle or she had something pressing to do.  They shouldn’t be seen together in town.  His friends might get the wrong idea.  Having breakfast at a café, they might think he was having an affair with his nanny.

He held out his hand as if he knew she was having doubts.  “Come on Sabrina, you need some fresh air and you need something to eat.”

She gave in.  He was right of course.  They took the same route they’d taken the day she arrived, only in reverse.

“The last time we walked here the girls told me about the rose garden and the apple tree.”

“They didn’t want another nanny, you know,” he said, “but you won them over.”

“We’ve had a good time together,” she said wistfully.

“You won me over too.  You were so sure of yourself.”

“I was acting sure.  I needed the job.”

“And now…?”

She felt a sharp pang in her chest.  As if he’d shot an arrow there.  He wanted her to spill her feelings but keep his to himself.  She knew better.  “Things are different now.”  She admitted that much when they finally arrived at the small café on the lakefront.  Mid-morning there were only a handful of people seated at the wrought-iron tables, no tourists, just locals like themselves.  If only she was a local.  If only she belonged there in this beautiful town, nestled on the world’s deepest and most gorgeous lake, but she didn’t.  Where she did belong was not clear. It was time to find out.

“Things are better now,” he said, correcting her and reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.  Then he ordered small fresh hot croissants, and a pot of jam made from the local berries and of course two cups of café au lait.

The lake shimmered in the distance.  Small boats putted across the water.  She pressed her lips together to keep from blurting the questions she wanted to ask.  Why don’t you keep the ring?  Why don’t you try to find another woman to marry?  What happened?  She knew he would never marry again.  She didn’t know why.  She didn’t understand why he hadn’t recovered in seven years. Unless theirs was a love like no other, that transcended time and space.

“You must have had an ideal marriage,” she said wistfully.  “Or…”

“Or I wouldn’t still be recuperating?”

“I can understand your being sad, but you, you..”

He leaned forward with his elbows on the small table.  “I can’t seem to snap out of it, is that what you’re thinking?”

“It’s none of my business,” she said, setting her cup down.  She didn’t want to know about their love affair.

He nodded.  He agreed with her.  It was none of her business.

“Relax,” he ordered, noticing the frown on her face.  “Enjoy the day.  A day without the twins.  Without responsibility.  A day of freedom.  It’s a gift from Aurora.  If she hadn’t decided to return the ring, we wouldn’t be here.  We’d still be in the tower.”

She let the healing rays of the morning sun warm her arms and the back of her neck.  It was a different feeling.  They were free and they were still together.  He wasn’t working and she was acting like a tourist instead of his employee.

“Tell me Sabrina, as a nanny, how should we punish the girls for what they did to us?  Or should we reward them?”

She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.  Punish or reward them?  She couldn’t answer that without giving away too much.  She was touched that he asked her, that he wanted her opinion.  If it was true that they wanted to see their father and their nanny get together then the punishment would be the knowledge that they weren’t going to.

“Their reward will be to see you take more of an interest in them.”

“Are you sure?  I have the impression they want to be left alone.”

“That’s just an act.  I know about that.  I perfected it years ago.  You pretend you don’t care then you don’t get hurt.”  A lesson well learned.  A lesson that had come in handy and still did.

“I know something about that,” he said soberly.

“When your wife died.”

“There’s more to it,” he said, stirring his coffee absently with a small spoon.

She sat very still, waiting, hoping he’d continue.  Finally, was he going to tell her what really happened?

“I told you she crashed her car on the mountain road in the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

“She left a note which I destroyed.  No one but me knows what she wrote.  She was on her way to meet the man she was leaving me for.  A waiter at our favorite restaurant.  She was having an affair with him.  I didn’t know.”

This time Sabrina impulsively reached for his hand.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It was a long time ago,” he said, as if it didn’t matter any more, but she knew it did.

“I knew something was wrong, but with Maddelena one never knew what it was.  She had so many issues.  Nothing was every good enough for her.  No one was either.  Not me certainly.”

“But her babies…”

“In her note she said she knew I would care for them.  She knew she wouldn’t be a very good mother.  That was probably true.”

“The girls don’t know?”

He shook his head.  “No one knows except the waiter and he disappeared that night.  Never came back.”

“I…I’m glad you told me.”

“I’m sorry to hear you say had.  Are you still determined to go?”  He tightened his grip on her hand.

She sent a sideways glance in his direction.  He looked like a man who needed a friend.  She couldn’t be his friend.  It was too much and yet too little.  “It’s such a nice day and we’re celebrating our escape from the tower and our freedom, so let’s not spoil it by talking about the future.”

He smiled at her and her heart missed a beat.  How could he do that to her with just a smile?  “You can’t blame me for trying,” he said.  “I want to make it clear.  Whatever happens to the girls, I don’t want you to leave.”

To her that meant he wanted her around as a casual mistress, how casual remained to be seen.  Would they go out together, would the society accept her?  She didn’t want to wait around to find out.  This was not the life she had in mind for herself.  What was?  More years back in the office with Bettina leaning over her shoulder?

“I believe you are the man who wanted to send me back on the next ferry.”

“That was then.  This is now.  We need you.”

And I need you
, she thought. But didn’t say it.  She needed him desperately like she needed air to breathe.  But she had to learn to breathe without him.  That was clear.  She also needed the girls.  She needed a family, the kind she’d never had.  She didn’t need a villa with a turret or a staff to wait on her, and she certainly didn’t need a lover who found it convenient to keep a mistress.  Who was determined to never marry again.
 
She wanted commitment.  She needed it.  She needed to know she couldn’t be fired or replaced.  She knew she would not find what she needed here.  So she had to leave.  She needed love.  That word had not been mentioned.  She was foolish to think it would be. Now that she knew the story behind his wife’s death, she understood.  He was sad, but he was bitter too, and not likely to take a chance again.

She took a deep breath and said, “You need someone and I will find you someone.  I promise you.”

“I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Vittorio, I can’t stay here.”  Couldn’t he see that?

“Very well,” he said standing abruptly.  “I won’t try to change your mind.  Let’s not think about the future.  We have today.  The skies are clear so far, and everyone is out enjoying the holiday.”

“What about your work?”

“I deserve a break, don’t you think?  After seven years?”

She nodded.  He looked like he was on vacation already, in his casual sport clothes, his arms and legs tanned by the summer sunshine, the worry lines between his eyebrows gone.  She wanted to believe she was at least partly responsible for the change in his attitude.  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, couldn’t erase the memory of his naked body lying on top of her, of hearing his even breathing in her ear as he slept the sleep of someone complete sated, completely fulfilled.  Just like her.

“What is it?” he asked, catching her gazing at him.

She dragged her eyes away.  “Nothing.”  She turned to look out at the lake, at the kayaks that lined the beach, the small sailboats and the ferry pulling into the dock.

“What shall we do today?” he asked, following her gaze.  “My boat is in dry dock, but we can rent a sailboat right here and explore some out of the way places I know.  There will be crowds around here for the festival.  I want you to myself.  At least until tonight when there is always dancing in the square on St. Anne’s Day.”

“What about more fireworks?” she asked.

He grinned and the glint in his eye returned.  “I can promise you more fireworks.  Count on it.”

She flushed.  “I only meant…”

“I know what you meant,” he said.  They both stood and he put one arm around her shoulder.  “I understand you better than you know.  Let’s go.  We’ll pick up some food and sail away from here to our own private island.”

They stopped at a small shop where the proprietor greeted Vittorio with a hug like a long-lost friend and recommended proscuitto sliced paper thin, a Caprese salad with ripe tomatoes busting with flavor and Buffalo Mozzarella garnished with fresh basil leaves and dressed with a fruity olive oil, a fresh loaf of crusty bread, a citrus rice salad tossed with Parmesan cheese, tart lemon juice, olive oil and mint and something called
sfingi
.  And of course bottles of sparkling water and a local white wine.  The portly owner wiped his hands on his white apron and packed it all up in a basket for them.

He stood in the doorway of his shop, oblivious of the other customers waiting in line and waved to Vittorio, a big smile on his broad face.

They strolled together toward the dock, sharing the handle of the basket, passing groups of tourists in sunglasses and shorts disembarking from the ferry.

That was me
, she thought. 
Only days ago.  How life has changed.  And yet, it hasn’t really.  I have the job I wanted.  But not the man I want.  History repeats itself and once again I will be alone.  Not now.  Not today, but soon.