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“While I have no doubt that seducing you would be a great pleasure, I need to focus my attention on other things right now.”

Though the softly spoken words made everything inside her quiver, Lara refused to give Rowan the satisfaction of knowing it. “Do you think I would fall into your bed just because you wanted me there, Your Highness?”

“I think,” he said confidently, “that you would fall into my bed because you wanted to be there.”

Her chin lifted just a fraction. “Then you think wrong. I won’t be any man’s temporary amusement.”

“If I believed otherwise, we’d be having this conversation in bed.” He grinned. “Or maybe we wouldn’t be talking at all.”

Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Save the seduction routine for your bride. I’m not interested.”

Available in July 2009
from Mills & Boon^® Cherish

Heart of Stone

by Diana Palmer

The Rancher’s Surprise Marriage

by Susan Crosby

Hannah’s Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

Her Texas Lawman

by Stella Bagwell

The Prince’s Royal Dilemma

by Brenda Harlen

The Baby Plan

by Kate Little

BRENDA HARLEN

grew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practising as an attorney, including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada, she gave up her “real” job to be a mum and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com.

The Prince’s Royal Dilemma
BRENDA HARLEN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Neill

–my real-life prince–

with much appreciation

and all my love.

Prologue

With its pristine sand beaches and crystal-blue waters, Tesoro del Mar is truly a treasure of the Mediterranean Sea. Though small in size, it has a huge appeal to visitors from all over the world.

Lara Brennan eagerly absorbed the details from her guidebook, anxious to learn everything about the island before the plane’s wheels touched down at the Port Augustine airport.

Tanis Rowlands, her best friend and traveling companion, waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. “This is supposed to be a vacation—why are you studying that book as if there’s going to be a quiz at the end of our trip?”

“I’m just amazed—by the history, the culture, even the name. Did you know that it means treasure of the sea?”

“Tesoro del Mar.” Tanis practically sighed the words. “I know that it even sounds like a fairy-tale kingdom.”

“It’s not a kingdom, it’s a principality.” Lara pointed to a line in the book.

“What’s the difference?” Tanis asked.

“It’s not ruled by a king, but a prince.”

Tanis’s blue eyes sparkled. “The country does have some hunky princes.”

Lara laughed. Though she’d only ever met Prince Julian—who was happily married to Princess Catherine—she’d seen enough tabloid photos of the other three princes to know that they were all tall, dark and almost sinfully handsome.

“We probably won’t even see any of Julian’s brothers,” she told her friend. “Rowan is an investment banker in London, Eric is an officer in the navy, and Marcus is at school in Switzerland.”

Tanis pouted. “Well, at least we get to stay in the royal palace. How old did you say it was?”

Lara consulted the book again. “It was built more than four hundred years ago.”

“That is old.” Tan’s brow furrowed. “Did they have flush toilets back then?”

“No, but I imagine there have been some renovations done and improvements made over the years.”

“And the people speak English?”

“The island was settled by both the Spanish and the French, so it is officially a bilingual country, but a majority of the residents also speak English.”

She skimmed over the history of Tesoro del Mar and the reign of the Santiago family, then turned the page. The photo of the castle was spread out over two pages to better capture the majesty of soaring towers and stunning turrets, wide stone balconies and high, arched windows. As much as she was looking forward to visiting the palace, she was looking forward to visiting with the family who lived there even more.

Twice every year, Prince Julian and Princess Catherine journeyed to Kilmore, Catherine’s hometown in Ireland, to visit her family. Through a distant family connection, Lara had met them there four years earlier. On that visit, the royals had been traveling without their longtime nanny, and Catherine had struggled to balance the needs of her preschooler with the impatient demands of a new baby.

The princess had seemed surprised—and relieved—that her children had taken an instant liking to Lara, who had been just as enchanted by the young royals. On each subsequent visit, Catherine had invited Lara to spend time with the family, and she’d grown close to the children and they to her.

Three weeks ago Catherine had called to request that Lara visit Tesoro del Mar and meet the newest addition to the royal family. Lara had been thrilled by the opportunity, especially when Catherine had suggested she could bring a friend to stay for two weeks.

Tanis let out an excited gasp and squeezed her arm. “There it is.”

Lara shifted her gaze from the book to the window and was immediately dazzled by the view.

The photos in her guidebook didn’t begin to compare to the reality—certainly they didn’t show the hills as being so deep an emerald green, the beaches quite as powdery white or the sea such a sparkling sapphire.

Then she caught a glimpse of the castle, and her breath actually caught in her throat.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” Tanis said.

Lara heard the longing in her friend’s voice but also the acceptance. Tanis would return home at the end of their holiday. For Lara the future was less certain, because the princess had offered her more than a Mediterranean vacation—she’d offered her the chance to make this island paradise her home.

Though Lara had grown close to Catherine’s family over the past few years, she could never have imagined that the princess would ask her—the illegitimate child of an unknown father—to become the caregiver of the royal children. But that was exactly what Catherine had proposed. Now Lara had two weeks in which to tour Tesoro del Mar, get reacquainted with the children and decide if she was willing to leave her old life behind and make a new one here.

Catherine had urged her to take her time, to consider all factors. But in that first breathtaking glimpse, Lara’s decision was made.

She was going to stay and be the new royal nanny.

Chapter One

Four and a Half Years Later—

Three days after the state funeral for His Highness Prince Julian Edward William Santiago and Her Highness Princess Catherine Mary Santiago, Rowan was still trying to accept that his brother and sister-in-law were gone, still struggling to come to terms with their deaths. And now this.

He lifted his gaze from the legal document on the desk to his brother seated across from him. “What were they thinking?”

“Probably that arranging for guardianship of their children was nothing more than a formality,” Marcus responded. “They certainly couldn’t have expected that they’d die in a freak explosion on their yacht.”

The outing had been planned as a family event, with Julian and Catherine’s three children scheduled to join them on the water. But Alexandria and Damon had both been in bed with some kind of twenty-four-hour flu bug from which Christian had just recovered, so the nanny had stayed back with the children while the parents decided to take a few hours for a romantic getaway instead.

Rowan stared again at the document giving him legal custody of the children. His brother and sister-in-law wouldn’t have filled out the paperwork without his knowledge and consent, though when he’d given it, he’d never anticipated his role as guardian becoming a reality. Now it was, and Julian’s children—the future of the monarchy and the country—were in his care.

“I know you never expected—or wanted—to be in this position,” Marcus said. “But are you okay with it?”

“Someone needs to fulfill the royal duties until Christian is of an age to take the throne. But am I okay with it?” He shook his head. “How can I be when the only reason I’m sitting here, in Julian’s office, behind Julian’s desk, is that Julian and Catherine are dead?”

His gaze shifted to the photo on the corner of the desk. It was a picture of his eldest brother with his arm around his wife, their children around them. They looked so happy together—still obviously in love after fifteen years of marriage and completely devoted to their children. Every time Rowan sat behind this desk, his eyes were drawn to that picture—to the heartbreaking image of the beautiful family that had been torn apart by tragedy.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Marcus reached forward and picked up the heavy pewter frame. His youngest brother’s eyes were troubled as he stared at the photo. “The whole family’s been dealt a tough blow—maybe I should delay my return to Harvard, stay around here to help out in any way I can.”

Rowan was adamant in his refusal. “Eric volunteered to extend his leave from the navy, too,” he admitted, referring to the middle brother. “And I appreciate your offer as much as his, but there’s really no need for anyone to change their plans.”

“Nobody but you,” Marcus noted.

But Rowan was only doing what needed to be done, as both of his brothers would do if circumstances warranted.

The Santiago family had ruled long and ruled well, and the citizens of Tesoro del Mar trusted in their monarch. As much as they had openly and genuinely mourned the passing of Julian and Catherine, they would accept Rowan’s rule. And Rowan, as much as he’d never wanted to rule, understood that it was his duty even more than his right, a duty that had been impressed upon all of them from their early days in the cradle.

“The truth is, I feel more equipped to step into the role of prince regent than guardian of three young children.” He stared at the photo Marcus had put back on the edge of the desk and felt the weight of the responsibility heavy in his heart. He was fond of his brother’s children, of course, but after living in London for the past dozen years he didn’t know them very well. And he didn’t know the first thing about parenting.

Christian he could probably handle. The boy was twelve—old enough to listen to reason, already conscious of the fact that he would rule the country one day and undoubtedly capable of doing so.

Alexandria was eight, with a rebellious streak that Julian had often lamented was turning his hair prematurely gray, though there had been no disguising the pride his brother felt in his only daughter.

As for Damon, well, the only words Rowan could think of to describe his four-year-old nephew were “hell on wheels.”

“The children have a full-time nanny,” Marcus reminded him.

Rowan nodded. “The nanny is just one more reason I wonder what they were thinking.”

Marcus frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you follow the news?”

“Not if I can help it,” his brother admitted. “The stories are more often about sensationalism than journalism.”

“And since she moved into the palace, Miss Brennan has given them plenty of splashy headlines.”

Marcus shrugged. “She’s young and sexy and has a connection to the royal family—it’s hardly her fault the press feeds on things like that.”

“A royal nanny should be mature and dignified.”

“Like Nanny Adele?”

It was with genuine affection that he thought of the woman who had raised not only his brothers and him but his father and his aunt before them. She’d passed away at the age of ninety-three while Catherine was expecting Damon, and his brother and sister-in-law had hired Lara Brennan—a twenty-year-old redhead who was the opposite of Adele Torres in every way.

“I guarantee there were never any front-page pictures of our nanny shaking her booty in a dance club,” he told his brother.

Marcus laughed at the image. “I would think not—at least not if they wanted to sell any papers.”

Rowan had no doubt the pictures of the royal nanny had sold lots of papers, and that was what concerned him. “What kind of example do you think that sets for Christian and Alexandria and Damon?”

“I didn’t realize she took the kids with her when she went clubbing.”

Rowan should have expected such a flippant response from his brother. Marcus was another favorite subject of the press—not just locally but internationally. “You’re deliberately missing my point.”

“I wasn’t sure you had one.”

“She works for the royal family, therefore, her behavior reflects on the royal family.”

“You’re not honestly worried about a silly tabloid photo that faded from the news more than six months ago?”

“That picture wasn’t the only one,” Rowan reminded his brother.

“It’s not a crime to have a good time,” Marcus pointed out. “Besides, she’s great with the kids.”

Rowan couldn’t deny that fact, especially not in that moment when childish giggles floated through the open window. Drawn by the sound, he pushed away from his desk and crossed the room to look down to the gardens below.

As he’d expected, Lara was there with Alexandria and Damon, on her hands and knees on the ground. He watched as Damon tried to climb over her back, then tumbled off in another fit of giggles. Alexandria, though four years older than her brother, was clearly enjoying the game, too, and her giggles joined his as they rolled on the grass.

But it was Lara who captured and held his attention, as she’d done from the first with her sparkling eyes and easy smile, and his fascination with the children’s nanny continued to baffle and frustrate him.

“It’s good to hear them laugh,” Marcus said. “It’s good to know that they can still find joy after everything they’ve been through.”

Rowan moved back to the desk. “Dr. Marotta has assured me that children are amazingly resilient. I’m relieved to see that it’s true—at least with respect to the younger ones. I can’t get a read on anything Christian is thinking or feeling these days.”

Marcus frowned as he, too, turned away from the window. “Where is the heir to the throne?”

“In the library working on lessons he missed while he was absent from school.”

“He’s still a child, too.”

“It was his choice to get back to his studies.” He glanced up at his brother, forced a smile. “As you must get back to yours.”

“I will. Soon. I want to spend some more time with the kids before I go.” Marcus smiled as fresh peals of laughter sounded from outside. “And maybe with Lara, too.”

Rowan deliberately returned to his seat behind the desk, refusing to let himself be drawn into further discussion about the nanny. As far as he was concerned, Lara Brennan was just one more problem he’d inherited when his brother’s yacht blew up, and a problem that he needed some time to consider how to deal with.

It took less time than he expected.

Only a few days after his brother had left to return to university, a new picture of the royal nanny was on the front page of the paper. This time she was on the beach, wearing nothing more than three tiny scraps of material that might have been a bikini.

She’d obviously been in the water, and her puckered nipples were clearly outlined by the clingy fabric. Her glossy lips were curved in a smile of mischief as her outstretched arms beckoned to someone beyond the frame of the picture.

The punch of lust came first—a deep ache that throbbed low in his belly and heated his blood. Mi Dios. She was so stunning, sensual, sexy. And he was a man, as weak and susceptible to temptation as any other.

But as a man who was also a prince, he had to hold himself to a higher standard. He had to be both selective and discreet in his personal relationships, and he especially had to rein in the primal instincts to claim and take that churned in his blood when he looked at that picture.

He shoved the paper aside.

He could curse himself for wanting her, but he couldn’t deny that he did. As he couldn’t deny that the obvious solution to his dilemma was to remove the source of his temptation.

While Lexi and Damon were playing in the garden, Lara was gathering their buckets and shovels for a promised trip down to the beach. Lexi hadn’t been thrilled with the plan, but she hadn’t protested too vehemently. Lara took that as a good sign. The little girl had been terrified of the water since learning that her parents had drowned, and she knew it would take time and patience to help her get beyond that fear.

On Saturday, before he’d had to leave to go back to law school, Marcus had gone down to the sea with them. Whether he was more in tune with the needs of his niece and nephews than the prince regent or just had more time on his hands, she appreciated his efforts to interact with the children.

And with her uncle’s encouragement, Lexi had ventured close enough to the water to dip her bucket and fill the moat around her sand castle. Just the first step, but an important one. When Lara waded into the shallows and got soaked by an unexpected wave, the sound of Damon’s and Lexi’s exuberant giggles joining with Marcus’s hearty laughter was like beautiful music to her ears.

Her only regret was that Christian hadn’t been there, but maybe she could entice him to join them today. He’d shown little enjoyment in anything since his parents had been killed, and she thought it would be good for all of them to spend a few hours on the beach together.

The request to attend the prince regent’s office threatened to put a crimp in Lara’s plans, as well as unleashing a swarm of hyperactive butterflies in her tummy.

His Highness had never summoned her to his office before. Then again, he’d never had any reason to deal directly with her before. In fact, whenever he’d visited from London, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid her. Though he was too well-bred to express his disapproval in her presence, she knew Rowan had questioned his brother’s decision to hire her to care for his children.

Four and a half years later, she had no reason to believe that his attitude toward her had changed, and though she hadn’t worried about his opinion too much when Julian and Catherine were alive, their deaths changed everything. Rowan was in charge now—of the country that she’d grown so fond of, the palace that had become her home and the children whom she loved more than she’d ever imagined possible.

And because he was in charge, she worried what this summons to his office could mean.

She rubbed suddenly damp palms down the front of her shorts. Lionel, Rowan’s personal secretary, turned on his heel and disappeared, obviously trusting that she understood the import of his message.

She did, of course, but the children were a different matter.

“Where are you going?” Damon demanded, wrapping his arms around one of her legs in a desperate attempt to keep her from leaving.

She brushed a hand over his soft, unruly curls and responded, “I’m going to see the prince regent.”

His little brow furrowed. “Who’s that?”

She smiled. “Your uncle Rowan.”

“Oh.” He still didn’t relinquish his hold on her leg.

“But you said we were going to the beach,” Lexi said.

“And hopefully we’ll still have time to do that when I get back.”

“I want to go now,” Damon said, somehow making the statement sound like a royal command.

She had to smile. It was unlikely that Julian and Catherine’s youngest son would ever have the responsibility of ruling his country, but she didn’t doubt that he would be able to do so. The arrogance and charm he already exhibited were as much a part of his Santiago heritage as his blue blood and dark curls.

“Unfortunately, Prince Damon, it’s the prince regent who makes the rules now and I really can’t keep him waiting.”

Damon’s eyes filled. “I liked it better when Daddy made the rules, when Daddy and Mommy were here.”

She dropped to her knees on the ground beside the little boy and took him in her arms. “I know you did, honey. And I know you miss them both so much.”

“I miss them, too,” Lexi said, and threw her arms around Lara’s neck.

She had to blink away the tears that filled her own eyes as she hugged the young prince and princess. “You need to remember that though your daddy and mommy are gone, they will live forever in your hearts.”

“I don’t want them to live in my heart,” Lexi said stubbornly.

“Me, neither,” Damon agreed. “I want them to live in the palace.”

It was easier for her to ignore a royal summons than the children’s grief, and more than half an hour had passed by the time she got them settled in the nursery with some books and puzzles and knocked on the door of the prince regent’s office.

He was annoyed. That much was obvious to Lara by the cool, clipped “Enter” that answered her knock before she even stepped foot inside the room. Her impression was confirmed by the grim set of his mouth and the hard stare of his dark brown eyes.

She immediately dropped into a curtsy—a ridiculous and archaic formality, she thought, made even more ridiculous by the fact that she was still wearing the old shorts and faded T-shirt she’d put on to play with the children. Julian and Catherine had both insisted that she abandon such formalities when they were behind closed doors, but Rowan had given no indication that he would tolerate bending the rules. More likely, he’d see it as a breach of protocol and reprimand her for it.

“You wished to see me, Your Highness?”

“A while ago.” His gaze raked over her. “Obviously, you weren’t using the time to make yourself more presentable.”

She forced herself to remain silent and ignore the flutters deep in her belly. From their very first meeting, she’d been nervous around Prince Rowan—much more so than she was around any of his brothers. Part of it, she knew, was self-consciousness because of his evident disapproval. Another part, though she’d never admit it to anyone else, was that she’d fallen head over heels in lust with the solemn, scowling prince the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

It wasn’t logical and it certainly wasn’t smart, but there was just something about the man that stirred her blood. She didn’t know why she responded that way to Rowan and not any of his brothers, but she did. Despite her imaginative fantasies, she knew he would never see her as anything other than the children’s nanny and a poor choice of one, at that.

And she feared that the background that hadn’t caused Julian or Catherine to raise an eyebrow wouldn’t be so readily accepted by the prince regent—if he were made aware of it.

“You have a leaf in your hair.” His curt statement drew her attention back to the present.

“Oh.” She felt her cheeks flush as she reached up, found the offending piece of foliage and quickly crumpled it in her fist. “I came directly from the garden.”

“But not immediately.”

“No,” she acknowledged. “Princess Alexandria and Prince Damon were distressed, and I didn’t want to leave them in such a state.”

“When you are summoned to my office, your wants are irrelevant.”

She might have a crush on the prince, but she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he could be a royal ass at times. It seemed that this was one of those times. As the flutters in her belly became knots of apprehension, she forced herself to take a deep breath and mentally count to ten before she responded. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I was under the impression that it was my job to care for the children, and that is what I was doing.”

“And what were you doing when this picture was taken?” he demanded, tossing a newspaper down on the top of his desk.

Lara’s gaze dropped, her annoyance giving way to shocked embarrassment, then fury. “I was on private property,” she told him. “I don’t know how this could have been taken.”

“There’s no such thing as privacy beyond the gates of this estate,” he reminded her. “You should have learned that long before now.”

It would be smart, she knew, to keep her eyes down, fold her hands together and apologize for her obvious error in judgment. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, and her pride refused to let her beg for his forgiveness.

“Instead, you’re again on the front page, looking like you belong in a centerfold.”

Though her face was hot with a combination of embarrassment and anger, she managed to respond evenly. “I’m flattered you think so.”

His dark eyes narrowed on her. “If you think I’m amused by this, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“On the contrary, I wouldn’t think you’re amused by anything, Your Highness.”

“Certainly not, less than three weeks after the deaths of the Prince and Princess of Tesoro del Mar, a picture of their nanny—” he slapped his hand down on the paper “—cavorting on the beach.”

“Cavorting?” she challenged.

“Is there another explanation for this?”

A very innocent one, in fact, but he obviously wasn’t prepared to listen to anything she had to say. “Ask your brother,” she said instead. “He was there.”

She saw a quick flicker of surprise in his eyes before they narrowed again. “Marcus?”

“Yes.”

His jaw tightened. “It seems that at least two of my brothers have exhibited questionable judgment where you’re concerned, and though I didn’t agree with Julian’s decision to hire a nanny so young and obviously inexperienced, it was his decision to make. But the children are my responsibility now, and I have to do what’s best for them.”

Now she did drop her gaze, so he wouldn’t see the tears that filled her eyes. It was her own fault, she knew, for baiting him. But his self-righteousness grated on her and overrode her common sense. It was only thoughts of the children that enabled her to ignore both her anger and her pride. For them she would grovel, she would plead—she would do whatever was necessary.

“Whatever you think that picture means, it has nothing to do with my ability to care for the children.”

“On the contrary,” he said mockingly, “it has everything to do with knowing what is best for them and proves to me that your judgment is lacking.”

His tone was decisive, his expression stony, and she knew that groveling and pleading would have no effect on this man. Along with the realization came a stab of pain that struck deep into her heart.

“You can pick up your severance pay from the finance office on your way out,” he said.

The anger was stronger than the hurt now, and strong enough to override the reason that had held her temper in check. “Is that supposed to make everything okay? Do you really think monetary compensation would make me want to abandon the children?”

When he opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head. “Oh, that’s right—what I want is irrelevant.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened, but he only said, “That will be all, Miss Brennan.”

She made her way to the door, brokenhearted and defeated by the knowledge that there was nothing she could do now. On the other hand, she had nothing left to lose. She paused with her hand on the knob and turned back to him.

“No, that’s not all,” she said. “You say you’re doing this because it’s best for the children, but how could you possibly know? 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?”

He deliberately kept his attention focused on the papers on his desk, as if she was already gone. But Lara wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.

“Did you know that Christian struggles with algebra and hates scalloped potatoes? Did you know that Lexi’s favorite color is orange and that she dreams of being a dancer?”

He glanced up, his eyes hard and cold, but said nothing.

“Did you know that Damon hasn’t slept through the night since he heard about the explosion on the yacht?”

There, finally, just the slightest flicker of something, though she couldn’t have guessed whether it was surprise or distress or annoyance. And when he spoke, it was only to say, “Are you quite finished now?”

She shook her head. It was too late to hope that he would reconsider—the prince regent wouldn’t let his decisions be questioned, never mind changed—but, for the sake of the children, she needed him to understand. “They need more than a watchful eye and instruction on their royal responsibilities—they need to know that they’re loved.”

His jaw hardened. “You are dismissed, Miss Brennan.”

The tears that she’d tried so valiantly to hold back, tears of frustration and anger and hurt, spilled onto her cheeks, but she held her head high. “And you are an arrogant, pompous ass.”