The Royal Nanny

by V Vee

  He pointed at Augustus. “But you did. You hurt and embarrassed her, now you have to make it right. However, the only way for you to do that is to first, give her space to lick her wounds, and in that time, you can work out an agreement with,” Alastair frowned. “Lady Taylor, that ensures you will be there for your child, my niece or nephew, without tying yourself even more to the woman. Leaving you free to pursue Helen. With openness, honesty, and a clear conscious, so you can devote yourself entirely to wooing her.” With his instructions dispensed to his elder sibling, Alastair turned away to focus back on the screen with the potential nannies on it.

  “And am I supposed to thank you for your advice?” Augustus asked.

  Alastair turned and looked at him. “No woman is hiding from me after running in the opposite direction at a wedding.” He smirked. “That’s your gift.”

  Augustus huffed, muttered a thank you, then left Alastair’s office. Stomping, just as he’d done on the way in.

  Alastair finally gave into the chuckle from earlier and shook his head. When his phone buzzed, he knew what it was about, almost instantly. He had another interview with a potential nanny. He could only hope that this one didn’t have a mole with a hair growing out of it on her nose like the last one. It had taken every shred of Alastair’s considerable upbringing, and his lessons in decorum, to prevent him from staring, or worse yet, pointing it out to the woman and offering to have it frozen off for her.

  Alastair depressed the intercom button on his phone. “Yes, Persephone?”

  “Your eleven o’clock is here, Mexoria Źeylήia,” his assistant’s voice came through the line softly.

  “Right then, send her on in,” Alastair commanded, then settled back to wait.

  Fifteen minutes later, he wished he’d told Persephone to cancel, and send the girl home.

  “Thank you very much for stopping in for an interview,” Alastair told the potential nanny, a young petite blonde named Desdemona. While she’d been sent over from a certified, exclusive, and approved nanny and governess service, the way she’d been appraising him since she’d walked into his office, let him know that she wouldn’t be a good nanny for his nieces and nephews. She’d be spending the bulk of her time trying to become his princess. Something Alastair would never allow to happen.

  Sorry, doll. I doubt you could handle what I need in the bedroom, and I have no plans to marry even if you could, he thought to himself.

  “It was my pleasure, Prince Alastair,” she breathed out in what he assumed was supposed to be a sexy baby-like voice. He barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Really? Didn’t the girl know that only Marilyn Monroe could pull off that voice? “You have my number, don’t you?” she asked.

  Alastair nodded at her and escorted her out the door of his office. “My assistant has your number. She will give you a call if my brother and his wife decide to hire you,” he said.

  “Oh,” she frowned in disappointment. “You won’t be calling me?”

  This time Alastair did roll his eyes. “I am not the one in need of a nanny as I have no children. I merely did this as a favor to the Crown Prince and Princess since they are still recovering from the unexpected birth of the new princesses.”

  “Oh, yes. Well maybe you—” Alastair cut off her words with a firm close of his office door in her face.

  “Bloody piranha,” he muttered. He turned and walked to his desk. Pressing on the intercom button on his phone, he waited for his assistant to answer him. When he heard the click of her coming on the line, he cleared his throat. Talking to her was still uncomfortable thanks to their one-night threesome months before.

  “Persephone? Do I have any more interviews?” he asked.

  “Iak, Mexoria Źeylήia, there’s one that has just been added by Prince Algerone’s personal guard, Danorian,” she responded.

  Alastair raised his eyebrows at that piece of information. His brother’s most trusted guard was adding potential nannies to the list? Or was it only one? Alastair knew he had no reason to worry. Danorian was the head of Algerone’s security, the most loyal and faithful of guards. If he was sending someone over to be interviewed, Alastair had no doubt the woman was not only capable of fulfilling her duties, but she was no threat to the Crown or to the royal family or Kingdom of Malvidence.

  At this point, the interview would merely be cursory, Alastair would hire her unless there was something obscenely wrong with her. Like she had three eyes, or ate children for lunch or, the worst of them all…

  She wanted to be a princess and chose this position as her means of doing so.

  “Let me know when she arrives,” Alastair replied before clicking off the line. He walked over to one of the windows in his office and sighed, looking down at the palace’s driveway. He felt… unsettled. It was a feeling he didn’t like. Alastair had been certain and sure of everything in his life since he was a young boy and he’d discovered that as the third born, he was the spare, to the spare, and right in the middle of five boys. He really didn’t have a purpose as far as the line of succession went unless something happened to his two older brothers and they’d had no children.

  Times had certainly changed. He was no longer the spare to the spare. There were so many in line to the throne before him, that Alastair never had to worry about taking on that mantle.

  Though he’d still wanted to serve his people in some way. Like his brothers, he’d served his required time in His Majesty’s Military, then he’d turned his focus on assisting his father. Just as he’d done as a young boy. Serving the people, serving the Crown, without the burden or responsibility of the actual title of King.

  His gaze was captured by the sight of a curvy figure walking up the driveway to the castle. Alastair narrowed his eyes, then reached over to grab his binoculars, when he looked again, his breath caught in his chest. The figure was a woman, her golden-brown skin gleaming in the sunshine, her raven colored hair blowing in the wind, tiny braids that she pulled up into a top knot with a few strands loose to frame her face, as she walked up the palace’s drive. She wore a black sleeveless dress that came to below her knees, a blue sweater draped over her arm, and black flats on her feet.

  Alastair licked his lips as he took in her appearance, his groin tightening at the sight of her thick lips, and hourglass figure. He couldn’t see all of her, but what he had seen had him completely intrigued, and incredibly hard.

  Well, well, well. Who do we have here?

  Before Alastair could think of what his next steps would be, his office door swung open. He turned and choked on a laugh at the sight of his eldest brother, hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed, stubble covering his jaw, wearing a robe, pajamas, and slippers, holding his twin daughters: Eliava and Eckha, in his arms. Alastair walked over and lifted Eckha from his brother’s arms, cooing to her.

  “Help. Me,” Algerone groaned. “My wife is a goddess, I can’t believe she did this with our other five children with little to no help. I told her I would watch the twins and Dahni while she took a nap, and I already want to curl up in the corner and cry.”

  Alastair laughed then looked around. “Uh, Al? Where’s Dahni?”

  Algerone whipped his head around, then cursed. “Help me, Las!” he exclaimed then hurried out of Alastair’s office.

  Alastair shook his head and headed after his brother, his niece tucked lovingly against his chest. His mind briefly turned to the gorgeous woman in black approaching the palace, but he put her out of his mind. He had a tiny princess to find.

  Danorian met her at the servant’s entrance at the side of the palace and gave her a once-over glance. He nodded at her before he ushered her inside, looking around to make sure they weren’t spotted. She followed him down the hallway and up the stairs until he paused right outside the door that would lead to where she needed to be. The room where her life would hopefully change forever. Her life and that of her family, her people.

  “You must succeed at this. I failed to kill Princess Valerie and her children w
hen they arrived and was almost discovered,” Danorian told her in a harsh whisper, Leyah shivered at the malice and disappointment in his tone. When had Danorian become so bloodthirsty? So, fixed on revenge and justice that he would kill an innocent mother and her children? Leyah would have to have a talk with him later. Much later. Right now, she had to turn all of her focus on the upcoming interview. “This is our only chance to overthrow this family and return you and your distant family in their rightful positions on the throne.” He inhaled and closed his eyes, his voice growing even more solemn. “If you are discovered…”

  She reached out to touch his arm, though she knew it was frowned upon. When his eyes flew to hers, she smiled. “I know what to do, Lord Danorian. Worry not.”

  Danorian bowed deeply to her. “May you be successful, Princess Aa΄Leyah.”

  She tsked and shook her head. “That is no longer my title while I am here. Until I succeed, I am the royal nanny: Leyah.”

  Danorian inclined his head before gesturing to the door, and with another bow, turned and walked away. Leyah took a deep, steadying breath, then calling upon the strength of the women in her family who had gone before her, she lifted her head and opened the door. She walked slowly, with measured steps down the hallway, her eyes cataloging the paintings of the various members of the royal family that hung on the wall. She paused when her eyes caught sight of one particular painting. The man in the portrait was unsmiling. His dark hair perfectly coiffed back, his lips firmed into a straight line, his aquiline nose had a small bump in the middle, evidence of it having been broken once before. His blue eyes twinkled with a sort of wickedness, however, that sent a shiver down Leyah’s spine. If that wasn’t bad enough, the way the unknown man’s broad frame filled out his suit had her mouth watering and a heat settling low in her core.

  She didn’t know who the man was, but she would have to stay away from him. She could sense trouble and danger all over him and that wasn’t something she could afford to get involved in. She was already skirting the edge of danger with her ruse of nannying.

  Gods preserve me, she prayed silently as she turned away from the portrait to continue to the closed office doors. Once before them, she knocked and waited for a response. When the video monitor next to the left door flashed on, Leyah found herself looking at a very slim, and beautiful brunette woman. Clearing her throat, and reminding herself to be demure and subservient, Leyah cast her eyes downward as if she were shy—gods but she hated having to do so.

  “Um, yes, my cousin Danorian told me to come to this office to have an interview with His Royal Highness, Prince Alastair Smythe?” she spoke up, her voice only a few steps above a whisper. She’d never spoken so softly about something she’d wanted in her life. Her position as the princess, and Queen-apparent, of Waldakan had never afforded her the opportunity to learn why other women seemed to speak quietly, shyly, and gently around new people, especially around men. No. Leyah was a leader. A future queen. She spoke boldly, firmly, with compassion, courage, and authority. She was going to have a very hard time with this mission if she had to remain the simpering miss the entire time.

  The brunette at the monitor said nothing for a while, her eyes taking in Leyah’s appearance. Leyah could see her from beneath her lashes, as the strange extremely pale woman observed her, and after finding her lacking, and not as a threat at all she bid Leyah to enter. Hearing the click on the door, signifying that it was unlocked now, Leyah grabbed the golden door handle and pulled it open.

  Stepping inside the waiting area of the prince’s office, Leyah took a moment to assess her environment. She needed to know every exit, every window, and all possible threats before she opened her mouth any further than she already had. Not seeing any immediate danger, Leyah walked up to the half-circle desk the brunette sat at and coming to a stop a couple of feet away from the desk, she curtsied.

  “My name is Leyah Meer. I am here to interview for the position of nanny for Crown Prince and Princess Algerone Smythe,” she reiterated, just in case she needed to say it again. This time, however, she kept her gaze on the brunette.

  “Yes, so you’ve said,” the brunette said. “Just have a seat and His Majesty will be right with you.” She waited until Leyah took a step to walk away before speaking again. “My name is Persephone, I’m an extension of His Highness, Prince Alastair. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Leyah didn’t turn around for a moment, instead taking a moment to roll her eyes and smirk at the obvious possessive tone and the not-so-subtle hint the brunette had intended for her to hear and understand. She and Prince Alastair were a thing, and it may not be an official relationship or pairing, but it was an understanding and Leyah shouldn’t even consider making a play for him. Which was totally fine with her, since she had no idea who Prince Alastair was, had no doubt that she wouldn’t be attracted to him, even if she did know, and she was staying a virgin until she’d found the man she wanted to make the next King of Waldakan. Her consort. And that would never happen. While others would be dismayed at even the possibility of dying a virgin, Leyah knew she was living on borrowed time. She was supposed to die with her parents five years before, but she hadn’t, so every day was both a blessing and a curse, and eventually the scales were going to tip in one direction or the other and fate would make its final choice on which one it was.

  Turning back around, Leyah gave the other woman what she hoped passed as a polite and pleasant smile, rather than just the baring of teeth she felt they were. She nodded when she saw the other woman’s shoulders relax, and, having reassured Persephone that she was not—in fact—out to steal her man, Leyah took a seat on the very edge of a thick, dark blue cushion with dark sienna colored wood legs and arms. She attempted to project an air of calm and serenity, but it was decidedly hard and uncomfortable for her. She was in the belly of the beast. In the home of her family’s enemy. In the kingdom of the people who had stolen their land and killed her parents. Rage roiled inside of her, bubbling her blood, and causing her feet to tap and bounce repeatedly against the dark blue carpet beneath her.

  She’d just resigned herself to the knowledge that Prince Alastair was one of those royals who intended to make others wait for him for long moments, just because they could, when one of the doors to the hallway opened and a god stepped in.

  It was him. The man from the portrait.

  Leyah’s breath caught in her lungs and her eyes widened.

  Holy. Shit. He looks even better in person, she thought to herself. Hearing a delicate, feminine cough, Leyah looked towards Persephone and found the woman narrowing her eyes at her. Leyah lifted her hands in surrender, before lowering them to her lap, her gaze fixed on the fabric of her black dress.

  The gorgeous man from the portrait was Prince Alastair? What were the chances of that?

  Leyah snorted internally. The chances were high, seeing as how she was currently an interloper in the Malvidencian Palace, he was a prince, and the portraits on the wall were of the royal family.

  The thieving, murdering, royal family.

  “Persephone, you said the prospective nanny referred to us by Danorian was here,” the prince’s deep as rolling thunder voice flowed over Leyah’s skin causing goosebumps to form.

  “She is, Mexoria Źeylήia.” Persephone gestured in Leyah’s direction, and she rose from her seat to curtsy to Prince Alastair, clenching her teeth to hold back the snarl that wanted to erupt from her throat at the impudence. She was the Queen-apparent of Waldakan, and this, this Prince Alastair was so far down the line of succession, it was laughable. He should be bowing to her.

  Reminding herself of her mission, Leyah kept her head down. She watched as black Italian loafers came into her eye line but refused to look up. That was rookie mistake.

  “It is nice to meet you…” Prince Alastair trailed off, waiting for her to offer her name.

  Pasting a polite smile on her face, Leyah glanced up for just a moment, seeing those same blue eyes from
the portrait, waiting for her attention. She quickly lowered her gaze when her nipples hardened behind the lace of her white bra.

  Dangerous. He is dangerous.

  “Leyah Meer, Mexoria Źeylήia,” she responded in a soft, demure tone.

  When Prince Alastair’s hand came into view, just seconds before he gripped her chin and tilted her head up to meet her gaze, Leyah could barely restrain the shiver that threatened to ripple through her. As if he knew Leyah was struggling with her desire, and he was experiencing the same, Prince Alastair gave her a small smirk, his blue eyes darkening to an almost black color, before he wiped his face clear of all emotion, but friendliness. Though his eyes betrayed him, still simmering with passion and lust. Making Leyah want to turn and run away, abandoning her plans for revenge and justice.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Leyah, but please, call me Alastair,” he commanded. He released her chin and gestured to his open office door that stood behind and to the left of Persephone’s desk. “Shall we?”

  Leyah couldn’t speak. She could barely form a conscious thought, so instead she merely nodded. Without another word, or a glance in Persephone’s direction, Leyah headed into Prince Alastair’s office. When the door closed behind him, Leyah turned to face him and felt as if she were trapped in his gaze.

  Uh-oh, she thought to herself. I’m a lamb trapped in the lion’s den. I wonder if he’ll eat me or just play with me before devouring me whole.

  That thought caused a yearning, the likes of which she’d never felt before, to settle deep in her core and Leyah knew then that she was in really. Big. Trouble.

  Chapter Three

  A lastair was in really. Big. Trouble. He’d thought the beautiful, black woman in the black dress was gorgeous from afar, but seeing her—Leyah, that was her name—up close and in person, the words beautiful and gorgeous did not do her justice. The word ethereal came to mind and Alastair knew it was perfect for her.