The Royal Nanny Page 6

  It was a room that only his brothers and father were privy to. And even his father was unaware of exactly what all took place within the room or had access to it. Once the panel slid back in place and Alastair and Alfie were sufficiently hidden from anyone listening in, Alastair folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against one of the desks in the room, crossing his legs at the ankle.

  “So, what did you really want to speak to me about?” he asked.

  “Taylor Weshian,” Alfie responded, and Alastair’s hackles went up immediately. There were very few people who could get a response out of him in such a way, but there was just something about Lady Taylor Weshian and her father that set all of Alastair’s nerves on edge.

  “What about her?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “It’s about the baby she says is Augustus’.”

  Alastair shook his head. “I just can’t believe Gus would be so stupid. I mean, she’s been after Al for how long now? And then when she can’t have him she just jumps on the next brother’s dick? And he falls for it? And what about Valerie’s friend, Helen?” Alastair clenched his hand to combat the urge to run his fingers through his hair. Doing so was admitting that he currently felt out of control emotionally. He would never admit that, nor would he allow anyone else to ever see him that way. Disheveled, unkempt, anxious, out-of-sorts… bothered.

  “I don’t honestly think he did anything with her,” Alfie responded, his eyebrows pulled down into a frown.

  Alastair narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Why do you think that?”

  Alfie waved his hand around in front of him, gesturing towards Alastair. “For all the reasons you just. Said. Gus may not be the most level-headed one out of all of us, but he is definitely the most loyal. There’s just no way—under any circumstance—that I see him fucking Lady Taylor. He wouldn’t betray the family, Al, or Helen that way.” Alfie shrugged his shoulders. “At least that’s the brother I know.”

  Alastair released a deep sigh and tilted his head back. “That’s the Gus I know as well. However, we can’t overlook the facts here. He said he got extremely drunk one night after a difficult mission and he ran into Lady Taylor in the bar. She was nursing her disappointment and sorrows over losing Al to Valerie…”

  “Which had technically happened before Al even met Lady Taylor, she just didn’t know,” Alfie pointed out.

  “Indeed.” Alastair started to pace around the expansive office, his mind swirling with details, information, possible scenarios, possible conversations, evidence, and what seemed to be a complete break in his older brother’s moral armor. The urge to run his fingers through his hair, or rub his chin came over him and, ignoring his brother who was still in the room, Alastair removed his jacket, tie, and button-down shirt, folding each of them neatly and placing them on one of the desks that sat in the secret room.

  Dropping down onto his hands and knees, Alastair straightened his legs, getting into the push-up position, and began to do push-up after push-up. He didn’t count, he didn’t pay any attention to Alfie, who was now sitting in a chair watching him with amusement, he even ignored what sounded like the buzz of an intercom. Instead he just continued to push. So much had happened recently. Alastair had met so many new people due to Algerone finally admitting what they’d all known or suspected for years, that he had a wife and children. Alastair had traveled to America for the first time in over a decade—he hadn’t enjoyed it one little bit, the country was entirely too crowded, the people were loud, there were a lot of them who were ignorant, or uneducated, and the government was incompetent, Alastair couldn’t wait to get his new sister and his nieces and nephews out of that wretched place—Algerone and Valerie had finally gotten married in a proper ceremony, which had been interrupted by the appearance of a very pregnant Lady Taylor who claimed Augustus as the father—something Gus hadn’t denied and said was impossible, but instead, had looked as if he were going to be ill, and immediately started to apologize—and then he’d been tasked with hiring his brother a new nanny.

  At the thought of Leyah, Alastair’s movements grew slower, and more measured, a sense of calm washed over his body, blanketing the anxiousness until he calmed, and hardening his groin, until all he wanted was her beneath him. Her lips pressed to his neck, his teeth tugging on her nipples, her legs bound and spread wide open for him, her wrists bound to the headboard, her pussy wet and pulsing for his cock. Alastair swallowed his groan and closed his eyes against the image his mind had invoked. What was it about her? This Leyah Meer. Why did she have him so twisted up in knots when he knew absolutely nothing about her? Thinking of her should not bring him peace and ease his anxiety. Fantasizing about her should not make his dick so hard he could pound through the floor he was currently exercising on.

  Her smile should not enchant him. Her voice should not play like a beautiful melody in his head. Unceasing. Sending tendrils of warmth through his body. Her body should not enflame his, shooting arousal deep in his core. Her beauty and her intelligence should not haunt him. Thrill him. Engage him. Causing him to lose focus of the important things he had to do. And yet…

  He was hooked on her. Obsessed.

  He yearned for her in a way he had never yearned for another woman before.

  He had been Clark Kent before, and yet now, having met her, he felt like Superman.

  And that was just something Alastair could not abide.

  “So, are you calm now, or do you want me to leave the room so you and the floor, plus whatever you’re thinking about that has you so hard, can be alone?” Alfie asked in a deadpanned voice.

  Alastair grunted and sat up, leaning back against a wooden cabinet. “Why are you looking at my junk to even realize that I was hard, jackass?” Alastair asked, quirking an eyebrow at Alfie when the younger man handed him a bottle of water.

  Alfie snorted. “Please, no wants to see that, but it’s hard not to notice it, when you’re grunting and groaning. Sounding like you’re making love to someone, when there’s no one there, and your pants are bulging all nasty like,” Alfie teased and gestured towards Alastair groin area.

  Alastair chuckled darkly. “Not my fault I’m carrying around a third leg and you’re jealous.”

  Alfie tossed a second bottle of water through the air, and Alastair caught it with a laugh.

  “In your dreams, Sir Whip,” Alfie laughed, using Alastair’s Dominant name. “I’m the same size if not bigger than you are. That’s the Smythe men trait right there.”

  Alastair joined his brother in shared amusement. Both of their minds taking a brief break from the mystery surrounding their older brother’s predicament. Once they once again fell silent, it was with the unstated understanding that something had to be done.

  “So, was it only that the situation seems unlikely, or do you have something for me?” Alastair asked.

  Alfie nodded. “Remember, Ramona Kinsington? My ex?”

  Alastair huffed out a laugh. “You mean the woman you were married to for three months before you divorced? Yes. I remember her.” I paid her a visit and asked her which she wanted more, you or the money. She took the money, which let me know all I needed to know about her.

  “Well, I ran into her out in Kristgerði. She was with her new fiancé, um…” Alfie frowned.

  “Torund Poppington,” Alastair provided.

  Alfie snapped his fingers. “Yeah! Him. Anyway, she said she wanted to talk to me about something. She said she knew something about Lady Taylor and my family that I’d want to hear.”

  Alastair quirked an eyebrow at his brother. “And you think all she wants to do with you is to just talk?”

  Alfie shrugged. “My dear bruthrar, it doesn’t matter what she wants. I am not going to sleep with my ex. I’m not Gus, and besides, Laeticia would never be with me if I slept with another woman while I’m pursuing her.”

  Alastair rolled his eyes. “I do not understand why you all insist on pursuing these American women. They are all so… independent.
Headstrong. Opinionated… so… foreign.”

  Alfie shook his head, then wagged his finger at Alastair. “Careful brother, you are beginning to sound a bit like a xenophobic bigot.”

  “I am not,” Alastair denied.

  “Yes,” Alfie nodded his head. “you are. And it is a very ugly image on you. Are you jealous that we all seem to have found someone we are sincerely contemplating on joining our lives with, and making our consorts? Or is it something more sinister? Are you really a bigot who believes we should only marry Malvidencian women, or women from one of the surrounding provinces? Is Europe okay? What about India?”

  Alastair growled and rose to his feet. “Look, saghirr bruthrar, I am not a bigot. I don’t care if you all decide to marry men from the Congo, what I am concerned about is merely the American sense of entitlement, their arrogance, their ignorance. I am concerned about our family, and thereby our kingdom, losing the very things that make us so uniquely Malvidencian because we have allowed these American women to come in and conform us to the way things are done in their country.”

  Alfie stood so still for so long, that Alastair grew concerned. Had he not properly expressed his concern to his youngest brother? Had his words, in fact, made him sound like a bigot. Alastair had never once had his view of the world tested or tried. Never once had he questioned his beliefs when it came to the kingdom or their people. Alastair was a proud Malvidencian. He made no qualms about that. He embraced and lauded the traditions, the beliefs, the culture, and the laws of his country. However, in the few conversations he’d had with Valerie’s friends, and the American staff she’d brought over to Malvidence with her, and from the numerous chats he’d had with her on the same subject, Alastair had come to the conclusion that if they could, if they had the opportunity or the chance, that they would change and adjust it all to make it more palatable to their American sensibilities. Alastair would not allow his country, his culture, their laws, traditions, or beliefs to be trampled beneath the unsteady boot of a nation at war with itself.

  Alfie sighed, and Alastair focused back on their conversation. “I know where you are coming from, Las, and I understand your concern, but you can’t paint everyone with a wide brush of generalization, especially not just because they come from the same country. Hell, not even if they are of the same race, gender, religious belief, school, economic background, educational background… family.” He gave Alastair a knowing look. “Every person is different, every person has to be handled, judged, accepted or rejected, based on their own actions and merit. Come now, bruthrar, you know this.”

  Alastair expelled a deep breath. “Yes, I do. I’m just having a difficult time with all the changes and the danger of the Rebellion Group, and the issues cropping up at every turn.” He finally gave in and dragged his fingers through his hair.

  Alfie’s eyebrows rose, knowing that his older brother had to be frustrated if he was allowing himself to show such emotion in front of him. “Why do you go and do a scene?”

  Alastair’s eyebrows rose at his brother’s words. “I was planning on doing that later this evening. What do you—”

  Alfie smirked. “You would be surprised at what I’ve had to do while on a mission.” He winked at Alastair and Alastair chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway, I’m going to go and meet with Ramona and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  Alastair opened his mouth to caution his brother against sleeping with his ex-wife but was cut off by Alfie holding up a hand. “And I will do it all without sleeping with her. I promise.”

  Alastair watched Alfie leave the room, not through the exit back to Alastair’s office, but through the exit which would lead him downstairs and out to the garden. An unsettling feeling settled in Alastair’s gut as he remembered Alfie’s words, but he shook them off. Alfie was a grown man, in his 30’s, he could handle himself.

  Chapter Four

  L eyah followed Persephone from Prince Alastair’s office, her heart still thundering in her chest from their near kiss. What in the world had she been thinking? She was going to jeopardize everything: her mission, her people, vengeance for her parents and grandparents’ deaths, a promise and goal bestowed upon her from birth… for a gorgeous man with beautiful lips, a strong body and a nice ass? She was stronger than that. More focused than that. She knew better.

  Never again, she told herself.

  “This is the suite you’ll be staying in,” Persephone told her, as she opened the door halfway down a hall a floor above Alastair’s office.

  Leyah stepped inside and looked around. While the room was large and opulent, with light wood furniture and cream cushions on the sofa and loveseat, Leyah was not surprised or impressed. Having grown up in the palace on Waldakan Leyah was used to extravagant furnishings. However, when Persephone led her through the sitting room with its fireplace and priceless art on the walls to the bedroom, Leyah stopped, her mouth dropping open.

  Sitting in the middle of the large room was a Victorian inspired antique four-poster canopy bed, with sheer pink drapes hanging down surrounding the king-sized bed. The bed was draped in a pale pink and white duvet cover, the wood on the bed was a light-colored wood, the sheets a pale pink, there were so many pillows that Leyah couldn’t help but to try and count them. There were nine… no, ten pillows of various sizes on the bed, all of them luxuriously covered in gold, grey, and pink fabric. Against the wall a seven-drawer dresser, two nightstands rested on either side of the bed, a large wall hanging dresser mirror rested on the wall above the dresser, a six-drawer chest sat against the opposite wall from the dresser, and an upholstered storage bench rested at the foot of the bed. All the furniture was made of the light-colored wood, light pink or white lace table runners draped over the dresser and the nightstands. A vase of pink roses sat on each nightstand, whereas a golden coffee tray sat on top of the dresser, holding five votive candles of various sizes, a clear vase with white lilies, two books, a decanter filled with what appeared to be scotch, two embossed scotch glasses on either side of it, and a framed photo of the palace.

  Leyah’s heels sank into the thick cream carpet and she stood in the middle of the room looking around her, her mind spinning with the beauty of the room before her.

  “The bathroom is right through there,” Persephone pointed at a door on the opposite side of the bed from where they stood. “The closet is there.” Double doors on the side of the chest of drawers had Leyah frowning.

  “Why in the world would I need a closet with all of these drawers?” she wondered out loud.

  Persephone scoffed. “You will have clothes you will wear as the nanny every day, I’m certain Prince Algerone and Princess Valerie will supply you with uniforms to wear, then you will need attire for the meals you will possibly share with the royal family, as well as clothing for royal functions. You will have to be in attendance for as long as the children are present, then you will see to their care when they retire for the night.” Persephone’s eyes trailed up and down Leyah’s frame. “And I am sure you will want clothing for the days you have off.”

  Leyah bristled beneath Persephone’s scrutiny. She walked up to the other woman and narrowed her eyes at her. Letting the demure, hesitant, shy demeanor of the nanny fall away and easing easily into her natural personality and form of the leader, the princess and future-Queen of Waldakan, Leyah squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She clasped her fingers before her and held them down near her pelvis. Lowering her voice, Leyah made sure she had Persephone’s attention before speaking.

  “I am not exactly sure why you’re behaving in such a disrespectful and insulting manner towards me, as I have done absolutely nothing to garner such a reaction from you. In spite of what you may think, I am not here to take Prince Alastair from you.” She held up her hand when Persephone opened her mouth to refute her statement. “Save it, I clearly understood what you were trying to convey to me earlier.” Shaking her head at the other woman, Leyah gave her what she hoped was perceived as an expression of sym
pathy and yet, steely cold determination flooded her veins. “I am here to do a job. That’s it. Nothing more and nothing less. I have no interest in Prince Alastair, whatsoever, you are free to him. I just require that you afford me the same respect I have given to you, else I will be forced to do the very thing you are afraid I will do and make sure the prince knows I am available for any type of after-hours fun.”

  Leyah ignored her conscience that called her a liar for stating that she had no interest in Prince Alastair. It did not matter. She was in Malvidence, in the palace, for one thing and one thing only. To bring the royal Smythe family to their knees. It was something she would not allow herself to fail at, no matter how her body reacted to the handsome prince.

  Persephone nodded, her eyes wide in surprise. Leyah inclined her head regally at the other woman before turning away from her. She blew out a breath, closed her eyes, and relaxed. Putting the visage of demureness and gentility back onto her face, Leyah turned back to Persephone.

  “Thank you for showing me to my suite. I do believe I am ready to meet Prince Algerone and Princess Valerie now,” she told the assistant.

  Persephone’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “Do you not want to get settled in first? Have a moment of rest? Perhaps go and gather your belongings to bring them here?” she asked.

  Leyah shook her head. “No, thank you. I will meet His and Her Royal Highness, and once I have had a satisfactory meeting with them, and met my charges, only then will I return to my lodgings to retrieve my luggage.”

  Persephone watched Leyah for a long moment and Leyah found herself getting uncomfortable, but she refused to show it. When Persephone was satisfied and had found whatever it was that she sought out in Leyah’s eyes, she nodded and led Leyah from her room.

  Leyah had to give herself a mental shake. Just because they had placed her in a nice room and seemed to have an unimagined and unsafe amount of trust in her, did not mean she should feel guilty. Or as if she should abandon the mission. The people of Waldakan were counting on her. Her parents demanded justice and Leyah would get it for them. No matter how much her stomach coiled and battled against it.