The Prince's Virgin Wife. Lucy Monroe
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Nothing more. Marry a prince, become a princess. He wondered if knowledge that he was a prince would change Maggie’s attitude toward him.
It did with everyone else. Which was why he had attended college under the assumed identity of Tom Prince.
He’d wanted to make relationships based on who he was, not what he was. He’d wanted to prove that he could succeed on his own, not the strength of his family name. He’d proven that, at least. He’d graduated with honors solely on his own merits, but the relationships had been another story.
Unbeknownst to him, Liana had known his royal status all along, and Maggie had walked away from the simple man Tom Prince too easily.
Would she want him as Liana had, once she knew he was of royal blood?
He conceded that it did not matter. She was exactly what he wanted in a wife and mother for his children. Why she chose to marry him wouldn’t matter because she would still be herself, a woman eminently suitable to make his life more peaceful and to give his children the nurturing they so desperately needed.
He wasn’t a fool, though.
He would not base a lifetime commitment on memories six years old. By hiring her to care for his children, he would have a chance to observe Maggie and be certain she was all that he remembered before informing her of his desire to make her his wife. He also wanted to be sure the latent passion that had existed between them had not disappeared and that it was as intense as the one scorching encounter of his memories.
He was not a man who would be comfortable with a wife who did not appeal to that side of his nature.
He refused to be like his father, finding sexual solace outside the marriage bed. He considered that behavior reprehensible and so in fact, did his father, which was why the king had never remarried after one failed attempt following the death of his first wife.
His father had called it the Scorsolini curse. According to King Vincente, Scorsolini men were fated to have one true love. Claudio and Tomasso’s mother had been his. After her death, no other woman could hold his interest completely enough to ensure fidelity. He’d married Marcello’s mother only months after the death of his queen because he’d got her pregnant.
He had an affair and the usually mild-mannered Flavia had gone ballistic. She had refused to be cuckolded and moved back to Italy with the young Marcello, doing the unthinkable and filing for divorce in the process. Since then, his father had had a string of mistresses.
Tomasso didn’t care about his supposed fate. He never wanted to love like his father had and end up a widower, always searching to fill an empty void that could never be satisfied.
He knew that he was different from his father. Even a superficial passion would be enough for him to remain faithful. It had been with Liana. Though he’d believed when they married she was his one true love, he’d soon discovered differently.
Yet he had remained faithful to her despite the troubles in their marriage and his discovery that what he had thought was love was nothing more than being blitzed by her outward beauty.
How much easier would it be to maintain fidelity in marriage to a woman he respected, even if he did not love her?
“Papa will be home soon, won’t he?”
Maggie smiled and tucked Annamaria into the child-size bed. “Yes, sweetie. Just two more days.”
“I miss him.”
“I know you do.” Maggie brushed the little girl’s dark curls away from her face, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Anna.”
“Good night, Maggie. I’m glad you came.”
“Thank you, I am, too.”
She turned off the overhead light and left the small night-light glowing before making her way to her own suite of rooms in the opulent home after checking in on Gianfranco one more time. He was asleep…finally, a small lump in the race car bed that was the same diminutive size as Anna’s.
Tall for his five years, he would need a big boy bed soon. Maggie wondered if that would fall under her jurisdiction. There were so many questions she wanted to ask her absent employer, not the least of which was why it seemed the entire domestic staff looked to her for direction as if she was the housekeeper, not the nanny?
There was a housekeeper-slash-cook already, two maids and a groundskeeper besides, but they all seemed to turn to her for major decisions and she found that odd.
It was certainly different than in her last two positions, but then she was working for royalty now. They obviously had their own unique way of dealing with the domestic side of life. It felt odd, but she liked the sense of respect she got from her fellow employees and the obvious importance the prince placed on her role in caring for his children.
She closed the door to Gianfranco’s room, hoping he and his little sister slept well tonight. Their father had not called as was his norm and it had been difficult settling them both into their beds. Her small charges needed her, even more than the family she had left behind.
Which was not surprising considering the fact that Gianni and Anna’s mother had died and they were both so very young, but it was shocking how much she cared already.
She loved them, truly loved them.
It should be too soon to have such deep feelings for children that she had not given birth to, but she felt an elemental connection to them and had from the moment of meeting. She’d been all set to turn down the prince’s offer of employment tendered through his sister-in-law, and then she’d met the children and found she simply could not walk away from the need she sensed in them.
She’d agreed to the two-year contract, but her heart was already asking how she thought she could walk away from her small charges when her time was up. She’d been their nanny for only ten days, but in some ways it felt like a lifetime.
She’d lived in more than one foster home growing up, had had different roommates her last couple of years of college, and then been nanny to two different families, but she had never connected to anyone as quickly as she had to these two.
Except Tom Prince.
And that relationship had ended in pain for her, just as this job was going to.
From what she could tell, both Anna and her older brother spent a great deal of time missing their workaholic father. They needed her on so many levels, she was powerless to turn her back on them. Workaholic, or not, the prince couldn’t be all bad, not and have such two sweet children and such a caring and obviously approving sister-in-law.
He wasn’t exactly neglectful, either. He called the children daily, sometimes twice a day, and spoke to them on a level that showed he understood they were children. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Maggie couldn’t help but overhear the children’s side of the conversations.
She thought he must be a really decent father despite his preoccupation with work.
Her former employer had been much the same. It seemed to be a common enough condition among the world’s truly wealthy. She’d been in her last position for two years and could count on one hand the number of major holidays her employers had spent with their children. It wasn’t a lifestyle she envied, even if it meant living in luxury and extensive travel.
She’d never been interested in connecting with any of the men she’d met in the world in which she had moved since graduating from college. If she ever married, it would be to a man who knew how to be part of a family, not just provide for one.
She wanted something real, something lasting and warm…the kind of family she’d spent her childhood dreaming about.
She sighed and plopped down on the small, elegant Victorian-style sofa in her sitting room. She was twenty-six and beginning to doubt she’d ever meet a man she wanted to share her life with. That thought didn’t hurt nearly as much as the prospect that because of it, she might never have children.
She