Her Undercover Prince Page 10

  Dave shifted her around. “The vest you have on will hold you up, okay? I won’t let go of your hands, but I’ll let you float.”

  Another lip bite and nod.

  Bending his knees further, he sunk her into the water and let her float a few inches away before grabbing her hands.

  A tentative smile crossed her face. He could feel the water stirred by her feet kicking under the surface.

  They stayed out there for another fifteen minutes. He’d forgotten to put sunscreen on her, and he didn’t want her to get burned. Besides, he didn’t want to push her too far, too fast.

  Back in the house, Kiara was headed for the kitchen. “Mary! Ms. ‘Lino is gonna make cookies. Wanna come?”

  Mary looked up at him. “Can I, Daddy?”

  “Go upstairs and change out of your bathers. Lay it neatly in the bathroom.” They’d had that discussion several times before, though she’d always been wet from the beach showers not the sea. “After you get dressed, you can help Kiara and Mrs. Rappellino.”

  She started to run, but Dave stopped her with a look.

  “Walk.” The floors could easily get slick when wet.

  “‘Kay!” She did walk, though he could tell she wanted to run.

  Whatever had been bothering the girls had slipped into the past. If only it would be so simple with Jacqueline Grace.

  He checked in with Mrs. Rappellino who told him she could take care of the girls just fine and didn’t need him hovering.

  Rather than changing into workout clothes, he took a quick shower then found the library. Taking a thriller off the shelf, he went back to his room and out onto the balcony. For the next few hours, his heart pounded quick-fire as the black-ops hero scoured the world for the terrorist bent on ending it.

  He glanced at the back cover, surprised to see a woman looking back at him. Ronie Kendig was female. With a shrug, he set the book to the side. There were several others downstairs. He’d have to grab another one after dinner.

  But when he went downstairs, he was sidetracked.

  By Jacqueline Grace in a sundress and sandals. Her hair had been piled up on top of her head.

  And him in shorts and an old t-shirt. “I didn’t know we were dressing for dinner.”

  She looked over at him, her face a careful study in nonchalance. “We’re not. I have a date. Excuse me. I believe he just pulled up.”

  Dave watched her walk toward the front door and turned to go back upstairs. He didn’t want to see her leave.

  13

  Martin bowed low over Jacqueline Grace’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Good evening. I’m glad we can finally have our first of many dates.”

  She felt heat flood into her cheeks. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

  He’d arrived the night before and, when he’d been told she was away, left his number and asked if he could come the next night instead.

  When he let go of her hand, she stood to the side to let him in. “Mrs. Rappellino made dinner out on the patio for us.”

  His hand rested on the small of her back as they walked through the house. She noticed it but didn’t feel the same... tingle or sense of comfort as she did when Dave did the same thing. She tried not to read too much into that.

  A table was set on the patio. The breeze off the ocean meant it was a little cooler than Jacqueline Grace expected it to be.

  Martin didn’t hold her seat for her. She sat herself, trying not to compare Martin to Dave. Maybe that wasn’t a thing where he grew up.

  But as dinner progressed, she noticed other things. She asked about his rowing adventure. What he did when he wasn’t on the water. His family.

  And he didn’t ask about her once.

  At first it was nice. So many times, the only thing anyone wanted to talk about with her was the royal family or what it was like living in a palace. They didn’t want to hear the whole real story of course, but at least they asked about her.

  Not once did Martin ask her anything about herself.

  She rarely finished a sentence before he was already speaking.

  Mrs. Rappellino had outdone herself with a local dish Jacqueline Grace had never tried before.

  “This is dry.” Martin’s voice started to grate on her nerves.

  “Mine is fine.” She took another bite and had to stop herself from closing her eyes as she enjoyed it.

  “Then you’ve never had it made by a true master. This isn’t what it’s supposed to taste like.”

  “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Just different.”

  Martin pushed his plate away. “You should seriously consider hiring new help. This Mrs. Repella is old enough to be your great-grandmother. Perhaps it’s time she retired.”

  Jacqueline Grace forced herself to smile politely. “I’m afraid that decision isn’t mine to make.”

  “Who runs this house? I would like to speak to him and make certain he’s aware of the incompetence of the kitchen help.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line. It had to be a man running the place? “Mr. and Mrs. Rappellino run the house together.”

  “Well, he clearly won’t take care of her. Who owns the place?”

  “Friends of our family.” Close enough.

  “Who?” he demanded.

  “I’m afraid they’ve asked us to keep their identity to ourselves. They come here expecting that no one will know who they are.”

  “I’m not going to take out an advertisement. I’m going to complain to them about their staff and recommend a change.”

  “When the opportunity arises, I’ll pass along your feedback.”

  She already knew she’d never have the chance to tell the Mevendians, because he was wrong.

  And rude.

  The more he spoke, the less attractive he became.

  She didn’t think he noticed when she stopped talking at all. He ate no more of his entree, switching his plate with hers when she was nearly done so she could eat more, he said. He only ate two bites of his dessert before declaring the first bite had been only okay and a fluke at that.

  Jacqueline Grace found nothing wrong with it at all and ate all of hers.

  “Where is this daughter of yours?”

  She looked up, her eyes wide. “Pardon?”

  “You said you have a little girl. The one who found my boat?”

  When had she told him that? He hadn’t stopped talking about himself long enough for her to. Maybe the other day? She didn’t remember enough of the conversation to know if she had or not.

  “She will not be coming down this evening.” In all likelihood, she and Mary were already asleep.

  “I’d love to meet her.” He winked. “I have to get to know her before we can decide where we’ll send her to school.”

  That was going too far. Jacqueline Grace wiped her mouth on her napkin and pushed away from the table. “That’s quite enough. I will see you out and thank you to forget we ever met.”

  He followed her to the front door.

  Once there, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. Before she could react, his hand was on the back of her head as he kissed.

  Hard.

  Swift.

  And nothing like the hard, swift kiss from Dave.

  “Don’t worry, princess.” Something sinister sounded in his voice. “I won’t forget a thing.”

  He was out the door before she could wake herself from her stupor.

  As soon as it closed behind him, she snapped the lock and leaned against it, her chin falling until it rested on her chest.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”

  Jacqueline Grace looked up through tear-filled eyes. Dave walked down the stairs, sympathy on his face and a lack of judgment in his voice.

  When he stood in front of her, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist as he enveloped her in his.

  “Why can’t I meet a nice man who my father and our people will approve of? That means someone with a
title or, at the very least, old money.”

  “Sh.” His hand rubbed up and down her back. “When the time is right, you’ll meet the right guy.”

  “Why can’t you have a title? Or old money? Be from a well-respected, aristocratic family in your own country?”

  He stilled, and she wondered again what he was keeping from her. Would he tell her now?

  Dave didn’t say a word but tightened his hold on her as she let the tears flow.

  Some things must not be meant to be.

  Holding Jacqueline Grace in his arms was everything Dave wanted out of life.

  But after a few minutes, she moved away.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked. “I hear Mrs. Rappellino makes a mean hot cocoa.”

  “It’s July,” she sniffled.

  “So?”

  That earned him a half-smile. “That sounds lovely.”

  Ten minutes later, they sat on another part of the deck as Mrs. Rappellino brought them both a beverage.

  “Dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Rappellino.”

  “I am glad you thought so.” Something sounded off in the woman’s voice.

  “What’s the matter?” Jacqueline Grace picked up on it too.

  She gripped the serving tray until her knuckles turned white. “My husband told me your plate was the one barely touched.”

  Jacqueline Grace reached out and placed a gentle hand on Mrs. Rappellino’s. “I’m so sorry. That was Martin’s plate. He didn’t care for it and traded plates with me. I’m so sorry you thought it was me. I loved every bite this evening.”

  Mrs. Rappellino visibly relaxed. “It didn’t sound like you, dear. I’m so glad you enjoyed it all.”

  “If this hot cocoa is anything like dinner, I may have to steal you away from Ravenzario and bring you to San Majoria to live with me forever.”

  Dave could see the humor in Jacqueline Grace’s eyes.

  Mrs. Rappellino must have, too. “Oh, you’re too much, dear. Thank you, but I’m quite happy here.”

  “I know you are. I’m sorry my guest’s rudeness made you feel unappreciated.”

  Mrs. Rappellino waved a hand. “Think nothing more about it. Let me know if you want refills.”

  Dave took his first sip as she walked away. “I think I’ll help you kidnap her.”

  After drinking a bit of her own, Jacqueline Grace stared out to sea, holding her mug close. “I wondered why he traded plates. I’d already mentioned I wanted to save plenty of room for dessert. I guess he was hoping I’d look like the bad guy.”

  “So the bloke with the title wasn’t the gentleman he should have been.” Dave tried not to sound like he was gloating, but it wasn’t easy.

  “How much of our... goodbye did you see?”

  “Enough,” he admitted. Enough that he wanted to deck the man. That wasn’t how you treated a woman, princess or not. You didn’t kiss a woman who didn’t want to be kissed. “I’m sorry.”

  She took another sip of her drink. “I think even if he had kissed me properly, it would have been more like kissing my brother than kissing a potential boyfriend.” It seemed to pain her to admit that.

  “Have you ever kissed your brother?”

  “Not like that.”

  He wanted to make her smile. “Was kissing me like kissing your brother?”

  Instead of smiling, she blushed, focusing more of her attention on her mug. “No,” she whispered. “Kissing you was nothing like kissing my brother. More like my brother kissing his wife.”

  He didn’t have any married siblings, and his parents were quite restrained with their affection in front of anyone, including their children, but it seemed like an appropriate comparison to Dave.

  Kirsten walked onto the patio. “I’m sorry to disturb you, miss, but Athmetis has asked to move up your meeting with them to Wednesday of this week.”

  Jacqueline Grace leaned her head back against her chair. “When do we fly out?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. You’ll get there in time for dinner and to let the girls get their wiggles out. Your meeting with the Trade Minister begins first thing in the morning Wednesday.”

  “And we expect this to last until Friday afternoon?”

  “Correct. The current plan is for you to spend a couple of days sightseeing over the weekend then fly overnight to join your family in Sargasso Monday morning.”

  “And the press conference in Sargasso?”

  “Next Wednesday evening.”

  Then the whole world would know some sort of secret, though Dave still hadn’t been entrusted with it himself.

  “Can we leave for Sargasso on Friday evening instead?”

  Dave had a feeling she longed for the safety and security of the island nation much closer to home, and the privacy offered by the resort where they would be staying.

  “I’ll see what we can arrange.” Kirsten hesitated. “I believe at least some of those days were to be semi-public.”

  Now Dave knew she wouldn’t want to stay.

  “Thank you, Kirsten. Can you get me a more detailed itinerary tomorrow? Complete with the details on the meetings and who they’ll be with.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kirsten went back inside and left them alone.

  “You’re not looking forward to any of this, are you?”

  Jacqueline Grace blew out a deep breath. “Not particularly. I’m glad my father entrusted me with this, but I’m worried I’ll screw it up. The officials in Athmetis tend to have an interesting sense of appropriateness. It’s easy to accidentally offend them. Of course, I don’t want to do that and won’t intentionally. If I do anyway, though, I could ruin this whole thing.”

  “Why is that exactly?”

  “I’m not really sure. I think it goes back centuries to when the daughter of the first queen of Mevendia was sent to marry their future king. Legend has it she was the daughter of Charlemagne and an English noblewoman he loved but couldn’t marry. Charlemagne gave the noblewoman’s father the land that is Mevendia. The noblewoman married her father’s most trusted knight. The daughter was sent to Athmetis. Mevendia was expanded and the noblewoman and knight were the first king and queen. Their three sons split the country into three separate countries. All four royal families are descended from that noblewoman.”

  Her head fell to the side as she looked at him. “I’ve always thought they felt kind of like an unwanted stepchild on the international stage, at least among the smaller countries that we tend to have extra-friendly relationships with. Maybe because of their location, though they’re closer geographically than say New Sargasso, or maybe because they believe their founding mother as it were was unwanted and it’s still a part of their culture.”

  “That’s an interesting theory.” One he’d never considered before, and it made him consider how the same theory would affect other countries - like his. “Where did you hear that?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t really. Just based on things my father has said or that I read in history books.”

  “I think that’s a very astute observation. I think how a country is formed can have an impact for a very long time, for good or bad.” He reached over and grasped her hand lightly. “And because you can come up with such astute observations, I think you’ll be just fine.”

  14

  Butterflies, or some much larger winged insect, had taken up residence in Jacqueline Grace’s stomach. The closer the plane was to Athmetis, the closer she came to freaking out.

  Dave finished talking briefly with the girls then came to sit next to her. “You’ve got this, princess. Your father wouldn’t have asked you to do this if he didn’t have complete faith in you.”

  “I know.” She leaned back. “This is the first though. Astrid is Crown Princess. She does important country international-in-charge stuff all the time under my father’s supervision. Kensington ran the Games of the Sargasso Sea, basically all by himself. I mean, he had loads of people working for him, but he was in
charge with very little oversight. Harrison isn’t old enough yet. Esther, understandably, has been out of the public eye, and wasn’t yet old enough when she moved.”

  Tucking one leg underneath her, she stared at the ocean below. “Then there’s me. I finished university but haven’t done much of anything except take in a child who had nowhere else to go at the time, and I’m probably messing that up, too.”

  “You are not messing that up. Kiara is a well-mannered, active, typical little girl. Anyone who thinks you’re not doing well is wrong. You’ll do this well, too.”

  “Thank you for your faith in me.”

  “It’s easy to have faith in you.”

  The pilot came on the speaker and told them to prepare for landing. The flight was only a little over two hours. At least she’d spent time preparing before leaving San Majoria and in any free time she had since leaving.

  When they deplaned, there was a noticeable difference in temperature from Ravenzario. Despite the later hour, the warm, wet air caused her clothes to stick. Kiara noticed and complained.

  They didn’t have to wait in line at customs like most visitors did, but they did have to have their passports checked and stamped. Jacqueline Grace hadn’t noticed it before, but noted that Dave seemed uneasy. He had a San Majorian passport so he must have officially been accepted by San Majoria. She knew he hadn’t been there long enough, but maybe he had friends. Or maybe her father even sped up the process so he could travel with her or so he could get the job.

  This time, because it was an official visit, they were being housed in a residence reserved for visiting dignitaries. Their vehicle was outfitted with flags proclaiming their diplomatic status. If anything, the house and the quarters overall weren’t as nice as where they’d been staying.

  Dave mentioned something about it, too. “Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. Because I’m the third child and fifth in the line of succession so not as important? Maybe their accommodations for foreign dignitaries aren’t as nice as vacation homes for royal families? I think I’m going to choose to believe the latter. If there were others here for a summit or something, I could see housing being based on perceived seniority, but it’s just us.”