Royal Target

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  As Janessa ate her dessert, something sinfully chocolate and airy, her sympathies went out to the prince. He never even got a chance to pick up his spoon.

  When the meal finally concluded, everyone moved back into the parlor. The open terrace doors invited the night air in. Garrett introduced several people to Janessa. He then spent a few moments socializing with Isabel and two other young women in attendance before he excused himself to go get a breath of fresh air. Rather than give him the few moments alone he so clearly needed, those chatting with him decided some fresh air would benefit them as well.

  Garrett’s manners were impeccable, and only a flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes before he quickly concealed it and smiled at the women who escorted him outside. One of the dignitaries shifted to follow them, and Janessa glanced around the room. Some of the guests had settled down to have an after-dinner drink, but many others were preparing to leave.

  Realizing her job was basically done for the night, Janessa checked with Martino before excusing herself. She moved out of the parlor and past the dining room, pleased when she found the kitchen. Janessa knocked on the door as she pushed it open. She spotted a slightly rounded woman with graying hair she guessed to be Enrico’s wife, Patrice.

  “I just wanted to compliment you on a wonderful meal,” Janessa said in Italian. She moved forward and extended her hand. “I’m Janessa Rogers.”

  “Patrice Saldera.” Patrice’s eyebrows lifted even as she shook Janessa’s hand. “Everything was satisfactory?”

  “Everything was delicious.” Janessa smiled.

  Patrice sighed, waving a hand at the counter where a tray of desserts lay, most of them untouched. She spoke Italian with a thick French accent. “I thought maybe they didn’t like it.”

  “I think too many of them are on a diet.” Janessa shrugged. “I’m afraid they didn’t give the prince a chance to eat his either. He may appreciate it if you save some for him.”

  Patrice nodded. “Signorina Rogers . . .”

  “Please, call me Janessa.”

  “Very well. Gianessa,” Patrice corrected herself, using the Italian version of Janessa’s name. She waved at the platters of leftover food. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “More than enough.” She patted her stomach and nodded at the dessert dishes. “Mine is the empty one.”

  Patrice chuckled and nodded her approval.

  “Good night. Thank you again for a wonderful meal.” Janessa turned to leave just as the door opened behind her.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon.” Prince Garrett stopped just inside the door. Surprise flickered in his eyes. He looked from Janessa to Patrice and then back to Janessa. “I hope you didn’t get lost.”

  Janessa shook her head, her lips quirking up in the beginnings of a smile. “No, not at all.” She motioned to the food behind her. “You must be hungry. I’ll get out of your way so that you can eat.”

  “We just ate.”

  “I just ate.” Her smile broke free. “You entertained. Try the dessert. It’s magnificent.”

  Clearly surprised by her observation, he turned to see Patrice smiling at him. “She’s right. My boy never eats enough at these dinners,” Patrice said in a matronly tone as she waved toward a doorway on the other side of the kitchen. “Go sit down. I’ll fix you a plate.”

  All formality melted away as Garrett grinned and crossed to kiss Patrice on the cheek. “You’re too good to me.” He kissed her other cheek. “And you’re still the best cook in the province.”

  “You just want me to make you fresh strawberry pie.”

  Garrett chuckled. “That too.” His grin was still in place when he turned to Janessa and asked, “Will you join me?”

  Janessa’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you would appreciate some time alone.”

  Garrett shook his head. “I don’t like to eat alone, and Patrice doesn’t ever sit down until the dishes are done.” He winked at Patrice and gave Janessa a boyish smile. “If you don’t eat with me, she might put me on dish duty like when I broke the breakfast room window when I was twelve.”

  Now curious, Janessa followed him into the breakfast room. “How did you manage that?”

  “Home run.” Garrett shrugged as he pulled one of a dozen chairs out for her. “I guess we should have been trying to hit away from the chateau.”

  “Lesson learned.” Janessa laughed. She sat down at the square table, amazed at how quickly Garrett had shed his formal air and become once again the man she had spent so many hours talking to on the phone.

  Garrett waved in the direction of the kitchen. “Did you get enough dinner? I can have Patrice fix you a plate too.”

  “I had more than enough. As I told Signora Saldera, I don’t think I can eat another bite.” She watched Patrice put a full plate in front of Garrett and then a dessert in front of each of them. She laughed despite herself. “Okay, maybe just one more bite, but I’m going to have to schedule time to run tomorrow.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” Garrett took a bite as Janessa swirled her spoon in her dessert. “From what I understand, nothing is scheduled tomorrow until lunchtime.”

  “Martino mentioned an outing tomorrow afternoon.”

  Garrett nodded, his eyes meeting hers with a directness she wasn’t accustomed to. “You did well tonight. I hadn’t realized that you spoke French.”

  “I told you I’m a linguistics specialist,” Janessa reminded him. “Romance languages are my specialty.”

  “I should have realized that when you mentioned being a jealous girlfriend.” Humor danced in his eyes. “How many languages do you speak?”

  “Six, if you don’t include Japanese.” Janessa pushed her half-eaten dessert away from her and leaned closer as though sharing a secret. “And trust me, my Japanese tends to get me into trouble.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have any pressing engagements with Japan in the near future.” Garrett laughed. “And thank you for your help tonight with Isabel.”

  “I gather she’s admired you for some time.”

  “She has admired my title for some time,” Garrett corrected. “It often makes for an awkward situation.”

  “Like the one in Caracas.” Janessa smiled. “Maybe being engaged will help keep you out of awkward situations for a while.”

  “I hope so,” Garrett agreed, leaning back in his chair.

  They continued chatting while Garrett finished his dinner until finally a servant interrupted. “Excuse me, Your Highness. Your father is on the phone and wishes to speak with you.”

  Garrett pushed back from the table and smiled at Janessa. “Thank you for joining me.”

  Janessa nodded and stood as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She watched him follow the servant out of the room and then stacked the dessert dishes on Garrett’s plate. Moving into the kitchen, she set the dishes on the counter and turned to Patrice. “Thank you again for a wonderful meal.”

  With that, she left the kitchen and ascended the stairs to the rooms she would call home for the next five weeks.

  Chapter 8

  Garrett paced across his sitting room, flipping through the file in his hand. After his conversation with Janessa the evening before, he had asked his father to send him a complete background on her. He had expected to see a simple dossier outlining her various assignments and perhaps an evaluation or two. The thick file in his hand not only surprised him—it intrigued him.

  She had been honest with him when she’d summarized her work experience—sort of. She had indeed worked for several months for the State Department, but she had been overly modest about how she had come to the attention of the Central Intelligence Agency.

  The important conversation she had mentioned overhearing had actually been that of three men preparing to plant a bomb at the US Embassy in Madrid. Janessa had had the presence of mind to use her cell phone to take pictures of the three men, write down their conversation, and follow them to where they were preparing the explosives. The
men had been in the process of moving the bomb when the police had arrived to take them into custody.

  The rest of the file was filled with similar incidents. Some were simple undertakings, like recruiting various household staff of high level officials to share information with her or recognizing valuable information in seemingly meaningless conversations. Others were more complicated, like helping the Venezuelan government identify the route Columbian drug dealers were using to ship cocaine into their country.

  Janessa’s training with the CIA had been extensive, which explained why she had been assigned to his security detail. Basically, she was a jack-of-all-trades. She had spent nearly a year working in different areas of the CIA, learning about everything from weapons to security.

  Even with her file in front of him, he couldn’t quite picture Janessa as an intelligence officer. Then again, he wasn’t accustomed to working with intel officers who were women. The night before, Janessa had followed protocol precisely, yet she had done so with an air of casualness that suggested she might choose to stop at any time. When he had questioned her abilities, she had not seemed the least bit offended, nor had she found it necessary to detail her previous successes.

  Her attire at the dinner had been simple and elegant, and several men in attendance had made a point to make her acquaintance. Garrett couldn’t say he blamed them. The highlight of the past several days had been his conversations with Janessa. Not surprisingly, he had awoken this morning with a sense of anticipation at the thought of spending time with her. If nothing else, her company would help break up an otherwise tedious day filled with meetings.

  He hoped the press and public would warm up to her the way his guests had the night before. Janessa was beautiful in an understated way, but she was definitely someone who would be remembered after the evening was over. Even the women seemed to like her, surprising considering that Janessa was an American, a nationality occasionally looked down upon by the French.

  He read through the file for several more minutes before realizing that his guests the night before might never have been informed of Janessa’s nationality. He looked out the window across the room, staring as he replayed the evening’s events. He remembered hearing her speak with Martino briefly in Italian. Her accent hadn’t been Meridian, but neither was it American. When speaking to Isabel, she had spoken in French, again without a discernable accent. Garrett couldn’t recall her ever speaking in English except to him.

  When he came to the part of Janessa’s file that listed her religious preference, he could only smile at the irony. At times he still couldn’t believe that the woman who had been chosen as his fiancée was a member of the church he was determined to join. For a moment he let himself wonder what would happen if their engagement were real. What would his family do if he announced he wanted to marry someone of the Mormon faith, or that he wanted to marry in the LDS temple?

  Again Garrett shook his head, reminding himself that this was all an act. For now he had to focus on what mattered most—playing a role that would help keep his family safe.

  * * *

  The early morning breeze dragged at the ends of Janessa’s hair as she stepped outside onto the terrace. The sun was still low in the eastern sky, and she had not noticed anyone stirring within the chateau walls except for some of the kitchen staff. Though she had considered a morning run on the beach, she wasn’t quite sure if that would be considered acceptable in her situation.

  Deciding that a walk was the best she could do at this early hour, Janessa had dressed comfortably in jeans and a button-up cotton shirt. She stood for a moment and took in the view. The Mediterranean glistened beneath the rising sun, and a few boats were already out on the water. She drew a deep breath, amazed that she was standing here in the shadows of the chateau. Even more amazing was that somewhere inside the walls was a prince whom she was beginning to think of as a friend.

  The fragrance of jasmine scented the air as Janessa passed by the expansive gardens. She continued to wander away from the chateau, past the gardens and up a well-trodden path. Another more familiar scent lingered as she stepped over the rise. A large white building was situated at the center of the paddocks and fenced pastures that checkerboarded the area. Janessa identified the building as the stables, guessing that it could house at least two dozen horses. Several horses were grazing in the grassy fields behind split-rail fences.

  Enchanted by the setting, Janessa closed the distance to the stables, stopping near the door when she noticed a young foal frolicking around his mother. The mare lifted her head from grazing when Janessa rested a foot on the bottom rung of the fence. As though only half interested, the mare slowly walked toward her, the foal close at her heels.

  Because the setting seemed to call for it, Janessa spoke in Italian as she ran her hand down the mare’s soft nose. “Aren’t you a pretty thing.” Her laughter rang out when the foal edged closer and nipped at her shoelace. Janessa wiggled her toe, laughing again when the foal startled, running and bucking the length of the pasture.

  “That one is afraid of his own shadow.” An elderly man stepped from the stables carrying a bundle of hay under one of his burly arms. He tossed the meal-sized clump of hay over the fence at the mare’s feet.

  “I think his mother is happy to have him distracted.” Janessa smiled as the foal cautiously approached her again. She reached out and stroked the soft muzzle, unconcerned when the foal nipped at her shirt.

  “You know horses,” the man stated. “You will ride now?”

  Janessa turned to him, beaming. “I would love to.”

  “The horses need exercise,” he said and extended one of his weathered hands. “I am Paolo Saldera.”

  “Gianessa Rogers.” She shook his hand, remembering that Paolo was the father of Enrico, the chauffeur. Though he moved with agility, Janessa guessed that Paolo was past seventy. What little hair he had was snow white, and his face was deeply creased with laugh and worry lines. “Are you done feeding?”

  “Just finished.” Paolo nodded. “Come, I’ll show you around, and we’ll find a horse for you to ride this morning.”

  Grinning, Janessa followed him inside. The horses were well tended, and nearly all of the stalls were occupied. She thought briefly of her riding boots that were currently in her parents’ attic and decided that her tennis shoes would have to do. Twenty minutes later, Janessa guided her mount down a trail to the east.

  She rode over rambling hills through dense trees for nearly an hour before she emerged onto the beach. She glanced back to the west and could see the chateau. A breeze lifted off the water, pleasantly cooling the overly warm morning air. Turning to the east, she studied the naval base in the distance, noticing that the beach was completely deserted as far as she could see.

  Impulsively, she turned east and urged her horse into a gallop. She laughed out loud as she met the wind head on, the sand kicking up behind her. Her hair whipped in the wind, and she tasted the sea air even as she urged the gelding beneath her to give her more speed. She hadn’t surrendered to this kind of reckless freedom in years.

  As the horse beneath her began to breathe heavily, Janessa slowed to a canter and then finally to a walk. She continued down the beach, edging closer to the naval base. She thought back on her conversation with the director of the CIA. Though she could understand her country’s need for a naval base in this area, she hated the idea of more of these pristine beaches being destroyed to accommodate such an undertaking.

  The Meridian naval base was more expansive than she had first imagined, curving around the jut of land to the other side. The docks were well maintained, but many of the buildings stood in various states of disrepair. She glanced back at the beach behind her, perfect except for the tracks her horse had left. An idea began to take shape. Perhaps she could help accomplish what her government needed without asking the royal family to compromise any more land for its defense.

  She turned her horse back toward her temporary home and once again enjo
yed the freedom and beauty offered where land and sea joined.

  Chapter 9

  Garrett descended the main staircase, wondering if Janessa remembered their date. Martino had already leaked their plans to the local press to make sure Garrett and Janessa would be noticed while they were together in the village. First they would have lunch at one of the popular restaurants in Bellamo, and then they would take a walk through the shopping district.

  He glanced at his watch just as he heard heels clicking on the tile floor. When he looked up, he simply stared. Her thick, flame-colored hair hung down her back in ringlets, and her eyes were an even more vivid green than he had remembered. Her dress was pale blue, falling just below her knees. It was simple in cut and line, nipped at the waist, and had a modest neckline.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Janessa apologized as she crossed the entryway. “I’m afraid time got away from me this morning.”

  “You’re right on time.” Garrett opened the door and escorted her outside to the waiting limousine.

  “Hello, Enrico,” Janessa greeted their driver as she descended the front steps.

  “Good afternoon, Signorina Rogers.” Enrico pulled the door open and nodded to Garrett as they approached. “Your Highness.”

  As soon as they were settled in the back and Enrico slid into the driver’s seat, Garrett asked, “Enrico, you know where we are going?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  With a nod, Garrett closed the window between them and turned to Janessa. “I thought we might want to take a minute to talk about our history before we appear in public together.”

  “Let’s see.” Janessa shifted in her seat. “We met three years ago when you moved to Washington to attend law school. We then crossed paths several times, first while I was working in Paris and then again when I returned home to the States. And, of course, I saw you in Caracas.”