They’d packed a lunch and had a blanket. That was all they would need.
Juan Carlos braked the Jeep several yards from the water’s edge. There were no shade trees so they used the vehicle to provide a bit of cover. From Luis. They were always being watched, but Portia was starting to get used to the idea and it wasn’t as creepy as she’d once thought. Juan Carlos jumped down first as she gathered up the blanket. Then he reached for her and helped her down, crushing her body against his and taking her in a long, slow, deliberate kiss.
When he released her, her breathing sped up, coming in short clips. The blanket between them was her only salvation from being ravaged on the spot. She clung to it and backed away. “I should spread this out.”
He backed off, too. “You do that,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll get the cooler.”
Once everything was in place, they sat down facing the water, their backs propped against the side of the Jeep. “The kitchen minions make great sandwiches,” she said, taking a bite of chicken salad.
“I’ll remember to thank them.”
At some point during the day, either Luis or Eduardo would fill the refrigerator and cupboards with food, much of it readymade. She wasn’t entirely sure it didn’t come from the palace itself. The King of Montoro had a wonderful cook staff. But she decided the mystery was exciting and she didn’t want to know how it magically appeared. She liked that it just did.
“What do we do now?” she asked, taking another bite.
Juan Carlos’s throat worked, as he tipped a water bottle back and took a sip. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned to her, his eyes dark and searching. “I don’t know. I think we’ve exhausted all possibilities. Where else is there to look?”
She had to agree. They’d searched the entire grounds—the prairies, the hills, the outer buildings—and found nothing. “The art could be anywhere and we’d never know it. There are no clues and sadly those secrets have been buried along with your family members.”
He nodded. “At least the artwork didn’t fall into the hands of the dictator, which was their main intent. I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I thought we’d find something, a clue, some hint that would lead us to it. I can only hope it is found one day.”
“I’m sorry, Juan Carlos.” She set her sandwich down and brought her lips to his mouth. It was a chaste kiss, one of commiseration.
Instantly, his arms wound around her shoulders and he tugged, pulling her practically on top of him, deepening the kiss. “You’re the only woman who can make me feel better,” he murmured.
A pulse throbbed in her neck. She loved hearing his sweet words, even though they might be some of the last she’d hear from him. Soon, when the search was finally concluded, she’d have to say goodbye to him and all that they’d meant to each other in this short span of time. Yet, right now, she wanted to make him feel better—but she couldn’t do it here. Out in the open. “We should go,” she said. “Luis is watching.”
He kissed her again, and then lifted himself up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He spent a few seconds texting someone and then returned to her. “He’s not watching anymore.”
“Juan Carlos! What did you say to him?”
His lips twitched. “I told him to retreat one hundred yards and turn his head away from the Jeep for twenty minutes.”
“You didn’t!” Her face instantly burned. Her pride was stung. “He’s going to know.”
Juan Carlos touched her face gently, his fingertips on her cheeks, calming her. “Sweetheart, any man who sees how I look at you knows. Luis won’t say a word.”
“But I’ll know he knows.”
“It’s beautiful here, Portia. And I need you. Do you not need me, too?”
His words worked magic on her. Yes, she needed him, too. She nodded. “But—”
He kissed away her doubts and then lowered her onto the blanket. His mouth was brutally tender, claiming her with each stroke of the tongue as soul-wrenching groans escaped his throat.
Thrills ran up and down her body as he exposed her to the sun’s rays. The scent of fresh water and clear skies combined made her forget her inhibitions. She’d never made love outdoors and she only wanted to experience it with this one exciting man.
* * *
Firelight created jumping shadows across the living room walls. Juan Carlos sat with Portia beside him on the sofa as they watched Duchess bathe a kitten, her tongue taking long swipes across its furry body. The kitten took a playful swing or two at mama cat, but Duchess didn’t relent. She used one paw to hold her charge down, determined to finish the job and lick away the grime of the day before moving on to her next one. She cleansed and fed her young diligently. Duchess, for all her wildness, was a good mama cat.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Portia said. “Still thinking about the missing art treasure?”
That was part of it. His failure to find it bothered him. He’d been so certain that there were clues here on the property and yet, he felt as if he was missing something important. He couldn’t say what, but deep down in his bones he still believed the answers were here.
Yet most of his thoughts concerned Portia. They’d exhausted their search and there was nothing to keep them on the farm any longer. Tomorrow they would head back to Del Sol and then Portia would return to the States. Eventually. Unless he could convince her to stay.
“I’m thinking about us,” he answered honestly.
Portia put her head on his shoulder. “What about us?” she asked, her smooth-as-velvet voice tapping into his heart. At least she didn’t say, there is no us. She recognized that they were edging toward a precarious cliff.
Three sharp raps at the door interrupted their conversation. He gave it a glance and waited for the next two knocks, which would signal him that all was well. Those two knocks came and Juan Carlos rose, striding to the door. “It’s either Luis or Eduardo,” he said over his shoulder to reassure Portia, and then opened the door. “Eduardo. I trust everything is all right?”
“Yes. But I have something of interest I thought you would want to hear right now.”
Eduardo glanced at Portia, who was now sitting on the edge of the sofa, her eyes round with curiosity. “Regarding?”
“Your search, Your Majesty.”
Juan Carlos swung the door open wider. “Come in.”
“Your Highness,” he said to Portia as he made his way inside the room.
“Eduardo.” She granted him a beautiful smile, most likely grateful it wasn’t his counterpart, Luis, seeking them out. He could see the relief in her eyes. This afternoon, making love under blue skies behind the Jeep, Portia had let go her inhibitions and made a memory that would live forever in his mind. But afterward his Portia had gone on and on about Luis, asking how she could ever face him again.
Juan Carlos had succeeded in kissing away her worries.
“Would you like to sit down?” Portia asked.
“No, thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Eduardo regarded the kittens, his expression softening.
“Duchess is coming around,” Portia said, her eyes glittering.
One look at Eduardo and the cat’s back arched, and a low mewling hiss sprang from her mouth.
Portia rolled her eyes. “Slowly she’s coming along. She should know better than to bite the hand that feeds her. Sorry, Eduardo. And how are your hands?”
He waved them in the air. “They are fine, Princess. No need to worry.”
“What did you find out of interest, Eduardo?” he asked. “Something about the search?”
“Yes, Your Highness. You gave me the list of names on the graves at the Montoro family cemetery.”
“Yes, I committed many of them to memory.” He’d tasked Eduardo with contacting his uncle Rafe and alerting him about the cemetery. Juan C
arlos wanted those family plots cleaned up and the headstones that were damaged beyond repair to be replaced as soon as possible.
“Yes, well, I spoke with your uncle, as you asked. He has no knowledge of those family members or that there even was a Montoro cemetery on the grounds. Not one name seemed to jar his memory.”
“We didn’t have first names. We only found initials on the headstones. It doesn’t matter if he remembered the names or not. We will have that cemetery restored.”
“There’s more.”
Juan Carlos nodded. “I’m listening.”
“Your uncle claims that as a rite of passage, every Montoro had the privilege of being buried in the family mausoleum in Alma, whether rich or poor. If they were related to Montoro and had bloodlines, it was an honor to be buried there.”
“Yes, I know that. But surely during Tantaberra’s reign, that wouldn’t hold true anymore. After the war, everything changed. I assumed those graves were there because Tantaberra controlled even where a person would lay to rest.”
Portia walked up to take his hand. “But Juan Carlos, think about some of the dates on the headstones. Many were pre-Tantaberra.”
He gave it a moment of thought, his mind clicking back to the headstones. “You’re right. There were at least four that I remember that dated back to the 1920s and ’30s. Before the war, before Tantaberra.”
“Yes,” Portia said, her voice reaching a higher pitch. “And those initials might’ve been used to throw people off. They’d have no real way of investigating who was laid to rest there.”
“Hold on a second,” Juan Carlos said, pulling out his phone. He clicked over to the list he’d brought with him of the known art pieces missing from the palace. His heart racing, he located the titles.
“Joven Amelia. J.A. were the initials on one of the headstones,” he said. “It means Young Amelia. Almas Iguales. A.I. was another set of initials. The sculpture is called Equal Souls in English. And then there is Dos Rios.”
“D.R. I remember that one,” Portia said. “I thought he was a doctor.”
“There’s a painting called Dos Rios that’s missing,” he said. “Portia, you said it yourself this afternoon, the secrets have been buried along with my family members. But I don’t think there are any family members buried in the cemetery.”
“You think the artwork is buried there.” Portia’s voice was breathless and eager.
“It’s a long shot, Princess. I think the cemetery is bogus. It was the family’s way of protecting the art from Tantaberra. We have to find out. Eduardo, get in touch with Luis. We’ll need a bulldozer, but for now, round up shovels and some high-powered lights. I’m going tonight.”
“Oh, Juan Carlos, do you really think you’ve found it?”
“We found it, Portia. You’re as much a part of this as I am.”
Portia nodded, an excited smile teasing her lips. “I’ll go change my clothes.”
“Portia,” he said, “are you sure you want to go? If I’m wrong, it will be pretty gruesome.”
“If you really want to see gruesome try and stop me, Your Highness.”
He grinned. “That’s right. You’re not a wimpy princess.”
He was glad. It wouldn’t feel right going on this search without her by his side.
Whatever they found.
Seven
“I really know how to show a lady a good time, don’t I?” With shovel in hand, Juan Carlos dug at the foot of a grave alongside Eduardo and Luis as the high beams of two cars cast the cemetery in an unearthly glow.
Dirt flew through the air and landed at the toes of her boots. If she weren’t so excited, she’d be totally creeped out. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” she countered honestly.
Even her embarrassment with Luis had been forgotten.
“I can help out,” she said, “when anyone wants to take a break.”
Eduardo covered his laughter with a grunt.
Juan Carlos slanted her a be-serious look. “I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”
Luis was too busy digging to look up.
She wrapped her arms around her sides as the night air became chillier. She’d refused Juan Carlos’s suggestion to sit it out in the car and so she stood watching, waiting.
They were digging up the grave of J. A. Molina. The headstone dated the death to 1938.
After ten minutes of silent digging, she heard a thump. Eduardo’s shovel smacked against something solid. Thump, thump. “I hit something, Your Highness,” Eduardo said.
“Let’s keep digging,” Juan Carlos said. There was a boyish tone to his excitement. “It shouldn’t be long now before we know.”
The men worked twice as fast now, focusing their efforts. The scraping sounds of shovels against wood filled the quiet night.
“Portia, will you get the flashlight and shine it down here.”
The men were five feet below ground level now and working furiously.
She grabbed the biggest flashlight she could find and stood as close as possible over the grave site, sending beams of light down. Portia’s heart sank. “It’s a coffin, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Juan Carlos said. Under her flashlight, his eager eyes had lost some of their gleam. A layer of dirt remained on top of the box, and he used his gloved hands to swipe it off, searching for any hint of what lay inside. He found nothing written. “Let’s bring it up.”
It took some doing, but the three men hoisted the box up and set it on a patch of flat ground.
“Hand me the ax,” Juan Carlos ordered. He made the sign of the cross over his chest. “And may God forgive us.”
Luis handed Juan Carlos the tool and he carefully began to hack at the very edges of the coffin. Each blow of the ax brought the mystery closer and closer to an end. Eduardo used his shovel to help pry the lid of the box open.
It was time. Their work was nearly over. Juan Carlos hesitated a moment, drew breath into his lungs and then glanced at her. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“You might want to look away,” he said.
“No, I will be fine with whatever we find.” Her eye twitched, closing in a wink.
Juan Carlos stared at her. Perhaps he was equally as nervous as she was. With his gloved hands, he lifted the hacked lid. She beamed the flashlight on the contents, her heart thumping hard.
“There’s no corpse.” His voice elevated, he continued, “But there’s something in here.”
She held her breath, her pulse jumping in her veins. He unfolded a sheath, and found another box, no more than two by three feet, this one carved and quite ornate. He lifted it out and she shined the flashlight on it. Joven Amelia was etched in golden lettering on top.
Juan Carlos’s hand shook. “It’s here. Thank God,” he said. Setting the box down on the ground, he kneeled, and she took a place beside him. He took great care to remove his filthy gloves and then opened the latch and lifted the lid.
Inside, surrounded by lush black velvet, there was a painting of a little girl, no more than ten years old, playing near the seashore with a much younger sister. The canvas was secured, not rolled up as one might expect, but mounted to a frame as if taken from the palace in a hurry. Portia would have to inspect it thoroughly and do some research, but she was almost certain that it was genuine, given the great pains the royal family had taken to hide the painting decades ago.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “She is Young Amelia.”
Tears welled in Juan Carlos’s eyes. “We did it, Portia. We found the missing treasures.”
“Yes,” she breathed, her heart swelling. “Yes.”
“Eduardo, Luis, come see.”
Taking her hand, Juan Carlos rose and tugged her up with him. Once standing, he wrapped his arms around her wais
t and drew her close, so they were hip to hip. Joy beamed in her heart. It was a monumental occasion and she found no reason for pretense. As Juan Carlos had said, the way he looked at her left little room for doubt of his feelings, anyway. They were lovers. It was hard to disguise.
The bodyguards peered at the painting in its casing. Both seemed awed and a little surprised to be looking at a royal masterpiece lost for generations.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty,” Eduardo said.
“Alma’s precious treasures have been restored,” Luis said.
The two men shook the king’s hand. There was pride and resolve in all of their eyes.
Eduardo turned to her. “Princess Portia, congratulations to you, as well. It is a great find.”
“Thank you, Eduardo. That’s very kind of you to say.” She stepped forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m thrilled to have helped in a small way.”
Eduardo blushed, but gave no indication he was alarmed by her affectionate display. A smile tugged at his lips, bringing her a rush of friendly warmth inside.
Juan Carlos got right down to business again. “I would like you to secure the grounds tonight. When the bulldozers arrive, we will resume digging in the morning. Assemble a team. I would like to have all the art secured by the end of the day tomorrow, if possible.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Luis said. “It will be done.”
The men turned to do their tasks, and Juan Carlos took her hand and began dragging her away from the stream of lights. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“To bed, as soon as I can arrange it,” he said. “But for now, this will have to do.”
He pulled her behind the cars, out into the darkness under the stars. And the next thing she knew, Juan Carlos’s hands were about her and she was flying, sailing through the air, spinning around and around. “We did it, Princess. We did it.”
“Yes, yes, we did.” Laughter spilled from her lips and a lightness of spirit filled her.
A Royal Temptation Page 10