by Jane Porter
Zale Patek was in the middle of introducing Emmeline to yet another member of his court, when he felt her hand tremble in his. Glancing down at her, he saw fatigue in her eyes and a hint of strain at her mouth. Time for a break, he thought, deciding the rest of the introductions could wait until dinner.
Exiting the Throne Room, Zale led her through a sparsely furnished antechamber, and then a small reception room, ending in the Silver Room, a room that had been a favorite of his mother’s.
“Please,” he said, escorting her to a petite Louis IV chair covered in a shimmering silver Venetian embroidered fabric. An oversize silver and crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the room and Venetian mirrors lined the oyster-hued silk that upholstered the walls.
It was a pretty room and it sparkled from all the silk, silver and glass, but nothing in the room could compare to the princess herself.
She was stunning.
Beyond stunning.
As well as cunning, manipulative and deceitful, which he hadn’t learned until after their engagement.
It’d been a year since he last saw Emmeline—at the announcement of their betrothal in the Palace of Brabant—and they’d only spoken twice before that, although of course he’d seen her at various different royal functions while growing up.
“You look lovely,” he said as Emmeline sank gracefully into the fragile chair, her full teal and aqua skirts clouding around her, making him think of a mermaid perched on a rock. And like the sirens of lore, she used her beauty to lure men in—before dashing them on the rocks.
Which wasn’t a quality Zale wanted in his wife, or Raguva’s future queen.
Strong, calm, steady, principled—those were the qualities he wanted, qualities he’d come to realize she didn’t possess.
“Thank you,” she answered, a delicate pink appearing in her flawless, porcelain skin.
The bloom of pink in her cheeks stole his breath and made his body harden.
Had she truly just blushed? Did she think she could convince him she was a virginal maiden instead of a jaded, promiscuous princess?
And yet despite all her character flaws, in person she was nothing short of physical perfection with her exquisite bone structure, cream complexion and darkly fringed blue eyes. Even as a young girl Emmeline had been more than pretty with her wide blue eyes that seemed to see everything and know far too much, but she’d grown into an extraordinary beauty.
His father had been the one to suggest Princess Emmeline d’Arcy as a suitable bride. Zale had been fifteen at the time, Emmeline just five, and Zale had been horrified by his father’s preliminary arrangements. A chubby little girl with blue eyes and dimples for a future wife? But his father had assured him that she’d be a stunning woman one day, and his father had been right. There wasn’t a more beautiful or eligible princess in Europe.
“You’re here at last,” he said, hating that he derived so much pleasure from just looking at her. He should be distant, disgusted, turned off. Instead he was curious. As well as very physically attracted.
Her head dipped. “I am, indeed, Your Majesty.”
She did that so prettily, he thought, the edge of his mouth curving in a slightly cynical smile. The blushes, the shyness, the wide-eyed innocence. “Zale,” he corrected. “We’ve been engaged this past year.”
“And yet we’ve never once seen each other,” she answered, lifting her chin, porcelain cheeks stained pink.
He raised an eyebrow. “By your choice, Emmeline, not mine.”
Her lips parted as if to protest before she pressed them together again. “Did that bother you?” she asked after a moment.
He shrugged, knowing what he couldn’t—wouldn’t—say. That he knew Emmeline had spent the past year continuing to see her Argentine playboy boyfriend, Alejandro, despite being betrothed to Zale.
He wouldn’t say that he knew her seven-day trip to Palm Beach this past week had been to watch Alejandro play in a polo match. Or that for the past several days Zale hadn’t even been sure Emmeline would actually get on the plane and come to Raguva for their wedding scheduled for June 4, ten days from now.
But she had.
She was here.
And he fully intended to use these next ten days before their wedding to discover if she was ready to honor her commitments to him, their countries and their families, or if she planned to continue playing games and playing him. “I’m glad you’re here now,” he responded. “It’s time we began to get to know each other.”
She smiled, a slow, radiant smile that lit her eyes from the inside out and he felt heat and pressure build in his chest.
How absurd that Emmeline’s beauty literally took his breath away. Ridiculous that he could be so moved by a woman in a ball gown and jewels. Diamond and sapphire rings covered her fingers and the diamonds in the tiara perched on her golden head glinted, throwing off tiny prisms of light.
“So am I,” she answered. “And it’s a completely different world than Palm Beach.”
“It is at that,” he agreed, intrigued despite himself. Charmed by everything about her right now. “I’m sorry I couldn’t welcome you last night when you arrived. There is so much tradition attached to the job. Five hundred years of protocol.”
“I understand.”
She should. She’d agreed to this arranged marriage, too, despite being passionately in love with her boyfriend of five years. “Do you need any refreshment? Dinner is at least an hour away.”
“No, thank you, I can wait.”
“I heard you hadn’t eaten anything today, or even last night after you arrived.”
She gave him a slightly mocking look, her finely arched eyebrows rising. “Which of my attendants tattled on me?”
“My cooks were worried when you refused your meals. They feared they’d failed to whet your appetite.”
“Not at all. The breakfast and lunch trays looked delicious but I was very aware that at five I’d have to fit into this gown,” she said with a gesture to her curvaceous body swathed in teal silk and intricate jeweled designs.
“You’re not on a starvation diet, are you?”
She glanced down at her figure. “Do I look in danger of fading away?”
Zale’s lips twitched. No, she did not look like she was starving. The gown’s fitted bodice revealed full, firm breasts while her waist nipped in before curving out again over very feminine hips. The gown’s rich hues highlighted her smooth, creamy skin, the startling blue of her eyes and the pink pout of her generous lips. She looked lush, ripe, edible.
He felt a hot shaft of desire, and Zale fought a sudden urge to touch her. Taste her. To take his tongue to her softly parted lips, to sink his teeth into their softness, then brush his lips along her satin skin—
He broke off as his body hardened, tightening, making the fit of his trousers almost unbearable. It’d been a year since he taken a woman into his bed, wanting to respect his engagement to Emmeline, but it’d been a long year and he looked forward to consummating their marriage in ten days.
Should they marry.
He glanced down at her and discovered she was staring steadily back at him, her blue gaze unflinchingly direct. As his gaze locked with hers, he felt raw, primal desire surge through him.
He’d have her, too, he vowed, even if he didn’t make her his queen.
Breathlessly Hannah dropped her gaze, breaking that strange hold Zale had had on her. When looking into his eyes—all amber color and fire—she’d felt absolutely lost, snared by her senses, drowning in sex and sin.
It’d been forever since she’d felt this way.
Wanting something so much it almost hurt …
She drew a slow breath, trying to slow the racing of her heart, trying to pretend her cheeks and lips didn’t burn. But oh, they did.
He was stirring something inside of her, something that hadn’t been stirred in years.
It’d been a long, long time since she’d been serious about anyone, and even longer since she’d wanted
to be loved by anyone. Hannah enjoyed sex when shared with someone special. The trouble was, there hadn’t been anyone special, not since she graduated from Texas A&M University four years ago. Twenty-one and thrilled to have earned her degree, Hannah had expected her college boyfriend to propose. Instead he broke up with her, announcing that he was ready to move on and begin seeing other women.
But now, for the first time since Brad had dumped her, she felt something.
For the first time in four years she wanted something.
Restless, aching, Hannah crossed her legs beneath her gown’s full silk skirt and petticoat, feeling the rasp of the lace garter belt against her thighs even as her inner thighs brushed delicate skin exquisitely bare. Emmeline’s lingerie, she thought despairingly, remembering in a painful rush that gorgeous, virile Zale Patek belonged to Emmeline, too.
Hannah froze, her breath catching in her throat, shocked that she could forget for even a moment who she was, what she was doing here and why.
You are not Emmeline, she told herself furiously. You will never be Emmeline, either.
She rose, briefly glanced at Zale as she smoothed her skirt with quick, flustered hands. “If there’s time, I’d like to freshen up in my room before dinner.”
“They won’t even call us to the dining room for another half hour.”
“Will you excuse me then?”
“Of course. I’ll send someone to escort you to the dining hall when it’s time.”
She left the Silver Room quickly, the heavy embroidered skirts swishing as she hurried to the stairs that would take her to her suite of rooms on the second floor. Madness, madness, madness, she chanted over and over, her stomach churning, heart racing as she climbed the stairs as fast as she could.
Please let Emmeline be on the way. Please, please let there be a message from Emmeline saying she was on the plane and everything was fine and Hannah would soon be free to leave.
Inside her suite, Hannah shut the door and dashed for the nightstand next to her bed where she retrieved her phone and checked for messages, first text, then voice, but there was nothing. Nothing. Not a word.
Nothing. Nothing!
Hannah put a hand to her queasy middle, dangerously close to throwing up all over the green, cream and pink antique Aubusson rug beneath her feet.
It’d been hours since Emmeline’s last text. Where was she? Why wouldn’t she respond?
Hannah struggled to calm herself. Maybe the princess was already en route. Maybe she was on a plane flying to Raguva right now.
Hannah felt a ray of hope. It was possible. Emmeline might have been in such a hurry getting to the airport that she’d forgotten to send a message to Hannah saying she was on the way.
But even as Hannah comforted herself with the thought, the phone rang.
Emmeline.
Hannah answered immediately. “Are you here?” she asked hopefully. “Have you arrived?”
“No, I’m still in Florida,” Emmeline’s clipped precise voice suddenly wobbled, sounding very far away at the other end of the line. “I’m having a bit of trouble getting out as you have my plane. Could you send it back for me?”
“Were you able to work things out?”
“N-no.” Again that wobble.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not in physical danger, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Hannah heard the threat of tears in the princess’s voice. “Things aren’t going well there?”
“No.” Emmeline drew a slow breath. “How is Zale? As cold as ever?”
Hannah flushed. “I wouldn’t call him cold …” “Maybe not. But he is rather grim, isn’t he? I don’t think he likes me much.”
“He’s marrying you.” “For five million Euros!” “What?”
“Hannah, it’s an arranged marriage. What did you expect?”
Hannah pictured Zale’s strong, handsome face, those fiercely intelligent eyes and his tall, powerful frame. He was gorgeous. How could Emmeline feel nothing for him? “Maybe you will fall in love, once you spend time together.”
“Oh, I hope not. It’d just complicate everything—” Emmeline broke off, spoke to someone in the room with her, then returned to the phone. “Good news. I don’t need to wait for my plane. A friend here has a jet I can take tonight. I’ll be there in the morning. Once I land, I’ll text you. With any luck, no one will be the wiser.”
With any luck, Hannah silently echoed, closing her phone, heart strangely heavy.
CHAPTER TWO
HANNAH told herself she was relieved that this impossible charade was nearly over. She told herself she was glad to be going in the morning. But part of her was disappointed. Zale fascinated her.
In her dressing room, Hannah touched up her makeup and adjusted the tiara before following her lady-in-waiting through soaring galleries and elegant chambers on the way to the Grand Dining Hall.
They walked briskly, her skirts whispering with every step. Passing through the Empire Room, Hannah caught a glimpse of herself in a tall mirror over the high white marble fireplace.
The reflection startled her. Is that how she really looked? Elegant? Shimmering? Pretty?
She shook her head at her reflection and her reflection shook her head back—pink cheeks. Deep blue eyes. High cheekbones above a generous mouth.
Hannah couldn’t believe she really looked like that. Didn’t know she could look like that. She’d never felt beautiful in her life. Smart, yes. Hardworking, of course. But her father had never placed any value on physical beauty—had certainly never encouraged her to wear makeup or dress up—and for a moment she wanted to really be the beautiful girl in the mirror.
What if she was a princess in real life?
Would it change everything? Would it change her?
The lady-in-waiting paused outside tall paneled doors that opened onto the Grand Dining Hall. “We’ll wait for His Majesty here,” she said.
Hannah nodded, eager to see King Zale Patek again. She shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t feel anything.
Suddenly King Patek and his attendants were there and the atmosphere felt positively electric.
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat as heat and energy crackled around them. Tall, lithe, strong, Zale Patek practically hummed with life.
She’d never met a man so vitally alive. Had never met a man with such confidence. Lifting her head she looked up into his eyes and the expression in the rich amber depths made her heart turn over.
“You look lovely,” he said.
She inclined her head. “And you do, too, Your Majesty.” “I look lovely?”
“Handsome,” she corrected, with a blush. “And royal.”
He lifted an eyebrow but Hannah was saved from further conversation as the doors to the Grand Dining Hall opened simultaneously, revealing an immense, richly paneled hall easily two stories tall.
“Oh,” Hannah whispered, awed by the medieval grandeur of the room. The huge room was lit almost exclusively by candlelight. Ivory tapers flickered in sconces and tall silver cande-labras marched down the length of the table. Stone fireplaces marked both ends of the room and magnificent burgundy tapestries covered the richly paneled walls. The high ceiling was an intricate design of gold stencil against dark stained wood.
