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“Last Sunday. The twenty-second.” She moved across the bedroom to enter the walk-in closet. She pulled an armful of clothes out and carried them to the bed.
She was packing.
She must assume that she was going somewhere.
“That was a week ago,” he answered, leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest. Why pack now? Where did she think she was going? To London? On his plane? At his expense? How fascinating.
Emmeline nodded, emerging from the closet with a half dozen pairs of delicate high heels.
His brow lowered as he watched her place the shoes in tidy pairs on the bed next to her other garments. “And just how long were you planning on leaving my secretary in Raguva, Your Highness?”
Emmeline glanced up from the shoes, wincing at his sarcasm. He’d finally gotten to her. “I … I don’t know,” she confessed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her clothes and shoes. “I haven’t figured that part out.”
His gaze raked her up and down, expression merciless. “Unbelievable.” His chest felt blisteringly hot while the rest of him remained cold.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t even try.
He took a step toward her, and then another, hands clenched at his sides. “Who do you think you are? How could you put my assistant in this position? Do you know what you’ve cost her?”
And still she said nothing.
“Her job.” He was so angry, so very angry and yet Emmeline appeared remote, detached, as if she were above the fray. “She’s gone. Fired. I’ve no need of her services anymore—not here with me, or in London, or back in Dallas, either. She’s gone, finished, so be sure to give yourself a good pat on your back.”
Emmeline’s body jerked, shoulders twisting. “But you’ve made it clear that there was no one like Hannah—”
“There wasn’t. But you changed that when you asked her to shift her loyalty from me to you—”
“She didn’t. She hasn’t!” Emmeline leaned urgently forward. “She is still very loyal to you. Completely loyal. She loves working for you.”
Finally, he thought. Finally some reaction. Some emotion. But it was too little, too late, for all of them. He shrugged indifferently. “Good. She’s yours. She can now work for you.”
“Please don’t do that. Please. Hannah loves her job.”
“Maybe she should have thought of that before she headed off to Raguva, pretending to be you.” He started for the bedroom door, but paused to turn to look at the princess who still sat frozen on the edge of the bed. “And I’m not sure why you’re packing. I don’t know where you think you’re going, or how you’re getting there. Because you’re in my desert, my world, princess, and you’re stuck here with me.”
And then he was gone, leaving the apartment with his emotions running high, temper hot, feeling even angrier and more punitive than he had an hour before.
There would be consequences. And she would not like them.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_80c5cf30-0de2-5644-adb4-e39d13389000)
EMMELINE’S legs shook as the door closed behind Makin. She’d been shaking ever since he’d confronted her in the bathroom with the truth. Shaking with fear.
But now he was gone and she was glad. Glad he’d left her alone. Glad the truth was finally out. She’d hated lying to him. Hated pretending to be his perfect Hannah. And now she didn’t have to lie anymore.
It was better now that he knew the truth. Even if it meant he’d never speak to her again. Better this way. Better to be honest about everything.
And he could say what he wanted about her. He could ridicule her and despise her, but she wouldn’t give him the ability to hurt her anymore. Emmeline left the cool serenity of the white, apricot and gold bedroom for the garden.
She paced the private courtyard with the intensely sweet perfume of antique roses scenting the air as the hot yellow sun beat down, heating her skin. For many this palace would be a kind of paradise. But Emmeline had grown up in palaces surrounded by high stone walls and uniformed soldiers who changed position every four hours. She’d never been the tourist on the outside, admiring the pageantry and elegance. She’d been the captive royal inside the palace walls, locked in for her own protection.
And now, Kasbah Raha was just one more beautiful gilded cage.
One more luxurious but secure building to hold her, confine her, trap her.
And Makin was one more powerful man who thought he could intimidate her. Belittle her. Control her.
But she was done being manipulated and controlled. It was time she grew up. Wised up. Opened her eyes and used her brain. She had a good brain, too, and at twenty-five it was time she owned her life and made decisions for her future.
A future with a baby. Her baby. And how she loved her baby already. Her baby was the most important thing now.
“You look like a tiger in the zoo.”
Emmeline jumped at the sound of Makin’s deep voice and turned to see him inside the doorway, in the cool shadows of the air-conditioned living room. “So much for privacy,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
He shrugged. “You didn’t answer the door.”
“So you just let yourself in?”
“If I’m concerned about the safety of one of my guests.”
“And so now you’re concerned about me?”
He shrugged again. “I’m responsible for all the guests in my home.”
The edge of her mouth curled up. “Did you forget something? Or have you thought of another way to humiliate me?”
“I don’t have to, Your Highness. You do a great job of humiliating yourself.” He gestured toward a bench in the dappled shade. “But I do have news. Sit.”
She bristled inwardly at his sarcasm but refused to let him see how much he affected her. There was no reason for him to affect her. She told herself she didn’t care for him. Certainly didn’t need him. They were equals. And adversaries. “I’d rather stand.”
“You’re seven weeks pregnant. I’d rather you sit.”
It was clear from the curt tone that he expected her to obey, but he forgot that he had no power over her. “You might, but I’d ask you to remember that I’m not Hannah—”
“Trust me, I do,” he cut her off with a sigh. “So sit. There is something I must tell you, and it’s not easy.”
Emmeline’s stomach fell and her knees went weak. Alarm shot through her. “Alejandro?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She put a hand to her belly, sixth sense telling her that Makin’s news wasn’t good.
Crossing to the marble bench in the dappled shade, Emmeline sat down, feeling the tug of the lace skirt around her hips and how her ivory silk blouse clung to her damp, warm skin.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.
Emmeline’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach. “What happened?”
“He went into cardiac arrest a couple of hours ago. And even though they had the best doctors and nurses in all of Miami, they couldn’t get his heart beating again.”
It took her a second to process everything. “He’s gone.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes, besieged by wildly different emotions. Shock, grief, regret. But the grief and sorrow weren’t for herself, or Alejandro. They were for Alejandro’s five children. Their lives would now be changed forever.
“Are you feeling faint?” Makin asked.
She shook her head, opened her eyes. “No.”
“This must be quite a blow.”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry.”
She pushed a loose tendril of hair back from her face. “You didn’t like him.”
“He was a father.”
She nodded. “I feel for his children,” she answered, realizing now that her child would never have the chance to know his or her father. “I wonder if they know yet. I wonder if his wife knows.”
“Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?”
“What?”
“To pretend you care about his family …?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“You chase Ibanez, sleep with him—”
“I didn’t know he was married until you told me, and I didn’t chase him. He chased me.”
“So that makes it okay to sleep with a married man?”
“No! Heavens, no! I’m horrified, disgusted. I made a terrible mistake.”
“And your engagement? Did you not know about that, either?”
She swallowed around the thick lump filling her throat. No wonder Makin enjoyed ridiculing her. She sounded pathetic. Stupid beyond belief. “I did.”
“That’s a relief, because I’d hate to think that everyone but you knew.”
She winced. Blood rushed to her cheeks again. “He pursued me, not the other way around. Some days he’d call or text over and over, and this went on for years.”
“So you’re saying it is okay to cheat?”
“No. But I wasn’t married to Zale yet, and I was still hoping to marry for love, not money. My parents knew I didn’t want an arranged marriage. I wanted a love match, and I thought since Alejandro loved me, we would have that.”
“If you didn’t want to marry Zale, why didn’t you say no? Why enter the arrangement in the first place?”
Makin Al-Koury was a powerful man, and he understood a great deal about politics and economics. But he didn’t know everything. He didn’t know what it was like to be a woman. Much less a beautiful, sheltered young woman with no vocation, few practical skills and a numbing lack of real world experience. Emmeline’s only purpose and power lay in her marriage ability. “Because I didn’t have a choice.”
“You were forced into the arrangement?”
She shrugged, worn out from trying to make him understand. He’d been raised by different parents, who had a different plan for him than hers had had for her. “There are different kinds of pressure. It’s not always about physical force. Women can be intimidated emotionally, psychologically—” She broke off, shook her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. The fact is, I have known since I was a little girl that my parents would choose my husband for me. They made sure that from a young age I knew my duty.”
“Apparently they didn’t. Because everyone but King Patek knows you’ve been hooking up with Ibanez over the years.”
Emmeline flushed. “That’s not true. We never hooked up.”
“So you’re not pregnant?”
“Yes. Yes, I did sleep with him. But it was only one time, and he was my. first.” Her voice wobbled. “I was a virgin until then.”
Makin snorted with derision.
Emmeline’s flush deepened, heat spreading through her body until she tingled all over. “Believe what you want. I don’t have to answer to you, or impress you, or try to make you like me. You and I will never see eye to eye—” She broke off abruptly and turned away, horrified to discover that she was about to cry.
Thank God he didn’t say anything right away, or laugh. Thank God there was just the bubble and splash of the fountain. But the silence stretched too long. Emmeline glanced at Makin and saw his expression.
Hard. Unforgiving.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat and lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by his judgment, knowing that others would look at her the exact same way. Including her parents. It would hurt. But it wouldn’t kill her. Over time she’d learn to weather the disapproval without letting it get to her. She’d learn she could stand on her own two feet just fine.
“I know you don’t think much of me,” she said. “But I will be a good mother. I will do what’s right for my child, starting with seeing a doctor as soon as I get back to Europe.”
“Then let’s stop wasting time and get you on a plane for Brabant—”
“I’m not going to Brabant. I’m going to London.”
“Not back to Brabant?”
“No. Never.”
“But that is your home, your country—”
“Not anymore.”
“You can’t change your birthright, Your Highness. You are descended from one of the oldest royal families in all of Europe. Your bloodline ties you to the very country.”
“I will find a new country to call home. Lots of royals do it.”
“Yes, in countries where monarchy has been replaced by democracy or socialism, but Brabant is still a constitutional monarchy and as far as I know, you are the rightful heir to the throne. Why would you give that up?”
“Because I’m not the rightful heir,” she said huskily, walking away from him to approach the pool. “I’m not a true heir at all—”
