Not Fit for a King?

by Jane Porter

  “You’re … watching.”

  “I like watching. It gives me pleasure.”

  She shook her head, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The tension within her was overwhelming. She couldn’t hang on much longer.

  “Then close your eyes.”

  She shook her head again and with a growl he parted her knees wider, and leaned in to cover her clitoris with his mouth. He sucked hard and when she bucked against him, he slid a finger into her, a slow upward thrust that hit a certain spot at the exact moment he suckled the nub.

  She screamed, the sound wrenched from her as he shattered her control with an orgasm so intense her hips lifted off the stone.

  But he didn’t stop.

  He kept sucking and thrusting a finger into her, deeper, steadily, rubbing against that magic invisible spot making her feel hot and tingly all over again. She wanted to tell him it’d never work, wanted to tell him she’d never come again but then he blew on her, a warm breath of air before slowly licking the taut ridge and sucking on the tiny tip.

  She exploded a second time, screaming his name.

  This time Hannah pushed him back with a shaking hand. “No more.”

  Still shuddering, she adjusted the wet thong over her swollen sensitive parts and pulled her skirt down over her legs.

  “What did you do to me?” she choked out, her entire body rippling with aftershocks.

  “What you do to me every time I look at you.”

  Hot salty tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. “I think you broke me,” she whispered, still shuddering and shaking.

  He smiled crookedly and kissed her knee through her skirt and then higher on her thigh before standing.

  She tipped her head back to look up at him. “What about you?” Her gaze dropped to his trousers and the fabric straining over his thick erection. “Don’t you want anything?”

  He looked at her for what felt like forever before extending his hand to her. “Yes. But in my room. Putting you on your hands and knees here won’t be comfortable on the stone.”

  She gulped a breath. Hands and knees next? She’d never tried that yet. “Maybe we should.”

  Zale laughed softly and they made their way back across the parapet and down the circular staircase in the tower until they reached the ground floor.

  They were on the way to the King’s Chambers when one of the footmen stopped Zale and said that Mrs. Sivka needed him to help her with Prince Constantine.

  Zale’s jaw tightened, concern etched in his features. “I’ll go directly,” he told the footman, before turning to Hannah. “I’ll find you in your room.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just wait for me.”

  She watched Zale walk with the footman toward Prince Constantine’s suite, his stride long, quick. He was worried.

  He’s a good brother, she thought, an amazing man.

  In her suite, she washed her hands and was still running a brush through her hair when she heard her phone vibrate in the nightstand drawer.

  Emmeline!

  Hannah raced to retrieve her phone. “Hello?” “Hannah, it’s me.”

  Hannah glanced behind her, making sure none of the staff members were nearby able to hear. “Are you okay?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “Are you coming?”

  “I … don’t … know.”

  Stunned, Hannah pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling as if she was close to losing her mind. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I’m in Kadar.”

  “Kadar? Sheikh Makin’s country? Why?”

  “He thinks I’m you.”

  “Tell him you’re not!”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’d ruin everything!”

  Hannah darted another quick look over her shoulder and added more urgently. “But everything’s already ruined! You have no idea what’s happened—”

  “I’m sorry, I am.” Emmeline cut Hannah short, tears thickening her voice. “But everything’s out of my control.”

  “Your control. Your life. It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “But you did mean to send me here in your place and you didn’t intend to come right away.” Hannah was so angry she was practically shouting. “You used me. Manipulated me. But how do you think I feel being trapped here, pretending to—” She broke off as the floorboards creaked behind her.

  She wasn’t alone. Hannah spun around.

  Zale.

  She felt the blood drain from her face and for a moment there was just the roar in her ears and then nothing. Silence and nothing.

  She snapped the phone closed and it nearly slipped from her fingers.

  “How is our good friend Alejandro?” Zale asked, taking a step into the room and closing her bedroom door behind him.

  Hannah’s heart thudded hard and she darted a panicked glance at the now closed door. “W-w-who?”

  “Emmeline.”

  “It wasn’t what you think.”

  “Of course you’d make it a game. Nothing is ever straightforward with you.” He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge and then patted the mattress beside him. “So come, sit, we’ll try to make this fun.”

  He smiled at her but his expression was cold. Angry. “Shall we play twenty questions? I’ll ask, you answer—”

  “Zale, it wasn’t a man. It wasn’t Alejandro. It was one of my girlfriends.”

  “And you expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know what I heard. You were begging him to come get you and take you home.”

  “No! That wasn’t it. I promise. Cross my heart—”

  “Don’t.” His voice dropped, his tone pitched low and dangerous. “Don’t do that.”

  Hannah crossed the carpet, shaking from head to toe. She thrust her phone out to him. “Call. Call the last number back. See who answers. It’s not a man.”

  But he refused to take the phone and it fell between them, hitting the mattress and then sliding onto the floor next to the bed.

  She’d never seen him this angry. He seethed with fury, amber eyes glittering like cut stone. After a moment he rose from the bed, circled her where she stood.

  “Every time I get comfortable with you, you do this. Every time I commit to you, you play me for a fool.”

  “No.” She laced her fingers together, skin prickling with unease. He was dangerous like this. Unpredictable. “I would never do that to you. Never.” And then she heard herself and her vehemence and realized she was playing him for a fool. She had ever since she arrived.

  Pretending to be Emmeline.

  Pretending to be working out the differences in their relationship.

  Pretending to get to know him before they married, when in reality, she wasn’t even the one he’d ever marry …

  “You’re not a damsel in distress, Princess.” He spit the words out as if they hurt his mouth. “There’s no lock on any door. No guard keeping you here. If you want to go. Go. As for me, I have things to do and I’m not going to stand here and waste another minute with you.”

  “Zale—”

  He lifted a hand to silence her. “Enough. Have some respect. Please.” Hand still lifted, he walked out the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ZALE left his room and returned to the old castle keep, crossing through the once grand medieval hall still lined with heraldic banners and suits of armor, to the new wing on the far side, a wing which he’d had built five years ago to house his personal gymnasium and sport facility.

  The sport facility was really a world-class sport complex, containing a regulation football field on the first floor with real grass, nets and stadium lighting. The second floor was divided into various sport courts—one for tennis, basketball and handball—plus a weight room where he still trained every other day.

  A locker room adjoined the weight ro
om, outfitted with a sauna, a whirlpool and a massage table for rehabilitating injuries.

  Not that Zale got injured anymore. But it made him feel connected to the person he’d been, the one who’d lived and breathed sport above everything. The sport facility hadn’t been cheap, either. It’d cost him millions to build, but he’d used his own money and he maintained it with his own money, too. In this part of the palace he wasn’t a king but a man. A man who needed nothing but a ball, a net, an expanse of grass.

  In his locker room he stripped out of his dress shirt and trousers, changing into sweatpants, a T-shirt and his running shoes.

  Today he wouldn’t run on the treadmill. Today he ran on the track that circled his field, running fast, hard, one kilometer and then another and another but no matter how fast he ran he couldn’t escape himself.

  Couldn’t escape his thoughts.

  It was madness to have trusted her. Madness to have cared.

  They hadn’t signed the prenup and they had had sex. But she was cheating on him, still seeing Alejandro. It was within his rights to send her away. But ending it with Emmeline wouldn’t be a small thing. It would be a huge crisis, personally and politically. But once she was gone, and once the shock of the news had worn off, people would move on. He’d move on.

  But when Zale imagined her leaving, when he imagined her gone, he didn’t feel relief.

  He felt … pain.

  Loss.

  Her fault, he thought. The hollow emptiness within him, this sense of loss, was her fault. She was a witch, not a princess, and she’d cast a spell on him.

  But it was a spell he had to break. Sooner than later.

  And so he ran harder, ran faster, leaving the track to do tortuous wind sprints down the center of the field, again and again, pushing himself for an hour, running until his legs shook, and his heart pounded and he couldn’t catch his breath.

  Finally, finally his mind was calm. His thoughts were quiet. Yes, his chest still ached, but now it was due to exhaustion not emotion. And he could handle that.

  In the Queen’s Chambers, Hannah paced the sitting room for a half hour after he left her, in case he should change his mind and return. He didn’t.

  After thirty minutes she went to his rooms but he wasn’t there, either. She returned to her room, sank onto the small pink silk couch and picked up one of the French fashion magazines Lady Andrea had bought but she couldn’t read, or even look at the pictures.

  She wanted to fix things with Zale, make amends somehow, but he didn’t return to their rooms or summon her, and the afternoon slipped away and then evening came and the maids and footmen slipped in and out of rooms turning on lamps and building fires.

  Numb, Hannah watched Celine build the fire in her sitting room’s hearth with the pink marble surround. She listened to the pop and crackle as the dry kindling caught, and fed the bigger logs until flames danced and licked making the fire bright. But even with the fire’s warmth next to her, Hannah remained chilled.

  What if this was her last day here? What if Zale sent her away?

  What if he was making plans this very moment to put her on a plane?

  Her stomach heaved and acid rose up in her throat. She couldn’t leave, not like this. She had to see him. Had to make him understand. Hannah left the sofa even as the thought hit her—

  What was she to do to make him understand?

  That she’d tricked him, yes, but she’d had good intentions …?

  Or that she’d deliberately deceived him because she’d fallen in love with him at first sight?

  Hannah sank back down on the sofa cushion knowing she could never confess any of that.

  Knowing she could never make any of this okay.

  Some things were too bad, too horrible to forgive.

  When seven o’clock rolled around and Zale still hadn’t put in an appearance or sent word about dinner, Hannah ate the meal Celine brought for her on one of the silver trolley tables they sent up from the kitchen.

  At nine o’clock Celine asked Hannah if she’d like help changing into her gown and robe for bed.

  Hannah shook her head. “Not yet,” she answered huskily. “But there’s no need for you to stay. I can change later when I’m ready. I know where everything is.”

  “You’re certain, Your Highness?”

  Hannah winced at the Highness part, feeling anything but royal. “Very certain. Good night, Celine. Sleep well.”

  At ten Hannah had had enough of sitting, waiting, worrying. She had to do something. Take action of some sort. Move.

  Walk. Find Zale.

  Find Zale. Yes, that’s what she needed to do. Immediately.

  Ignoring the uniformed guards posted outside her room and throughout the palace, she went downstairs to the wing that contained his suite of offices—his library and office space, as well as adjoining rooms for secretaries and various assistants. But he wasn’t there. The rooms were dark, the doors locked.

  Where else would Zale be at ten o’clock at night?

  With his brother maybe?

  Hannah returned to the family wing but on reaching Tinny’s suite, she discovered it dark and Mrs. Daum in her nightgown and robe as it was Mrs. Sivka’s night off.

  Hannah stood on the grand staircase, confused. A footman approached her. “Is there something you’re looking for, Your Highness?” he asked.

  She struggled to hold her smile. “Yes, His Majesty. I seem to have misplaced him.”

  The footman appeared truly apologetic. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I have not seen him, but I can certainly ask and see if someone knows His Majesty’s whereabouts.”

  “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  “And will you be in your rooms, Your Highness?”

  “Yes.”

  Fifteen minutes later Krek knocked on her door, arriving with the message that His Majesty hadn’t gone out, nor was he with his brother, or in his private gym, but most definitely somewhere in the palace. Just where, no one knew.

  It wasn’t until Krek left that Hannah thought she knew where Zale would be. The parapet. Where they’d had lunch today. Hadn’t he said he liked to walk there when he had things on his mind or wanted to be alone?

  Hannah took a soft velvet blue cloak from the dressing room and left her room to head downstairs, walking quickly through the now deserted grand rooms and corridors of the palace for the old castle keep.

  The lights were dim in this part of the palace and her footsteps echoed eerily loud in the medieval hall as she searched for the right hallway that would lead to the tower stairs. But finally she found the stone arch and the circular staircase that wound to the top of the tower.