by Jane Porter
A guard was at the top of the stairs in front of the door, but he bowed and immediately opened it for her.
Hannah sucked in a quick breath at the chill in the air as she stepped into the night. It was a clear night and the lights of the city below played off the bright stars overhead.
She drew her dark blue velvet cloak closer and set off, walking along the high thick wall in search of Zale, imagining all the people who must have walked the same path in the eight hundred years since the castle was built.
She imagined the worries people must have had, the hopes and dreams, as well as the pain. In eight hundred years, politics, fashion and technology had changed, but the human heart hadn’t.
“What are you doing?”
It was Zale’s voice, coming from the dark and she jumped and turned, peering uneasily into the night. “Where are you?”
He moved away from the shadowed wall and into the open. Moonlight silhouetted his tall frame and lit his profile. “Here.”
She couldn’t read his expression but his voice was hard, his tone impatient. For a moment her courage wavered and then she gathered her strength and pushed on. “I am so sorry you had to hear any of that earlier, but it isn’t what you think. It wasn’t Alejandro. I haven’t spoken to him since Palm Beach and even then, there was nothing.” The words tumbled from her, one after the other, hoping somehow to get through to him.
He wasn’t listening, though. “I don’t care,” he said brusquely.
“But I do, which is why I had to find you.” She took a deep breath, nervously crushing the soft velvet fabric between her fingers. “I know I haven’t been easy. I know I’m not the woman you wanted. And I wish I had been. I wish I could be the right woman, the one that could make everything perfect for you—”
“I don’t need perfect,” he interrupted roughly. “But I also won’t tolerate dishonesty or deceit.”
“I’m sorry. I am. But you must know that since I arrived I’ve only wanted one thing, and that is you.”
He made a sound of disgust.
She moved toward him. “I mean it, Zale. There is no one else for me. I need you to believe me.” “Emmeline,” he said warningly.
She ignored the threat in his voice. “I hate it that you’re angry. Please forgive me—” “Em—”
She cut off his protest by rising on tiptoe to kiss him. His lips were cold, rigid beneath hers but she couldn’t give up, couldn’t not try. And so she kissed him slowly, sweetly, reaching up to clasp his face between her hands. She could feel the rasp of his beard against her palms and the gradual warming of his mouth beneath hers.
And then he was kissing her back, hard, almost aggressively. She welcomed the punishing pressure of his mouth on hers, and in an instant the kiss exploded into something hot and hungry and fierce. Zale dragged a hand into her hair and knotted the silken strands around his fingers, drawing her head back to give him better access to her mouth. He parted her lips, his tongue plundering the soft recesses of her mouth.
He kissed her until her head spun and little stars danced before her eyes, kissing her senseless, kissing her until he was all and everything.
He pushed her back, pressing her against the cold stone wall, as his hands took hers, trapping them above her head, holding her immobile. “This isn’t working,” he said, leaning into her, his voice a rasp in her ear. “We don’t work.”
She could feel the warmth of his fingers wrapped around her slender wrists and the pressure of his hips grinding against hers. His hard, broad chest crushed her breasts and his knee pressed between her thighs, rubbing against her most sensitive place, and she felt absolutely no fear. Just pleasure. And desire.
She needed him. Wanted him. Wanted him even when he was savage and furious and intent on punishing her because he’d never hurt her. He’d always protect her. Even if it was from himself.
“But we do work,” she answered. “At least this part does … when we’re together like this.”
“But sex, even great sex, doesn’t make a marriage work. There has to be more. I want more.” His voice was hard, sharp, and yet his head dipped and he kissed the corner of her mouth and then her soft lower lip.
“But we could have more,” she protested, tipping her head back, eyes closing, as his lips traveled down the side of her neck setting her skin and body on fire.
“Yes, more drama,” he answered, lips at the base of her throat, breath warm on the small hollow there. “More lies. But I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“You promised me four days, Zale. We still have two days. Give me those days—”
“No.”
“Please.” “Absolutely not.”
“But isn’t the Amethyst & Ice Ball tomorrow night? I know it’s a huge fundraiser of the year for your personal charity. Won’t it seem strange to not have me there?”
“It’d be worse trying to get through the evening acting like I like you.”
Hannah flinched.
He released her and moved back a step, setting her free. “That was harsh, and I hate being cruel, but, Emmeline, we both know that you are not right for me, or good for me.”
She realized then she was fighting a losing battle. Zale was finished with her. He did intend to send her away. And maybe this was the right thing to happen. Maybe this was the way it was to end.
She could leave in the morning and Zale would never know the truth … he’d never know that it wasn’t Emmeline who was here, but Hannah. He’d never have to know he’d been deceived.
He turned his back on her, moving to the stone balustrade to look out over the city that glimmered with light. “I’m tired,” he said after a moment. “Tired of talking. Tired of arguing. Tired of trying to make this work.”
She could feel his exhaustion, too. It was in his voice, the slump of his shoulders, the bite of his words. “I understand.”
“I will phone your father in the morning and tell him we’ve realized it won’t work. I’ll tell him it was a mutual decision and that our differences were just too great to overcome.”
“Okay.”
He looked at her from over his shoulder. “It’s better this way, doing it now, instead of waiting until the last minute to cancel the wedding.”
“I agree.”
He dropped his head, closed his eyes, fingers digging into the stone wall. “So why does it feel like hell?”
A lump filled her throat and her eyes burned. “Because despite our differences, we did have feelings for each other.”
He drew a slow, heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”
She went to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his back. “It’s my fault. It’s you that needs to forgive me.”
He covered her hands with one of his. “It’s late,” he said roughly. “We should go to bed. The morning will be here soon enough.”
“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“That’s just asking for trouble.”
She kissed his back. Zale was warm and felt so good. But then everything about him was strong. Solid. Like the tough Texas men she’d known growing up, men with integrity, men who understood honor. “I won’t cause trouble,” she whispered.
“I just want to be near you. Just want to sleep with you one last time.”
“I won’t change my mind, Emmeline. You’ll still leave in the morning.” “I will.”
He was silent so long she was sure he was going to refuse her, but then he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her palm. “Then we’ll spend our last night together and say our goodbyes in the morning.”
They made love in his big bed with the brocade fabric panels down creating a cocoon for just the two of them. It was as if the rest of the world had fallen away and they were the only two who existed.
In the darkness Zale loved her slowly, holding back his own orgasm until he’d brought her to a climax, once and then again. Tonight there was a sweetness in their lovemaking, a poignancy in every kiss and caress. Closing her eyes, Hannah savored his ha
rd body stretched over hers, his skin so warm and delicious to touch.
When she came a second time, her heart seemed to shatter along with her body and it was all she could do to hold back the tears, and keep him from feeling her pain. The pain was considerable.
She loved him, loved him, loved him and he’d never know it.
Tears burned beneath her lids and she shuddered in his arms, her body rippling with aftershocks even as her heart exploded with fresh pain.
Forgive me, Zale, she whispered silently, kissing his chest, just above where his heart would be.
Forgive me for not being who you needed me to be.
Zale couldn’t sleep even though his body was spent. His mind wouldn’t turn off. His thoughts raced. His chest ached.
Zale had always needed order. He did not do well with uncertainty. For him, ambivalence was akin to chaos. And chaos was a synonym for loss.
Loss of peace. Loss of focus. Loss of control.
And Zale needed control. He needed to be in control. Always. And the few times he wasn’t in control terrible things happened, things with a tragic outcome.
Stephen’s leukemia.
His parents’ crash.
Tinny’s seizures.
No, control was everything. Which is why he’d trained so hard in his sport. He knew that if he worked hard, relentlessly hard, he would be successful. He knew he had talent, but it was his commitment that drove him to the top. And it hadn’t been by chance. His success was the direct result of drive, discipline and sacrifice.
He had put in the work and was rewarded.
He’d made the necessary sacrifices and earned peace of mind.
It was basic. Straightforward. Black and white.
But with Emmeline it was different. With Emmeline his emotions were chaotic. Primitive.
He felt wild around her. Fierce. As if he was barely clinging to control. Lately he wanted to grab her by the hair and haul her caveman-style to his lair and keep her there just for him. Even now he longed to lock her up, secure her, take away all the uncertainty.
Maybe then he’d be comfortable.
Maybe.
Hannah suddenly sighed, and murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep, pressed herself closer to his side, snuggling against the warmth of his chest as if that was the only place to be.
And just like that, he felt a hot, wrenching pain. How could he love her? How could he—even now—want to hold her?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT TOOK Hannah just a moment after waking to realize she was alone. Stretching out a hand to the space near her the sheets were cool.
Zale had been gone for a while.
The realization sent her heart tumbling and she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. It was morning. Zale was gone. And she’d be leaving here now.
Sometime in the next half hour or hour, she’d pack her things and say her goodbyes.
The idea of saying goodbye to Zale, though, made her heartsick.
She loved him but would leave him.
How was this right? How was it fair?
And how would Zale say goodbye to her? Would he come to her room and say goodbye there? Or would he meet her at the door? Or would he refuse to see her, and say nothing at all?
Hannah’s heart contracted, her chest aching with the pressure and pain. But you can’t cry, she told herself. You must keep it together for Zale’s sake. You must stay calm until you ‘re gone.
And she would stay calm. She’d focus on the future, on returning to her life, her own life, the life of an ordinary twenty-five-year-old woman working to pay her bills, make her car payment and cover her rent.
She once liked being ordinary, and she’d always loved her independence and autonomy. She’d enjoyed working and then coming home at night to her apartment, and curling up on the sofa and watching her favorite shows and reading her favorite books.
She could do this, she repeated, throwing back the covers to face her day.
Hannah had barely finished her shower in her bathroom in the Queen’s Chambers when Lady Andrea came knocking on the door to discuss Hannah’s day with her.
“It’s going to be a busy day with the ball tonight,” Lady Andrea said, consulting her calendar with the scrawl of events and notes. “You’ll join His Majesty for morning coffee in his office, and then directly after you’ll have a fitting with Monsieur Pierre who has flown in this morning with your gown for tonight’s Amethyst & Ice Ball.”
So that’s how this would play out, Hannah thought, unable to speak. He was summoning her to his office where he’d say a few brief words and then have her shown to the door. How perfectly professional. How wonderfully regal. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll dress quickly.”
“I’m not supposed to say anything,” Lady Andrea said, dropping her voice, “but I’ve seen the ballroom. The decorations are breathtaking. The entire room has been transformed into a winter wonderland with floor-to-ceiling ice sculptures.”
Hannah didn’t care about the ball. She wouldn’t be there. But she did care about Zale. She cared very much about saying goodbye, and handling herself right. She had to keep it together. Had to be as calm and controlled in Zale’s study as possible.
Twenty minutes later, Hannah found herself seated in Zale’s personal study, a room lined with floor-to-ceiling books that made her think of a library, sipping a cup of coffee in a chair across from Zale’s desk, wishing he’d speak.
He’d barely looked at her since she arrived a few minutes ago. Nor had he touched his coffee. Instead he stared at a spot on his desk, fingers drumming on the rich polished wood.
“Did you sleep well?” he finally spoke, breaking the unbearable silence.
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“Yesterday I was very upset. I overheard you on the phone and felt betrayed—”
“It’s okay, Zale. I understand. I’m not going to make a scene—”
“I owe you an apology,” he interrupted tersely. “I had it all wrong. You were telling me the truth. You weren’t speaking to Alejandro.”
She felt a shiver of alarm. “How do you know?”
“He was badly injured in a polo accident yesterday in Buenos Aires. He was in surgery for hours, and he remains unconscious in intensive care.” He finally looked at her, his expression blank, his jaw hard. “I imagine you already knew that—”
“I didn’t.”
He looked away, swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Emmeline. I know you have … strong … feelings for him.”
She stared at her hands, fingers interlocked. “I’m sorry he was hurt, but I’m not in love with him.”
“No?”
She shook her head and lifted it to meet his gaze. “How could I, when I care so much about you?”
For a long moment he searched her eyes before taking a deep breath. “You still do? Even though last night I was determined to throw you out?”
Her lips curved into a tremulous smile. “Yes.”
He looked pale and tense and unhappy. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”