Not Fit for a King?

by Jane Porter

  She nodded, tucked her hair back behind her ears and opened the door wider. “Come in.” While his security detail waited in the hall, Hannah turned on the lights and opened her blinds and smoothed the covers of her rumpled bed.

  He glanced around the small, Spartan room with the bouquet of violets in a little glass vase next to the bed. “Why are you still here?”

  She winced at his sharp tone. “Because I can’t afford to leave.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “And what would you have done? Laughed in my face? Or thrown me in prison?”

  He shrugged. “I was angry. I still am.”

  She sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed and tilted her chin up at him. “My father has sent me a credit card and my passport by express mail. It should arrive this afternoon. I’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Not if I arrest you.”

  “Is that why you brought so many of your palace guard? Expecting me to put up quite a fight, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t sound remorseful at all.”

  “What can I say that I haven’t already said? I’ve apologized again and again, and I meant every word—”

  “So say it again.”

  A tiny frisson of sensation raced down her back. Something in his voice hinted at danger. Or perhaps it was the expression in his eyes. But suddenly the room felt sexually charged. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it? That’s your most sincere, heartfelt apology?”

  “I gave you my sincere, heartfelt apology two nights ago and you threw it back in my face.”

  “So? I want to hear it again. I want to feel your sincerity. I want you to prove your sincerity.”

  “How?”

  His hot amber gaze raked her from head to toe. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

  A shiver raced through her—nerves, anger, as well as anticipation. “You can’t kick me out of your palace and then expect me to invite you into my bed.” “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to sleep with you,” she retorted fiercely.

  “Good, because I can assure you we won’t be sleeping.” “It’s not going to happen. You were horrible. Mean. Cruel.” “Yes, yes, I was all of the above. So how will you pleasure me?”

  “I won’t.”

  “You will.” He closed the distance between them, stopping in front of the bed, his thighs inches from her knees. He was standing so close that Hannah’s skin prickled and the fine hair at her nape lifted. Unfortunately there was nowhere to run. Not on the third floor with four security guards outside the door.

  “And why would I?” she whispered, licking her dry lips.

  “Because I remember what you said, the night of the ball. You said you fell hard for me. You fell in love at first sight. Or did you just make that up along with everything else?”

  She stared up into his eyes, feeling his tension. He was hanging on to control by a thread, barely mastering his emotions. “No,” she whispered. “I did fall for you, right from the beginning. I knew it was wrong to continue to pretend to be Emmeline but I loved being with you … near you … loved everything about you.”

  “You loved being with me.”

  She nodded. “More than I’ve ever enjoyed being with anyone.”

  He reached down, slipped a hand into her thick hair, his fingers tangling the long golden strands. “Just as I’ve never enjoyed anyone as much as I enjoyed being with you.”

  The husky note in his voice and the heat in his eyes made her pulse leap and her body warm. Her skin tingled and her nerves fizzed and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked, allowing the long strands of her hair to slip through his fingers.

  “You’re not angry with me?”

  His hand moved to her neck, and down, caressing the base of her throat to the pulse that beat so erratically there. “I am, but that doesn’t seem to change what I feel for you.”

  She shivered at his touch. Her mouth had gone dry. “And what do you feel for me?”

  Emotion burned in his eyes, making the rich amber irises glow. “Love.”

  Her heart stuttered and stopped. Air bottled in her lungs, she looked up at him in wonder. “You … love … me?”

  He dropped his head, his lips brushing hers. “Fool that I am … yes.”

  She closed her eyes, heart racing. “Not a fool, Zale, because I love you so very, very much.” “Say it again.”

  She opened her eyes, looked up at him, seeing the hunger and hope in his eyes. “I love you, Zale. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ZALE lay in bed with Hannah in his arms, blinds still open so they could watch the sun set. Moments ago the sky had been a spectacular red and orange but the fiery colors were fading, leaving long lavender shadows to stretch across the plaza. The elegant street lamps at the train station were coming on, shining soft yellow pools of light onto the cobbled street.

  They’d been in bed for hours. Had made loved for hours. Their lovemaking warm and tender and bittersweet.

  Zale had known since birth he’d have to marry a blue blood, a true princess. He’d known since he was fifteen that princess would be Emmeline.

  But in the blink of an eye it had all changed.

  He wouldn’t be marrying Emmeline.

  The woman he loved was definitely not royal.

  Duty required that he walk away from Hannah. Common sense suggested the same, and yet somehow she felt as essential to his life as Tinny. And he’d never walk away from Tinny.

  But who would assume the throne if he chose Hannah? Who knew this country well enough to lead?

  There were cousins, of course, but none of them even lived in Raguva anymore, choosing instead to make their home in far flung places like Sydney and Paris, London, San Francisco and Buenos Aires. Places that were urban, sophisticated, exciting.

  On the other hand, he hadn’t been living in Raguva when his parents died. He’d been in Madrid, but he had returned, and learned what he needed to know to get the job done and he’d served Raguva well.

  Others could do what he had done. His oldest cousin, Emmanuel, was first in line, and a compassionate, educated man. He’d be a quick study but his health was poor. So poor in fact that he and his wife hadn’t started a family yet due to Emmanuel’s weak heart, which meant succession would once again be an issue.

  Emmanuel’s younger brother, Nicolas, was next in line and Nicolas was charismatic but a notorious spendthrift. Despite a sizable allowance, he was always in debt and looking for a quick bailout from one family member or another.

  No, Nicolas was not an option. He’d ruin Raguva within a year or two.

  So who then would be Raguva’s king should Zale step down? Who would protect Raguva? Who could put Raguva first?

  Hannah reached out, placing her hand on his chest. “Stop,” she murmured. “There’s nothing to do, nothing to decide. We both know how this plays out. I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “No.”

  Her hand caressed the smooth plane of muscle. “I don’t want to go, but I can’t give you heirs, and you need heirs. Not just an heir and a spare, but a whole brood.”

  “I won’t lose you.”

  “It will be better once I go. Better to make a quick, clean break. We both know the longer I stay the worse it’ll be.”

  “I’ve lost so much in my life, Hannah. How can I be expected to give you up, too?”

  She was silent a long moment. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “But it’s the only real option. You can’t forsake your country, and you need to be here for Tinny.”

  “Tinny can go wherever we go.”

  “But the palace is the only home Tinny has ever known. You can’t take him from his home. Nor can you walk away from your responsibilities here. You are the king. This is your country. This is your destiny.”

  He cupped her face in his hands, his expression fierce, his amber eyes burning. “You are
my destiny. I am sure of it. More sure of it than I’ve ever been of anything.”

  She kissed him, once and again. “I love you, Zale, but you’re wrong. I can’t be your destiny, not when Raguva needs you.”

  “It’s so easy for you to go?”

  “No! It’s not easy, but if you relinquished your throne for me, you’d come to resent me, and I’d always feel guilty.” “There has to be another way.”

  Hannah curled closer to him, her cheek pressed to his chest so she could listen to the strong, steady beat. The even steady beat soothed her, reassured her. He was a good man and a true king. “But there isn’t, darling. Is there?”

  So it was decided. She’d be leaving in the morning. Zale would take her to the airport, and put her on his plane for Dallas.

  Decision made, Zale called the palace requesting Chef to send dinner over, and they ate in her room, and drank a bottle of red wine and talked for hours about everything but Hannah’s departure in the morning.

  At midnight they made love again and talked some more, and then somehow it was dawn, and the sun was rising from behind the mountains, turning the sky pale yellow.

  Hannah lay in Zale’s arms watching the sky gradually lighten.

  She felt Zale’s hand in her hair, his fingers threading through the long strands. He hadn’t spoken in hours but she could feel the emotion inside of him.

  “I know I’m not in a position to be asking for favors,” she said softly, breaking the silence, “but I’d like to ask for one anyway. Can I see Tinny one more time before I go?”

  Zale didn’t answer.

  “Just a brief visit,” she added. “I’ll keep it light. Won’t get emotional. Won’t make a big deal about saying goodbye.”

  “I don’t know, Hannah. Tinny already thinks you’re going to be his sister and he won’t understand why you’re not there anymore.”

  “But won’t he already be confused as to why I’m not there?” She turned in his arms to better see his face. “I can tell Tinny I have to go to Texas to see some of my family, and I’ll tell him about Texas and ranches and cowboys.” Her eyes searched Zale’s. “Please, Zale. It would help me to leave, help me know I haven’t just walked away from Tinny as if he didn’t matter.”

  Zale’s jaw flexed, his expression taut. “Fine. I’ll call Mrs. Sivka and let her know we’re taking morning tea with Tinny.”

  “Thank you.”

  Three hours later they were sitting down in Tinny’s suite at a small table in the living room for morning tea. The table was covered with a cheerful yellow check cloth and a bowl of daisies sat in the middle. Teacups and plates were at each of the three places and Tinny rocked excitedly back and forth in his chair, delighted that he was entertaining.

  Mrs. Sivka poured the tea for them, and presented Tinny with his hot chocolate as Hannah entertained Prince Tinny with stories as she’d promised, telling him about Texas and all the animals on their ranch. He liked that they had horses and cows and chickens. He was really excited she’d had a goat.

  Hannah loved Tinny’s laughter and the way he clapped his hands with excitement. But all too soon teatime was over and they were having to say their goodbyes.

  Tinny gave her a big hug and kiss. Hannah hugged him back. And then she was holding Mrs. Sivka’s plump, cool hands in her own.

  Mrs. Sivka’s blue eyes watered, she squeezed Hannah’s hands tightly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

  Hannah gulped a breath, fighting tears of her own. “Oh, Mrs. Sivka, you can’t call me that anymore. I’m just plain Hannah Smith.”

  “Never plain.” Mrs. Sivka’s hands squeezed hers. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will,” Hannah assured her. “And be happy.”

  Hannah’s smile faltered. “I’ll try.”

  Then Zale’s hand was at her elbow and he was ushering her out the door and down the grand staircase to the waiting limousine. The drive to the royal airport was a quiet one and it was even more strained as he escorted her onto his private plane.

  Zale could hardly look at Hannah as she sat down in the jet’s leather armchair, his handsome features hard, expression savage. “And I’m just supposed to leave you like this?” he demanded, voice harsh.

  She’d made up her mind in the limousine she wouldn’t cry as they parted, had told herself she’d keep it together for both their sake, and she was determined to keep her vow. “Yes.”

  His jaw clamped tight. His cheekbones jutted. “And what am I supposed to say now?”

  A lump filled her throat, and a terrible tenderness ached in her chest. Her eyes drank him in, trying to remember every feature, every expression. How she loved this man. How she’d miss him.

  Her nails dug into her palms. Her eyes were scalding hot. “You say goodbye.” “No.”

  She would not cry. Not cry. Not, would not. Rising, she caught his handsome face in her hands, looked into his eyes then kissed him gently, tenderly. “Goodbye, Zale. It’s time to let me go.”

  Zale was in hell. A hell unlike any other hell he’d ever known, and he’d known hell before. He’d suffered terribly when Stephen was fighting leukemia. He’d raged when his brother later died. He’d mourned his parents after their plane crashed and cried in private for Tinny who missed his mother every night, not understanding why she wouldn’t come home. But none of that sorrow, none of that loss, was like the pain he felt now because Hannah had given him something no one else had—peace. With Hannah he felt complete. Strong. Whole.

  He hadn’t realized until she’d arrived in Raguva how empty he’d been, how hollow he’d felt.

  Yes, he’d known duty and he’d fulfilled his responsibilities but he’d been like a man sleepwalking. He’d been numb, just going through the motions. And then she arrived and brought him to life.

  And now she was gone. His woman. And she’d taken his heart.

  For two endless weeks Zale barely spoke, moving silently from bedchamber to office, to parapet and back again.

  He ate little. Slept less. He wouldn’t even allow Krek to attend to him. When he wasn’t working he ran. He ran early in the morning, in the middle of the day and late into the night. And when he couldn’t run anymore, he stretched out on his bed and prayed.

  He prayed as he hadn’t prayed in years. Not since Stephen was ill and Zale wanted him cured.

  Zale’s prayers hadn’t been heard then but he prayed anyway now.

  He loved her. He needed her. Fiery, passionate, fierce, funny Hannah.

  She was flawed and stubborn, impetuous and emotional and he’d never loved anyone more.

  His eyes stung and he rubbed at them. He hadn’t cried since he’d had to comfort Tinny after their parents funeral, and he wouldn’t cry now, but his heart was breaking and there was nothing he could do about it. Life was life and it’d dealt him a bitter hand.

  It had been nearly a month since Hannah had gone and Zale had run himself to the point of exhaustion. But the exhaustion failed to dull the pain. His heart hurt—burned—constantly and he couldn’t understand how that part of him could hurt so much when the rest of him felt dead.