Not Fit for a King?. Jane Porter

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