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forehead. And he smelled so good. So…familiar.

      Yet there was still so much about him she didn’t know. And that was okay, she realized. At first, she thought they should know one another completely before the wedding. Now she liked the idea of getting to know him gradually.

      She set her drink down and curled closer, drawing her knees up and resting them over the tops of his thighs. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, taking it all in. The way he felt, the way he smelled, the thump of his pulse against her cheek. The way his arms felt around her, the sensation that she was and would always be safe there.

      She stored every second of it in her memory, so that when he was gone, she wouldn’t miss him as much. Or, who knows, maybe it would make her miss him even more.

      After a while he gave her a little nudge. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

      “Just thinking.”

      “About what?”

      “How many times I imagined us like this. What it would feel like.”

      “How does it feel?”

      She wrapped both arms around him and squeezed, feeling sleepy and content. “Wonderful. Perfect.”

      He set his glass down beside hers. “Is that all you imagined?”

      She grinned up at him, knowing exactly what he was suggesting. “Usually we were kissing.”

      He cupped her chin and raised her face to his, brushed his lips across hers, and a purr of pleasure curled in her throat.

      He lifted his head and looked down at her. “Like that?”

      “Hmmm, just like that.”

      He lowered his head and kissed her again, deeper this time. And longer. And she could feel herself beginning to melt. But something was different this time. As much as she wanted him, wanted to be close, she didn’t feel the urgency that was usually there. That soul-deep ache that seemed to push them too far, too fast.

      Phillip must have felt the same way, because he took it slow. Kissing, touching. And she couldn’t get over how right it felt. The way they seemed to fit, to be completely in sync.

      She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after a while he whispered against her lips, “It’s late. I should go.”

      She pressed her cheek against his chest, felt his arms tighten around her. “I wish you could stay.”

      “It won’t be long before I can.”

      Reluctantly she uncurled herself from around him and climbed from his lap. He rose to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. At the door, he kissed her again, but what was meant to be a quick goodbye peck progressed to another ten minutes of kissing and touching.

      When he finally pulled away, they were both a bit breathless.

      “I really have to go,” he said. “I have a busy day tomorrow. And I’m sure you do, too.”

      He was right. She let her arms fall from around his neck and backed away from the temptation. “Is there any way you could spare a few minutes tomorrow afternoon? The decorator will be here and I could show you the plans for the suite. I want to know what you think.”

      “You’re free to do whatever you’d like.”

      She appreciated his trust in her, but what she would appreciate more was his input. “I want to be sure you like it, too.”

      He shrugged. “If it’s that important to you.”

      “It is.”

      “All right. I suppose, if the designer is adequate, it might be time that I redecorate my own suite.”

      It took a second for his words to sink in, and a few more for their meaning to register. Then it made sense. She suddenly knew exactly why he didn’t care what she did with the suite. And it had nothing to do with trusting her taste.

      It was of no consequence to him, because he wasn’t going to be living there.

      There was something wrong.

      Phillip could feel it. He could see it written clearly on Hannah’s face. Although for the life of him, he had no idea what it could be.

      He had done everything right tonight. And, with the exception of the stunt Sophie pulled at dinner, it hadn’t been nearly as trying as he’d anticipated. In fact, being with Hannah wasn’t a hardship at all. He enjoyed her company.

      Yet, as hard as he’d tried, she was still unhappy.

      “What did I do?” he asked.

      She blinked rapidly, as though surprised by his question. “Wh-what do you mean?”

      Did she honestly think him so daft or self-centered that he wouldn’t notice when she was upset? “You have that look,” he said. “And I have the distinct impression I did or said something wrong.”

      She shook her head, too emphatically to be believable, and plastered a smile on her face. “No. Of course not.”

      He sighed. “Hannah, you’re a terrible liar.”

      She bit her lip and lowered her eyes.

      She wasn’t going to make this easy. She was going to make him drag it out of her. As long as he lived, he would never understand the inner workings of the female mind.

      Fine then, if that was what she wanted. “Just tell me why you’re upset.”

      “It’s really late, and I’m exhausted,” she said, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

      He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

      She glanced up at him, saw that he was serious. That he really wasn’t going anywhere. “It’s stupid.”

      “Go on.”

      “I thought… I just assumed…”

      He waited patiently for her to continue.

      She looked down at her hands, clenched in front of her, and said softly, “I thought that, after the wedding, we would be sharing a suite.”

      He wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that she would want to share a suite, or that it upset her that they wouldn’t. Honestly, it had never crossed his mind. His parents had been married, yet they never shared living quarters. Maybe in her world, that was what married couples did.

      But this was not going to be a typical marriage. She knew that going in and he wasn’t about to change his ways. “Hannah—”

      “It’s okay. Really.”

      Obviously it was not okay. He could see that she was trying to be tough, but her voice had that wobbly sound she got just before she cried. He was sorry she was hurt, but this was not negotiable. “This is the way things are. My parents conducted their marriage the same way and I intend to follow those rules.”

      “I understand,” she said. But he could see that she didn’t. She was hurt and confused.

      “I thought you knew coming into this that it was an arrangement. I’m sorry if this upsets you or you were misled about my intentions.” Hadn’t they determined, on more than one occasion, that he was the king, and he made the rules?

      But that had been in jest. There was nothing funny about this.

      She sniffled softly and swiped at her cheek. “I’m well aware of our arrangements. Just forget I said anything.”

      It pained him to see her so distraught, and trying so hard to hide it. He wanted to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but the words escaped him. How did she manage, without even trying, to make him feel so helpless?

      So…inadequate?

      She took a deep breath and

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