LITMIR.BIZ

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      But her teeth were chattering and she was still too pale.

      Zale slipped his coat off and draped it around her shoulders before moving to stand in front of the fireplace. He stared into the cold hearth. “You didn’t recognize them,” he said bluntly. “You still don’t know who they are.”

      She lifted her head, looked at him then, her blue eyes shadowed. “No. I don’t.”

      “And you shook Stavros’s hand. He’s a childhood friend.”

      “I … embarrassed you.”

      “No. That’s not the issue. I just don’t understand. How can you not know them?”

      She didn’t answer, her head hung in shame.

      But he didn’t want shame. Nor did he want an apology. He wanted answers. “Are you on something? Taking something? Pills … uppers, downers, pain medicine?”

      “No.”

      “Diet pills, or an appetite suppressant?”

      “No.”

      “Snorting anything? Smoking anything?” Her head jerked up and she gave him a horrified look. “No!” “Then what?” His voice throbbed with emotion. “What the hell happened in there?”

      “I’m tired, Zale. Confused. I haven’t been sleeping much lately—”

      “That doesn’t hold up. You always travel. You are a globetrotting royal, never long in the same place.”

      “But there’s been so much stress. We’ve had problems and the wedding is just days from now—”

      “I don’t buy it. Not from you. You are Emmeline d’Arcy. You thrive on stress. So tell me what happened in there. Tell me why you’re acting like this.”

      “I’m telling you but you’re not listening.”

      “No. What you’re telling me are lies. I can see it in your face. You haven’t told me the truth yet. And I want the truth.”

      Hand trembling, she reached for the brandy, took another sip and then set the glass back down. “Maybe you should sit.”

      His temper flared. “I prefer standing.”

      She nodded once, a small nod that said nothing and yet everything. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

      “Please,” he groaned impatiently. “Spare me the theatrics.”

      Her chin lifted and she looked up at him, expression blank. For a long moment she said nothing and then she shrugged. “I’m not Emmeline.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      ZALE gritted his teeth. Not Emmeline? It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous.

      “This isn’t a good time for drama,” he said, striving to stay pleasant, and trying not to think of the three hundred and fifty guests in the ballroom awaiting their return. “We’re throwing a party. A huge fundraiser. Until now it’s been quite a success. Let’s sort this out so we can return—”

      “I’m not Emmeline,” she repeated flatly, no emotion anywhere in her voice, her expression equally vacant. “I’m Hannah. Hannah Smith.”

      Again he felt that need to laugh but then he saw her face and finally understood she wasn’t joking. She was serious.

      Zale abruptly sat down. “What do you mean you’re not Emmeline?”

      “I’ve just been pretending,” she whispered, hands clenched into a fist in her lap. “I was doing Emmeline a favor. I was only supposed to be her for a few hours while she went to see friends, but she never came back, and I got onto the plane and then I was here.”

      He stared at her in shock.

      She’d lost her mind. She needed help. “I’ll get you a doctor,” he said gently. “We’ll get you care—”

      “I’m not sick,” she interrupted, her voice low but steady. “Just very foolish. Inexcusably foolish. And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but it’s time you knew the truth.”

      She looked up at him, eyes bright, cheeks finally taking on some color. “I’m an American. I work in Dallas as a secretary for an Arab sheikh named Makin Al-Koury—”

      “I know Sheikh Al-Koury. He just hosted the Palm Beach Polo Tournament.”

      “I organized the event.” She drew a quick breath. “And that’s where I met Her Highness, Princess Emmeline d’Arcy. We were mistaken for each other so often that she requested a meeting with me. The princess needed to take care of something and asked for my help—”

      “To impersonate her?”

      She nodded. “Her Highness said she would never be able to leave without a disguise, and so she left the hotel as me.” “Where was she going?”

      “I don’t know. She never told me. She just said she needed to take care of something and she’d be back in a few hours.” Hannah laced and unlaced her fingers. “But she never returned that day. Or the next. So here I am.”

      They never returned to the ballroom. The Amethyst & Ice Ball finished without them.

      Instead Zale had Emmeline escorted back to the Queen’s Chambers, his tuxedo jacket still draped across her shoulders. He headed to the parapet where he walked the tower for half an hour.

      He didn’t believe her. Couldn’t.

      Emmeline wasn’t Emmeline but an American secretary named Hannah Smith? Impossible.

      There weren’t two Emmelines in the world, and Emmeline d’Arcy was such a rare beauty, so distinctive that there couldn’t be another woman who looked like her.

      Or moved like her.

      Or smiled like her.

      Which meant that Emmeline wasn’t well, and he needed to get her away from Raguva, away from the pressures of the palace, far from the wedding preparations and all the attention that came with both.

      She needed rest and medical care and he’d make sure she got the help she needed.

      Back downstairs he gave instructions for his jet to be prepared for an early morning departure. He sent for Krek and told his butler that he needed a suitcase packed. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone … one week, two. See to it that Her Highness’s maid packs for her, too.”

      Krek stood there a moment looking confused. “Pack another suitcase, Your Majesty?”

      “No, Krek. She just needs one.”

      “But Her Highness went downstairs with a small suitcase a little while ago. Her maid found this on the floor in the living room. She must have dropped it on the way out.” The butler reached into the pocket of his black pin-striped trousers and withdrew Emmeline’s phone. “Perhaps you could give it to her when you see her?”

      Zale took the phone, turning it over in his hand. The infamous phone. The source of so much tension.

      Silent, gut hard, chest tight, Zale flipped the phone open to scroll through her in-box. Text from Emmeline.

      Text from Emmeline.

      Text from Emmeline.

      His chest squeezed tighter. He drew a rough, unsteady breath as Krek quietly left. For a moment Zale wanted to hurl the phone across the room but instead he sat down in the nearest chair to read the messages. He went back to the very beginning and read them all, incoming as well as outgoing since he had time, because Emmeline, or Hannah, or whoever she said she was, wouldn’t be going anywhere. The palace gates were always locked, and no one came or went without

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