Not Fit for a King - By Jane Porter Page 0,54
said soothingly, rubbing fragrant lavender oil into Hannah’s tense shoulders. “Now exhale. Slowly, slowly, Your Royal Highness. Good. Now again.”
Hannah tried to do as she was told, she did, but it was hard to relax when everything inside her was tied up in knots.
She hated Emmeline right now. Hated Emmeline for what she’d done. Hannah should have never come here. She shouldn’t have ever agreed to play acting for an afternoon much less a week.
If only she hadn’t gotten on the plane. If only she’d refused to continue the charade at that point.
But she hadn’t. She’d been too worried, afraid that the princess was facing a crisis all alone.
“Your Highness,” the masseuse said gently, but firmly, kneading Hannah’s shoulders. “Let go of everything. Just focus on your breathing. Focus on feeling good for the next half hour.”
And somehow, beneath the magic hands of the masseuse, Hannah did relax, shutting everything from her mind for the next thirty minutes, but once she was in her bathroom, showering off the oil and shampooing her hair, the anxiety returned.
So how did she fix this with Zale? There had to be something she could do … some magical fix, but standing in the shower, hot water pounding down, Hannah could think of nothing.
Hannah had always prided herself on being able to handle whatever her difficult, demanding boss, Sheikh Koury, sent her way. The Sheikh had been through a dozen secretaries before he found Hannah who could speak four languages fluently and handle the endless and challenging work he tossed her way.
No matter what he dropped in her lap, she handled it with aplomb. Arrange an environmental awareness meeting with the world’s leading oil executives? No problem.
Plan activities for the oil executives’ wives, many of whom had to be segregated from men? Hannah didn’t even blink.
Organize an international polo tournament in Dubai? Then move it to Buenos Aires? And provide transportation for all players and horses? Consider it done.
Hannah loved puzzles and thrived on good challenges, but the one thing she couldn’t do, and the one thing she was desperate to do, was protect Zale from what was to come.
The truth.
Eva, the Raguvian designer, had reworked the ball gown for Hannah, changing the design from a simple off-white column dress, to a shimmering chiffon gown with jeweled embroidered flowers unfurling across the bodice and to bloom down one hip in a profusion of purple and amethyst jewel petals that reached her feet.
She wore pale gold sling-back heels with more jewels at the toe, and her blond hair was piled high on her head and held in place with glittering citrine and amethyst hairpins. Rectangular rose-gold, diamond and amethyst earrings hung from her ears, a cuff circled her wrist, and on Zale’s arm she felt like a princess.
“You’re a goddess tonight,” Zale said as they paused inside the ballroom doors and took in the glittering winter wonderland anchored by a dozen massive ice columns. “More beautiful than any woman has a right to be.”
She flushed with pleasure, heat radiating out from the tight coil of desire in her belly to the tingle in her fingers and toes. “I don’t know what to say.”
Zale was dressed in black coat and tails, white shirt, white vest and tie and looked devastatingly attractive, especially when he smiled, and he was smiling now. “Just say thank you.”
And then they were being announced and swept into the immense white and gold palace ballroom that glittered with floor-to-ceiling ice sculptures and potted trees brought in just for the occasion. The trees’ white, frosted limbs were covered by strands of miniature white lights and the only spot of color in the glittering white room was the ladies’ elegant gowns in shades of purple, violet and lavender.
Zale and Hannah circled the room on their way to the head table, Zale’s hand resting lightly on her back. She could feel the heat from Zale’s hand and she shivered as exquisite sensation raced through her. There was something about his touch … something in the way her body responded to him that made her feel so alive.
“What do you think?” he asked as they took their places on the platform, several feet higher than the rest of the room.
“It’s absolutely magical. I feel like a princess from a fairy tale.”
He grinned. “Which one?”
“Cinderella.” She reached down to lightly touch one of the jeweled blossoms on her waist. “Eva waved her magic wand and voilà! I’m a princess at your ball.”
Uniformed footmen filled their tall, slender flutes