be distracted by the heat of her hand on his aching shaft. “Emmeline’s twin sister, and a Princess of Brabant.” He lowered his head, brushed his lips across hers and then kissed her again, wetting her lips with a flick of his tongue. “My Princess of Brabant.”
She gasped and shivered against him, her hands pressed to his chest. “Um, King Patek, can we lock the door?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.” He cupped her face, kissed her deeply, parting her lips to take her mouth completely. “Can’t wait to do that to your body,” he growled. “I’ve missed you. Missed everything about you.”
She kissed him back, legs wrapping around his hips, so turned on she was trembling. “Zale, I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
The corner of her mouth tilted in a wicked little smile as she lightly scratched her nails down his chest. “Prove it.” “Don’t you worry, Princess. I will.”
IT WAS late. It had been a long day, and Zale was only now heading for Tinny’s rooms to say good-night to his brother.
But reaching Tinny’s living room, Zale’s tension and exhaustion eased, his shoulders relaxing as he spotted Hannah already there, sitting on the couch with Tinny reading him his favorite bedtime story.
Zale stood in the doorway a moment, content to just look at them and listen.
Hannah, his beloved princess, pregnant with his first child. And sweet, innocent Tinny who absolutely adored Hannah with all his heart.
What could be better? What more could a man want?
What more could a king need?
And for a moment his chest squeezed so tight Zale couldn’t breathe.
To think that the randomness of life could take Stephen and his parents, but save Tinny, and then give him Hannah?
To think that an impostor princess could turn out to be the real thing?
Impossible that Hannah was Princess Jacqueline’s other daughter, Emmeline’s missing twin and the keeper of his heart.
Zale felt hot emotion sweep through him, constricting his chest.
If Hannah and Emmeline hadn’t met in Palm Beach … If Emmeline hadn’t asked Hannah to switch places …
If Hannah hadn’t come to Raguva …
If Mrs. Sivka hadn’t broken her vow …
He gave his head a faint shake, overwhelmed all over again by fate. So many things could have gone wrong. So many things could have kept him from Hannah.
But they hadn’t.
Suddenly Hannah looked up, brow furrowed and then seeing him, she smiled. “You’re just in time for the last chapter.”
Her smile made him ache and it was almost too much, almost too strong, this fierce love he felt for her.
“Good,” he said, moving into the room and sitting down on the couch next to Hannah and Tinny. “This is my favorite part.”
“Because you love happy endings,” she said, smiling at him, her love for him so transparent, warming her beautiful blue eyes and curving her generous mouth.
“I do,” he answered, taking her hand and carrying it to his mouth. “Are you tired? Is the baby kicking too much?”
She touched her round belly. “He was, but now I think he’s listening. He knows his daddy is here.”
“Shall I read the last chapter then? Would you like that, Tinny?” Zale offered.
“Yes, Zale,” Tinny said, taking the book from Hannah’s hands and pressing it into his brother’s. “Yes, read it. Read it right now.”
Hannah laughed softly as the baby inside her kicked hard just then, a vigorous one-two. “I think your future footballer agrees,” she said, running her fingers across her ribs where the kick had been.
Zale’s eyes gleamed. “He does have a good kick, doesn’t he?”
“Most definitely.” She leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder. “Now read, please. I’m anxious to get to the part where the prince marries the princess and they all live happily ever after.”
“And they did, didn’t they?” he said, opening to the first page of the last chapter.
Her voice grew husky. “Yes. Yes, Your Majesty, they did. Very happily.”
Rebecca Winters
REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include three beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wild flowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from her readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website at www.cleanromances.com.
Montreux, Switzerland—The third of June
“I CAN’T MARRY YOU, Paul. Though I think you’re a wonderful man, I’m not in love with you.”
“Since your grandmother died, you’re too sad to know your own feelings right now.”
“But I do know them. A marriage between us wouldn’t work.”
“So you’re really going on that trip?”
“Yes. I want to walk in her footsteps for a time. It’s my tribute to her.”
“You shouldn’t go there alone, Lauren. At least let me come with you to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what? No, Paul.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. This has to be good-bye.”
The Nafud Desert—The fifth of June
THEY WANDERED IN THE DESERT in a solitary way. Thirsty, their souls fainted in them.
The line from Psalms didn’t leave Lauren Viret’s mind as she drank from her water bag, surveying the indescribable vastness and loneliness of the northern Arabian desert.
Since they had left the major city of El-Joktor, bone-scorching heat had born down on their little group of twenty penetrating deeper into the desert’s heart. Forty actually if you counted the camels. In a movie, the audience would consider them secondary characters. But out here where there were no movie cameras rolling, the humped female dromedary played the star role.
Lauren was less than a granule on this endless burning waste of sand where one could be swallowed alive in an instant. Before she’d set out this morning on her forty-mile journey, her guide, Mustafa, had lectured her that her camel was more valuable than any human.
She’d read enough firsthand accounts of desert survival to believe it. Besides transportation the camels provided shelter, protection, even water and food in dire circumstances.
While she was deep in thought, Mustafa urged his beast forward to ride alongside