* *
Oh, God. Why on earth did I say that?
Jasmine was still reeling hours after they’d landed and she’d been delivered to her suite in the palace.
Despite her opulent surroundings and the rich history etched into every arched wall, mosaic-tiled floor, and ancestral painting, she couldn’t see, couldn’t think beyond the stark, soul-baring words she’d uttered moments before the plane had touched down.
How utterly pathetic she’d sounded.
The shock on Reyes’s face alone had convinced her she’d stepped way over the line. No wonder he’d beat a hasty retreat the moment they’d reached the palace.
She rose from the beautifully carved brocade love seat by the window in her vast bedroom and entered the bathroom.
The marble-lined tub had already been filled with scented water and huge fluffy towels laid within arm’s length by the palace staff assigned to cater to her needs.
She’d been lost for words when she’d walked into a closet filled with designer clothes and accessories. And even more stunned when the member of staff had told her they’d been provided for her.
Shrugging off the silk robe, she sank into the enveloping warmth. She’d been summoned to dine with Reyes and his sister this evening, no doubt to be checked out by her future sister-in-law.
Jasmine looked out of the wide tub-to-ceiling trellised bathroom window and her breath caught all over again. With nothing to mar the mountaintop view she could see the kingdom for miles.
The bustling, vibrant capital of San Domenica was spread below her. Whitewashed churches vied with modern architecture, green parks and historical buildings.
As they’d driven through it on the way to the palace she’d glimpsed the look of pride and worry in Reyes’s eyes. They’d also driven past the square and his fingers had tightened on the armrest when he’d seen a woman crying next to a broken statue.
Her insides had clenched for him. But he’d relaxed against the seat, his face averted from her as they’d climbed up the highway leading to the palace.
The moment they’d been escorted inside, he’d made his excuses and strode off.
And she’d been left grappling with her mangled feelings. Feelings she still hadn’t been able to resolve by the time she dressed in a long sweeping gown in emerald green with a coloured-stone-embroidered bodice that had made her gasp when she’d spied herself in the mirror.
Sweeping her hair up into a bun, she secured it with several hairpins and slipped her feet into black slingbacks.
Fernanda, the staff member appointed to shepherd her to the dining room, left her with a smile and walked away after delivering Jasmine to the high-ceilinged room displaying ancient Mediterranean frescos.
Jasmine was busy admiring it when she heard voices outside the dining room.
Going to the door, she followed the sound down a long hallway, hurrying closer to where the raised voices came from. Rounding the corner, she came upon Reyes and a tall, slim woman in the middle of a heated argument.
He wore a thunderous look as he glared down at the stunning woman. A stunning woman who was giving as good as she got, her voice rising higher as she gestured wildly and responded in Spanish.
Jasmine thought of retreating. But they both turned as they sensed her presence.
For a moment, Reyes appeared frozen at the sight of her. His hooded eyes raked her from head to toe. Then he exhaled, his massive chest drawing her eyes to his impressively broad shoulders. His black shirt moulded his lean torso and washboard stomach before disappearing into dark grey tailored trousers that caressed his powerful thighs. His hair looked damp from a recent shower. He slicked it back now as he spiked his fingers through it.
Jasmine forced herself not to remember how those strands felt beneath her fingers.
‘Hi,’ she ventured. The breathlessness in her voice made her cringe.
Reyes’s mouth compressed before he turned to the woman. ‘Isabella, meet Jasmine Nichols, my future wife. Jasmine, this is my sister, Princess Isabella. She’ll escort you to the terrace for drinks. I’ll join you shortly.’ Without waiting for a response, he stalked off down the opposite end of the hallway.
Isabella watched him leave, her expression hurt and angry. She looked spectacular in a cream gown laced with gold and black thread. The satin material fitted her svelte figure and complemented her golden, flawless skin.
Turning to Jasmine, she shook her head in frustration. ‘Apparently, I was wrong to call off a wedding to a man I did not love.’
Jasmine’s insides clenched. ‘Duty is very important to your brother.’ She tried a diplomatic approach.
Isabella threw up her hands in despair. ‘Well, duty doesn’t keep you warm. From the examples we’ve both had, you’d think he’d know that marriage is hard enough without going into it with a cold heart. I told him if I had to wait a thousand years for a man who makes me happy, I would.’
A spurt of laughter erupted from Jasmine’s throat. ‘Bet he didn’t take that lightly.’
Isabella smiled. ‘As you saw, storming off was his reaction.’ She released an exasperated breath, then eyed Jasmine. ‘Or maybe it was something else?’ One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose.
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Jasmine replied.
‘You’ll find out soon enough how difficult it is to keep a secret in this place. You are not the woman my brother’s press office was gearing up to announce as his bride two days ago. Which makes me wonder if whatever’s irking him has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you?’
Jasmine licked her lips, uncomfortable about having this conversation with Isabella when she was unsure what her role entailed in this marriage of convenience. She’d have to pick it up with Reyes. Once he could have a conversation with her again without that look of consternation.
‘Please, can we drop the subject?’
The other woman wrapped her hand around Jasmine’s arm. ‘Of course, I didn’t mean to upset you. Dios, I can’t seem to breathe for causing upset today.’
‘No, please. Think nothing of it.’ She flashed a smile.
Isabella’s shrewd gaze rested on her for a moment before she nodded. ‘Fine. Come, we’ll enjoy some cocktails before dinner. If Reyes gets over his tantrum, he can join us. Otherwise it’s his loss.’
Jasmine followed her down the hallway to a large, skylit room with wide doors that led onto a wide terrace. Soft lights glinted through the space dotted with large, potted ficus trees. In the centre an extensive bar had been built, manned by two servants.
One came forward with a tray holding an array of gaily coloured drinks. Isabella pointed to the iced green one.
‘Try that one. It’s made with guava and a local fruit called santosanda.’
‘It’s
