one of the staff leaned over to take her plate, Hannah startled and bumped Zale.
He glanced at her with a half smile, and that barely there smile captivated her as much as his whiskey-colored gaze.
This man would be a force to reckon with—so alive, so vital—and she envied Emmeline, she did.
Imagine being loved by a man like King Patek. And that was the appeal, wasn’t it? Zale wasn’t a boy. He was a man. And unlike Brad, her college love, Zale was mature, successful, experienced. He was a thirty-five-year-old man in his prime.
To be loved by a man who knew what he wanted.
To be loved by a man who knew he wanted her.
Her chest squeezed hard, tight and she dragged a hand to her lap, fingertips trailing across the exquisite beading of her gown as she tried to think of something else. Something besides Zale and what was quickly becoming an impossible infatuation.
Zale’s gaze met hers and held. The air bottled in her lungs. Her heart thudded in her ears.
“Not every dinner will be as long as this,” he said to her in English, his voice pitched low. They’d been switching back and forth between French and English all night for the benefit of their guests but whenever he spoke to Hannah it was in English. “This is unusually drawn out.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, careful to speak without a hint of her Texas twang. “It’s a beautiful room and I have excellent company.”
“You’ve become so very charming.” “Haven’t I always been?”
“No.” His lips curved in a self-mocking smile. “You didn’t enjoy my company a year ago. It was our engagement party and yet you avoided me all night.” His smile didn’t touch his eyes. “Your father said you were shy. I knew better.”
This was a strange conversation to have here, now, with eighty people around them. “And what did you know?”
He looked at her intently, his narrowed gaze traveling slowly over her face until it rested on her mouth. “I knew you were in love with another man and marrying me out of duty.”
Definitely not a conversation to be having at a formal dinner party. Nervous, Hannah rubbed her fingers against the delicate beading on her skirt. “Perhaps we should discuss this later …?”
“Why?”
“Aren’t you afraid someone will overhear us?” His gaze pierced her. “I’m more afraid of not getting straight answers.”
She shrugged. “Then ask your questions. This is your home. Your party. Your guests.”
“And you’re my fiancée.”
Her chin lifted a fraction. “Yes, I am.”
He studied her for an endless moment. “Who are you, Emmeline?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re so different now. Makes me wonder if you’re even the same woman.”
“What a strange thing to say.”
“But you are different. You look me in the eye now. You have opinions. Attitude. I almost think I could get an honest answer out of you now.”
“Try me.”
His eyes narrowed, strong jaw growing thicker. “That’s exactly what I mean. You would have never spoken to me like this a year ago.”
“We’re to be married in ten days. Shouldn’t I be forthright?”
“Yes.” He hesitated a moment, still studying her. “Romantic love is important to you, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Isn’t it important to you?”
“There are other things more important to me. Family. Loyalty. Integrity.” He looked into her eyes then, as if daring her to disagree. “Fidelity.”
Her brows pulled. “But doesn’t romantic love incorporate all of the above? How can one truly love another and not give all of one’s heart, mind, body and soul?”
“If you loved a man, you’d never betray him?”
“Never.”
“So you don’t condone affairs … no matter how discreet?” “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t hope to take a lover later, after we’re married and you’ve fulfilled your duty?”
Hannah was appalled by his questions. “Is that the sort of woman you think I am?”
“I think you’re a woman who has been pressured into a marriage she doesn’t want.”
Her jaw dropped slightly, and she stared at him unable to think of a single response.
Zale leaned closer, his deep voice dropping even lower, his amber gaze intense. “I think you want to please others, even if it comes at a terrible price.”
“Because I’ve agreed to an arranged marriage?”
“Because you’ve agreed to this marriage.” His eyes held hers. “Can you do this, Emmeline, and be happy? Can you make this marriage work?”
“Can you?” she flashed, flustered.
“Yes.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have discipline. And I’m older by ten years. I have more life experience and know what I need, and what I want.” “And what is that?”
“I want prosperity for my country, peace in my home and heirs to ensure succession.”
“That’s it? Peace, prosperity and children?”
“I’m a realist. I know I can’t expect too much from life so I keep my desires simple. My goals attainable.”
“Hard to believe that. You were the star footballer that carried Raguva to the finals of the World Cup. You don’t achieve success like that without big dreams—”
“That was before my parents’ death. Now my country and family come first. My responsibilities to Raguva outweigh everything else.”
The fierce note in his voice made her tremble inwardly. He was intense. So very physical. Everything about him screamed male—the curve of his lip, the lean cheek, the strong masculine jaw.
“I need the same commitment from you,” he added. “If we marry there will be no divorce. No room for second thoughts. No means to later opt out. If we marry it’s forever, and if you can’t promise me forever, then you shouldn’t be here.”
Zale abruptly pushed back his chair and extended a hand to her. “But that’s enough serious talk for one evening. We’re supposed to be celebrating your arrival and the good things to come. Let’s
