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She slowly rose to her feet, smoothed her ivory skirt with the overlay of fine Belgian lace, which accentuated the rounded shape of her hips and the high, firm buttocks. Blood coursed through his veins. He suddenly felt hot and hard and even angrier.
How could he still want her? It boggled his mind that he could find her attractive now, after all of this….
“How did you find out?” she asked quietly.
“By chance.” He looked down at her and his lips curled faintly, self-mockingly, even as his body ached with the need to take her, possess her. It wouldn’t be gentle though. “I was reading The New York Times online, and came across a link to an article about Alejandro’s accident. One of the photos accompanying the story was a shot of you and Alejandro talking at the polo tournament I hosted in Palm Beach.”
“The only photo I took was with the Argentine team—”
“This wasn’t a posed photo. It was candid. You were behind the stables and neither of you were happy. You looked as if maybe you were having a fight.” He saw the light dawn in her eyes and realized he’d been right. They had been quarreling, and probably about the pregnancy. Of course Ibanez wouldn’t want the child. He’d probably insisted she get an abortion, and for a moment Makin felt a flicker of pity for the princess but then squashed it. Emmeline d’Arcy deserved whatever she had coming. He wouldn’t spare her a moment’s concern.
“You were crying,” he added flatly, harshly, refusing to let her get under his skin again, reminding himself that she was shallow and selfish and without one redeeming virtue. “That’s when I knew.” He paused, studied her pale face. “I knew that expression.” And I knew those eyes, he silently added.
Now that he knew who was who, he could see how different Emmeline’s eyes were from Hannah’s. They might be the same shade, that astonishing lavender-blue, but the expression wasn’t at all similar. Hannah’s gaze was calm and steady, while Emmeline’s was stormy and shadowed with emotion. If one didn’t know better, one might think that Emmeline had grown up in a tough neighborhood, fighting for every scrap of kindness, instead of having lived an easy life in which luxury had been handed to her on a silver platter.
His chest grew tight. He told himself it was anger. But it wasn’t just anger, it was betrayal.
He’d started to care for her, just a little. Just enough for him to feel used today. Played.
And no one played Makin.
“So what have you done with Hannah?” he asked, his tone icy with disdain. “I want her back. Immediately.”
For a moment the princess didn’t speak and then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. “She’s in Raguva.” She hesitated. “Pretending to be me.”
“What?” Makin rarely raised his voice but it thundered through the marble bathroom.
She stood tall, appearing nonchalant, but then she ruined the effect by chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I needed to speak with Alejandro about my pregnancy, but he wouldn’t take my calls, not after that talk we had at the polo field following the tournament. I was desperate. I had to see him. I needed his help. So I begged Hannah to switch places with me for a day so I could go to him in person.”
“And you couldn’t go to him as yourself?”
“He was avoiding me, and even if he would see me, my staff and security detail wouldn’t let me go. They’d been given orders by my parents to keep me away from him, and they were determined to follow those orders.”
“Your parents were right not to trust you.”
She shrugged, walked past him, leaving the bathroom. “Probably.”
“Probably?” he demanded, following her. “Is that all you have to say?”
Her shoulders rolled, shrugging. “What do you want from me? An apology? Fine. I apologize.”
Makin stood inside the bedroom doorway, astounded by her lack of concern. She was suddenly the epitome of calm and cool. How was such a thing possible? “When exactly did you switch places with my assistant?”
“Last Sunday. The twenty-second.” She moved across the bedroom to enter the walk-in closet. She pulled an armful of clothes out and carried them to the bed.
She was packing.
She must assume that she was going somewhere.
“That was a week ago,” he answered, leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest. Why pack now? Where did she think she was going? To London? On his plane? At his expense? How fascinating.
Emmeline nodded, emerging from the closet with a half dozen pairs of delicate high heels.
His brow lowered as he watched her place the shoes in tidy pairs on the bed next to her other garments. “And just how long were you planning on leaving my secretary in Raguva, Your Highness?”
