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“That’s between you and Hannah. I imagine she’s had to wear your clothes in Raguva. I can’t picture her playing princess in her wardrobe of brown, beige and gray.”
Emmeline smiled crookedly. “She doesn’t really have a couture wardrobe.”
“No. She’s too practical for that.”
Emmeline ran a hand over the worn denim again. “I’ve never owned a pair of jeans like these. They aren’t the designer ones. They’re real. Broken in, so soft.”
“Hannah was raised on her father’s ranch in Texas, just outside of San Antonio. Has she told you some of her stories about her life on the ranch?”
Emmeline shook her head.
“I think she found it lonely on the ranch. Her father raised her. She didn’t have a mother. She grew up riding and roping and helping with roundups.”
“Such a different life than mine.”
“I can’t see you on a ranch.”
“Neither can I, but I do ride. Not Western-style, of course. I used to compete.”
“Dressage?”
She grinned. “No, jumping. I was quite good.” She must have seen the disbelief in his eyes because she laughed and added, “I really was. Even made the Brabant Olympic Equestrian team at twenty.”
“You participated in the Olympics?”
“Well, I made it there, but ended up getting thrown in my first event. It was a nasty fall, and for almost twenty-four hours I had no feeling below my chest. Thank goodness full sensation eventually returned, but that was the end of my riding. I’m not allowed to compete again.”
“I had no idea.”
“I can’t imagine you reading tabloid magazines, so it’s unlikely you’d know I was mad about jumping. It’s not exactly mainstream news.”
“Your accident would have made headlines.”
“It was mentioned that I was thrown, but there was a massive earthquake the next day, and the focus turned to real news.”
“How many years ago was that?”
“Five.” She glanced down at her middle and pressed a hand to the peasant blouse, flattening the cotton fabric over her still-flat stomach. “That’s how I met Alejandro. He was at the course when I was thrown and he came to the hospital to check on me. The nurses wouldn’t let him in. Alejandro being Alejandro—” She broke off, swallowed. “—he told them he was my fiancé, and they let him in.”
Makin thought he’d known Princess Emmeline all of these years. He thought he’d known everything important about her—beautiful, fashionable, chic, as well as soft, pampered and lazy. He’d imagined that her only ambition was being seen and photographed. Instead she’d spent years training in a highly competitive, dangerous sport. She’d been thrown from a horse. She was far stronger than he’d ever imagined.
“That’s how the rumors and talk started,” she added. “About Alejandro and me. But we weren’t involved. There was nothing between us, not until March.”
“But over the years you were seen with him, time and again.”
“Because he would search me out. Never the other way around. I was never interested in him. He wasn’t my type. I know you don’t believe me, but I worked very hard to rebuff him. Only, I think that backfired. The more I pushed him away, the more determined he was to win.”
Looking at her stunning features—the high cheekbones, the angled jaw, the full mouth—he could believe it. She was beyond beautiful. She had a rare, luminous quality, as though there was a light inside of her making her shimmer and glow. “Men like the chase,” he said.
“So I’ve learned.” She tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He didn’t love me. He didn’t even want me. He just wanted to. oh, what’s that English expression? Score. He just wanted to score.” She met his gaze, smiled mockingly. “And he did. Now he’s gone. I’m pregnant. And nothing will ever be the same, will it?”
He felt such a sharp tug of emotion that it almost took his breath away. She’d been through a difficult time and things weren’t going to be getting any easier. He suddenly knew she needed a friend, someone in her corner. Someone who would be there for her. “You’re right. It won’t be.”
“I’m scared.”
He felt another inexplicable tug on his emotions. Gone was the glossy, glamorous princess who had sailed through life untouched by the problems of ordinary mortals. She looked young and real and heartbreakingly vulnerable. “You could end the pregnancy. No one would be the wiser.”
“I would.”
