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‘So, you’ll marry a royal…but that’s crazy. You can’t, Em. What about Mark?’

‘I haven’t told him yet,’ she admitted, her voice wobbling.

Elsie surged off the bed, shrugging off the anxiety like a cloak now that she had a plan. ‘Then don’t—you don’t need to. I’ll do it.’

‘Thanks for offering to do it for me, but he deserves to hear it from me.’

‘I’m not offering to tell Mark. I’m offering to be the royal sacrifice. I think it’s my turn to save, if not your life, your future happiness.’

‘All I did was give you some bone marrow when we were kids.’

‘And save my life. Listen, don’t start going all martyr on me. Without you, I would not be alive—fact.’ She cut in when her twin began to protest. ‘Unlike you, I am not a saint, willing to sacrifice myself. It’s just the logical solution. You love Mark and he loves you. And God, even I—and we all know I don’t have a romantic bone in my body—can see you’re the perfect match. I’m not in love with anyone and I reckon I can take what…two, three years before he wants a divorce.’

‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea, Elsie. This isn’t a temporary thing, it’s more a till death do us part contract.’

‘I realise that, but the beauty of my plan is he’ll be the one asking for the divorce. The man wants a queen to supply heirs.’ She saw comprehension wash across her twin’s face. ‘Exactly. You saved my life, Em, but the cancer treatment left my fertility wrecked.’

‘Oh, Elsie.’

‘Please don’t cry, Em. I’m not the maternal type.’ She had never allowed herself to think about it…how could you miss something you’d never had?

‘Don’t say that,’ her twin sobbed.

‘Stop that or you’ll set me off,’ Elsie said, hugging her twin before sniffing and pushing her away. ‘I plan on being the very best auntie for the beautiful brood that Mark and you will have, though when is the question. It’ll take you a year to decide on wallpaper for the nursery and then you’ll decide to paint it.’

Emily gave a watery half smile. ‘But marrying a man you don’t love, Elsie…’

‘You were willing to. I still haven’t caught up. Where are Mum and Pa this morning?’

‘They have a breakfast meeting with the contractors.’

Elsie nodded. ‘Come on then. I want us both to be on the same page when we talk to them.’

‘I can’t let you do this, Elsie.’

Elsie grinned. ‘Please do not go all tragic on me. Look on the bright side.’

‘There is a bright side?’

‘They do say he’s very good in bed. I presume he knows his way around a woman’s—’

A choking sound left her throat as, half laughing, Emily pulled back her hands resting on her twin’s shoulders.

‘The things you say, Elsie.’

‘Well, don’t tell me you haven’t wondered,’ Elsie retorted, unrepentant, as she saw an image of Leandro standing there almost naked, every sculpted muscle defined, the epitome of masculinity on steroids. She blinked several times before she managed to banish it but the muscle memory of the hot liquid clenched low in her abdomen lingered in a disturbing and, to be honest, pleasurable way.

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Must be my virgin curiosity of the unknown. You never know. He’s getting something out of this, temporarily, at least, maybe I will too.’

‘I know you don’t mean that, Elsie.’

‘That’s because you are purer and nicer than me, even though I’m the virgin.’

‘I am grateful, really, for the offer, but you are missing one vital fact—I’m the one he proposed to.’ Elsie saw the alarm flare in her twin’s eyes. They might not have some magical psychic twin connection but sometimes Emily was easy to read. ‘Oh, God, you’re not thinking of pretending to be me, are you?’

‘Of course not, what would be the point? He doesn’t know you so he can’t know you’re actually a bit of a saint, the same way he can’t know I’m not. He’s after a bloodline, babies and window-dressing, and I can provide two of those pretty adequately, short-term.’