Today she chose her own clothes, selecting a pale apricot linen dress from Emmeline’s wardrobe paired with a slim-fitting cropped cashmere sweater the same hue. She slipped a gold bangle on her wrist and small gold hoops on her ears, before pulling her hair back in a ponytail. She did her own makeup, keeping it light, and was just finishing applying mascara when word arrived that His Majesty was waiting for her in the family dining room.
Hannah took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as a footman escorted her.
The family dining room was a cozy room on the second floor. Tall mullioned windows lined the walls and sunlight glazed the glass, casting bright rays across the rich walnut table and illuminating the centerpiece of pink and cream tulips in a crystal vase.
Zale sat at one end of the table reading a stack of newspapers, a cup of espresso at his elbow.
Briefly he lifted his head as she entered the room, his amber gaze sweeping over her. “This is a surprise,” he said.
“A pleasant one, I hope,” she answered, taking the chair the uniformed footman held for her and smoothing the hem of her crisp linen dress over her knees.
The footman poured her coffee and brought her fresh squeezed orange juice before handing her a small elegant printed menu. Her eyebrows arched. A printed menu for a family meal?
Zale must have been able to read her mind as he said from behind his newspaper, “Chef will make anything you like, but he also offers specialty items every morning based on what he’s picked up from the local farmers market.”
“How do you know what I was thinking?”
“You’re easy to read.” He folded the paper and set it down.
“So what am I thinking now?” she asked, stirring milk into her coffee.
Zale studied her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. “You’re upset that I won’t introduce you to my brother, and you’re here to convince me otherwise.”
“Not at all,” she said, lifting her cup to sip the hot, strong coffee. “I think you’re spot-on. Your brother should be protected. Until we are absolutely certain we want to proceed with the wedding, we should be careful. I’d hate to grow fond of your brother only to realize you’re not entirely suitable for me.”
His eyebrow lifted. “And now I’m not suitable?”
She offered the footman a sunny smile as he moved forward to offer her a selection of flaky pastries. She refused the pastries and turned her attention back to Zale. “I thought about what you said last night—about our lack of compatibility—and you might be right.”
He shifted in his seat, shoulders becoming broader, expression harder. “Is that so?”
She nodded, took another sip of coffee. “We don’t know each other, and the only way you’ll know I’m right for you is if I’m myself. So from now on, I’m going to be myself, and hopefully, you’ll like the real me. But if you don’t, I’d rather go home than marry someone who doesn’t enjoy my company.”
Zale’s brows lowered. “You would reject me?”
She smiled, the same patient smile she gave Sheikh Al-Koury when he gave her another impossible task. “Since we’re being completely honest, I admit that I don’t want to marry someone I don’t like, either.”
His lips thinned.
She nodded, as if he’d given a sign of agreement. “I’m really looking forward to the next four days and spending time together. I imagine you have some fun activities planned—” she lifted a finger, holding him off a moment “—activities other than signing documents, sitting for portraits and selecting china patterns.”
“Those are all necessary if we’re to marry.”
“Yes, if. But as you made clear yesterday, we don’t know that we will. In fact, you’re fairly certain we won’t. So perhaps selecting a china pattern is a bit presumptuous, never mind a colossal waste of time. Perhaps we should slow down and … date … first.”
“Date?”
“Mmm. Lunches. Dinners. Activities that allow us to spend time together in a relaxed and enjoyable manner.” “Is this a joke?”
“No. I definitely wouldn’t joke about our future.”
Zale stared at her through narrowed lashes, his expression grim. “You’re so different from a year ago. You were so quiet at our engagement party. You hardly looked at me. Where has all this personality come from?”
Hannah shrugged. “It was always there, just a bit squashed by my parents’ disapproval. But my parents aren’t marrying you. I am.”
“And this entire epiphany came to you last night?”
“Yes. As I lay in bed.” She gestured to the footman. “I think I’d like the eggs Florentine and some fresh fruit. Thank you.” She lifted her white linen napkin from the table and placed it on her lap. “I thought you’d be pleased by my epiphany but you don’t seem happy at all.”