She saw his expression and understood. “You thought I’d be disruptive.”
She saw that she’d hit the nail squarely on the head.
He didn’t trust her. He thought she was a loose cannon, causing trouble wherever she went.
A weight settled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. He was no different than her parents. He looked at her and saw what he wanted to see instead of who she really was.
Chest tight, Emmeline glanced away, out the window at the sea of gold sand below. Let Makin think what he wants, she told herself. It doesn’t matter … he doesn’t matter …
And yet in a small part of her heart, she could admit that maybe he did.
It had happened when he’d kissed her.
In Makin’s arms she’d felt not just safe, but … desirable. Beautiful. And she never felt beautiful as a woman. She never felt like a real woman … and she hadn’t, not until Makin kissed her, bringing someone to life inside of her.
The kiss had been the most amazing thing she’d ever felt. And she’d wanted more.
“I’m not dangerous,” she said hoarsely, unable to hold the words in, or hide the hurt.
“You didn’t say dangerous, you said disruptive.”
“I wouldn’t have embarrassed you.”
“I couldn’t have taken the chance.”
“What about your guests? You’re not even going to be there now to greet them as they arrive.”
“My friend Sultan Nuri of Baraka has promised to do the honors.”
Emmeline knew Malek Nuri, had seen him and his wife, the European princess Nicolette Ducasse, at a number of social events over the years. They were a gorgeous couple and so very happy together. “Does he know why you’re not there? Does he know that you feel compelled personally to hand me over to the executioner?”
“You are so dramatic.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“As well as emotional.”
Blood surged to her cheeks. “And you are so critical.”
He studied her from beneath lowered lashes. “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”
“I’ve been criticized for being emotional my entire life.”
Makin had been angry when they’d boarded the plane but now, seated across the aisle from Emmeline, he found it impossible to remain upset with her. He didn’t know if it was because she bore such a strong resemblance to Hannah, or if it was because Emmeline was an enigma, but he was intrigued by her and wanted to know more about her. “Who criticizes you?”
“My parents, particularly my mother.”
“What’s her complaint?”
“She has many.” Emmeline wrinkled her nose. “But the chief one seems to be my excessive emotion.”
“Excessive … how?”
She ticked her mother’s complaints off on her fingers. “I’m sensitive. I talk fast. I get nervous. I cry at the drop of a hat.”
His lips twitched. “Do you cry at the drop of a hat?”
“Depends on the hat.”
He grinned, amused, liking this Emmeline. She was unpretentious. Funny. Direct. “Have you and your mother always had a strained relationship?”
“Since birth.”
“Why?”
“I wish I knew.”
She suddenly sounded very serious and his brow furrowed. She’d changed into jeans and a white peasant blouse before the flight, and right now with her hair loose and no makeup, she looked young and fresh. Appealing. Like the kind of girl you’d want to take home to meet your parents, and he suddenly wondered what his parents would have thought of Emmeline d’Arcy. They’d known of her, of course, but due to his father’s health, they’d never met her.
“I was emotional as a boy,” he said abruptly. “Sensitive. I’ll never forget my mother pulling me aside when I was around eight or nine and telling me I was a big boy now and too old to cry.”
“Do you remember why you cried?”
“My father had fallen out of his wheelchair. I was scared.”
“But that would be frightening.”
“I would see worse things.”
“Sounds like you had to grow up at quite a young age.”
He shrugged. “My mother needed me. It was important I be strong for her, and my father.”
Emmeline’s expression was troubled and Makin realized the conversation had become too personal. He swiftly changed the subject to lighten the mood. “I’ve never seen you in jeans before.”
Emmeline glanced down, crossed her legs, running a hand over her thigh as she did so. “They’re Hannah’s. And Hannah’s top. I found them buried in the back of her closet.” She suddenly looked at him. “I’m going to return them to her. I promise. I’ll have them dry-cleaned and—”