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СКАЧАТЬ fingertips dug in just a little against the soft flesh of her hips, insisting on possessing her full attention.

      “Am I sleeping with you or your sister, Angelique?”

      “That’s the problem, Kasim. That is exactly the problem,” she said as her eyes filled.

      * * *

      Kasim had begun to think she was playing coy, attempting a manipulation as some women were inclined, but the anguish in her beautiful features was real. It caused such a twist of protectiveness in him, he instinctively tightened his arms to draw her nearer.

      The old habit of standing between Jamal and the constant threat of harm rose in him, mentally pushing him between Angelique and her sister, making him even more determined to separate her from something that was obviously harming her in some way.

      She resisted his attempt to enfold her, bottom lip caught in her teeth, brow pulled into a wrinkle of angst.

      With a flex of agitation at the stiffness of her, he pulled away and sought out his pants from the floor where he’d shed them.

      “Explain,” he commanded as he stepped into them and zipped. He reached for his shirt, slipping it on but leaving it unbuttoned.

      “It’s hard,” she said in a small voice, one hand lifting helplessly. “It doesn’t even make sense, really. But it’s how I feel.” She sighed heavily. “And I am the sensitive one, ruled by my emotions.”

      She sounded so forlorn.

      He folded his arms, trying not to let that niggle at him. He had learned to shield himself against expressions of deep emotion. Too many times in his childhood he’d been bombarded by the pain of others—his mother and Fatina, the king’s warring wives, trying to draw him to their side. Jamal’s inner torture then Hasna’s unrelenting grief…

      There was no way to fix the emotional pain of others. He could only protect himself from becoming wound up in it.

      Seeing Angelique had demons warned him to cut short whatever this was, but he found himself rooted, willing her to speak. He wanted to understand why she was resisting him. He wanted to help her.

      “It was supposed to be me,” she said, gaze naked and filled with guilty torment. “The kidnapping. I was the quiet one. The shy one. The one who was bad at math and needed a tutor. It was end of semester and our chauffeur was coming. Trella was already outside. She was the extrovert who wanted to say goodbye to everyone. My tutor called out to her. He thought she was me. She went over to tell him I would be out soon and he grabbed her.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Ramon came out in time to see it happen and chased the van as far as he could, but they’d plotted their getaway very well…”

      Her lips were white. Her hand shook as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

      “Was she…?” He didn’t want to finish the question. What kind of person assaulted a nine-year-old child?

      “What happened in those five days is Trella’s to tell or not,” Angelique said in a voice that quavered. She knew, though. The answer was in her eyes. Hell. Whatever it was, it had been hell.

      Kasim moved to take her cold hands in his, trying to rub warmth into them.

      “You’re suffering survivor’s guilt,” he said quietly. “I understand that.” He did. Jamal should be living the life Kasim enjoyed. They were both sons of the king. There was no difference between them except those small characteristics that made every person unique unto themselves.

      “The guilt is only part of it. We were already legendary, not that we ever wanted that sort of notoriety, but that’s why we were targeted. The Sauveterre Twins, one of Europe’s treasures, right? Of course payment would be made for Trella’s return. Of course the press went mad at the sensationalism of it.”

      She cleared her throat, obviously struggling.

      “My father had to use that circus to our advantage. I looked just like Trella so they used me as Trella’s face, to plea for her return. Any tiny thing could have been the key to getting her back. It was horrible exploitation. He hated himself for doing it to me, but when you’re desperate…”

      Her eyes filled and she pulled her hand out of his to press the knot of her fist between her breasts.

      “All the while… The connection between twins is a real thing, Kasim. It is for Trella and me. I knew she was terrified and suffering. It was unbearable. And then she came back to us so broken and I felt that, too.” Her lips quivered.

      He had to enfold her in his arms. Had to.

      She shook like a tiny animal that had barely escaped certain death.

      “She’s safe now, hmm?” he coaxed gently into her hair. “Come back, Angelique. That was a long time ago and she’s safe. You’re both safe now.”

      She nodded and sniffed once, but he could feel the shudders of dark memory running through her. Her arms went around his waist, beneath his open shirt. The beadwork on her dress abraded his bare skin. He stroked her hair, imparting as much comfort as he could, rubbing his chin against her temple.

      “You’re afraid to leave her alone, in case something happens again,” he surmised.

      “I’m afraid all the time of everything.” Her cheek was damp where she pressed it to his chest. “That’s who I am, Kasim. I’m the worrier. I’m the introvert. But I had to become the strong one. The only way I’ve ever been able to do that—God, the only way I could find the courage to stand in front of cameras and beg for her return was to pretend I was her. I had to become her in some ways. How could I ever go back to being quiet, shy Angelique who leaned on her sister for confidence? My support was shattered. She needed me to be that person.”

      She wiped at her cheek and settled against him again.

      “We should be two carefree young women, but she was cheated. I know she would have risen to the challenge if it had been me so I have to do that for her. Everything I do is for both of us. Sometimes I feel like I am her and I don’t know how to be just me.”

      Her odd comment at dinner about being each other, which he had thought was a bit of twin peculiarity, now made more sense. So did the one about her not letting herself “be.”

      “Who were you tonight?” he asked, cupping the side of her neck, invaded by a prickling tension as he urged her to look up at him.

      She drew back, but her gaze stayed on her own fingertips as she smoothed the hairs down his breastbone in a petting caress that made shivers of delight travel up his spine.

      “I stole tonight for myself.”

      “Good. That is the correct answer.”

      She tsked and gave him a little shove. He only settled her closer, pleased when she relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder again, arms looped around his waist.

      “But I can’t be selfish and take what I want. I can’t do that to Trella. Do you understand?”

      “You know you cannot live someone else’s life for them, don’t you?” How many times had he tried to solve Jamal’s СКАЧАТЬ