for the sake of his country.
“And you? When you were young did you dream of being a ballerina? Or perhaps a princess?” he asked.
She laughed. It was a pleasant sound that wrapped around his heart and momentarily held him captive. “Not at all. I have two left feet and I always wanted to raise horses so I dreamed of wearing chaps and a vest rather than a princess’s tiara.”
He had a sudden vision of her naked except for her long legs encased in a pair of leather chaps and her full breasts spilling out of a tiny vest. Hot blood welled in the pit of his stomach, spreading warmth directly to his groin.
He shifted uncomfortably against the wooden chair and reminded himself that he was here with her because he wanted to use her knowledge of the locals to further his investigation, not because he wanted to take her to bed and teach her everything he knew about sexual pleasure.
“You know horses?” he asked.
“I started riding at the resort stables when I was little and worked the stables until I got the job in housekeeping,” she explained.
“You have enough land to raise horses. Why haven’t you already done it?”
“It took me until six months ago to pay off the last of the medical bills that my mother had accrued. I’m hoping to realize my horse dream in about five years. It’s almost midnight,” she said with a glance at the clock on the wall. “I should get you back to the resort. I have to be back at work around six-thirty in the morning.”
He leaned back in the chair and smiled. “I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll stay here with you for the night.”
Chapter Three
Beth stared at him in horror. The idea of this man, this prince, sleeping beneath her roof horrified her. As it was, the whole afternoon and evening had taken on the surreal aspect of some kind of weird dream.
“I don’t want you traveling back and forth from the resort this late at night alone,” he said. “The road that leads here is too narrow, too dangerous to drive in the darkness.”
A nerve throbbed in the side of her neck, a nerve that always acted up when she felt anxious. “But the spare bedroom doesn’t even have a bed in it. I’ve been using it as a home office.”
“The sofa looked nice and comfortable. All I need is a pillow and blanket and I’ll be fine. I’ll call Sheik Efraim and let him know I’m with you in case a problem arises.” He pushed back his chair and stood as if the matter had been decided.
It was a half an hour later when Beth closed the door to her bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed. What a night. She still couldn’t believe that a prince was now on her sofa sleeping beneath one of the patchwork quilts her mother had made years ago.
She changed into her nightshirt and went into the adjoining bathroom to wash her face before going to bed. Initially when the royals had first arrived at the hotel all she’d been focused on was the extra work their presence might make for her staff. She hadn’t really thought about them as being men, just ordinary men with the weight of power on their shoulders.
And now she couldn’t stop thinking about Antoine being a man—a very hot, take-your-breath-away kind of man. But even though he looked at her with a bit of hunger in his eyes, she wasn’t about to fall prey to ridiculous fantasies about life with Antoine or any other man.
She certainly wasn’t about to become an American dalliance for him. She could just see the headlines—The Prince and the Chambermaid. She couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her at the very idea.
Her feet were firmly planted in reality, had been since she’d been young. With her mother’s illness there had been little time for fantasies.
There had only been one time when she’d allowed herself to fall into a romantic fantasy and the result had been an ugly mess.
There was no way she intended to fall into Antoine’s bedroom eyes. He was here only until he solved the mystery of his friend Amir’s disappearance from the bomb site. Once he’d accomplished his goals here he’d be gone.
She got into bed and as always fought against a well of loneliness that had been with her for the past year. She was twenty-nine years old, longed for love and a family, but the next time around she intended to be smart, to be wary. She’d make sure the man she gave her heart to deserved the gift.
She’d expected to have trouble falling asleep, but the moment her head touched the pillow sleep claimed her. She was instantly plunged into an erotic dream.
She was naked and clinging to Antoine’s broad dark shoulders as his mouth made love to hers. His kiss held a mastery she’d never experienced, a silent command that she respond with every fiber of her being. And she did. It was impossible not to.
His strong hands stroked up the length of her bare back and then around to cup her breasts. Sweet sensations cascaded through her at his touch. She was on fire with her need for him. It didn’t matter that he would be gone before she knew it, she only knew that she wanted what he offered, longed to stay in his arms.
A moan filled her head, not her own but rather his and not from her dream and not one of pleasure.
A louder, more tortured moan pulled her from her dream. Her eyes snapped open and for a moment she couldn’t discern dream from reality.
Her heart pounded with a quickened rhythm as she sat up and shoved strands of hair away from her face. A glance at the illuminated clock next to her bed told her it was just after two.
The noise came again, this time louder, deeper and definitely not from her dream, but rather coming from someplace outside her bedroom door.
The prince!
Was he in trouble? Had somebody found out he was here and was now trying to strangle him or hurt him in some way? Oh, God, she knew having him here had all been a mistake!
She jumped out of bed and grabbed a flower vase from the top of the dresser, the only thing she could think of that might be used as a weapon, and then ran into the living room.
In the spill of the moonlight through the windows she instantly saw that there was no danger, that Antoine was not being strangled or beaten by an intruder. Rather he was obviously in the throes of a terrible nightmare.
She set the vase down at her feet and then crept closer to the sofa, trying not to notice how his powerful bare chest gleamed in the moonlight as he tossed and turned and emitted deep, mournful groans.
“Antoine,” she whispered softly.
He groaned again, the intensity of it filling Beth with immense empathy. What sort of dreams could evoke the sounds of such pain, such an emotional outburst while sleeping?
She called his name again, this time louder, but it wasn’t enough to pull him from his tortured sleep.
She stepped even closer to the sofa and lightly touched his shoulder—and found herself shoved against the wall, Antoine’s hands wrapped around her neck as his eyes blazed with an unfocused fire.
He’d moved off the sofa in the blink of an eye. She would have screamed, but she couldn’t. It had
