By Order of the Prince

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 all happened so fast. Shock and the pressure of his hands against her throat kept her mute. For just an instant she wondered if he was going to kill her before he came fully awake.

Reaching up, she managed to touch his cheek and in that instant saw the flames in his eyes douse as a searing focus took their place.

He released a ragged gasp and dropped his hands to his sides. “Beth. Beth, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her off the wall and wrapped her in his arms. His bare skin was warm and she burrowed into him as the shock of the moment slowly faded away.

“I might have killed you,” he breathed into her hair as he tightened his arms around her.

She closed her eyes, delighting in the moment of being in his embrace. This wasn’t a man who had gone soft with good living. He was all hard, lean muscle against her. “You should come with a warning label—dangerous when awakened,” she murmured against his chest.

His hands smoothed down her back. “Why did you awaken me?”

She raised her head to look up at him. “You were moaning as if you were in terrible pain. It was obvious you were having a bad dream. I…I just wanted to get you out of your nightmare.”

“It was a very bad dream.” He reached up his hands and cupped her face. “Thank you for waking me and I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Before she could guess his next move, he’d made it, taking her mouth with his in a kiss that ripped her breath right out of her chest.

His lips plied hers with heat and even though in the back of her head she knew she should step away, stop the madness, she didn’t. Instead she opened her mouth to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss by delving his tongue to battle with hers.

The fevered heat of his soft lips and the feathery touch of his tongue shot a well of want through Beth. His hands tangled in her hair as he pressed so close to her she could feel that he was aroused.

Instantly she knew this was a bad place to be—the middle of the night, a handsome prince holding her tight and a heart she didn’t want broken again.

She stopped the kiss and moved out of his arms. “That probably wasn’t a good idea.” She was surprised by how breathless she sounded. “Hopefully you’ll sleep okay now for the rest of the night,” she said, her gaze not meeting his. “And now I’ll just say good-night again.”

She nearly ran back to the bedroom, grateful that he didn’t try to halt her escape. Sinking down on the edge of her bed she tried to forget the taste of him, the feel of his warm body against her own.

He was sweet temptation, but she couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in any kind of an intimate relationship with him. That was heartache just waiting to happen and she’d already been there, done that.

As she got back into bed she allowed her thoughts to go back in time, back to when she’d believed Mark Ferrer was the man who was going to be her happily-ever-after, when she’d believed that she was loved as deeply as she’d thought she had loved.

She’d learned a very important lesson from Mark—that men could take you into their arms, look you right in the eyes and lie to get what they wanted.

Beth didn’t know how to have sex without meaning. She simply wasn’t built that way. She wasn’t capable of physical release without emotional connection.

Antoine’s kiss had tasted of fevered passion, but she knew that’s all he had to offer and that would never be enough for her. She finally fell asleep with the firm commitment to keep her distance from Antoine.

The next morning when she left her bedroom dressed in her uniform of the pencil-thin black skirt and the white blouse with a gold WRR on the breast pocket, Antoine was already up and dressed as well.

“Good morning,” she said, hoping he didn’t mention the kiss, praying for no awkward moments.

“Good morning to you,” he replied. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of using the shampoo in the bathroom when I showered.”