A Night in the Prince's Bed

by Chantelle Shaw - A Night in the Prince's Bed

  As she watched her reflection a figure appeared at her shoulder. Mina tensed as she met his gaze in the mirror and her heart slammed against her ribs as she recognised him. It was him—the man who had been in the audience—and close up he was even more gorgeous than she’d thought when she had seen him from the stage.

  His eyes were a brilliant topaz-blue, glittering like gemstones beneath his well-defined brows that were a shade darker than his streaked blond hair. When Mina had seen him at the theatre the firm line of his mouth had looked forbidding, but as she watched him in the mirror he gave her a smoulderingly sexy smile that made her catch her breath.

  ‘Perhaps I can be of assistance?’

  The gravelly huskiness of his voice caused the tiny hairs on the back of Mina’s neck to stand on end. She could not place his accent. Slowly she turned to face him, conscious that her pulse was racing.

  ‘One advantage of my height is that I can usually attract the attention of bar staff,’ he murmured. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

  His stunning looks and sheer magnetism ensured that he would never be ignored. Mina flushed when she realised that she was staring at him. ‘Actually, I’m trying to order drinks for my friends...but thanks for the offer.’

  Her voice trailed off as her eyes locked with his. She could feel the vibration of her blood pounding in her ears as she studied his lean, handsome face. He was ruggedly male and utterly beautiful. Was this how Juliet had felt when she had first set eyes on Romeo? Mina wondered. In her character study of the role of Juliet she had tried to imagine how it felt to be a teenage girl who had fallen desperately in love at first sight with a young man. It had been more difficult than Mina had expected to step into Juliet’s shoes. Could you really feel such intense emotion for someone you had just met, before you had got to know them?

  Her common sense had rejected the idea. The story of Romeo and Juliet was just a fantasy. But now, in a heartbeat, Mina understood that it was possible to feel an overwhelming connection with a stranger. Even more startling was her certainty that the man felt it too. His eyes narrowed on her face and his body tensed like a jungle cat watching its prey.

  Someone pushed past her on their way to the bar and knocked her against the stranger. Her breasts brushed his chest and an electrical current shot through her. Every nerve ending tingled and her nipples instantly hardened and throbbed. For a few seconds she felt dizzy as the heat of his body and the spicy scent of his aftershave hijacked her senses and filled her with a fierce yearning that pooled hot and molten in the pit of her stomach.

  With a little gasp she jerked away from him. He was watching her intently, as if he could read her mind. In a desperate attempt to return to normality, she blurted out, ‘You were at the theatre tonight. I saw you. Did you enjoy the play?’

  His bright blue eyes burned into her. ‘You were— astonishing.’

  He spoke in a low, intense voice, and Mina was startled to see colour flare briefly along his sharp cheekbones. She had the impression that he had intended to make a casual response to her question but the words had escaped his lips before he could prevent them.

  Thinking about his lips was fatal. Her eyes focused on the sensual curve of his mouth and her breath caught in her throat.

  ‘You came last night, too...and the night before that,’ she said huskily.

  ‘I couldn’t keep away.’ He stared deeply into her eyes, trapping her with his sensual magic so that Mina could not look away from him. Weakness washed over her and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She swayed towards him, unable to control her body’s response to the invisible lure of male pheromones and sizzling sexual chemistry.

  A bemused expression crossed the man’s face and he shook his head as if he was trying to snap back to reality. He pulled a hand through his dark blond hair, raking it back from his brow.

  ‘Tell me what your friends want to drink and I’ll place your order.’

  Friends? The spell broke and Mina glanced around the busy pub. Somehow she gathered her thoughts and reeled off a list of drinks. The stranger had no trouble catching the attention of the bar staff and minutes later Mina paid for the round and wondered how she was going to carry a tray of drinks across the crowded room.

  Once again the stranger came to her rescue and picked up the tray. ‘I’ll carry this. Show me where your friends are sitting.’

  Kat’s eyes widened when she spotted Mina approaching the table followed by a tall, fair-haired man who resembled a Viking. The stranger put the tray of drinks down on the table and Mina wondered if she should invite him to join her and her friends. She wished Kat would stop staring at him.

  ‘Thanks for your help. I’m Mina, by the way.’ Worried that she might not hear him in the noisy pub, she watched his mouth closely so that she could read his lips.

  Amusement flashed in his blue eyes. ‘I know. Your name was on the theatre programme.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Aksel.’

  ‘That’s not an English name,’ Mina murmured, trying not to think about the firm grip of his fingers as she placed her hand in his. The touch of his skin on hers sent a tingling sensation up her arm and she felt strangely reluctant to withdraw her hand again.

  He hesitated fractionally before replying, ‘You’re right. I am from Storvhal.’

  ‘That’s near Russia, isn’t it—in the Arctic Circle?’

  His brows lifted. ‘I’m impressed. Storvhal is a very small country and most people haven’t a clue where it is.’

  ‘I’m addicted to playing general knowledge quizzes,’ Mina admitted. ‘The location of Storvhal often comes up.’

  God, did that make her sound like a boring nerd who spent a lot of time on her own? People often assumed that actors led exciting and glamorous lives, but that was far from the truth, Mina thought wryly. There had been plenty of times when she’d been between acting roles and had to take cleaning jobs or stack shelves in a supermarket. Most actors, unless they made it big in the American film industry, struggled to earn a good living. But Mina was not driven by money and had been drawn to the stage because acting was in her blood.

  The Harts were a renowned theatrical family, headed by Joshua Hart, who was regarded as the greatest Shakespearean actor of the past thirty years. Mina had wanted to be an actress since she was a small child and she had refused to allow her hearing loss to destroy her dream. But the dream had turned sour in LA. Making a film there had been an eye-opener and she had hated the celebrity culture, the gossip and backbiting. The events in LA had had a profound effect on her and when she had returned to England she had re-evaluated what she wanted to do with her life, and she had recently qualified as a drama therapist.

  One thing she was certain of was that she never wanted her private life to be splashed across the front pages of the tabloids ever again. It still made her shudder when she remembered the humiliation of reading explicit and inaccurate details about her relationship with Dexter Price in the newspapers. The paparazzi did not seem to care about reporting the truth, and Mina had been a target of their ruthless desire for scandal. She had developed a deep mistrust of the press—and in particular of the man she had just spotted entering the pub.

  She froze when she recognised him. Steve Garratt was the journalist who had exposed her affair with Dexter. Garratt had written a scurrilous article in which he had accused Mina of sleeping with the film director to further her career while Dexter’s wife had been undergoing treatment for cancer. Most of the article had been untrue. Mina had never been to bed with Dex—although she had been in love with him, and ready to take the next step in their relationship, before she had discovered that he was married. But no one had been interested in her side of the story, certainly not Steve Garratt.

  What was Garratt doing here in the UK? It was unlikely to be a coincidence that he had turned up at the same time as rumours were rife that Joshua Hart’s production of Romeo and Juliet might be performed on Broadway. Garratt was after a story and Mina’s heart sank when the journalist l
ooked over in her direction and gave her a cocky smile of recognition.

  As he began to thread his way across the pub she felt a surge of panic. She could not bear the embarrassment of the journalist talking about the LA scandal in front of her friends from the theatre company. The story had been mostly forgotten after two years, and she had hoped it would remain dead and buried.

  She glanced at the good-looking man who had introduced himself as Aksel. They were strangers, she reminded herself. The curious connection she felt with him must be a figment of her imagination.

  ‘Well, it was nice to meet you,’ she murmured. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  Aksel realised he was being dismissed. It was a novel experience for a prince and in different circumstances he might have been amused, but inexplicably he felt a rush of jealousy when he noticed that Mina was staring at a man who had just entered the pub. Was the man her boyfriend? It was of no interest to him, he reminded himself. He was regretting his decision to follow Mina into the pub, and her obvious interest in the man who was now approaching them was a signal to Aksel that it was time he left.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ His eyes met hers, and for a split second he felt a crazy urge to grab hold of her hand and whisk her away from the crowded pub to somewhere they could be alone.

  What the hell had got into him tonight? he asked himself irritably. His behaviour was completely out of character and he must end his ridiculous fascination with Mina Hart right now. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening,’ he bade her curtly, and strode out of the pub without glancing back at her.

  * * *

  ‘Mina Hart, what a pleasant surprise!’ Steve Garratt drawled. He smelled of stale cigarette smoke and Mina wrinkled her nose as he leaned too close to her.

  ‘I find nothing pleasant about meeting you,’ she said coldly. ‘And I doubt you’re surprised to see me. You’re here for a reason, and I can guess what it is.’

  The journalist grinned to reveal nicotine-stained teeth. It was warm inside the pub and his florid face was turning pinker. ‘A little bird told me you’ll soon be making your Broadway debut.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Mina asked sharply. She glanced at his shifty expression and realised that he was hoping to goad her into giving him information.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. Everyone wants to know if your father will be directing Romeo and Juliet in New York. He must have told you whether it’s going to happen. All the hacks are hoping to break the story. Give me an exclusive and I’ll make sure you get good reviews if you do open on Broadway.’

  ‘Joshua hasn’t told me anything, but even if he had confided in me I wouldn’t tell you. You’re a weasel, Garratt. You nose around in people’s private lives looking for scandal and if none exist you make up lies—like you did to me.’ Mina broke off, breathing hard as she struggled to control her temper.

  The journalist gave a cynical laugh. ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Don’t give me that bull about journalists respecting celebrities’ private lives. Actors need publicity. You don’t really believe that a film starring an unknown English actress would have been a box-office success on its own merits, do you? People went to see Girl in the Mirror because they were curious about the bimbo who screwed Dexter Price.’

  Steve Garratt’s mocking words made Mina’s stomach churn. The pub felt claustrophobic and she was suddenly desperate for some fresh air. She pushed past the journalist, unable to bear being in his company for another second. ‘You disgust me,’ she told him bitterly.

  Kat was chatting with the other members of the cast and Mina did not interrupt them. They would guess she had gone home, she told herself as she made her way across the crowded pub towards the door. Outside, it was dark. The October nights were drawing in and Mina’s lightweight jacket did not offer much protection against the chilly wind. Head bowed, she walked briskly along the pavement that ran alongside the river. The reflection of the street lights made golden orbs on the black water, but soon she turned off the well-lit main road down a narrow alleyway that provided the quickest route to the tube station.

  Her footsteps echoed loudly in the enclosed space. It wasn’t late, but there was no one around, except for a gang of youths who were loitering at the other end of the alleyway. From the sound of their raucous voices Mina guessed they had been drinking. She thought about turning back and going the long route to the station, but she was tired and, having grown up in central London, she considered herself fairly streetwise. Keeping her head down, she continued walking, but as she drew nearer to the gang she noticed they were passing something between them and guessed it was a joint.

  Her warning instincts flared. Something about the youths’ body language told her that they were waiting for her to walk to the far end of the alley. She stopped abruptly and turned round, but as she hurriedly retraced her steps the gang followed her.

  ‘Hey, pretty woman, why don’t you want to walk this way?’ one of them called out.

  Another youth laughed. ‘There’s a film called Pretty Woman, about a slag who makes a living on the streets.’ The owner of the voice, a skinhead with a tattoo on his neck, caught up with Mina and stood in front of her so that she was forced to stop walking. ‘Is that what you do—sell your body? How much do you charge?’ As the gang crowded around Mina the skinhead laughed. ‘Do you do a discount for group sex?’

  Mina swallowed, trying not to show that she was scared. ‘Look, I don’t want any trouble.’ She took a step forwards and froze when the skinhead gripped her arm. ‘Let go of me,’ she demanded, sounding more confident than she felt.

  ‘What if I don’t want to let go of you?’ the skinhead taunted. ‘What are you going to do about it?’ He slid his hand inside Mina’s jacket and she felt a surge of fear and revulsion when he tugged her shirt buttons open. The situation was rapidly spiralling out of control. The youths were drunk, or high—probably both—and on a cold autumn night it was unlikely that anyone was around to help her.

  ‘You’d better let me go. I’m meeting someone, and if I don’t show up they’ll start looking for me,’ she improvised, thinking as she spoke that her friends at the pub would assume she had gone home.

  The skinhead must have sensed that she was bluffing. ‘So, where’s your friend?’

  ‘Here,’ said a soft, menacing voice.

  Mina’s gaze shot to the end of the alleyway that she had entered a few minutes earlier and her heart did a somersault in her chest. The light from the street lamp behind him made his blond hair look like a halo. Surely no angel could be so devastatingly sexy, but to Mina, scared out of her wits, he was her guardian angel, her saviour.

  The skinhead, surprised by the interruption, had loosed his grip on her arm, and Mina wrenched herself free.

  ‘Aksel,’ she said on a half-sob, and ran towards him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘IT’S ALL RIGHT, Mina, you’re safe,’ Aksel murmured. He felt the tremors that shook her slender frame. When she had raced down the alleyway he had instinctively opened his arms and she had flown into them. He stroked her auburn hair, one part of his brain marvelling at how silky it felt. At the same time he eyed the gang of youths and felt a cold knot of rage in the pit of his stomach when the skinhead who had been terrorising Mina stepped forwards.

  ‘Can’t you count, mate? There’s six of us and only one of you,’ the gang leader said with a show of bravado.

  ‘True, but I am worth more than the six of you combined,’ Aksel drawled in an icy tone that cut through the air like tempered steel. He never lost his temper. A lifetime of controlling his emotions had taught him that anger was far more effective served ice-cold and deadly. ‘I’m willing to take you all on.’ He flicked his gaze over the gang members. ‘But one at a time is fair, man to man—if you’ve got the guts of real men.’

  He gently put Mina to one side and gave her a reassuring smile when her eyes widened in fear as she realised what he intended to do.

  ‘Aksel...you can’t fight them all,’ she whispe
red.

  He ignored her and strolled towards the skinhead youth. ‘If you’re the leader of this pack of sewer rats I guess you’ll want to go first.’

  The skinhead had to tilt his head to look Aksel in the face, and doubt flickered in his eyes when he realised that his adversary was not only tall but powerfully built. Realising that he was in serious danger of losing face, he spat out a string of crude profanities as he backed up the alleyway. The other youths followed him and Aksel watched them until they reached the far end of the alley and disappeared.

  ‘You have got to be nuts!’ Mina sagged against the wall. Reaction to the knowledge that Aksel had saved her from being mugged or worse was setting in and her legs felt wobbly. ‘They could have been carrying a weapon. You could have been hurt.’

  She stared at him and felt weak for another reason as she studied his chiselled features and dark blond hair that had fallen forwards onto his brow. He raked it back with his hand and gave her a disarming smile that stole her breath.

  ‘I could have handled them.’ He frowned as Mina moved and the edges of her jacket parted to reveal her partially open shirt. ‘That punk had no right to lay a finger on you. Did he hurt you?’ Aksel felt a resurgence of the scalding anger that had gripped him when he had seen the skinhead gang leader seize hold of Mina. A lifetime of practice had made him adept at controlling his emotions, but when he had seen her scared face as the gang of youths crowded round her he had been filled with a murderous rage.

  ‘No, I’m fine. Oh...’ Mina coloured hotly as she glanced down and saw that her shirt was half open, exposing her lacy bra and the upper slopes of her breasts. She fumbled to refasten the buttons with trembling fingers. Nausea swept over her as her vivid imagination pictured what the gang of youths might have done to her if Aksel had not shown up.