The Princess's Bodyguard

by Beverly Barton

  "Oh." Adele rushed to Matt, threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "I'll never forget. . ." Tears misted her eyes. "You must know that I will al­ways. . . always think of you as my hero. My wonderful, wonderful American protector."

  When he gazed into her teary brown eyes, Matt realized he'd reached the limit of self-control. With her arms still holding him around the neck, he spanned her tiny waist, lifted her off her feet and brought their mouths together. She closed her eyes and parted her lips. Two seconds into the kiss and Matt knew he was a goner.

  Still kissing her, his body took charge and dictated his actions. Without a moment's hesitation, he swept her up into his arms, carried her into the villa and straight to his bed. In his eagerness, he practically ripped the lacy robe from her shoulders to expose the sheer gown beneath. Adele's hands worked frantically, unbuttoning Matt's shirt and spreading it apart before she flattened her palms against his chest and gently stroked. With all five senses he absorbed her. And she seemed as totally obsessed with discovering him through sight and touch, hearing, smell and taste. Their mouths mated, then broke apart, and moist lips traveled over throats, down necks, onto shoulders. Time stopped and the world faded away. Only the two of them and this night apart from reality existed. Nothing stood between them—not the past, not the future.

  Aching with an unbearable need, Matt forced himself to slow down, to make certain that Adele was with him com­pletely, without any reservations or doubts. She lay be­neath him as he braced himself on his knees and lifted his head to stare into her eyes.

  "Are you sure about this?" he asked gruffly. "You're not going to hate both of us in the morning, are you?"

  A fragile smiled trembled on her lips as she gazed up at him. "Our making love won't change anything," she told him. "It can't. We have to accept the fact that what­ever we have together. . .tonight, tomorrow. . .for however long it lasts, is as temporary as our marriage."

  Maybe she was right—maybe making love wouldn't change a damn thing between them. Hadn't he had sex with other women and walked away without a backward glance? Why should it be any different with her?

  "A brief affair," Matt said. "I scratch your itch, you scratch mine."

  Adele shook her head disapprovingly, but her smile wid­ened. "Always so crude." She caressed his face. "My big, rugged American lover."

  "I think you like the fact that I'm different from all the other men you've known your whole life," Matt said.

  Adele rose up enough so that her mouth was able to touch his chest. When she flicked each of his nipples in turn with the tip of her tongue, he groaned deep in his throat.

  "I like that you're more man than gentleman," she told him. "For once in my life I'd like to be more woman than princess. Will you do that for me, Matt? Help me to be nothing more than a woman making love to a man?''

  "I'll sure as hell try."

  Adele gave herself over completely to the moment, to her passion for this man, who, although he was her hus­band, was still a stranger in so many ways. Would she have regrets tomorrow? No. No regrets, she promised her­self. The only thing she would regret is if she did not explore this sizzling chemistry between Matt and her. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. He was as alien to her as if he'd come from another planet, and yet she felt as if he were a part of her. An integral, life-sustain­ing part.

  Matt removed his shoes, socks and slacks, then went to work removing her gown. She lifted up to accommodate him so that he was able to slide the lacy garment down over her body, over her hips and off. When he hovered above her, she reached up and yanked on his briefs. To­gether they removed the last barrier of clothing between their bodies. She knew he was eager to take her, that being a man he probably didn't need or want any preliminaries, so she braced herself. One glance at his sex and she shiv­ered with a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation. He was big and hard and ready. She closed her eyes and sighed as he came down over her.

  Quite unexpectedly he buried his face against her shoul­der, pulled her into his arms and eased into a side-by-side position in the bed. He nuzzled her neck as one big hand skimmed her from shoulder to hip and then traveled up the front of her body from belly to breasts. While he spread tiny kisses up her neck and over her ear, he caressed one breast and then the other, taking his time to pinch and release each nipple several times. Pure sensation shot through her, from breasts to feminine core, spreading plea­sure and longing to every cell. Of their own volition, her hands began their own exploration, examining his broad shoulders and hairy chest, loving the feel of him.

  He didn't seem the least bit interested in rushing; rather he appeared to be totally absorbed in learning every inch of her body. How indescribably delicious. How incredibly wonderful.

  When he kissed and licked a path between her breasts, Adele whimpered, longing for him to suckle her. But he moved ever downward, across her stomach, over her navel and into intimate regions no man had ever fully explored. Ever so gently he spread her legs and nuzzled the thatch of dark hair covering her mound. Adele shivered as the implication of what he was going to do became apparent to her. Before she could consent or protest, his tongue went into action, licking in a long, slow, deep motion that brought Adele's hips up off the bed. Matt put his hand beneath her and lifted her up and against his mouth for easier access.

  She moaned and writhed beneath him while he plea­sured her almost to the point of madness. As she coiled tighter and tighter, release only moments away, Adele forked her fingers through Matt's hair and held his head in place, encouraging him to delve deeper and harder and faster. His movements obliged her, and with one final stroke of his talented tongue, he pushed her over the edge, into the deep abyss of fulfillment.

  While she cried out as wave after wave bombarded her, Matt rose up and over her, then took her mouth in a heated, tongue-thrusting kiss. As the aftershocks rocked through her, she tasted herself on his lips and it excited her anew. When he positioned himself between her legs and sought entrance, she welcomed him, wanting him, needing him.

  "More," she whispered. "I want it all. All of you."

  With one powerful lunge, he entered her, thrusting him­self deeply into her wet, hot depths. Stunned by how com­pletely he filled her, Adele groaned. Matt kissed her again as he waited, allowing her body time to accommodate his size. And then he moved, slowly at first, setting an even rhythm that her body picked up instantly. When he bent his head to reach one breast, Adele's nipples peaked al­most painfully. But the moment he sucked, she cried out from the intensity of the feeling that rocketed through her.

  She tensed, frightened by her own response, uncertain that she could bear any more. "Matt. . .?"

  "Don't fight it, honey. Just let it happen. Remember, it's happening to me, too." Matt increased the tempo, lunging and withdrawing faster, building the urgency within both of them.

  Trusting Matt with her whole heart, she accepted the earth-shattering sensations that tore her apart into a million fragments of pleasure. And only seconds afterward Matt came undone in her arms, his big, powerful body trembling with his release. As they shared this ultimate satisfaction, Adele realized something that she had refused to even con­sider. She had fallen in love with Matt O'Brien.

  Adele awoke the next morning alone in Matt's bed, the sun shining through the open French doors and the sound of a child's laughter coming from outside the villa. Glanc­ing around the room, she saw no sign of Matt, but when her gaze traveled to the French doors, she caught a glimpse of his back. The minute she pushed aside the covers she remembered she was naked. She eased out of bed care­fully, dragging the top sheet with her. Her gown and robe lay on the floor where Matt had tossed them last night, so she gathered them up and hurriedly slipped into them.

  Tiptoeing barefoot, she made her way across the room and crept up on Matt. She circled her arms around him from behind and hugged herself up against his back.

  "Good morning, husband." How was it possible that being near him, tou
ching him, felt so good, so right?

  Matt glanced over his shoulder and grinned. Adele loved his cocky, boyish grin. Loved his sky-blue eyes, his thick, unruly black hair. She even loved the dark shadow of his beard stubble. Oh, God, she loved everything about this man.

  "Good morning, yourself," Matt said. "Although if you'd slept another hour, it would be good afternoon."

  "Is it that late?" She hugged him tightly. "I'm afraid I was exhausted. Someone kept me awake all night."

  Matt reached out, grabbed her and pulled her around in front of him so they faced each other. "Yeah, I had that same problem. Some wild woman kept begging me to make love to her. . .over and over and over—"

  Adele jabbed him playfully in the stomach, and he groaned as if she'd actually inflicted pain. "As I recall, some man woke me at dawn and ravished me."

  Matt kissed her, then pulled back and looked directly into her eyes. "The yacht is ready and waiting. It's docked in Dareh. Theo said we can postpone returning to Orlantha for as long as we'd like. The yacht is at our disposal."

  "He knows? Theo knows that you and I. . .that we—"

  "Dia stormed your room this morning," Matt said, "wanting details of your wedding night, and she found your bed empty. She put two and two together and. . . She told Theo, and they thought we might want a real honey­moon."

  "Oh." Reality had intruded all too soon. She should have known it would, but some foolish part of her had hoped she could postpone the inevitable.

  "I told Theo that honeymoon plans were the bride's prerogative in our case."

  "Thank you. I. . ."

  Matt pulled her to him and hugged her with a gentle possessiveness that wrapped itself around her heart. "Thank you, Adele," he whispered softly against her cheek. "Thank you for last night."

  "That should be my line, shouldn't it?" Lifting her head off his chest, she peeked up at him. "I think it was rather obvious that I was the one who'd never done some of the things we did, and I was the one who didn't realize sex could be like that."

  "Yeah, I know. And that's one of the reasons I'm thank­ing you. For letting me be the man to show you. . . to teach you. . .to take you places you'd never been."

  Adele knew she was close to succumbing to her desires, to throwing caution to the wind and saying to hell with duty. Matt was far too tempting. It would be much too easy to sail off into the sunset on a fantasy honeymoon with him. But she could not allow herself the luxury. She was Princess Adele of Orlantha. Her country was in dan­ger. It was her duty to save her people from the threat of a Royalist takeover.

  Forcing herself to take control of her emotions, Adele eased out of Matt's arms. "I'm not sure how I'll face Dia. She's such a romantic. She won't understand that last night was only sex."

  For a split second she thought she saw a glimmer of anger in Matt's eyes, but it had been only a glimmer. And she'd probably imagined it.

  He grinned. "Yeah, but you and I know better, don't we, Princess? Nothing romantic about two people not be­ing able to get enough of each other. Just good old-fashioned sex. It's not as if we're in love."

  But I am in love with you, she wanted to shout. I'm so in love with you that my heart is breaking, knowing we have no future together.

  "I'll tell Theo that we want to go straight to San Marino," Matt said. "I think a twenty-four-hour honey­moon aboard the Goddess will be enough to convince everyone that our marriage is real. Besides, I'm sure that satisfied look on your face will be enough to assure your father and everyone else that we're lovers."

  When he turned to leave her, Adele grabbed Matt's arm. "Are you upset with me? Is there something I've said or done that—"

  He jerked loose and grinned at her. "Sorry, was I being crude again? I forgot that you don't like me to be crude. . .except when I'm making love to you. You didn't seem to mind my being crude and vulgar last night. As a matter of fact, you seemed to like it a lot."

  Rage flashed through her. She drew back her hand, but caught herself just before she slapped his face. "Why is it that we antagonize each other this way? We can't seem to get along, except. . ." Adele groaned. "The only place you and I seem to be compatible is in bed." Oh, no, had she actually said that? Had those words really come out of her mouth?

  Matt laughed. "Yeah. Ain't life a bitch." He left her standing on the balcony, her face warm with embarrassment and her heart aching.

  Chapter 14

  Captain Ferrex, a tall, stalwart Brit with graying red hair and puppy-dog brown eyes, gave the newlyweds a tour of the Goddess, seemingly taking a great deal of pleasure in the fact that the Princess of Orlantha was honeymooning on his yacht. And because Matt was Adele's bridegroom, the captain showed him the greatest respect.

  "The Goddess is a 150 foot Palmer Johnson. She is one of the finest yachts of this size ever built," the captain explained. ' 'She is a lady of perfection, and Mr. Constan-tine makes sure she remains flawless."

  Adele feigned interest, while Matt actually enjoyed the tour. Sailing around the Mediterranean might be everyday stuff to Her Highness, but it was something new for Matt, so he listened attentively as the captain gave them the grand tour. From the large crew quarters to the commer­cial-quality galley, from the four guest staterooms below to the two open-air dining decks, the Goddess was im­pressive. Add to that a huge skylounge and a large main salon with a complete entertainment system, and the God­dess was truly a home away from home for a billionaire like Theo.

  Adele had been accustomed to luxury like this her entire life. She took for granted all the things money could buy, the things that Matt had dreamed of having when he'd been a dirt-poor kid in Louisville. Lordy, Lordy, what would Aunt Velma think of all this? he wondered.

  "Being rich ain't all it's cracked up to be," he could hear his aunt saying. "Money can't buy happiness. It's what's in a person's heart that counts. Love and pride and honor are what's important. And helping your fellow man whenever you get the chance. Best you don't forget what I'm telling you, boy."

  Yeah, he guessed Aunt Velma wouldn't be impressed with the Goddess, the Constantine villa on Golnar and the high-and-mighty Princess Adele. And don't forget the grand palace in Erembourg, he reminded himself. That place was something straight out of a fairy-tale book.

  And guess who had grown up in that palace, surrounded by servants at her beck and call, with more money than most folks could spend in a lifetime—hell, in two life­times? What had ever made him think he could be more than a servant to Adele, a means to an end? She needed him to help her save her country. After that he was ex­pendable. But, of course, she didn't mind fooling around with him, picking up some practical tips on lovemaking that she could use sometime in the future with a man wor­thy of being her real husband.

  Matt figured his bad mood that evening during dinner was the direct result of him thinking far too much about what had happened between Adele and him last night. Af­ter a man had spent endless hours making love to a woman, it was kind of difficult to turn off his lascivious thoughts. One good taste of Adele had only whetted his appetite for more. But he'd be damned if he'd beg to be taken into her bed. No, the way he looked at it was if she wanted him, she'd have to do the begging. So when he walked his bride to the opulent owner's stateroom, he paused outside the open door. Adele glanced over her shoulder.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked.

  "Nope. Just waiting to see you safely to your room."

  "My room? But this is our stateroom," Adele told him. "Your luggage was brought here along with mine."

  Matt nodded, then followed her inside and scanned the room. Ignoring Adele he marched to the closets, opened them one by one until he found his black vinyl bag. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and walked out of the stateroom.

  "Matt?" Adele ran after him.

  He paused. "Yeah?"

  "Where are you going?" ' "Below deck to one of the guest staterooms."

  "Why?"

  "I'd like to get a good night's sleep," Matt told her. "We'll a
rrive in San Marino tomorrow and then fly straight to Orlantha. I figure I'll need all my strength to face your father, and you will, too. So unless you need a repeat performance of last night's events, I suggest we sleep apart."

  Adele's facial muscles tightened. She tilted her cute lit­tle nose in that haughty manner he'd once hated but now found endearing. "Then I'll see you in the morning." She hovered in the doorway.

  "See you," he said, then added, "if you decide you can't make it through the night without me, you know where you can find me."

  She gasped. Whistling, he walked away, leaving Her Highness to think about what he'd said.

  * * *

  Matt showered, dried off and went to bed with his hair slightly damp. He'd left his door unlocked. Just in case. Maybe Adele would figure out that she really couldn't make it through the night without him. He sure as hell knew he'd have a difficult time going to sleep when he had the hard-on from hell.

  For over two hours Matt tossed and turned, got out of bed twice, tried every trick he knew to shut off his thoughts and get some rest. Nothing worked. If he hadn't been such a proud, stubborn fool, he could be above in the owner's stateroom right now, in bed with his bride. But oh, no, not Matt O'Brien. Adele had wounded his mas­culine pride this morning when she'd made light of their night together, so he had to prove a point. But he was the one paying the price for his decision. Adele was probably sleeping like a baby.

  What was that noise? he wondered. Had someone tapped softly on his door, or was his imagination playing tricks on him? No, there it was again, that series of quiet little knocks. With the flip of a switch, Matt turned on the wall lamp at the right side of the bed.

  "Matt?" Adele whispered.

  "Yeah," he replied. "You've got the right room."

  She eased open the door and peeped inside. Matt sat up in bed, letting the cover fall to his waist.

  "I. . .I couldn't sleep," Adele said.