The Man's Outrageous Demands (18 page)

“Poor baby,” she laughed, not really feeling sorry for him. “And what happened to the girls?”

Sam looked down at her smiling face and shook his head. “I didn’t mention any girls.”

Marabeth laughed. “You didn’t have to. It is pretty much assumed with you. And I’m guessing birds of a feather and all so your friends all had girlfriends as well, didn’t they?”

Sam nodded. “Their parents were notified and they were punished but we weren’t told what happened since their parents forbade us to contact them again.”

“And did you?” she asked, wondering if he would fly in the face of direct orders or not.

“No.”

Marabeth gasped in mock horror. “You just let the girls flounder? What if they were really hurt by their punishments?”

Sam shook his head. “Since they were the ones that bragged that they were coming with us, therefore the headmaster of their school notified everyone else, at the time, I didn’t care if they were punished.”

“And now?”

“And now, if they did it again, I’d probably punish them myself,” he said.

“You’re awful,” she said.

“We’d better get back.”

“You’re right,” she said and pulled on the coat he offered to her. They drove back in silence, Marabeth thinking about the subject she really needed to talk to him about but wary of disrupting the companionable silence that had grown between them.

Back at the palace, he kissed her goodbye. “I wish I could spend the night in your bed,” he said. But it was already well past midnight and he knew that servants gossiped. “But I’ll leave you until tomorrow.”

Marabeth nodded. She was exhausted and smothered a yawn. “Good night,” she said and turned towards her room. Then she remembered what she wanted to talk to him about and turned back. “Sam?” she called out to his back. He stopped and turned back to her.

“Whats’ up princess?:”

Marabeth frowned, understanding that he called her princess when she was being more formal but only Marabeth when they were intimate. Or if he was encouraging her to let go and be more free with their intimacy. That thought bothered her. Didn’t he understand that she was both people? It was an entire package. “Will you meet me for lunch tomorrow? I need to talk to you,” she said.

Sam looked at her serious expression. Then nodded. “Anything you say.”

She turned back and headed into her rooms. Suddenly, she was wide awake, working out how she would tell him about her concerns over lunch. She stayed up late that night, working through the conversation, trying to come up with what he might argue with. It was almost dawn when she finally fell asleep.

Rushing into her office the following morning, Marabeth was out of breath. It was almost ten o’clock and she was embarrassed to be just walking in at this time of the morning.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Stacy said, her bright smile dimming slightly when she saw the dark circles under Marabeth’s eyes. “Uh oh. Late night with our venerable Minister?” she asked.

“Not really,” Marabeth replied. It wasn’t the late night with Sam that had her in this condition. It was her sleepless night.

“Need some coffee?” Stacy asked.

“That would be wonderful,” Marabeth said, grateful for her secretary who was amazingly efficient as well as sensitive. “I’ll be in my office. Can you bring in the latest correspondence?” she asked.

“Sure thing,” Stacy Marabeth’s coffee.

said, heading towards the small little kitchen to get

A few minutes later, Stacy set the coffee down on Marabeth’s desk and the new letters in the middle. “Your Highness?” Stacy questioned when Marabeth just continued to look out the window.

“Oh!” Marabeth jumped. She glanced down at her desk, noticing the coffee and letters. “Thank you Stacy.”

When Marabeth didn’t immediately dive into work, Stacy sat down on the chair in front of her desk and waited. When a few more minutes passed and Marabeth still didn’t give out her usual morning instructions, Stacy cleared her throat.

Marabeth glanced at her secretary and flushed. “Sorry, Stacy,” she said and looked down again. She listelessly sifted through the envelopes but nothing really appealed to her. Finally, she glanced up and just shook her head. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing,” she explained.

Stacy relaxed her pencil hand and looked encouragingly at her boss. “Are you talking about right now? Or are you talking in general?”

“In general,” Marabeth confirmed. “Why do you think Sam wants to marry me?” she asked.

Stacy smiled in a motherly way. “Who cares?” she laughed. “He’s gorgeous, charming, tall, handsome, funny… and did I mention gorgeous?” she giggled. “Not to mention he has the hots for you.”

Marabeth nodded, sure of all those things. “But deep down, what’s the point?”

Stacy wasn’t sure what to say. “I don’t know,” she said. “I do know that your mother phoned to see if you had an appointment with the designer and when I said no, she told me to schedule one for you and make sure you went. I wasn’t aware that you were having second thoughts about this.”

Marabeth nodded sadly. “Second, third and fourth thoughts about it.”

Stacy was confused. “I don’t know why. If a man like Sam Montrose wanted to marry me, I’d be all over him like green on a leaf. That man couldn’t run fast enough to get away if he ever proposed.”

Marabeth laughed at Stacy’s analogy. “I guess I’m making too much out of this, aren’t I?”

Stacy shook her head. “No. If something inside you is telling you that something is wrong, then there is,” she said emphatically. “And you shouldn’t listen to silly old women like me who are telling you to ignore that.”

Stacy stood up and started walking out of Marabeth’s office. “Talk to him and find out what is wrong. He’s a smart man and he can help you get through this, I’m pretty sure.”

Stacy closed the door softly behind her, leaving Marabeth with her own thoughts. Stacy’s advice was exactly what her mother had advised her to do several weeks ago. The problem was, each time she tried to talk to Sam, the sex got in the way. Did he do that on purpose? She wondered? It was possible, but she doubted it. The chemistry was too intense to ignore on her part and she liked thinking it was the same with him. She needed to think that. She didn’t like the idea that it was one sided. It gave him too much power and he already had too much as it was.

Marabeth was pushing herself to get through the correspondence that had been piling up lately. She was reading a story about a boy and his dog when Sam stormed into her office unannounced.

She looked up, then glanced at her watch. “Sam? What are you doing here? I didn’t order lunch to be ready for anther hour.”

She looked at him warily as he locked the door behind him. “You haven’t been to see the designer about your wedding dress,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Somehow, Sam knew that she’d been avoiding it.

Marabeth laid the letter down on her desk. “You’re right.”

“I want to know why, princess,” he said, leaning over her desk, his palms planted firmly in the middle as he looked into her eyes, daring her to lie to him.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “This is what I wanted to discuss with you over lunch.”

“Well, I’m here now. Let’s discuss it,” he said but didn’t move. “Explain to me why the one thing that you’re responsible for doing for our wedding has not taken place. You’re not getting out of it, Marabeth,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud but she could tell he was furious.

“Sam, you’re not going to boss me around anymore,” she said. She didn’t want to be, but she was beginning to be intimidated by his anger.

“I’ve never bossed you around, princess.”

“And stop calling me princess as if I’m some sort of fake!” She stood up and leaned across her desk, glaring right back at him. “The reason I haven’t ordered my gown is because I’m tired of you thinking you can order me around. I’m not a doll or one of your employees or soldiers, dammit! I’m your fiancée!”

“Damn right you are! So what’s this nonsense about not ordering your gown?”

Marabeth walked away from her desk, taking some files from the top to place in the bin Stacy would pick up to file away. “I haven’t decided to marry you, Sam.”

“Like hell!” he said and grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face him. “You can’t walk away from what we have?”

“Yes I can!” she snapped back angrily. She pulled herself out of his arms and took a step away. “In point of fact, you’ve never even asked me. So there wasn’t a question for me to answer. But since you’ve gone about assuming my agreement, I might as well tell you that I don’t like the fact that you don’t respect me.”

Sam was silent. She leaned over and picked up more papers from her desk but when she tried to stand up, she found that Sam was leaning over her, his chest against her back. And damn if he didn’t feel good. She tried to push those thoughts aside but his hands slipped around her waist. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t like me touching you?” he asked, his hands slipping under her silk shirt, his fingers finding her nipples and teasing them to life.

The papers she’d been holding fell out of her hands and she had to lean against her desk as the desire slammed into her system. “Sam, don’t…” she said but there was no anger in her voice. And no real conviction.

“Don’t what?” he asked, pulling her skirt up to her waist. “Don’t show you how much you’re body wants me? Don’t show you that we are made for each other?”

His hand tore her soft, silk and lace underwear away from her body. He dropped them into his pocket, loving the feel of her without underwear. His hands slipped between her legs and he whispered in her ear. “You want me, Marabeth, don’t you?”

She could no longer take it. She needed him furiously. His hands were caressing her, finding all her pulse points and reducing her down to a quivering mass of need. “Yes. Please Sam,” was all she could say. It wasn’t a lie.

“Tell me you’ll order your wedding dress this afternoon. Order something soft and feminine, Marabeth,” he said.

“Yes, anything,” she said. “Please,” she begged.

Marabeth heard his zipper slide down, then felt his hardness slide into her. He reached around, one hand covering her breast while the other teased her clitoris. It was too much too fast. She couldn’t stop herself from climaxing, her head thrown back against his shoulder and she had to smother her cry for fear of someone outside her office hearing. The last thing she wanted was for her staff to find her like this.

When the shivers finally died down, she caught her breath and moved away. She didn’t even realize that her underwear was missing in her haste to get some space between her and Sam.

“I have a meeting,” he said, standing up and moving away, But not before he took her into his arms and kissed her. “Get your dress ordered. I’ll see you at lunch in an hour,” he said. Without another word, he left her office.

She walked over to her chair and sat down. Fell down, was more like it. As she stared at the closed door, her anger welled up inside her. She didn’t blame him completely. He was definitely taking advantage of her body’s reaction to him but she blamed herself for being so vulnerable to him.

Yes, she could marry him and have a completely satisfying sexual relationship with the man. But then what? Would he still treat her like a silly little girl unable to make decisions by herself?

She fumed for the next hour, unwilling to go to his office and find him before their appointed time. She walked steadily towards the dining room, glad that she’d ordered lunch to be served there, instead of in some place more private. In the dining room, there would be servants only one doorway away.

Sam walked in reading a report and giving instructions to the man hastily writing notes behind him. When he saw her, standing by the window with her arms crossed over her chest, Sam quickly handed the report to his assistant and dismissed him.

He knew he’d made a mistake earlier today. But he’d been so furious to learn that she was still resisting making their relationship permanent. He wanted her physically but he also wanted everyone else to know that she was his. And his alone.

He stood in front of her, hands in his pockets and looked down at her furious face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

All of Marabeth’s anger seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders lost their tension and she smiled tentatively at him. If he was willing to make a small concession, she should be big enough to do it as well.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“You wanted to talk to me,” he said.

“Yes. Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Starving. But I want to hear that you made an appointment with your dress designer first.”

Marabeth laughed. “What exactly are you sorry for?”

“For making you angry. Nothing else.”

“Not even for the possible embarrassment if someone had walked in?” she asked, amused despite herself.

“I locked the door.”

“So it was a premeditated attack.”

He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “I knew I was angry and didn’t want to be disturbed. I didn’t know how I was going to try and convince you but…” he shook his head. “Don’t deny that you didn’t like it,” he countered.

She sighed. “That isn’t the point, Sam.”

“What’s the point?” he asked, pulling back her chair for her.

Marabeth took her seat, then waived to the servants who were waiting with their lunch. When they disappeared again, she picked up her fork, trying to decide the best way to approach the subject.

“First of all, I want to lay the ground rules for this conversation.”

Sam took a bite of the broiled salmon and nodded his head. “Okay, what are they?” She was talking to him. That was more than he’d expected when he’d first walked in a few minutes ago. If she’d continue to talk to him, he’d do just about anything. Except letting her go.