"What in the hell is going on here? Perhaps a failed palace coup?" He had an excellent command of the English language, with only a faint hint of an accent.
"A… a…" Sam cursed silently. This was a first. She was at a loss for words, due to the sneaky vampire springing a surprise visit to his castle. What nerve! Fortunately he had caught her with her pants up. Unfortunately her mind seemed stalled and in the gutter. And her hair was a disaster, pulled back in a loose ponytail.
"It's difficult to explain." Brilliant, she sneered at herself. But she so wanted to run her fingers through his hair. She loved thick hair. And she wanted to strip off his shirt, his boots and then his… "Oh!" What if her protection amulet had lost its power and she was in the grip of a mad, bad lust?
"Oh? Difficult to explain?" The Prince asked in his cold clipped voice, clearly determined to get to the root of the problems surrounding him. The luscious female standing here didn't look like one of his servants; she held herself too proudly and she also wasn't in some varying stage of undress. Who was she? he wondered even as he glared at her.
Studying her from the bottom of her tennis-shoed feet to the top of her lovely blond hair, he conceded that she was a pretty woman, although in his long life he had seen far lovelier. But there was something about this female that was different, and that frustrated him. He couldn't even seem to tear his eyes away to watch the orgiastic shenanigans around him.
Something in this woman's chemistry called to him in a wild primordial way, urged him to move closer. Following his body's command, he stepped closer and breathed in the scent of wild jasmine and a honeyed essence that was totally hers. His nostrils flared.
"What's going on here?" he asked with an arrogant lift of his eyebrow.
Ruthlessly stomping on her growing lust, Sam answered. "What does it look like? An orgy, or rather the beginnings of an orgy are what's going down. And not your run-of-the-mill orgy either."
"I deduced that myself. What I want to know is, why?"
"Rasputin the ghost has put a spell on them," she explained warily, licking her lips and gazing at his tall, hard body. "I was trying to find a way to break it up when I ran into you."
He cocked a brow. "Really? How?" The Prince studied her carefully. Who was she? She had a wonderful body, and those worn jeans showcased her muscular, curvy legs, and her tight sweater encased full, firm breasts. She also had the loveliest hair the color of ripe wheat. And bedroom blue eyes. And he now intended his to be the bed in the equation.
Sam pointed to the ceiling. "Water sprinklers."
He shook his head. "I don't think so." Turning to the room, he almost took a pair of panties to the face.
"Enough!" he commanded the library's libidinous, occupants, his voice loud, harsh and utterly quelling. Such a commanding presence might have looked ridiculous dodging flying underwear and scowling at half-naked servants, but somehow Prince Varinski managed to pull it off.
Pointing a finger at the salacious specter, he commanded, "Leave at once, Rasputin. I'll attend to you later!" Then he spoke some words in Russian, and the malevolent monk dissolved with various vile curses.
Once Rasputin left, the orgy participants seemed suddenly subdued. Their faces and various other body parts flushed red, and a mad scramble for clothes hastily ensued. Sam couldn't help grinning at the half-naked servants' antics.
The Prince turned back to face her. His command was impressive, and she wondered if he would teach her the words he had called out in Russian, perhaps bespelling the horrid, horny monk, and definitely causing him to leave the library posthaste.
"Who are you?" he asked, his stern eyes alight with curiosity. Life had long since grown boring. He had become jaded over the many long years of always getting what he wanted, often before he even asked, and so this blond female stirred something primal in him—an acute appetite to taste and savor her. This was sexual chemistry at its height.
Believing in fate as the Prince did, this sudden business trip to the castle to deal with his ghostly intruders had suddenly taken on a brand new light. He would make love to the stranger. He knew he wasn't being conceited, since women tumbled right and left for him, along with various other gymnastic tricks to capture and hold his attention. But being from the Old School he would first learn her name.
Before Sam could answer, Mr. Belvedere began to speak. He hastily tugged on his black butler jacket, looking askance at his employer. "Why, she's your girlfriend, Samantha Hammett, my prince. Is the room too dark for you to see?"
Within seconds the butler had lit the library's large crystal chandelier. Bowing from the waist, he added solemnly, "And my name is Belvedere. I'm your butler. And I must apologize for this appalling lack of decorum. It's that infernal ghost, that monk, who is making us behave in this less than civilized fashion. I must beg your humble forgiveness. For all of us. Your Highness, we truly do not normally behave in this fashion…"
Seeing the fierceness in the Prince's eyes, Sam wondered if he was going to put his foot downright smack-dab in the middle of the butler's back. Instead, the haughty vampire waved the explanation off, halting the butler abruptly as he turned back to Sam.
Ignoring the embarrassed servant, the Prince stared at his uninvited but very much wanted guest. His blood began singing in his veins, and his heart began beating faster. "Ah yes, my lover."
Watching the vampire prince, Sam's heart began beating so fast and furious she wondered if the whole room could hear it. Would the vampire kick her out without a chance to explain? Would he denounce her in front of all his help? Would he carry her off on his shoulder and have his wicked way with her? She stood taller, her chin thrust out.
"Your girlfriend!" she said.
The Prince knew what this female was thinking. A grim smile lit his features as he recognized whom and what she was—an uninvited Paranormalbuster. So this was Samantha Hammett. He had heard that she had a backbone of steel and balls to match, that she was a tough-talking, hard-driven businesswoman, who was hell on ghosts, goblins and demons alike. From the gossip he'd heard, he'd formed a completely different (and unflattering) image of a deceitful and devious female. Yet tonight she stood before him filled with sweet vulnerability in both her voice and stance. An interesting conundrum.
Smiling deviously, he formed a plan to deal with her. "My lover, Sam," he stated, his expression wicked.
"Your girlfriend," she protested again.
Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire, Sam thought. It appeared he was going to play along with her lie, but at what price? And would she mind so terribly paying?
Perhaps she should buy a new amulet, because she didn't normally behave or feel this way about men. Well, she did occasionally lust after Mel Gibson and Robson Greene, or men she saw in the movies, but she certainly hadn't ever encountered a lust that threatened to knock her over before.
She had fallen in love once, when she was twenty-one. The relationship hadn't worked out. Her boyfriend at the time couldn't stand the thought of her risking life and limb in corralling supernatural creatures. His fear had gotten in the way of their relationship.
Her resentment at his constant complaints had added to the problem. When she had busted him in bed with another girl, well, that had been the end of everything. Since her fiancé-bustin' days, she had been man-free and mostly sex-free, with an occasional splurge. But the last splurge hadn't been for many years, many, many years.
She managed a faint smile as she stated again, "Girlfriend. You're my boyfriend, and I'm your girlfriend."